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MAGNETISM, MICROMETER, and MICROSCOPE. By Sir David Brewster, K.H., &c.
MAMMALIA. By James Wilson, Author of the article “ Entomology.”
MANCHESTER. By Thomas Bazley, Chairman of the Chamber of Commerce, Man¬
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MANUFACTURES. By J. R. M‘Culloch.
MECHANICS. By W. J. M. Rankine, Professor pf Civil Engineering and Mechanics in the
University of Glasgow.
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in the University of Edinburgh.
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MENSURATION. By William Swan, Lecturer on Mathematics and Natural Philosophy.
MENTAL DISEASES, By David Skae, M.D., Physician to the Royal Edinburgh Asy¬
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METAPHYSICS. By Rev. H. L. Mansel, Reader in Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy,
Magdalen College, Oxford.
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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
EIGHTH EDITION.
V"
*
THE
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA,
OK,
DICTION AEY
OP
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
EIGHTH EDITION.
WITH EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME XIV.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH.
MDCCCLVII. f?—
u m
\T}ie Proprietors of this Work give notice that they reserve the right of Translating it.']
NEILL AND 00., PRINTERS, EDINBURGH
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNIC A
MAGNETISM.
History. The word magnetism is derived from the Greek word
-v——' /u.dynjs, a name given to the loadstone, or native magnet, an
ore of iron well known to the ancients. The term gAyviqs
itself is said to be derived from one Magnes, a Greek shep¬
herd, who observed on Mount Ida the attractive power
which the loadstone exercised upon his iron crook. The
most probable supposition, however, is that it took its name
from Magnesia, a country in Lydia, where it was first dis¬
covered-; and this conjecture is confirmed by the fact that
the magnet was often called by the ancients Lapis Hera-
cleus, from Heraclea, the capital of Magnesia.
The science of magnetism treats of the phenomena exhi¬
bited by magnets, whether natural, like the loadstone, or
artificial, like bars of steel to which magnetism has been
permanently communicated ; of their reciprocal action upon
each other ; of the laws of the forces which they develop;
of the methods of making artificial magnets; and of the
magnetic phenomena exhibited by our globe.
In giving an account of this interesting science in modern
times, we shall adopt the following arrangement:—
1. On the history of magnetical discovery.
2. On the general phenomena and principles of natural
and artificial magnets.
3. On the magnetism of bodies not ferruginous.
4. On the development of magnetism in bodies by rotation.
5. On the influence of heat on magnetism.
6. On the action of iron spheres on the needle.
7. On the influence of magnetism on chemical action.
8. On the laws of magnetic forces.
9. On terrestrial magnetism.
10. On the different methods of making artificial magnets.
11. On magnetical instruments and apparatus.
12. On the theories of magnetism.
CHAP. I.—ON THE HISTORY OF MAGNETICAL DISCOVERIES.
The attractive power of the natural magnet or loadstone
over small pieces of iron seems to have been known from
the remotest antiquity. It is distinctly referred to by
Homer, Pythagoras, and Aristotle. Pliny mentions a chain
of iron rings suspended from one another, the first being
upheld by the loadstone; and he relates that Dinocares
proposed to Ptolemy Philadelphus to build at Alexandria
a temple, the vault of which, crowned with loadstones,
VOL. XIV.
should suspend in the air an iron statue of Queen Arsinbe. History.
St Augustin likewise makes mention of a statue suspended
in the air in the temple of Serapis at Alexandria.
In his description of China, Duhalde has stated that the Invention
directive power, or polarity of the magnet, was known to of the con^
the Chinese in the earliest ages, and that the needle had been Pass'
employed to guide travellers by land a thousand years be¬
fore Christ; and it is stated by Humboldt, that, according
to the Peuthsaoyani, a treatise on Medical Natural History,
written 400 years before Columbus, the Chinese suspended
the needle by a thread, and found it to decline to the S.E.,
and never to rest at the true S. point.
Although the common properties of the loadstone were
known to the ancients, and were no doubt studied even
during the dark ages, yet, notwithstanding the claims of the
Chinese and Arabians, the directive power of the loadstone,
or of a needle touched or rubbed by it, seems to be the
discovery of modern times. Are Frode, an Icelandic his¬
torian, who was born in 1068, mentions in his History of
the Discovery of Iceland, that Floke Vilgerderson departed
from Rogoland, in Norway, to seek Gadersholm, or Iceland,
some time in the year 868. He carried with him three a.d. 868.
ravens as guides; and, to consecrate them for this purpose,
he offered up a sacrifice inEmbrsund, where his ship lay.
“For? says Frode, “ in tlip/jrc times seamen had no load¬
stone in the northern coutjjfries?
A Chinese philosopher, Keoutsoung-chy, who wrote works
on natural history about ^i). 1111, observes, that the mag¬
netic needle declines towards the E., and is f ths to the S.
That the mariner’s compass was known in the twelfth
century, about the year 1150, is proved by notices of it in
various authors, particularly in an old French poem called
La Bible Guyot, which is contained in a curious quarto
manuscript of the thirteenth century, still existing in the
Royal Library at Paris. Guyot of Province, the author of
this poem, was alive in 1181. After referring to the ways
by which navigators are guided in their course, and men¬
tioning the pole star, he adds,—
Tin art font qui mentir ne pent,
Par la vertue de la mariniere,
Un pierre laide et bruniere
Ou le fers volontiers se joint,
Ont regardant lor droit point.
MAGNETISM.
History. Cardinal James de Vitri, who flourished about the year
1200, mentions the magnetic needle in his history of Je-
a.d. 1200. rusalem ; and he adds, that it was of indispensable utility to
those who travelled by sea.
That the mariner’s compass was known to the northern
nations in 1266, appears from Torfseus s History of Nor¬
way, where it is mentioned, that Jarl Sturla s poem on the
death of the Swedish count Byrgeres was rewarded with a
mariner’s compass. The directive property of the magnet
is also distinctly mentioned in an epistle of Petrus Peregri-
nus de Marcourt, written about the latter end of the thir¬
teenth century. This letter was addressed “ Ad Sigerium
de Foueancourt militem de magnete.” This epistle con¬
tains a description of the loadstone, the means of finding its
poles, and its property of attracting iron ; and it proves that
the part of the magnet which is turned to the N. attracts
that which is turned to the S.
A Neapolitan, named Flavio Gioia, who lived in the
thirteenth century, has been regarded by many as the in¬
ventor of the compass. Dr Gilbert affirms that Paulus
Paulus Ve- Venetus brought the compass from China to Italy in 1260.
netus. Liich Vestomannus asserts, that about 1500 he saw a pilot
a.d. 1260. jn £agt jndies direct his course by a magnetic needle
like those now in use. One of the earliest treatises on
Peter Ad- magnetism is a Latin letter of Peter Adsiger, written in
3iger. 1269, contained in a volume of manuscripts in the library
a.d. 1269. of the University of Leyden. This letter, which appears
to have been written for the instruction of a friend, is in
reality a methodical treatise, in two parts, the first of which
is subdivided into ten, and the second into three chapters.
In the second chapter of the second part, the mariner’s
compass, and the method of constructing it, are clearly de¬
scribed ; and, what is still more interesting, the author not
only mentions the declination of the magnetic needle, but
had observed its actual deviation from the meridian. “ Take
notice,” says he, “ that the magnet, as well as the needle
which has been touched by it, does not point exactly to
the poles ; but that part of it which is reckoned to point to
the S. inclines a little to the W., and that part which looks
towards the N. inclines as much to the E. The exact quantity
of this declination I have found, after numerous experi¬
ments, to be five degrees. However, this declination is no
obstacle to our guidance, because we make the needle itself
decline from the true S. by nearly one point and a half
towards the W. A point, then, contains five degrees.”
Mr Christie seems to consider the authenticity of this ma¬
nuscript as doubtful, because no new observation of the
declination seems to have been made for two centuries af¬
terwards ; and because the declination should be westerly
in place of easterly in 1269, according to the best law of
the change which can be deduced from subsequent obser¬
vations.
The declination, or the variation of the needle, thus dis¬
tinctly described by Adsiger, if his manuscript is authen¬
tic, must be considered as well known before the time of
Columbus. Columbus, to whom the discovery of it has been generally
a.d. 1492. ascri5ecj. His son Ferdinand states, that on the 14th
of September (13th according to Washington Irving)
1492, his father, when about two hundred leagues from the
island of Ferro, noticed for the first time the variation of
the needle; “ a phenomenon,” says Irving, “ which had
Variation never before been remarked.” “ He perceived,” adds this
discovered, author, “ about nightfall, that the needle, instead of point¬
ing to the N. star, varied but half a point, or between
five and six degrees to the N.W., and still more on
the following morning. Struck with this circumstance, he
observed it attentively for three days, and found that the History,
variation increased as he advanced. He at first made no
mention of this phenomenon, knowing how ready his people
were to take alarm ; but it soon attracted the attention of
the pilots, and filled them with consternation. It seemed
as if the laws of nature were changing as they advanced,
and that they were entering another world, subject to un¬
known influences. They apprehended that the compass
was about to lose its mysterious virtues ; and, without this
guide, what was to become of them in a vast and trackless
ocean ? Columbus tasked his science and ingenuity for
reasons with which to allay their terrors. He told them
that the direction of the needle was not to the polar star, but
to some fixed and invisible point. The variation was not
caused by any failing in the compass, which, like the other
heavenly bodies, had its changes and revolutions, and every
day described a circle round the pole. The high opinion
that the pilots entertained of Columbus as a profound as¬
tronomer gave weight to his theory, and their alarm sub¬
sided.”1 Although the details which we have already given Change in
afford sufficient proof that the variation of the needle had the varia-
been discovered two hundred years before the time of Co-tio11,
lumbus, yet it is evident, from the above passage, that he
had discovered the variation of the variation, or that the
variation was not a constant quantity, but varied in different
latitudes.
Notwithstanding these casual observations on the varia¬
tion of the compass, no accurate measures of its amount
were made till about the middle of the sixteenth century. In
1541 it was found that the declination of the needle from
the meridian of Paris was about 7° or 8° easterly. In 1550
it was 8° or 9°, and in 1580, ll£° easterly. Norman,2 who Norman,
first observed the variation in London, made it 11° 15’
easterly; and Mr Burough,3 comptroller of the navy, in Burough.
1580 found it to be at an average 11° 19' E. at Limehouse.
The following observations made at other places will show
the gradual change in the variation:—
Burough .....1580 11° 19 E. Limehouse.
Gunter 1612    5 36 E. London.
Gellibrand4 1633  4 4 E. London.
Petit 1630  4 30 E. Paris.
Petit 1660  0 10 E. Paris.
Auzout 1670  2 0 W. Rome.
Hevelius 1642  3 5 W. Dantzig.
Hevelius 1670  7 20 W. Dantzig.
The important discovery of the dip or inclination of the DlP_of the
needle was made in 1576, by Robert Norman, 'whom we ^
have already mentioned. Having constructed many com- 2^orman
passes, and having always balanced the needles for them A D 1576.
before he touched them with the magnet, he invariably
found, that after they were touched the north point always
inclined below the horizon, so that he was obliged to make
the card of the compass level by putting some small pieces
of wire on the end of it. Having mentioned this discovery
to some of his friends, he was advised to construct an in¬
strument which would enable him to measure the greatest
angle which it would make with the horizon. With
this instrument, which is the dipping needle in its first and
rudest form, he found the dip to be at 71° 50 ; an obser¬
vation which, according to Bond, must have been made
about 1576.
That ferruginous substances always possess a greater or
a less degree of magnetism, has been long known. One
Julius Caesar, a surgeon of Rimini, first observed the con- • ^ae8ar.
version of iron into a magnet. In 1590 he noticed this
effect on a bar of iron which had supported a piece ofbrick-
1 Washington Irving’s Life and Voyages of Columbus, vol. i., p. 201.
2 The New Attractive, by Robert Norman, Lond. 1596. 3 A Discourse on the Variation of the Compass, Lond. 1581.
4 Discourse Mathematical on the Variation of the Magnetical Needle, 1635. Gellibrand found that the N.E. of the needle was gra¬
dually moving to the westward.
MAGNETISM.
3
History.
Gassendi.
Dr Gilbert.
a.d. 1600.
Bond.
a.d. 1650.
Newton,
&c.
work on the top of a tower of the church of St Augus¬
tin. The very same fact was observed about 1630 by
Gassendi, on the cross of the church of St John at
Aix, which had fallen down in consequence of having been
struck with lightning. He found the foot of it wasted
with rust, and possessing all the properties of a loadstone.
While magnetism was making slow advances by means
of insulated observations, it was destined to receive a vi¬
gorous impulse from the pen of Dr Gilbert of Colchester.
This eminent individual, who was physician in ordinary to
Queen Elizabeth, published, in 1600, his Physiologia Nova,
sen Tractatus de Magnete et Corporibus Magneticis, a work
which contains almost all the information concerning mag¬
netism which was known during the two following centu¬
ries. It relates chiefly to the natural loadstone, and to
artificial magnets, or bars of steel which have acquired
similar properties. He applies the term magnetic to all
bodies which are acted upon by loadstones and magnets, in
the same manner as they act upon each other, and he finds
that all such bodies contain iron in some state or other. He
considers the phenomena of electricity as having a consi¬
derable resemblance to those of magnetism, though he points
out the differences by which the two classes of phenomena
are marked. In treating of the directive power of the
needle, he supposed, “ that the earth itself being in all its
parts magnetical, and the water not, wherever the land was,
there would the needle turn, as to the greater quantity of
magnetical matter.” He regarded the earth as acting upon
a magnetized bar, and upon iron, like a magnet, the direc¬
tive power of the needle being produced by the action of
magnetism of a contrary kind to that which exists at the
extremity of the needle directed towards the pole of the
globe. He gave the name oipole to the extremities of the
needle which pointed towards the poles of the earth, con¬
formably to his views of terrestrial magnetism, calling the
extremity that pointed towards the N. the south pole of the
needle, and that which pointed to the S. the north pole.
About the year 1650, Mr Bond, a teacher of mathema¬
tics in London, who had been employed to superintend the
publication of the popular treatises on navigation, published
a work called the Seaman's Calendar, in which he main¬
tains that he has discovered the true progress of the devia¬
tion of the compass; and in another book, called The Lon¬
gitude Found, and in the Phil. Trans. 1668, he published a
table of the computed variations for London for many years
to come, extending from 1663 to 1716. The results which
this table contains agree very nearly with those which were
observed for the next twenty-five years, but after that the
differences became very great. In a subsequent paper in
the Phil. Trans, for 1673, Bond attempted to account for
the change in the variation and dip of the needle, by two
magnetic poles, and a magnetic axis inclined to the axis of
the earth. He asserted that he knew the period of this re¬
volution, as well as its cause ; and he proposed to determine
the longitude by means of the dip of the needle. He did
not, however, think proper to communicate either his views
or method to the public.
Newton, Huygens, Hooke, and some of the other philo¬
sophers who flourished about the end of the seventeenth
century, were occupied, though not to a great degree, with
the subject of magnetism. Some of their observations and
discoveries are referred to in a manuscript volume of notes
and commentaries, written by David Gregory in 1693, in a
copy of Newton’s Principia, and used by Newton in im¬
proving the second edition. Newton, who considered the
magnetic force as different from that of gravity,1 had sup¬
posed that the law of magnetic action approaches to the
inverse triplicate ratio of the distance ; but Gregory did not
adopt this opinion, and invalidates the arguments which were
used in its support. Newton committed another mistake History,
in asserting, as we shall afterwards see, that red hot iron
has no magnetic property.
Several interesting experiments had been made by Dr Dr Hooke,
Gilbert, on the effects of heat in destroying magnetism, a.d. 1684.
and also in inducing it in substances susceptible of being
impregnated. He likewise made numerous experiments
with bars of iron and steel placed in the magnetic meri¬
dian and exposed to great heats. Dr Hooke took up this
subject in 1684. He used rods of iron and steel about
seven inches long and one-fifth of an inch in diameter, and
he found that they acquired permanent magnetism when
strongly heated in the magnetic meridian, and allowed to
cool in the same position. The permanency of the effect
was greater, and the magnetism stronger, when the rods
were suddenly cooled in cold water, so as to give them a
very hard temper. He found that the end which was next
to the N., or the lower end of a vertical bar, was inva¬
riably a permanent N. pole. Even when the upper end
alone was quenched, while the rest of the bar cooled slowly,
that end became a sensible S. pole. If the same process
was adopted when the steel bar lay at right angles to the
magnetic meridian, no magnetism was acquired.
The subject of terrestrial magnetism now occupied Hr Halley,
the attention of our eminent countryman, Dr Edmund jggg167^’
Halley. He had observed a change in the variation of
the needle so early as 1672, a year before he left school ;
and in 1683, he published2 his Theory of Magnetism, which
to a certain extent forms the nucleus of more mo¬
dern hypotheses. He regarded the earth’s magnetism as
caused by four poles of attraction, two of them near each
pole of the earth ; and he supposes “ that in those parts of the
world which lie nearly adjacent to any one of these mag¬
netic poles, the needle is governed thereby, the nearest pole
being always predominant over that more remote.” He
supposes that the magnetic pole, which was in his time
nearest Britain, was situated near the meridian of the Land’s
End, and not above 7° from the N. pole; the other N.
magnetic pole, the strongest, being in the meridian of
California, E. Long. 246°, and about 15° from the N.
pole of the earth. He placed one of the two S. poles
about 16° from the S. pole of the globe, and 95° W.
from London ; and the other, or the most powerful of the
four, about 20° from the S. pole, and 120° E. of London.
In order to account for the change in the variation, Dr Hr Halley’s
Halley, some years afterwards, added to these reasonable theory-
suppositions the very extraordinary one, that our globe was
a hollow shell, and that within it a solid globe revolved, in
nearly the same time as the outer one, and about the same
centre of gravity, and with a fluid medium between them.
To this inner globe he assigned two magnetic poles, and
to the outer one other two ; and he conceived the change
in the variation of the needle to be caused by a want of
coincidence in the times of rotation of the inner globe and
the external shell. “ Now, supposing,” says he, “ such an
external sphere having such a motion, we may solve the
two great difficulties in every former hypothesis; for if this
exterior shell of earth be a magnet, having its poles at a
distance from the poles of diurnal rotation; and if the in¬
ternal nucleus be likewise a magnet, having its poles in
two other places, distant also from its axis, and these latter,
by a gradual and slow motion, change their places in re¬
spect of the external; we may then give a reasonable account
of the four magnetic poles, as also of the changes of the
needle’s variation.” From some reasons which Dr Halley
then states, he concludes “ that the two poles of the ex¬
ternal globe are fixed in the earth, and that if the needle
were wholly governed by them, the variation would be
always the same, with some little irregularities; but the
1 Principia, lib. iii., prop. 6.
2 Phil. Tram., No. 248.
magnetism.
History, internal sphere, having such a gradual translation of its
poles, influences the needle, and directs it variously, ac¬
cording to the result of the attractive and directive P°'v,e^
of each pole, and consequently there must be a period or
revolution of this internal ball, after which the variation
will return as before.” .
This theory excited so much notice, that an application
was made to William and Mary, for a ship, “ in order to
seek, bv observation, the discovery of the rule for the va¬
riation of the compass.” The command of a ship of the
royal navy was in consequence given to Dr Halley ; and,
in the accomplishment of the object which he had in view,
he performed two voyages, one in 1698 and the other in
1699, in which he traversed various parts of the Pacific and
Atlantic Oceans, and obtained such a number of valuable
results, that he completed and published in 1701 a chart of
the variation of the needle, which exhibited to the eye the
general law of its phenomena, by means of lines joining
those places where the variation was equal.
Graham. The very important discovery of the daily variation of
a.d. 1722. the needle was made in 1722, by Mr Graham, a celebrated
• mathematical instrument maker in London. While the
needle was advancing by an annual motion to the westward,
Daily va- Mr Graham found that its N. extremity moved westward
riation dis- during the early part of the day, and returned again in
covered. ^ even,ng t0 the eastward, to the same position which
it occupied in the morning, remaining nearly stationary
during the night. Mr Graham at first ascribed these changes
to defects in the form of his needles; but, by numerous
and careful observations, repeated under every variation of
the weather and of the heat and pressure of the atmosphere,
he concluded that the daily variation was a regular pheno¬
menon, of which he could not find the cause. It was gene¬
rally a maximum between ten o’clock a.m. and four o’clock
p.m., and a minimum between 6 and 7 o’clock p.m. Be¬
tween the 6th February and the 12th May 1722, he made
a thousand observations in the same place, from which he
found that the greatest westerly variation was 14° 45' and
the least 13° 50' ; but in general it varied between 14° 35'
and 14°, giving 35' for the amount of the daily variation.
The law of the magnetic force, or the rate at which it
varies with the distance, had, as we have seen, occupied
the attention of Sir Isaac Newton and David Gregory.
Numerous experiments were made by various authors for
the same purpose, a large collection of which have been
published by Scarella, in his treatise De Magnete, published
at Brescia in 1759. Muschenbroeck1 made a great number
of experiments with the samte view; but as the joint action
of the four poles was never considered, the precise law of
variation remained unknown. Mr Whiston, Mr Hauksbee,
and Dr Brooke Taylor employed a much better method,
and Brooke namely, the deviation of a compass-needle from the meri-
Taylor. dian, produced by the action of a magnet at different dis¬
tances; and the conclusion which they drew from their
experiments was, that the magnetic force was proportional
to the sines of half the arcs of deviation, or nearly in the
inverse sesqui-duplicate ratio of the distance, or as the square
roots of the fifth powers of the distances.2
Notwithstanding this strange conclusion, the observa¬
tions to which we have referred were of great value ; and
Mr Michell3 succeeded in deducing from them, in 1750,
the true law of magnetic action. “ There have been,” says
Mr Michell, “ some who have imagined that the decrease
of the magnetic attraction and repulsion is inversely as the
cubes of the distances ; others, as the squares ; and others,
Law of the
magnetic
force.
Whiston,
Hauksbee
Mr Michell.
that it follows no certain ratio at all, but that it is much History,
quicker at great distances than at small ones, and that it is
different in different stones. Among the last is Dr Brooke
Taylor and Muschenbroeck, who seem to have been pretty
accurate in their experiments. The conclusions of these
gentlemen were drawn from their experiments, without
their being aware of the third property of magnets just
mentioned, which, if they had made proper allowances for,
together with the increase and diminution of power in the
magnets they tried their experiments with, all the irregu¬
larities they complained of (as far as appears from their
relations of them) might very well be accounted for, and
the whole of their experiments coincide with the squares of
the distances inversely.”
It is to Mr Michell also that we owe the introduction of Torsion
the torsion balance, for measuring small forces ; an instru- balance,
ment which, as we shall see, was employed with singular
success and dexterity by Coulomb in his electrical, magne-
tical, and hydrodynamical researches: and the science of
magnetism is no less indebted to Mr Michell for his inven¬
tion of the method of double touch, as it is called, by which
artificial magnets may be made with greater strength than
could have been obtained from the previous method of
Duhamel. Dr Gowen Knight, who first taught us to make
powerful magnets, accounted for the phenomena of magnet¬
ism by supposing that a fluid whose particles repelled each
other exists in space and in the pores of steel, and passes
in one direction only between magnetic poles. Attraction
takes place when the fluid circulates from the S. pole of one
magnet to the N. pole of another, and repulsion from its
circulation from the N. or S. pole of one magnet to the
same pole of the other.4
The hypothesis of Descartes, who explained the polarity Descartes,
of the needle by means of currents moving rapidly from
the equator to the poles, was adopted and defended by Euler
and Daniel Bernoulli; but we cannot afford any space for
such useless speculations. Euler afterwards occupied him- E11161;-
self more advantageously for science in attempting to in- A,D'
vestigate mathematically the direction of the needle on
every part of the earth’s surface.5 Perceiving the intricacy
which would arise from the adoption of four poles, as ima¬
gined by Halley, he tried the effect of employing two poles
not diametrically opposite; and he found, that when a
proper position was given them, the variation under the
same meridian might be both easterly and westerly, as in
Halley’s chart. The solution which he has given is founded
on the principle, “ that the magnetic direction on the earth
follows always the small circle which passes through the
given place, and the two magnetic poles of the earth ; . or
that the horizontal needle is a tangent to the circle passing
through the place of observation, and through the two points
on the earth’s surface where the dipping needle becomes
vertical, or the horizontal needle loses its directive power.
In the application of this principle, Euler makes four dif¬
ferent suppositions respecting the magnetic poles : 1. That
they are diametrically opposite to each other; 2. That they
are in opposite meridians, but not in opposite parallels ; 3.
That they are on the same meridian ; and, 4. That they have
every other situation whatever. 1 he first of these suppo¬
sitions he finds to be quite irreconcileable with the observed
phenomena, but in the other three he finds that the varia¬
tion may be both easterly and westerly in the same meri¬
dian. By successive approximations he finds the position
of the two magnetic poles in 1757 to be as follows:
The N. pole in Lat. 76. N., and Long. 96. W. from Tene-
1 Muschenbroeck’s experiments, though valuable in themselves, led to no definite results. They will be found in Phil. Trans., 1725;
Introduction to Natural Philosophy, 1744 ; and Essai de Physique, 1751.
* Phil. Trans., Nos. 368, 396. Dr Brooke Taylor had, in an earlier paper (Phil. Trans., 1721) come to the conclusion that the force was
different in different magnets, and decreased quicker at great distances than at small ones, an experimental fact, as shown by Sir W.
Harris, Rudimentary Magnetism, part iii., 224. A Treatise of Artificial Magnets, 8vo, Lond. 1750, p. 19.
4 Attempt to Explain the Phenomena of Nature, Lond. 1748. 6 Berlin Memoirs, 1757, 1766.
MAGNETISM.
History, riffe ; and the S. pole in Lat. 58. S., and Long. 158. W. from
TenerifFe. To this dissertation Euler has added a chart of the
curves of equal variation, calculated on the preceding prin¬
ciples, and suited to 1757; and their general accordance
a.o. 1766. with observation is very surprising. In a subsequent dis¬
sertation Euler endeavoured to improve his theory, by sup¬
posing the two magnetic poles to be at the surface of the
earth. The chord joining these poles he calls the mag¬
netic axis, and the middle point of that chord its magnetic
centre. Then, if we draw a line from the place of obser¬
vation to the magnetic centre, and consider this as the base
of an isosceles triangle, one of whose sides is the magnetic
axis, the other side will be the direction of a freely sus¬
pended needle. This hypothesis, though it has various
defects, fulfils, as has been remarked, certain conditions
that are essential to a good theory. 1. It gives the needle
the approximately accurate positions at the equator, the
needle and the axis being then parallel. 2. It fulfils the
condition of the needle and axis, forming a continuous line
at the poles. 3. It furnishes two points at which the needle
would be vertical; and 4. It gives a series of positions,
single for each place, and having a certain, and oftentimes
pretty close, approach to the true position.
Tobias The celebrated Tobias Mayer, in an unpublished me-
Mayer. moir, read before the Royal Society of Gottingen, gave an
account of a series of experiments on magnetism, from
which he concluded that the force was in the inverse ratio
of the square of the distance. Experiments made about
the same time by Benjamin Martin,1 indicate a force in¬
versely as the square roots of the cubes of the distances.
Lambert. The law of magnetic action occupied the particular at-
a.d. 1756. tention of M. Lambert, the celebrated Prussian philosopher,
who has published an account of his labours in the Memoirs
of the Academy of Berlin for 1756. Having placed a ma¬
riner’s compass at various distances from a magnet, and in
the direction of its axis, he observed the declination of the
needle produced by the magnet, and the obliquity of the
magnet to the needle’s axis. From several observations at
different obliquities, he found that the action of magnetism
on a lever was proportional to the sine of the angle of its
obliquity to the axis of the lever or needle. M. Lambert
then proceeded to study the effect of distance, and he dis¬
covered that the force of a magnet is proportional to the
distance of the nearest pole of the magnet from the centre
of the needle, diminished by the square of a constant quan¬
tity, nearly equal to two-thirds of the length of the needle.
This result he found to be true with magnets ten times
larger, and needles twice as short; but as the law led him
to a strange result, as if the action on a magnet were exerted
from a centre beyond itself, he was therefore obliged to
take another method of determining the law of action,
namely, by a series of experiments on the directive power
of the magnet,2 from which he inferred, “ that the force of
each transverse element of a magnet is as its distance from
the centre, and its action on a particle of another magnet in¬
versely as the square of the distance.” By means of this
law he calculates the position of a very small needle, and
draws three of the curves to which it should be a tangent,
and these coincide very accurately with some of those which
he had observed.3
Dr Robi- ^ur countryman> Dr Robison, had been pursuing similar
60n_ inquiries before he had seen Lambert’s experiments. He
a.d. 1769. got some magnets made, composed of two balls connected
by a slender rod; and after magnetizing them strongly, he
found that the force of each pole resided nearly in the centre
of the ball. In this way the attractive and the directive
powers of the magnets were easily computed; and the re-
5
suit was, that the force of each pole was inversely as the History,
square of the distance. In no case did the error of this V—
hypothesis amount to one-fifteenth of the whole; and in
the calculation for the phenomena of the directive power,
the errors were still smaller. When Dr Robison had seen
Lambert’s second memoir, he repeated all his former ex¬
periments in Lambert’s manner, taking the precaution of
keeping the needle in its natural position, which he had not
previously attended to ; and the results which he now ob¬
tained were still more conformable to his conjecture as to
the law of variation. Dr Robison tried another method of
ascertaining the law of magnetic action. In 1769, or 1770,
he constructed a needle of two balls joined by a slender
rod; and having touched it with great care, so as to keep
the whole strength of the poles near the centre of the balls,
he counted the number of oscillations which it performed
horizontally in a given time by the force of the earth’s mag¬
netism. “ He then placed it on the middle of a very fine and
large magnet, placed with its poles in the magnetic me¬
ridian, the N. pole pointing S. In this situation he
counted the vibrations made in a given time. He then
raised it up above the centre of a large magnet, till the
distance of its poles from those of the great magnet was
changed in a certain proportion. In this situation its vibra¬
tions were again counted. It was tried in the same way in
a third situation, considerably more remote from the great
magnet. Then having made the proper reduction of the
forces corresponding to the obliquity of their action, the
force of the poles of the great magnet was computed from
the number of vibrations.” The results of these experi¬
ments were the most consistent with each other of any that
Dr Robison made for determining the law of the magnetic
force; and it was chiefly from them that he thought him¬
self authorized to say, with some confidence, that it is in¬
versely as the square of the distance. When Dr Robison,
however, observed, some years afterwards, that iEpinus, in
1777, conceived the force to vary inversely as the simple
distance, he repeated the experiments with great care, and
added another set made with the same magnet, and the
same needle placed at one side of the magnet instead of
above it. By this arrangement, which greatly simplified
the process, the result of the whole was still more satisfac¬
tory. The inverse law of the square of the distance was
therefore well established.
Various speculations respecting the cause of the pheno- Theory of
mena of magnetism had been hazarded by different authors ;
but it was reserved for M. vEpinus to devise a rational A'I)‘
hypothesis, which embraced and explained almost all the
phenomena which had been observed by previous authors.
This hypothesis, which he has explained at great length in
his Tentamen Theorice Eleclricitatis et Magnetismi, pub¬
lished in 1759, may be stated in the following manner:—
1. In all magnetic bodies there exists a substance which
may be called the magnetic fluid, whose particles repel each
other with a force inversely as the distance.
2. The particles of this fluid attract the particles of iron,
and are attracted by them in return with a similar force.
3. The particles of iron repel each other according to the
same law.
4. The magnetic fluid moves through the pores of iron
and soft steel with very little obstruction; but its motion
is more and more obstructed as the steel increases in hard¬
ness or temper, and it moves with the greatest difficulty in
hard-tempered steel and the ores of iron.
The method of making artificial magnets, which was Methods of
practised by the philosophers of the seventeenth century, mak!n&
was a very simple, but a very inefficacious one. It consisted
1 Philos. Britannica, vol. i., p. 47. Memoirs of the Berlin Academy, vol. xxii.
3 A popular account of Lambert’s researches will be found in Sir William Snow Harris’s Rudimentary Magnetism, part iii., arts.
191-203.
6
MAGNETISM.
History.
Experi¬
ments of
Canton.
A.D. 1756.
in merely rubbing the steel bar to be magnetized upon one
of the poles of a natural or artificial magnet, in a direction at
right angles to the line joining the poles of the magnet. To¬
wards the middle of the eighteenth century, however, the art
of making artificial magnets had excited general attention.
Marcel, Savery, and Desaguliershad succeeded in making
tolerably good artificial magnets; but it is to Dr Gowin
Knight, an English physician, that we are indebted for the
discovery of the first good method of making powerful
magnets. This method he kept secret from the public;
but it was afterwards published by Dr Wilson. Duhamel,
Canton, Michell, Antheaume, Savery, Alpinus, Robison,
Coulomb, Biot, Scoresby, Logeman, and others, made va¬
rious improvements on this art, which will be described
when we arrive at that part of our subject.
The science of magnetism owes many obligations to Mr
John Canton, one of the most active experimental philo¬
sophers who adorned the middle of the eighteenth century.
In or previous to the year 1756, he made no fewer than
4000 observations on the diurnal variation of the needle,
with the view of determining its amount, and investigating
its origin. He found the daily change different in different
seasons of the year, as shown in the following table :—
January   7' 8,‘'
February  8 58
March  11 17
April 12 26
May 13 0
June 13 21
July 13' 14"
August 12 19
September 11 43
October 10 36
November  8 9
December     6 58
He found, also, that the time of minimum westerly vari¬
ation at London was between eight and nine o’clock A.M.,
and the time of maximum between one and two o’clock P.M.,
the needle returning to its morning position about eight or
nine in the evening. A series of similar observations were
Van Swin- made with nearly the same results by Mr Van Swinden;
den. but this excellent observer discovered, that some time before
the hour in the morning when the westerly minimum took
place, and after the same hour in the evening, a motion of
the needle both to the eastward and westward took place;
that is, the morning westerly variation is sometimes pre¬
ceded by a small easterly variation, and the principal east¬
erly variation in the evening is followed by a small westerly
variation.
Canton explained the westerly variation of the needle,
and the subsequent easterly motion, by supposing that the
heat of the sun, acting upon the eastern parts of the earth,
weakens their influence, as heat is known to do that of a
magnet, and consequently the needle will move to the west¬
ward. In the same way, as the sun warms the western side
of the earth in the afternoon, the needle will then take a
contrary direction.
Discoveries ^ne t^ie aWest cultivators of the science of magnetism
of Cou- was the celebrated Coulomb, who, by the application of the
lomb. principle of torsion, first used by Michell, determined the
correct law of magnetic attractions and repulsions. After
measuring with great nicety, by the torsion balance, the
force requisite to make a magnetic bar, suspended horizon¬
tally, deviate any number of degrees from a given position,
he was enabled to verify the discovery of Lambert already
mentioned, that the effect of terrestrial magnetism is pro¬
portional to the sine of the angle which the magnetic me¬
ridian forms with the axis of the magnet upon which it acts.
By making the homologous poles of two magnetized wires
repel each other, he observed the force of torsion which was
necessary to overcome certain quantities of their mutual
repulsion, and, at the distances 12°, 17°, and 24°, he found
that the repulsive forces were as the numbers 3312, 1692,
and 864, deviating little from 3312, 1650, and 828, which
they would have been had the repulsive force varied in the
inverse ratio of the square of the distance. The excess of
42 and 36 in the experimental numbers was owing to the
circumstance that it was not a particle, but a portion of History,
each wire from which the repulsive force emanated; so
that the force of the other particles being exerted less
obliquely, and, therefore, being stronger at greater distances,
ought to produce an excess such as that actually observed.
A similar result was obtained when the contrary poles of
the magnetized wires were made to attract each other; so
that Coulomb concluded that the attractive and repulsive
forces exercised by two magnetic particles are inversely as
the square of their distances, a result which he confirmed by
several other methods than that which we have noticed.
Provided with such a delicate instrument as the torsion Distribu-
balance, Coulomb was enabled to apply it with singular tion of
advantage to almost every branch of the science. His first magnetism,
object was to determine the law according to which mag¬
netism is distributed in a magnetic bar. It was of course
well known that the magnetism in the middle of the bar
was imperceptible, and that it increased according to a
regular law, and with great rapidity, towards each of its
poles. By suspending a small proof needle with a silk fibre, Discoveries
and causing it to oscillate horizontally opposite different 0f Cou-
points of a magnetic bar placed vertically, Coulomb com- lomb.
puted the part of the effect which was due to terrestrial
magnetism, and the part which was due to the action of
the bar; and in this way he obtained the following results,
which show the extreme rapidity with which magnetism is
increased towards the poles.
Distances from the North
end of the Bar.
0 inches.
1 „
2 „
3 „
4-5 „
6 „
Intensity of the Magnetism
at these Distances.
165
90
48
23
9
6
In examining the distribution of electricity in a circular
plane, Coulomb found that the thickness of the electric
stratum was almost constant from the centre to within a
very small distance of the circumference, when it increased
all on a sudden with great rapidity. He conceived that a
similar distribution of magnetism took place in the trans¬
verse section of a magnetic bar; and, by a series of nice
experiments with the torsion balance, he found this to be
the case, and established the important fact, that the mag¬
netic power resides on the surface of iron bodies, and is
entirely independent of their mass.
The effect of temperature on magnets was another sub- Effects of
ject to which Coulomb directed his powerful mind; but he tempera-
did not live to give an account of his experiments, which tare,
were published after his death by his friend M. Biot. Cou¬
lomb found that the magnetism of a bar, magnetized to
saturation, diminished greatly by raising its temperature
from 12° of Reaumur to 680° ; and that when a magnetic
bar was tempered at 780°, 860°, and 950°, of Reaumur, the
development of its magnetism was gradually increased,
being more than double at 900° of what it was at 780°.
He found also that the directive force of the bar reached its
maximum when it was tempered at a bright cherry-red
heat at 900°; and that at higher temperatures the force
diminished. It is to Mr Barlow, however, as we shall pre¬
sently see, that we are indebted for the complete investiga¬
tion of the influence of temperature on the development of
magnetism.
Coulomb made many valuable experiments on the best Method of
methods of making artificial magnets, and he subjected all making
the various processes that had been previously employed to artificial
the test of accurate measurement. His experiments on the magnets-
best forms of magnetic needles are equally valuable; but
the most interesting of his researches, and the last to which
he devoted his great talents, were those which relate to the
action of magnets upon all natural bodies. Hitherto iron,
steel, nickel, and cobalt, had been regarded as the only
MAGN ETISM.
7
History, magnetic bodies; but, in the year 1802, Coulomb announced
' to the Institute of France, that all bodies whatever are sub-
TJniversal ject to the magnetic influence, even to such a degree as to
magnetism, be capable of accurate measurement. The substances em¬
ployed by Coulomb were in the form of a cylinder or small
bar, about one-third of an inch in length and one-thirtieth
in thickness, and they were suspended by a single fibre of
silk between the opposite poles of two powerful steel mag¬
nets, placed in the same straight line, and having their
opposite poles at a distance exceeding by a quarter of an
inch the length of the cylinders. The cylinders were then
made to oscillate between the poles of the magnets, and
were protected from all motions of the air by a glass receiver.
The result of these experiments was, that whatever was the
substance of the cylinders, they always arranged themselves
in a line joining the poles of the magnets, and returned to
that position whenever they were deflected from it. These
experiments were made with cylinders of gold, silver,
copper, lead, tin, glass, wood, chalk, bone, and every variety
of substance, organic and inorganic. The only explanation
which Coulomb could give of these phenomena was, either
that all bodies whatever were susceptible of magnetism, or
that they contained small portions of iron or other magnetic
metals, which communicated to them the property of obey¬
ing the magnet. In order to investigate this subject, MM.
Sage and Guyton prepared highly purified needles of the
different metals, and M. Coulomb found that the momenta
of the forces with which they were solicited by the magnets
were as follows:—
Lead....
Tin 
Silver .
Gold....
Copper.
.0-00674
.0-00591
.0-00520
.0-00406
.0.00406
the momentum of torsion alone, for all the needles, being
0*00136, a little more than a fourth of the action which the
magnets exert upon the needles.
In order to determine if these phenomena were owing to
particles of iron disseminated through the bodies, Coulomb
fabricated needles out of three different mixtures of white
wax and iron filings, and he found that the forces exerted
by magnets upon these needles were proportional to the
absolute quantities of iron which they contain. Coulomb
now tried a needle of silver, purified by cupellation, and
another needle of silver alloyed with g^Q-th part of iron,
and he found that the action of the magnet upon the for¬
mer was 415 times less than upon the latter. Hence there
will be 415 times less iron in the pure than in the impure
silver; and since the latter contains ^^th part of its weight
of iron, the first will contain ^}^th of ^^th, or
or it will contain 132,799 parts of pure silver and one of
iron, a quantity of alloy beyond the reach of chemical de¬
tection.
The Abbe Haiiy, by a process which he calls Double Mag¬
netism, endeavoured to make Coulomb’s process more effec¬
tual. He deflected a delicately-suspended magnetic needle
from the meridian, by a magnetic bar placed so as to make
the needle stand E. and W. A very feeble magnetic force
was then sufficient to make it turn on its centre of suspen¬
sion. M. Becquerel having found that a needle of soft iron
might be used in place of the magnetic one of Haiiy, formed
his needles of several oxides of iron, inclosed in a thin paper
case, suspended in different positions at a given distance
from the pole of a magnetic bar; and he found, what may
be considered as the first observed fact in diamagnetism, that
the paper-case needles made of an admixture of the second
and third oxides of iron, instead of directing themselves to
the pole of the magnet like the soft-iron needle, stood at
right angles to the line of the poles. Upon repeating Cou¬
lomb’s experiment with needles of white wood and gum
lac, suspended very near the magnets, but above the line
of the poles, he found that they took the same position as
the paper-case needles.
Amongst the scientific travellers who contributed to our
knowledge of terrestrial magnetism, Baron Alexander Hum¬
boldt was one of the most distinguished. Himself an ac¬
curate and scientific observer, and possessed of nice instru¬
ments and methods of observation, he made numerous
accurate observations on the dip and variation of the needle
in various parts of the earth, and particularly near the mag¬
netic equator; and by means of these valuable data, M.
Biot was enabled to throw much light on the subject of
terrestrial magnetism. Hitherto the magnetic poles had
been considered as either on or very near the surface of
the earth; but as it had been found impossible to deduce
the phenomena of the variation and dip of the needle, phi¬
losophers were led to consider the situation of these poles
as indeterminate. M. Biot was the first to adopt this view M. Biot,
of the subject; and, after numerous comparisons, he came
to the conclusion, that the nearer these poles were placed
to each other, the greater was the agreement between the
computed and observed results; and by considering the
two poles as indefinitely near each other in the centre of the
earth, the computed and observed measures approximated
as closely as could be expected. Hence it was inferred
that the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism were not such
as are produced by permanently magnetic bodies, but those
rather that arise from simple iron or ferruginous masses,
which are only temporarily magnetic. In this manner M.
Biot was led to express the law of terrestrial magnetism in
a complicated formula, which represented the observations
with wonderful accuracy.
In the year 1809 Professor Krafft of St Petersburg un- Professor
dertook the very same inquiry, and after comparing the Krafft.
same observations which were used by Biot, with the re¬
spective situations of the places where they were obtained,
he arrived at the following simple law:—“ If we suppose a
circle circumscribed about the earth, having the two ex¬
tremities of the magnetic axis for its poles, and if we con¬
sider this circle as a magnetic equator, the tangent of the
dip of the needle, in any magnetic latitude, will be equal to
double the tangent of this latitude.” Upon re-examining
his former formula, M. Biot found that it was reducible to
the above simple law, a coincidence which may be con¬
sidered as giving it additional confirmation.
One of the most zealous and successful cultivators of Professor
magnetical science is Professor Hansteen of Christiania, Hansteen.
who published, in 1817, an able work on the magnetism of
the earth.1 The Royal Society of Denmark proposed, in
1811, the prize question, “ Is the supposition of one mag¬
netical axis sufficient to account for the magnetical pheno¬
mena of the earth, or are two necessary ?” Professor Han-
steen’s attention had been previously drawn to this subject
by seeing a terrestrial globe, on which was drawn an ellip¬
tical line round the S. pole, and marked Regio Polaris
magnetica, one of the foci being called Regio fortior, and
the other Regio debilior. As this figure professed to be
drawn by Wilcke, from the observations of Cooke and Fur-
neaux, Hansteen was led to compare it with the facts ; and
the result of the comparison being favourable, be was in¬
duced to study the theory of Halley, which had previously
appeared to him wild and extravagant. The result of his
researches, however, was favourable to that part of Halley’s
theory which assumes the existence of four poles and two
History.
Humboldt.
a.d. 1798-
1803.
1 Untermchungen iiber den Magnetismus der Erde, 4to, Christiania, 1817. This work was first made known in England by Sir David
Brewster, in two articles in the Edin. Phil. Journal for 1820, vol. iii., p. 138, and vol. iv., p. 114 ; and an account of his subsequent re¬
searches, drawn up by Hansteen himself, appeared in the Edin. Journal of Science for 1826, vol. v., p. 65.
8
MAGNETISM.
History, magnetic axes. Hansteen’s Memoir, which was crowned
by the Danish Society, forms the groundwork of the larger
Hansteen’s volume which he published in 1817. In his fifth chapter,
researches, on the Mathematical Theory of the Magnet, he deduces
the law of magnetic action from a series of experiments
similar to those of Hauksbee and Lambert. Assuming
that the attraction or repulsion between any two magnetic
particles is directly as the intensity of the force, and in¬
versely as some unknown power t of the mutual distance of
these particles, and supposing that the magnetic intensity
of any particle is proportional to some power r of its dis¬
tance a from the centre of the magnet, he finds the follow¬
ing expression for the effect F, which a linear magnet would
have upon a magnetic point situated anywhere upon the
axis produced:—
r x dx Cx dx
(a-x)* J {a+ x)' ’
x being the length of half the axis of the linear magnet, and
F (multiplied by a constant quantity, depending on the
degrees of magnetism which the point and line possess) re¬
presenting the force. In conducting the experiments,
Hansteen placed a very sensible compass upon a horizontal
table, so that the needle pointed to 0°. From beneath the
centre of this needle, and perpendicular to its direction, or
to the magnetic meridian, he drew a straight line upon the
table, and divided it into portions, so that ten of them were
equal to the half axis a of the artificial magnet. This mag¬
net was then placed on the line at different distances from
the needle, and the deviation of the needle from the mag¬
netic meridian which it produced was accurately observed
for each distance. Upon comparing the results, and calcu¬
lating them by the formula, upon the supposition that t was
1 or 3, the differences were very great; but by making
£ = 2, the calculated and observed results agreed remark¬
ably well, as the following table shows:—
Values of a,
or Distances
in half Axes
of the
Magnet.
11
10
9
7
5
4
Values of P, or increase of the Force.
Observed
Values.
1-000
1-306
1-834
3-947
11-015
22-441
Calculated Values.
t — 2
r — 1
1-000
1-334
1-835
3-938
11-072
22-245
t — 2
r = 2
1-000
1-334
1-836
3-945
11-119
22-411
t — 2
r = 3
1-000
1-325
1-836
3-949
11-154
22-530
On the law From this remarkable coincidence between the observed
ofmagne- and the computed results, Hansteen concludes that “the
tic force, attractive or repulsive force with which two magnetic par¬
ticles affect each other, is always directly as their intensities,
and inversely as the squares of their mutual distance.” He
shows that the undetermined value of r produces almost no
effect at considerable distances; and he is inclined to think
that r — 2, or that the absolute intensity of any magnetic
particle, situated in the axis, is proportional to the square
of its distance from the middle point of that axis. Mr Han¬
steen has also demonstrated that the distance from the
middle of a magnet being the same, the force opposite the
poles, or in the direction of the axis, is double of the force
in the magnetic equator. If a globe contains at its centre
an infinitely small magnet, Hansteen shows that, near the
magnetic equator, the dip must increase twice as rapidly as
the magnetic latitude, and, near the pole, half as rapidly ;
and that the increment of the dip must be equal to the al¬
teration of the latitude of that part of the globe where the
dip is o4° 44'. Our author also states, that if the earth had History,
only one magnetic axis, whose centre coincided with that
of the earth, the lines of equal dip would coincide with those Hansteen’s
of equal intensity ; but as this is far from being the case, researches,
his opinion that there are two magnetic axes becomes more
probable.
The most valuable part, however, of Professor Han- On terres-
steen’s work is that which relates to the number, position, tri^1 mag-
and revolution of the magnetic poles. Having collected netism-
all the observations of value that had been made on the
variation of the needle, he proved that there were four
points of convergence among the lines of variation, viz., a
weaker and a stronger point in the vicinity of each pole of
the globe. The strongest poles N., S., lie almost diametri¬
cally opposite to each other, and the same is true of the
weaker poles n, s. These four poles he found to have a re¬
gular motion obliquely, the two northern ones N, n, from
W. to E., and the two southern ones S, s, from E. to W.
Since the publication of his results, Professor Hansteen
obtained access to the valuable series of magnetical obser¬
vations made during the British voyage of discovery to the
arctic regions ; and, after a diligent comparison of them, he
obtained new and more accurate determinations of the posi¬
tions and periods of revolution of the four magnetic poles,
which will be found in our chapter on Terrestrial Mag¬
netism.
With the view of discovering the nature of the forces by
which the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism are pro¬
duced, Professor Hansteen resolved to ascertain, at different
parts of the earth’s surface, the intensity of its magnetism,
and to determine the form of the lines of equal intensity,
or, as he calls them, the isodynamical magnetic lines. By
means of the same needle intrusted to different philosophers,
he had observations on the number of its oscillations in a
given time made in every part of Europe; and he after¬
wards undertook a journey to Siberia to make the observa¬
tions himself in that interesting magnetical region. From
these observations he deduced the law given in our chapter
on Terrestrial Magnetism, according to which the magnetic
intensity varies with the dip of the needle.
Professor Hansteen’s journey to Siberia was attended
with secondary consequences of great value to science.
The attention of the Russian government, and the Aca¬
demy of Sciences at St Petersburg, was thus called to the
subject of magnetism; and, on the recommendation of
Baron Humboldt, the emperor liberally agreed to erect
magnetic observatories in suitable stations, for determining,
every ten years, the exact position of the two lines of the
variation, which pass through his empire.
In determining the intensity of terrestrial magnetism, Diurnal
Professor Hansteen observed that the time of vibration of changes,
a horizontal needle varied during the day. Graham had
previously suspected a change of this kind, but his methods
were not accurate enough to prove it. Hansteen, how¬
ever, found that the minimum intensity took place between
ten and eleven A.M., and the maximum between four and
five p.m. He concluded also that there was an annual vari¬
ation, the intensity being considerably greater in winter
near the perihelion, and in summer near the aphelion ; that
the greatest monthly variation was a maximum when the
earth is in its perihelion or aphelion, and a minimum near
the equinoxes ; and that the greatest daily variation is least
in winter and greatest in summer. He found also that the
aurora borealis weakened the magnetic force, and that the
magnetic intensity is always weakest when the moon crosses
the equator.
In making experiments in the round tower at Copen- Influence of
hagen, Hansteen found that the magnetic intensity increased height,
regularly towards the top, where it was a maximum j1 and
1 The height of the tower is 126 feet.
M A G N E T I S M.
9
History.
Mr Bar¬
low’s dis-
aoveries.
having extended his observations, he obtained the general
result, that at the foot of any vertical object the needle os¬
cillates quicker at the north side of it, and slower at the
south side; whereas at the upper end it oscillates quicker at
the south side, and slower at the north side. In the aeros¬
tatic ascent of MM. Gay-Lussac and Biot, they were un¬
able to detect any change in the intensity of terrestrial mag¬
netism at the height of 4000 metres. Saussuie, however,
had found that the intensity was considerably less on the
Col du Geant than at Chamouni and Geneva, the difference
in the levels of these places being, in the one case, 10,000,
and in the other, 7800 feet, but his observations contradict
his conclusion. M. Kupffer more recently obtained a simi¬
lar result by observations on Mount Elburz, having found
a decrease of intensity in rising 4500 feet above his first
station; and he explains the result obtained by MM. Gay-
Lussac and Biot, by supposing that an increase of intensity
was produced by the diminution of temperature. Mr Hen-
wood, on the other hand, made observations at the sur¬
face of Dolcoath mine, at 1320 feet beneath its surface,and
on a hill 710 feet above the level of the sea, without being
able to detect any difference in the intensity.
To the late Captain Foster1 we owe many valuable ob¬
servations on the magnetic intensity made at Spitzbergen
and elsewhere. From these he concluded, that the diurnal
change in the horizontal intensity is principally, if not
wholly, owing to a small change in the amount of the dip.
The maximum took place at about 3h 30m a.m., and the
minimum at 2h 47“ P.M., its greatest change amounting to
one eighty-third of its mean value. Captain Foster is of
opinion that these changes have the sun for their primary
agent, and that his action is such as to produce a constant
inflexion of the pole towards the sun during tlm 24 hours,
an idea which Mr Christie had previously stated.2
About the year 1817, Professor Barlow of Woolwich
turned his attention to the subject of magnetism, with the
view principally of calculating the effect of a ship’s guns on
the compass. In trying the effects of different iron balls,
he was led to the curious facts, that there exists round every
globe and mass of iron a great circle inclined to the horizon
at an angle equal to the complement of the dip of the
needle ; that the plane of this circle is a plane of no attrac¬
tion upon a needle w hose centre is in that plane ; that if
we regard this circle as the magnetic equator, the tangent
of the deviation of the needle from its N. or S. pole
will be proportional to the rectangle of the sine of the
double latitude, and cosine of the longitude ; that when the
distance of the needle is variable, the tangent of deviation
will be reciprocally proportional to the cube of the distance ;
and that, all things else being the same, the tangents of
deviation will be proportional to the cubes of the diameters
of the balls or shells, whatever be their masses, provided
their thickness exceed a certain quantity.
These results were published in the first edition of Mr
Barlow’s Essay on Magnetic Attractions ; but in the
second edition of that work, he has published some curious
results respecting the relative magnetic power of different
descriptions of iron and steel, and on the effect of tempera¬
ture on the quality and quantity of the attractive power of
iron. The results of the first of these series of experiments
were as follow, the numbers expressing the proportional mag¬
netic power of the different descriptions of iron and steel:—
Malleable iron 100
Blistered steel, soft ... 67
Blistered steel, hard ... 53
Shear steel, soft  66
Shear steel, hard ...53
Cast iron 48
Cast steel, soft 74
Cast steel, hard 49
In his experiments on the effects of temperature, Mr
Barlow found that every kind of iron and steel possessed
a greater capacity for the development of its magnetism History,
when softened by heat than when cold ; from which he con-
eludes that its complete development when cold is pre- Mr Bar-
vented only by the hardness or resisting power of the low’s dis-
metal. At a white heat he found that iron lost entirely its coveries.
magnetic power, a result apparently inconsistent with the
preceding conclusion ; but, what was a still more extraor¬
dinary circumstance, when the tvhite heat, at which there
was no magnetism, began to subside into a bright red, or red
heat, an attractive power showed itself the reverse of what
it had when cold ; and after it had passed through these two
shades of colour, it resumed the same attractive power
which it had when cold, the passage from the negative at¬
traction of red passing into the positive attraction of the
cold metal at the point of a red heat, the maximum, how¬
ever, taking place at a blood-red heat.
The experimental laws of attraction of an iron shell or Mr C. Bon-
sphere, obtained by Mr Barlow, were first examined theo- nycastle.
retically by Mr Charles Bonnycastle, who deduced them
mathematically from the theory of iEpinus, which supposes
the two magnetic fluids to be accumulated in the poles of
magnets. This theory, however, led to some improbable
consequences, and therefore Mr Barlow was induced to
adopt that of Coulomb, with the modification, that the mag¬
netic power all resides on the surf ice of iron bodies ; and
is independent of the mass ; a modification which enabled
Mr Barlow to obtain a general analytical expression of the
disturbing power of an iron ball at its surface, as compared
with that of the earth, and from which he deduced theore¬
tically all his experimental laws.
These important discoveries enabled Mr Barlow to in- Barlow’s
vent a most ingenious method of correcting the error of the correcting
compass, arising from the attraction of all the iron on board Plate-
ships. This source of error had been noticed by Mr Wales,
by Mr Downie in 1794, and by Captain Flinders ; but it is to
Mr Bain3 that we owe the distinct establishment and expla¬
nation of this source of error. As a hollow shell of iron
about four pounds in weight acts as powerfully at the same
distance as a solid iron ball of 200 pounds weight, Mr Bar-
low happily conceived that a plate of five or six pounds
weight might be made to represent and counteract the
amount of the attraction of all the iron on board a vessel,,
and therefore leave the needle as free to obey the action of
terrestrial magnetism as if there were no iron in the ship at
all. After this ingenious contrivance had been submitted
to the Admiralty, it was tried in every part of the world ;
and even in the regions which surround the magnetic pole,
where the compass becomes useless, it never failed to indi¬
cate the true magnetic direction when the correcting plate
was properly applied. At Port Bowen, where the dip is
88°, and the magnetic intensity which acts upon a horizon¬
tal needle extremely weak, the azimuth compass on board
Captain Parry’s ship gave the very same variation as that
observed on shore. “ Such an invention as this,” says Cap¬
tain Parry, “ so sound in principle, so easy of application,
and so universally beneficial in practice, needs no testimony
of mine to establish its merits; but when I consider the
many anxious days and sleepless nights which the uselessness
of the compass in these seas had formerly occasioned me, I
really should have esteemed it a kind of personal ingrati¬
tude to Mr Barlow, as well as great injustice to so me¬
morable a discovery, not to have stated my opinion of its
merits, under circumstances so well calculated to put them
to a satisfactory trial.” For this beautiful invention, the
Board of Longitude conferred upon Mr Barlow the highest
reward of L.500 ; and the Emperor of Russia, who was never
inattentive to the interests of science, sent him a fine gold
watch and a rich dress chain.
A series of beautiful discoveries was made about this Magnetism
     of rotation.
1 PhU. Tram. 1828.
VOL. XIV.
Phil. Tram. 1827, pp. 345-349.
• Treatise on the Variation of the Compass.
10 MAGNETISM.
History, time by M. Arago, Mr Christie, and Mr Barlow, on the
influence of rotation on bodies both magnetic and non¬
magnetic. Mr Barlow, so early as 1818 or 1819, had
found, that when a plate of iron was made to turn upon
its centre, different parts of its circumference had differ¬
ent degrees of magnetic action on the compass; but here
there was no effect discovered as due to rotation. In
Mr Chris- 1821, Mr Christie, in a series of experiments on iron
tie- plates, not only found that different parts in the circum¬
ference of the same plate had different attractive powers;
but that the same part had a different influence according as
the same plate was made to revolve to the right or left hand.
Mr Christie therefore discovered that there was a devia¬
tion due to rotation, and that magnetical effects were pro¬
duced which were nearly independent of the velocity of
rotation, and which continued after the rotation had ceased.
When the rotation was very rapid, the forces exerted
upon the needle were always in the same direction as the
forces derived from the slowest rotation, and which con¬
tinue to act after the rotation has ceased, the former
being to the latter nearly as three to two. From all the
observations made by Mr Christie, he considers that the
direction of the magnetic polarity acquired by rotation,
whether at right angles to the line of the dip or not, has
always a reference to the direction of the terrestrial mag¬
netic force ; and he infers that this magnetism is commu¬
nicated to it from the earth. “ It does not therefore appear
from this,” says Mr Christie, “ that a body can become
polarized by rotation alone, independently of the action of
another body; so that, if from these experiments we might
be led to attribute the magnetic polarity of the earth to
its rotation, we must at the same time suppose a source
from which magnetic influence is derived. Is it not, then,
possible that the sun may be the centre of such influence,
as well as the source of light and heat, and that, by their
rotation, the earth and other planets may receive polarity
from it ? ” When these experiments were repeated at Port
Bowen, in 1825, by Captain Foster, the phenomena were
exhibited on a more striking scale.
Mr Barlow. In December 1824 Mr Barlow began a series of ex¬
periments, with the view of ascertaining whether magnet¬
ism, as produced by various processes with iron, could be
excited or disturbed by rapid rotation. They were com¬
pleted in January, but their publication was delayed till
June, that an account of them might appear along with
those of Mr Christie above mentioned. Mr Barlow’s
first experiments were made on a 13-inch shell attached
to a lathe turned by a steam-engine, the mean speed of
which was about 640 revolutions in a minute. The de¬
viation of a needle exposed to its action increased with
the velocity, and remained constant while the velocity con¬
tinued constant, the needle always returning exactly to its
original position the moment the motion of the ball ceased.
This, therefore, is a phenomenon different from that ob¬
served by Mr Christie; a temporary effect wholly depen¬
dent on the velocity of rotation, whereas that observed by
Mr Christie was permanent, and nearly independent of
the number of revolutions. In examining the direction
of the new force impressed upon the iron shell, he found
it to be in every case equivalent to a polarization at right
angles to the axis of rotation.
Discove- Previous to the publication of these experiments, and
ries of M. without any knowledge of them, M. Arago had made the
Arago. remarkable discovery, that if plates of copper and other
substances are put into rapid rotation beneath a magnetized
horizontal needle freely suspended, the rotatory plate will
first cause the needle to deviate from its true direction;
and by increasing the velocity, the deviation will increase,
till the needle passes the opposite point, when it will con¬
tinue to revolve, and at last with such velocity that the eye
is unable to distinguish it.
M. Arago was led to this beautiful discovery by a pre- History,
vious series of experiments of great interest. He found
that a magnetic needle oscillating above or near any body
whatever, such as a plate of metal or a surface of water,
gradually oscillated in arcs of less and less amplitude, as
if it had been placed in a resisting medium; and, what
was particularly remarkable, the number of oscillations
performed in a given time was not changed. This curious
fact was announced to the Academy of Sciences in Paris
on the 22d of November 1824; and he was hence con¬
ducted to the still more remarkable discovery of the effects
of rotation which we have already mentioned.
M. Seebeck of Berlin repeated the experiments of M. M. See-
Arago on the influence of plates of metal and other sub- beck,
stances in diminishing the amplitude of oscillation; but we
must reserve our account of them till we come to the
chapter on that subject.
The experiments of M. Arago on the rotation of metallic
plates were described and repeated by M. Gay-Lussac in
London, in the month of March or April 1825; and they
excited so much attention, from their connection with the
effects observed by Mr Barlow, that Mr Babbage and Sir Mr Bab-
John Herschel immediately erected an apparatus for repeat- bage and
ing them. In their first trial, the deviation of the needle Sir John
did not exceed 10° or 11° with a revolving plate of copper. Herschel*
In order to enlarge the visible effect, they reversed the ex¬
periment, in order to try whether discs of copper and other
non-magnetic substances might not be set in motion if sus¬
pended over a revolving magnet. A horse-shoe magnet,
capable of lifting twenty pounds, was made to revolve
rapidly about its axis of symmetry placed vertically. A
circular disc of copper, six inches in diameter and one
twenty^fifth of an inch thick, was suspended centrally over
it, by a silk thread just capable of supporting it. A sheet
of paper being interposed and the magnet set in motion,
the copper began revolving in the same direction, at first
slowly, but with an accelerating velocity. On reversing the
motion of the magnet, the velocity of the copper was de¬
stroyed gradually. It stopped for an instant, and then
immediately began to revolve in the opposite direction.
Screens of paper, glass, wood, copper, tin, zinc, lead, bis¬
muth, were interposed betwixt the magnet and the copper
but they exerted no sensible interceptive power. But
when tinned iron plate was interposed, the magnetic in¬
fluence was greatly diminished by one plate, and almost
annihilated by two thicknesses of it. A piece of iron con¬
necting the two poles of the revolving magnet produced
the same effect. The substances in which signs of mag¬
netism were developed by the revolving magnet were—
copper, zinc, silver, tin, lead, antimony, mercury, gold,
bismuth, and carbon in the state in which it is precipitated
from carburetted hydrogen in gas-works. By getting plates
of different metals cast in the same mould, they found that
the proportional intensity of magnetic action for each re¬
spectively was as follows:—
Zinc   I'll Lead 0-25
Copper   1'00 Antimony 0'01
Tin   0.51 Bismuth inappreciable.
M. Arago had observed the very remarkable fact, that if
the disc of copper be cut from the circumference towards
the centre, like radii, but without taking away the metal,
the action upon the needle is greatly diminished. After
verifying this result, Messrs Babbage and Herschel ascer¬
tained that re-establishing the metallic contact with other
metals, restored, either wholly or very nearly, the original
power of the plate, even though the soldering metal had a
very feeble magnetic power. The law of the force, with a
decrease of distance, they found to vary between the square
and the cube. “ The rationale,” they say, “ of these phe¬
nomena, as well as of those observed by Mr Barlow in the
rotation of iron, which form only a particular case (though
History.
Connec¬
tion be¬
tween the
magnetic
poles and
those of
maximum
cold.
MAGNETISM.
certainly the most prominent of any) of the class in ques¬
tion, seems to depend on a principle which, whether it has
or has not been before entertained, or distinctly stated in
wrords, it may be as well, once for all, to assume here, as
a postulatum, viz., that in the induction of magnetism, time
enters as an essential element, and that no finite degree of
magnetic polarity can he communicated to or taken from,
any body whatever, susceptible of magnetism, in an instant.
The preceding results were verified by Mr Christie, who
found, that when a thick plate of copper revolved under a
small magnet, the force which deflected the needle varied
inversely as the fourth power of the distance; but when
the copper discs were small, and the magnets large, the
power of the distance was between the square and the
cube; when the plates were of different weights, the force
was nearly in the ratio of the weights at small distances,
but at smaller distances it varied in a higher ratio.
The discovery of two poles of maximum cold on op¬
posite sides of the N. pole of the earth, which was an¬
nounced by Sir David Brewster in 1820, led him and other
authors to the opinion that there might be some connection
between the magnetic poles and those of maximum cold.
“ Imperfect,” says he, “ as the analogy is between the iso¬
thermal and magnetic centres, it is yet too important to be
passed over without notice. Their local coincidence is suf¬
ficiently remarkable, and it would be to overstep the limits
of philosophical caution to maintain that they have no other
connection but that of accidental locality ; and if we had
as many measures of the mean temperature as we have of
the variation of the needle, we might determine whether
the isothermal poles were fixed or moveable.” And he
concludes his paper on the mean temperature of the globe
with the following paragraph “ Having thus endeavoured
to establish a new law of the distribution of heat over the
surface of the globe, it might be no uninteresting inquiry
to investigate the causes which have modified in so re¬
markable a manner the influence of the solar rays. The
subject, however, is too comprehensive and too hypotheti¬
cal to be discussed at present. How far the general form
and position of the continents and seas of the northern he¬
misphere may disturb the natural parallelism of the isother¬
mal lines to the equator—to what extent the current through
Behring’s Strait, transporting the waters of warmer climates
across the polar seas, may produce a warm meridian in the
direction of its motion, and throw the coldest parts of the
globe to a distance from the pole—whether or not the
magnetic, or galvanic, or chemical poles of the globe (as
the important discoveries of Oersted entitle us to call
them), may have their operations accompanied with the
production of cold, one of the most ordinary effects of che¬
mical action—or whether the great metallic mass which
crosses the globe, and on which its magnetic phenomena
have been supposed to depend, may not occasion a greater
radiation of heat in those points where it developes its
magnetic influence—are a few points which we may at¬
tempt to discuss when the progress of science has accumu¬
lated a greater number of facts, and made us better ac¬
quainted with the superficial condition as well as the inter¬
nal organization of the globe.”1
The two poles of maximum cold, which will likely per¬
form an important part in the future history of terrestrial
magnetism, are situate, according to Sir David Brewster,
as follows, according to the best observations made both
near them and at a distance The American pole is situ¬
ate in N. Lat. 73., and W. Long. 100. from Greenwich,
a little to the E. of Cape Walker ; and the Asiatic pole in
N. Lat. 73., and E. Long. 80., between Siberia and Cape
Matzol, on the Gulf of Oby. Hence, the two warm meri¬
dians will be in W. Long. 10., and E. Long. 170., the latter
passing through Lord Mulgrave’s range, and the former
between St Helena and Ascension Island. The two cold
meridians, or those which pass through the poles of maxi¬
mum cold, will be in W. Long. 100., and E. Long. 80., the
latter passing near Mexico and through Bathurst Island,
and the former through Colombo in Ceylon, Berar in
Hindustan, and crossing the Oby a little to the W. of
Narym in Siberia. The following is the formula which
the same author has given for the mean temperature at
any point of the globe, T being the mean temperature re¬
quired, t the maximum equatorial temperature, r the mini¬
mum temperature at each of the cold poles, and 8, o the
distances of the place from the two cold poles :—
T = (<-t) (sin.” S. sin." S^+t.
The distances 8, 8 are found from the formulae—
11
History.
cos.8=COS-L(c°S-L~g)and
cos. 6
tang. 0 = cos. M tang. L ;
in which L is the co-latitude of the pole of maximum cold,
l the co-latitude of the place, and M the difference of longi¬
tude between the place and the pole of maximum cold.
The values of t and r have been determined with consider¬
able accuracy, t being nearly 82°*8 Fahrenheit, and t from
0° to — 3^°. The exponent n is nearly fths, but future
observations may induce us to increase or diminish it.
Now, it is a remarkable circumstance that the same for¬
mula, mutalis mutandis, expresses the approximate^ mag¬
netic intensity of magnetism at any point of the earth’s sur¬
face, the intensity at the two magnetic poles being supposed
equal. If we call S the maximum number of seconds in
which any number n of oscillations are performed which
takes place at the Island of St Ihomas, on the W. coast of
Africa, and s the minimum number of seconds in which n
oscillations are performed, which takes place at the magnetic
poles, then the intensity I will be
I = (S —s) (sin.” 8 sin." #) + $,
8 and 81 being determined by the formulae already given,
adopting the position of the poles in the preceding page.
The values of S and s, according to General Sabine and
Hansteen, will be about 370" and 262£". This formula
will give for the isodynamical lines a series of returning
curves of the nature of Lemniscates, almost similar to those
drawn by General Sabine, as given in a future figure, and
exactly like the polar isothermal lines.
The connection thus indicated between the heat and the
magnetism of the earth has been studied by succeeding tween tIie
authors, and the general principle has been adopted by tempera-
many distinguished philosophers. Dr Traill expressed the ture and
opinion, “ that the disturbance of the equilibrium of the magnetism
temperature of our planet by the continual action of the ° the
sun’s rays on its intertropical regions, and by the polar ices, S 0 e*
must convert the earth into a vast thermo-magnetic appara¬
tus and “ that the disturbance of the equilibrium of tem¬
perature, even in stony strata, may elicit some degree of
magnetism.” Mr Christie thinks it “ not improbable that
difference of temperature may be the primary cause of the
polarity of the earth, though its influence may be modified
by other circumstances.” M. Ampere,, who ascribes mag¬
netism to transverse electrical currents, thinks that the strata
of our globe may form considerable galvanic arrangements,
and that the electric currents may be affected by the rota¬
tion of the earth. M. Oersted remarks, in his treatise
on thermo-electricity,2 “ that the most efficacious excitation
of electricity upon the earth appears to be produced by the
sun producing daily evaporation, de-oxidation, and heat, all
of which excite electrical currents.” After stating that the
sun daily produces electric currents, and these currents
magnetism, he observes, that “ thus the earth seems to have
a constant magnetic polarity, produced in the course of time
1 Edinburgh Transactions, 1820.
* Edinburgh Encyclopcean'a, art.<£ Thermo-Electricity.5
12
History.
Magne¬
tism of the
solar rays.
MAGNETISM*
by the electrical currents which surround it, and a variable
magnetism produced immediately by the same current.” As
the sun produces different effects on water and solid bodies,
Oersted supposes that the intensity will vary in the same
parallel, and the direction of the needle will be oblique to
the equator, in consequence of the lines of equal electro¬
magnetic intensity being twice bent by the influence of the
two great masses of continent. “ The yearly and daily
change,” he observes, “ must occasion yearly and daily vari¬
ations. As to the variations comprehended in greater pe¬
riods, we might perhaps attribute them to a motion of the
coolest points in such continents, which, it appears, cannot
remain the same for ever, because the currents of warmer
air must principally be directed to such points.” Analogous
views have been propounded by M. Kupffer, in a memoir
read in 1829 to the Russian Academy, in which he adopts
explicitly Sir David Brewster’s opinions of the existence of
two cold poles distant from the pole of revolution. “ But
this distribution of temperature,” says he, “ appears also to
have a great influence on the distribution of the intensity
of terrestrial magnetism. This would no doubt be the case
if it is true, as I have tried to show in another memoir, that
terrestrial magnetism resides at the surface of the globe.
We have here the choice between two hypotheses; either
the earth should be considered as a magnet existing by
itself, and then the intensity of its magnetism will be the
inverse of its temperature; or it receives its influence from
without, and is only like a piece of soft iron, to which the
presence of a distant body communicates magnetism, and
then the intensity of its magnetism will increase with its
temperature. Though the first of these hypotheses has
been hitherto generally adopted, yet the second acquires
some probability from the discovery of the magnetic influ¬
ence of the solar rays, and of the known relation between
the diurnal variations of the declination of the needle and
the course of the sun.” The connection between the poles
of maximum cold and those to which the isodynamical
magnetic lines are related, is considered by Dr Dalton as
a probable supposition. “ If the idea,” says he, “ suggested
by Sir David Brewster, in the Transactions of the Royal
Society of Edinburgh, vol. ix., 1821, be correct (and there
seems great reason to believe it to be so), namely, that there
are tico poles of greatest cold in the northern hemisphere, the
above observation will enable us to see the natural cause
of this remarkable fact. The lands within the arctic circle,
in the absence of the sun, must depend upon the S.W.
winds from the two great oceans for their winter heat.
Those parts of the eastern and western continents which
are most remote from the ocean, as measured along the cur¬
vilinear tracts of the current of air, must receive that air,
in great measure, deprived both of its vapour and its tem¬
perature. Accordingly, it is found that the temperature of
the N.E. parts of such continents exhibits the extreme of
cold. Probably a latitude of 75° N., and a longitude of
90° E. and 90° W., would be found nearly equally cold,
and to exceed any other place on the surface of the globe
in this respect; and it would be a curious coincidence if
Professor Hansteen’s two supposed northern magnetic poles
should be found in the same positions as the two poles of
extreme cold.”1
In a general history of magnetical discoveries, it may be
proper to take some notice of the very curious experiments
which have been made respecting the influence of the solar
rays in the production of permanent magnetism, although,
according to the generally received opinion, the existence
of such an influence has not been established; but if the
propriety of doing this had been doubtful, the observation
made by M. Kupffer, as connecting this supposed pro¬
perty of violet light with terrestrial magnetism, would have
removed the doubt. Dr Morichini, an eminent physician in History.
Rome, was the first who announced it as an experimental
fact, that an unmagnetized needle could be rendered mag- Dr Mori-
netic by the action of the violet rays of the sun. His ex-chini.
periments were successfully repeated by Dr Carpi at Rome,
and the Marquis Ridolfi at Florence; but M. d’Hombre
Firmas, at Alais, in France, Professor Configliachi of Pavia,
and M. Berard of Montpelier, failed in obtaining decided
magnetic effects from the violet rays. In 1814 Dr Mori¬
chini exhibited the actual experiment to Sir Humphry
Davy, and in 1817 Dr Carpi showed it to Professor Play- Dr Carpi,
fair. A few months after Sir Humphry Davy witnessed
the experiment, the writer of this article met him at Geneva,
and learned from him the fact, that he had paid the most
diligent attention to one of Morichini’s experiments, and that
he saw with his own eyes an unmagnetized needle rendered
magnetic by violet light. The following account of the
experiment made by Dr Carpi was given to us verbally by
Professor Playfair, who approved of the statement of it
which we drew up at the time :—“ The violet light was ob¬
tained in the usual manner, by means of a common prism,
and was collected into a focus by a lens of a sufficient size.
The needle was made of soft wire, and was found upon trial
to possess neither polarity nor any power of attracting iron
filings. It was fixed horizontally upon a support, by means
of wax, and in such a direction as to cut the magnetic
meridian at right angles. The focus of violet rays was car¬
ried slowly along the needle, proceeding from the centre
towards one of the extremities, care being taken never to
go back in the same direction, and never to touch the other
half of the needle. At the end of half an hour after the
needle was exposed to the action of the violet rays, it was
carefully examined, and it had acquired neither polarity nor
any force of attraction ; but after continuing the operation
twenty-five minutes longer, when it was taken off and placed
on its pivot, it traversed with great alacrity, and settled in
the direction of the magnetical meridian, with the end over
which the rays had passed turned towards the N. It also
attracted and suspended a fringe of iron filings. The ex¬
tremity of the needle that was exposed to the action of the
violet rays repelled the N. pole of a compass-needle. This
effect was so distinctly marked as to leave no doubt in the
minds of any who were present, that the needle had re¬
ceived its magnetism from the action of the violet rays.
In this state of the subject, Mrs Somerville made some Mrs Somer
simple and well-conducted experiments, which seemed to setTilIe-
the question at rest, from the distinct and decided character
of the results. A sewing-needle an inch long, and devoid
of magnetism, had one half of it covered with paper, and
the other exposed to the violet rays of the spectrum five
feet distant from the prism. In two hours it acquired mag¬
netism, the exposed end exhibiting N. polarity. The in¬
digo rays produced an equal effect, and the blue and green
the same in a less degree. The yellow, orange, and red
rays had no effect even after three days’ exposure to their
action. Pieces of blue watch-springs received a higher
magnetism. When the sun’s light tell upon the exposed
end through blue-coloured glass, or through blue or green
riband, the same magnetic effects were produced.
The experiments of Mr Christie, an account of which Mr Chr»-
was read to the Royal Society a short time before Mrs tie.
Somerville’s, confirmed her results to a certain degree, by a
different mode of observation. He found that the com¬
pound solar rays possessed magnetic influence, and exhi¬
bited it in their effect of diminishing the vibrations ot
magnetized and unmagnetized steel needles, and also
needles of copper or of glass, by making them oscillate in
the sun’s white rays. Mr Christie, however, has remarked,
that, as his experiments have not succeeded on repetition
1 Meteorological Observations and Essays, second edition, 1834, p. 215.
MAGNETISM.
13
History.
Zante-
descbi.
Baum¬
gartner.
Barlocci.
Hies and
Moser.
Sir Wil¬
liam Snow
Harris.
a.d. 1827.
by Sir William Snow Harris, when made in a vacuum, his
results must have been owing to currents of air. In justice
toMr Christie, however, we must mention thatProfessor Zan-
tedeschi repeated Mr Christie’s experiments at Pavia under
an Italian sun, with a needle a Paris foot long, and obtained
a striking result. This needle, when drawn from its posi¬
tion of equilibrium, through an area of 90°, performed four
oscillations in 30s, the last of which had a semiamplitude
of 70s. In the solar rays it performed in 30s four oscilla¬
tions, the last of which had only a semiamplitude of 60°.
When he exposed to the sun the N. pole, the semiampli¬
tude of the last oscillation was 6° less than that of the first;
while by exposing the S. pole this last oscillation became
greater than the first. The experiments of Baumgartner
and Barlocci tended to confirm these results. The former
found that iron wires polished on a part of their length are
magnetized by white solar light, exhibiting a N. pole on
the polished part; and the latter has shown that an armed
natural loadstone, which carried 1£ Roman pound, exhi¬
bited, after three hours’ exposure to the strong light of the
sun, an increase of energy equivalent to 2 ounces, or £th of
a pound ; while another larger one, which carried 5 pounds
5 ounces, had its strength nearly doubled by two days’
exposure. Zantedeschi tried an artificial horse-shoe load¬
stone, which carried 13^ ounces; after three days’ exposure
to the sun it carried 3 J ounces more, and by continuing its
exposure its power increased to 31 ounces. An oxidated
magnet gained most power, and a polished one none. He
found also that the N. pole of a loadstone exposed to the
sun’s rays concentrated by a lens acquires strength, while
its S. pole, similarly exposed, loses it.
Notwithstanding all these results, the general opinion
seems now to be, that light does not exercise any decided
effect in producing magnetism. The experiments of MM.
P. Ries and Moser were made with needles both polished
and oxidated, and also with wires half polished ; and polar¬
ized as well as common light was made to fall upon them in
a concentrated state, but no decided effect upon their num¬
ber of oscillations could be observed ; and they state that
they think themselves justly entitled to reject totally a
discovery which, for seventeen years, has at different times
disturbed science.
In 1827 Sir William Snow Harris communicated to the
Royal Society of Edinburgh his Experimental Inquiries
concerning the Laws of Magnetic Forces, made with a
beautiful and accurate instrumental apparatus, invented by
the author for examining the phenomena of induced mag¬
netism. With this apparatus he found that the magnetic de¬
velopment in masses of iron by induction is, cceteris pari¬
bus, directly proportional to the power of the inductive
force, and inversely as the distance; and that the forces
which magnets develop in a mass of iron at a given dis¬
tance, within certain limits, may be taken as a fair measure
of their respective intensities. From another series of ex¬
periments he has shown that the absolute force of attraction
exerted between a magnet and a piece of iron varies with
the power of the magnet, and consequently with the force
induced in the iron, cceteris paribus; and that when the
force induced in the iron is a constant quantity, while its
distance from a temporary or permanent magnet is vari¬
able, the absolute force varies with the distance. This re¬
sult was not only apparent when the magnetic force was
varied by induction, but was also satisfactorily shown when
varied by magnets of which the relative powers of induc¬
tion were previously ascertained. Sir W. S. Harris made
a number of nice experiments on the absolute force of
attraction and repulsion between two magnetized bodies,
which he found to be in the inverse ratio of the square of
the distance. When, in the case of attraction, the mag¬
nets, however, were nearly approximated in relation to History,
their respective intensities, the increments in the forces be-
gan to decline, and in some instances at near approxima¬
tions the absolute force was in the simple inverse ratio of
the distance. In the experiments with the repelling poles,
the deviations from the regular force were still more con¬
siderable, and what is curious in this case, the force became
less and less, until the polarity of the weaker magnet ap¬
peared to be so counteracted by induction, that the repul•
sion was at length superseded by attraction. Sir W. S.
Harris next proceeded to determine the law according to
which the forces are developed in different points of the
longitudinal magnetic axis between the centre and poles of
a magnet, and he found that it varied directly as the square
of the distance from the magnetic centre ; a law which is
uniform in bars of steel regularly hardened and magnetized
throughout. This law of distribution is exactly the same
as that which has been given by Hansteen.
It is not necessary to mention here the numerous
and valuable results obtained by Sir W. S. Harris in his
more recent investigations; but there is one so new and
interesting as to require special notice. We have already
seen that Newton, Brook Taylor, and others, have obtained
contradictory results respecting the law of magnetic force.
Newton found the force to vary inversely as the cubes of
the distance, and was therefore asserted by M. Biot1 to have
had very inaccurate ideas of magnetic phenomena. This
criticism is founded on the common notion that magnetism
is, like gravity, a central force ; whereas Sir W. S. Harris has
shown that the law of force given by Newton and others
is deducible from their experiments, and that the assertion of
Brook Taylor, “ that magnetic attraction, as commonly ob¬
served, decreases quicker at greater distances than at smaller
ones, and is different for different magnets,” is not only
true as an experimental fact, “ but is the necessary result of
the elementary laws of magnetism.”2
Sir W. S. Harris has also published other two memoirs
in the Philosophical Transactions for 1831, the first On the
Influence of Screens in arresting the progress of Magnetic
Action, and the second On the Power of Masses cf Iron
to control the Attractive Force of a Magnet, of both of
which some account will be found in a subsequent section.
In a later paper, On the Investigation of Magnetic Intensity
by the Oscillations of the Magnetic Needle, he exposed an
oscillating magnetic bar to a bright sunshine ; and though
he observed the effect observed by Mr Christie, which that
philosopher ascribed to the influence of the sun’s rays, yet
he found that they all disappeared when the needle was
made to oscillate in an exhausted receiver.
M. Haldat of Nancy communicated, in 1830, to the so- m. Haldat.
ciety of that city, the results of some interesting researches a.d. 1830.
on the incoercibility of the magnetic fluid, or its power of
exerting its influence through all bodies, even the most
dense ; a property which is not possessed by light, heat, or
electricity. In this research he adopted various methods
of observation, and interposed a great variety of substances ;
and from the numerous experiments which he made, lie
has drawn the following conclusions :—1. That the agent or
fluid by which the magnetic phenomena are explained is
incoercible in the present state of the science ; 2. That iron,
considered as presenting an exception to this law, coerces
the magnetic influences only by acquiring itself the mag¬
netic state ; 3. That incandescence does not give to bodies
the power of coercing the magnetic influence. In a pre¬
vious memoir, M. Haldat had obtained some interesting
results on the production of magnetism by friction. He
found that all hard bodies may, by means of friction, assist
in the decomposition of the magnetic fluid, if their action is
promoted by the combined action of magnets which, by
1 Edinburgh Encyclopaedia, vol. xiii., p. 270.
Rudimentary Magnetism, part Hi., p. 54.
14 MAGNETISM.
History, themselves, are incapable of producing it. If a piece of
soft wire, for example, four inches long, and l-25th of an
inch in diameter, be placed horizontally between two bar-
magnets with their opposite poles facing each other,
and at such a distance that the wire cannot be magnetized,
it will receive distinct magnetism by friction with all
hard bodies, such as copper, brass, zinc, glass, hard woods,
&c. M. Haldat employed the ingenious process of M. Gay-
Lussac, of magnetizing soft iron by torsion, in neutralizing
the wires before they were magnetized. If they are twisted
after receiving magnetism, they will preserve the magnet¬
ism which they had received before torsion; but if, after
being twisted, they are twisted in an opposite direction, they
will become perfectly neutral.
M. Haldat likewise made some interesting experiments
on the effect of the coercive force in steel on the mag¬
netism produced by rotation, and he found that the force
with which a revolving steel disc dragged round a mag¬
netic needle was in the inverse ratio of the coercive force of
the steel. When the discs were not hot, they had the
same effect as those at the ordinary temperature. We owe
also to M. Haldat an interesting paper on magnetic figures.
Figures of any kind, when traced by the pole of a magnet
on a plate of steel, are rendered visible by sifting upon the
invisible tracings filings of steel, which arrange themselves
in the most beautiful manner along the outlines of the
figure which has been traced.
M. Que- A series of very interesting experiments were pub-
telet. lished by M. Quetelet of Brussels, On the successive
a.d. 1830. degrees of Magnetic Force which a Steel Needle receives
during the multiple frictions which are employed to mag¬
netize it. These experiments were made principally before
1830, but they were not given to the public till 1833. The
following are the general results which were obtained by
the author:—
1. When a needle or bar that had never been magnetized,
is magnetized to saturation by the method of separate con¬
tact, the magnetic force acquired is a maximum in relation
to the forces which can be given to the same needle or bar
by the subsequent reversals of its poles.
2. The magnetic force which a needle can acquire be¬
comes weaker in proportion as the reversal of its poles has
been multiplied. The series of frictions which tend to
bring back the poles to their primitive state are more
efficacious than the others.
3. This difference between the forces which the needle
acquires after the successive reversals of its poles, goes on
continually diminishing, and converges towards a limit. It
depends in general on the size of the needle in relation to
that of the rubbing bars, as well as in its force of coercion.
4. A needle cannot receive all the magnetic force which
it can acquire, if the frictions do not take place over all its
surface; this becomes particularly sensible in the reversal
of the poles.
5. The rubbing bars give (cceteris paribus) to bars of
the same dimensions as themselves a magnetic force equal
to that which they possess, and in bars of different dimen¬
sions the forces acquired are as the cubes of their homo¬
logous dimensions. The last part of this proposition was
long ago established by Coulomb.
6. When we rub magnetic bars with other bars weaker
than themselves, the force of the first diminishes in place
of increasing; and it appears that the force becomes that
which those latter bars would be capable of giving at the
first by directly magnetizing them.
7. The relation which exists between the forces which a
needle or a bar receives by successive frictions and the
number of these frictions, may be expressed by an expo¬
nential formula of three constants.
Gne of these constants appears to change its value with
the size of the bars which are magnetized, at least while
these bars have a magnitude which does not exceed that o^ History,
the rubbing bars, and while they are of the same quality of
steel.
In this way we knew beforehand the successive degrees
of force which a bar takes at each friction, if we have pre¬
viously determined the law of these augmentations for the
same rubbing bars, and for any other bar which we get to
serve as the modulus. If the bar which is rubbed has be¬
gun to be magnetized, we must calculate first the number
of frictions to which this force corresponds, in order to be
able to assign the rank of the subsequent frictions, and the
magnitude of the corresponding magnetical forces.
8. When the rubbing bars are greater than the bar to
be magnetized, from the first complete friction the force of
magnetism is very nearly one-half of the force which the
magnetized bar will finally possess.
After the twelfth complete friction, the magnetic force
differs little from that which the rubbing bars can commu¬
nicate.
We owe also to M. Quetelet two interesting memoirs
on the magnetic intensity of different places in Switzer¬
land, Italy, Germany, and the Low Countries.
The influence of the aurora borealis on the magnetic Magnetic
needle, which was observed by Hiorter at Upsal, in 1741,
and by Wargentin in 1750, had long induced philosophers °ora1|joare'a.
to regard it as a magnetic phenomenon; and this was greatly i;S-
confirmed by the fact that the S. end of the dipping
needle points to that part of the heavens to which the rays
of the aurora appears to converge. “ The aurora borealis,”
says Dr Robison, “ is observed in Europe to disturb the Dr liobi-
needle exceedingly, sometimes drawing it several degrees son.
from its position. It is always observed to increase its de¬
viation from the meridian ; that is, an aurora borealis makes
the needle point more westerly. This disturbance some¬
times amounts to six or seven degrees, and is generally
observed to be greatest when the aurora borealis is most
remarkable.
“ This is a very curious phenomenon, and we have not
been able to find any connection between this meteor and
the position of the magnetic needle. It is to be observed,
that a needle of copper or wood, or any substance besides
iron, is not affected. We long thought it an electric phe¬
nomenon, and that the needle was affected as any other
body balanced in the same manner would be; but a copper
needle would then be affected. Indeed, it may still be
doubted whether the aurora borealis be an electric pheno¬
menon. They are very frequent and remarkable in Sweden,
and yet Bergman says that he never observed any electric
symptoms about them, though in the meantime the magnetic
needle was greatly affected.
“ We see the needle frequently disturbed, both from its
general annual position, and from the change made on it
by the diurnal variations. This is probably the effect of
aurorae boreales which are invisible, either on account of
thick weather or daylight. Van Swinden says, he seldom Van Swin-
or never failed to observe aurorae boreales immediately after den*
any anomalous motion of the needle; and concluded that
there had been one at the time, though he could not see it.
Since no needle but a magnetic one is affected by the aurora
borealis, we may conclude that there is some natural con¬
nection between this meteor and magnetism. This should
farther incite us to observe the circumstance formerly
mentioned, viz., that the S. end of the dipping needle
points to that part of the heavens where the rays of the
aurora appear to converge. We wish that this were dili¬
gently observed in places which have very different varia¬
tions and dips of the mariner’s needle.”
A valuable series of observations on the influence of the Dr Dalton,
aurora borealis on the magnetic needle was made by Dr
Dalton, at Kendal and Keswick, during seven years from
May 1786 to May 1793, and has been published in his
MAGNETISM.
15
History. Meteorological Observations and Essays, which appeared in
1793. During these observations he noticed the effect
Magnetic which they produced on the magnetic needle, and he was
influence thus led to study the phenomena of the aurora, and to
of the au- establish beyond a doubt the relation of all its phenomena
rora' to the magnetic poles and equator. His views and specu¬
lations on this subject we shall detail at some length in a
future part of this article; but we shall at present give our
readers a specimen of the observations which he made on
the magnetic needle during the changes of an aurora.
The aurora appeared at Kendal Feb. 12,1793, after 6hP.M.,
flaming over two-thirds of the hemisphere. The beams con¬
verged to a point in the magnetic meridian about 15° or
20° to the S. of the zenith. The following were the changes
which he observed in the needle and in the aurora:—
Time. Variation.
5h 0m P.M. 25° 5'W.
6 35 ... 24 49 ...
6 42 ... 24 55 ...
6 50 ... 25 0 ...
7 2 ... 25 28 ...
7 5 ... 25 12 ...
7 10 ... 24 40 ...
7 20 ... 24 35 ...
7 35 ... 24 45 ...
8 0 ... 24 45 ...
8 10 ... 24 45 ...
8 35 ... 24 47 ...
9 15 ... 24 43 ...
9 20 ... 24 43 ...
9 30 ... 24 50 ...
10 0 ... 24 55 ...
10 15 ... 24 57 ...
10 35 ... 24 40 ...
Observations.
altitude of the clear space S. 35°.
( altitude of ditto 20°, streamers bright,
1 E.
f streamers bright and active all over
j the illuminated part.
disappeared in the W., active E.
active about the zenith, light faint,
light faint.
strong light northward.
f a large uniform still light covering
-< half the hemisphere, with flashes now
I, and then.
streamers N.W., bright E.; clouds,
the aurora bursting out openly.
{as fine and large a display of streamers
as has appeared this evening.
| the light growing fainter and fainter.
In these observations, the deviation produced by the
aurora was 53'. In some cases, during the prevalence of
aurorae, Dr Dalton did not observe any perceptible dis¬
turbance of the needle.
Professor Professor Hansteen observes, that large extraordinary
Hansteen. movements of the needle, in which it traverses frequently
with a shivering motion an arc of several degrees on both
sides of its usual position, are seldom, perhaps never, ex¬
hibited, unless when the aurora borealis is visible ; and that
this disturbance of the needle seems to operate at the same
time in places the most widely separate. “ The extent of
such extraordinary movements,” he adds, “ may, in less than
twenty-four hours, amount to 5° or 5^°. In most cases,
the disturbance is also communicated to the dipping needle;
and so soon as the crown of the aurora quits the usual place
(the points where the dipping needle produced would meet
the sky), the instrument moves several degrees forward,
and seems to follow it. After such disorders, the mean
variation of the needle is wont to change, and not to re¬
cover its previous magnitude till after a new and similar
disturbance.”
At. Arago. From an extensive series of accurate observations made
by M. Arago at Paris since 1818, the needle was almost in-
v variably found to be affected by aurorae that were seen in
Scotland ; and so striking was the connection between the
two classes of facts, that the existence of the aurora could be
inferred from the derangements of the needle. M. Arago
has likewise discovered, that, early in the morning, often
ten or twelve hours before the aurora is developed in a
very different place, its appearance is announced by a par¬
ticular form of the curve which exhibits the diurnal varia¬
tion of the needle, that is, by the value of the morning and History,
evening maxima of elongation. From a number of cor- s*
responding observations on the hourly declination made by Magnetic
M. Arago and M. Kupffer, who established at Kasan, near influence
the eastern limit of Europe, one of Gambey’s compasses,of the au-
similar to that used at Paris, these philosophers were con- rora-
vinced that, notwithstanding a difference of longitude of
above 47°, the disturbances produced upon the needle by
the aurora took place at the same instant. It is a curious
fact, however, and one yet unexplained, that during the
frequent occurrence of the aurora at Port Bowen, Captain Captain
Foster did not observe any peculiar changes in the direc- Foster,
tion of the needle, although, from his great proximity to
the magnetic pole, the diurnal change sometimes amounted
to 4° or 5°; and, under such circumstances, the influence
of the aurora ought to have been particularly conspicuous.
Mr Christie is of opinion that the direction of the needle
may be influenced by the electrical state of the clouds;
and he found it to be so in a very distinct experiment which
he made for the purpose. Captain Sir Everard Home had Captain
observed the same effect produced during thunder-storms; Home,
and, in two instances, he found that a needle came sooner
to rest during a thunder-storm than it had done either pre¬
vious or subsequent to it, the number of oscillations having
been reduced in one case from 100 to 40, and in another
from 200 to 120.
During the journey of Captain Sir George Back to g;r George
the polar regions in 1833, 1834, and 1835, he found that Back,
the needle was generally affected by the aurora; and on
one occasion the deviation which it produced was 8°. “ For
nearly a month, however” (previous to the 7th January
1834), he remarks, “the needle had not been perceived to
be affected by the aurora, which, it may be proper to ob¬
serve, was always very faint, apparently high, and generally
confined to one point of the heavens.”1 Sir George Back
repeatedly observed, that when the aurora was concentrated
in individual beams, the needle was powerfully affected;
but that it generally returned to its mean position when
the aurora became generally diffused. On several occa¬
sions the needle was restless, and exhibited the vibrating
action produced by the aurora when this motion was not
visible; and Sir George Back states that he could not account
for this, except by supposing the invisible presence of the
aurora in full day.
The only metals which were formerly supposed to have a
distinct and decided power, and were therefore called mag¬
netic metals, are iron, nickel, and cobalt. Mr David Lyon2 Mr David
has endeavoured to show that these metals resemble one Lyon,
another, not only in their principal qualities, but in the nume¬
rical values of their qualities; and he adds, that whilst
these three magnetic substances have the values above
referred to nearly equal, there are no other substances
in which the same values come very near or fall within
those of the three magnetic substances. The values to
which Mr Lyon alludes are the following ;3—
Specific Atomic Atoms contained
Gravity. Weight. in a given space.
Nickel 8-27 739-51 1118
Iron ,....7-21 678 43 1062 .
Cohalt 7-8 738 1057
The preceding speculation, though ingenious, and deserv¬
ing of attention, has, however, been overturned by some
more recent observations of Dr Faraday. “ Cobalt and
chromium,” says he, “ are said to be both magnetic metals.
I cannot find that either of them is so, in its pure state, at
any temperature. When the property was present in
1 Appendix to Sir George Back’s Narrative of the Arctic Land Expedition, &c., p. 601.
2 London and Edinburgh Phil. Mag., December 1834, p. 415.
8 M. Pouillet, in his Elemens de Physique, tom. iii., p. 89, refers to some remarkable analogies which he has observed between the dis¬
tance of the atoms of bodies and their magnetic properties. , ( >
16
MAGNETISM.
History, specimens supposed to be pure, I have traced it to iron or
v—nickel.” 1
Dr Fara- Dr Faraday published in March 1836 some interest-
day. ing observations2 On the General Magnetic Relations and
Characters of the Metals. He was of opinion that all the
metals are magnetic, in the same manner as iron, though
not at common temperatures, or under ordinary circum¬
stances. He does not allude to a feeble magnetism, un¬
certain in its existence and source, but to a distinct and
decided power, such as that possessed by iron and nickel;
and his impression is, that there is a certain temperature
for each metal (well known in the case of iron, beneath
which it is magnetic, but above which it loses all power),
and that there is some relation between this point of tem¬
perature and the intensity of magnetic force, which the
body, when reduced beneath it, can acquire. Iron and
nickel would then be no more exceptions from the metals
in regard to magnetism, than mercury is in regard to lique¬
faction.
In order to investigate this point, Dr Faraday subjected
various metals in their pure state to a temperature from
60° to 70° below the zero of Fahrenheit, but he could not
detect in them the least indication of magnetism. The
metals tried were the following :—
Arsenic.
Antimony.
Bismuth.
Cadmium.
Cobalt.
Chromium.
Copper.
Gold.
Lead.
Mercury.
Palladium.
Platinum.
Silver.
Tin.
Zinc.
Plumbago.
Dr Faraday next proceeded to compare iron and nickel
with respect to the points of temperature at which they
ceased to be magnetic. Iron loses all magnetic properties
at an orange heat, and is then to a magnet the same as a
piece of copper. Dr Faraday found that the point at which
nickel lost its magnetic relations was very much lower than
with iron, but equally defined and distinct. If heated and
then cooled, it remained unmagnetic long after it had fallen
below a heat visible in the dark; and almond oil can bear
and give that heat which makes nickel indifferent to a
magnet, its demagnetizing temperature being about 630°
or 640° Fahr. In order to determine what relation the tem¬
perature which took from a magnet its power over soft iron
had to that which would take from soft iron or steel its
power relative to a magnet, Dr Faraday gradually raised
the temperature of a magnet, and found that it lost its
polarity rather suddenly when scarcely at the boiling point
of almond oil, a-nd then acted with a magnet as cold soft
iron. It required to be raised to a full orange heat before
it lost its power as soft iron. “ Hence,” he concludes, “ the
force of the steel to retain that condition of its particles
which renders it a permanent magnet, gives way to heat at
a far lower temperature than that which is necessary to
prevent its particles assuming the same state by the induc¬
tive action of a neighbouring magnet. Hence, at one tem¬
perature, its particles can of themselves retain a permanent
state; whilst, at a higher temperature, that state, though it
can be induced from without, will continue only as long as
the inductive action lasts, and at a still higher temperature
all capability of assuming this condition is lost. The tem¬
perature at which polarity was destroyed appeared to vary
with the hardness and condition of the steel. Fragments
of loadstone of very high power were then experimented
with. These preserved their polarity at higher tempera¬
tures than the steel magnet; the heat of boiling oil was History,
not sufficient to injure it. Just below visible ignition in
the dark they lost their polarity, but from that to a tempe¬
rature a little higher, being very dull ignition, they acted
as soft iron would do, and then suddenly lost that power
also. Thus the loadstone retained its polarity longer than
the steel magnet, but lost its capability of becoming a
magnet by induction much sooner. When magnetic po¬
larity was given to it with a magnet, it retained this power
up to the same degree of temperature as that at which it
held its first and natural magnetism.”
Some of the results observed by M. Pouillet3 stand in m. Pooil-
opposition to some of the preceding statements. M. Pouillet let.
considers it as certain that there are jive simple magnetic
bodies, viz.:—
Iron,
Manganese,
Nickel,
Chrome, and
Cobalt;
and in consequence of having observed some remarkable
analogies between the distance of the atoms of bodies and
their magnetic properties, he was led to suppose that the
magnetic limit of different bodies ought to be found at very
different temperatures. “ I have, indeed,” says he, “ de¬
monstrated by experiment,—1. That cobalt never ceases to
be magnetic, or rather that its magnetic limit is at a tem¬
perature higher than the brightest white heat; 2. That
chrome has its magnetic limit a little below the tempera¬
ture of dark blood-red heat; 3. That nickel has its mag¬
netic limit about 350° centigrade, nearly at the melting point
of zinc; and, 4. That manganese has its magnetic limit at
the temperature of from 20° to 25° below zero} Experi¬
ments,” continues he, “ on these five magnetic bodies seem
to prove, Is#, That heat acts upon magnetism only in con¬
sequence of the greater or less distance which it occasions
between the atoms of bodies; and, 2d, That all bodies
would become magnetic if we could by any action whatever
make their atoms approach within a suitable distance.”
The theory of universal magnetism, as deduced experi- Faraday,
mentally by Coulomb, has received great modifications from Para-mag-
the discoveries of Dr Faraday. In consequence of usingnetism and
magnets of small power, Coulomb found that every body dia-mag-
freely suspended between the poles of a magnet took whatnetism*
is called an axial position in a line joining the poles. Dr
Faraday, however, has discovered that a large number of
bodies place themselves in a position at right angles to the
line joining the poles. To the substances possessing this
property he has given the name of diamagnetic ; and that
of diamagnetism to the peculiar action exerted upon the
molecules of bodies by the magnetic forces. Retaining
the old name of magnetism for the general phenomena of the
science, he adopts the following nomenclature:—
Magnetic
(
Paramagnetic
Diamagnetic
Axial direction, or
attractive.
Equatorial direction,
or repulsive.
The nature of these forces may be more readily appre¬
hended by supposing a fluid sphere to be placed between
the magnetic poles: it would, if paramagnetic, be drawn
out axially into a prolate spheroid; and if diamagnetic, it
would be drawn out equatorially, and form an oblate sphe¬
roid. Dr Faraday found iron, nickel, cobalt, &c., to be
paramagnetic; and bismuth,antimony, zinc, copper, silver,
and gold, &c., to be diamagnetic. Hence it is obvious
that the universal magnetism of Coulomb is incompatible
with the discoveries of Dr Faraday. Among the most in-
1 London and Edinburgh Phil. Mag., March 1836, p. 178.
2 Ibid., p. 177. • Element de Physique, 2d edit., tom. iii., p. 89, Paris, 1832.
4 M. Pouillet remarks elsewhere, that manganese does not become magnetic till it is cooled down to 15° or 20° below zero. (El.
Thyt. iii., p. 18.)
M A G N E T I S M.
17
Professor
Gauss.
a.d. 1833.
History, teresting results obtained by our distinguished countryman,
is his discovery of the magnetic condition of gaseous bodies.
Oxygen gas inclosed in a thin envelope was found to be
paramagnetic, and drawn like iron into the axial line; while
olefiant gas was diamagnetic, and repelled, like bismuth,
equatorially. Guided by these results, Dr Faraday has been
led to consider all space, whether devoid of matter or oc¬
cupied by it, as traversed by lines of force operating through
it; paramagnetic bodies concentrating parallel lines of mag¬
netic force upon themselves, refracting them, as it were, like
rays of light; and diamagnetic bodies expanding the same
lines. In the one case the parallel lines are made to ap¬
proach, and in the other to recede from one another.
Researches on the intensity of magnetism were made by
Professor Gauss of Gottingen, who has given an account
of them in a treatise entitled Intensitas vis Magneticce.
Terrestris ad absolutam mensuram revocatis, published
at Gottingen in 1833. His object is to impart to magne-
tical observations the accuracy of astronomical ones. By
observing the oscillations of a magnetized bar, he finds the
product of the horizontal intensity of the earth’s magnetism,
and the static momentum of the free magnetism of the bar;
and by eliminating the latter from the two equations, he
obtains an absolute measure of the former, independent of
the magnetism of the bar. The horizontal intensity thus
found is then to be multiplied by the secant of the dip of the
needle, in order to give the absolute intensity. In this in¬
quiry Professor Gauss found it necessary to deduce from
observation the true law of magnetic action, which, from a
number of consistent and carefully made experiments, he
found to be in the inverse ratio of the square of the dis¬
tance. From a series of accurate experiments, Professor
Gauss found the horizontal intensity at Gottingen, on the
18th September 1832, to be P7821 ; and taking the ex¬
ponent of gravity in moving bodies at the place of obser¬
vation as the unit of force, and using the Paris line and
the Berlin pound, he found the absolute horizontal inten¬
sity to be OOOSOISI ; and as he found the dipat Gottingen
on the 23d June 1832 to be 68° 22' 52", the absolute in¬
tensity of terrestrial magnetism will be
Sec. 68° 22' 52"+ 0-0039131.
Professor Gauss has proposed and put in practice a very
accurate method of observing the daily variation of the
needle, and of determining the time of vibration of a needle
or magnetized bar. He fixes a plane mirror on the end of
the bar, and perpendicularly to its axis, and by observing
the reflected image of the divisions of a scale, by the aid of
a theodolite placed at a distance, he is able to observe and
to measure the minutest changes.
The magnetized bar employed by Gauss is of much
larger dimensions than the bar of Prony’s magnetic tele¬
scope ; the small ones, which he uses as magnetometers,
being four pounds weight, and the large ones twenty-five
pounds ; two of which, when fastened together, form the
apparatus or multiplier induction for rendering sensible
and measuring the oscillatory movements predicted by a
theory founded on Dr Faraday’s great discovery. By this
valuable invention of Professor Gauss, the observer is not
under the necessity of approaching the magnetized bar, so
that no disturbance is occasioned by the currents of air
produced by the proximity of the observer’s body, and
the observations may be made in the smallest intervals of
time.
With apparatus similar to that of Professor Gauss simul¬
taneous observations were made in 1834 and 1836, at
intervals of five or ten minutes, at Gottingen, Copen¬
hagen, Altona, Brunswick, Leipzig, Berlin, Milan, and
Home. It appears from the graphic representation of the
results, that the smallest inflexions of the horary curves
are parallel, and consequently the disturbing causes which
produce them simultaneous at Milan and Copenhagen, two
VOL. XIY.
of the places of observation, which have a difference of lati- History.
tude of 10° 13'.  '
In giving an account of Professor Hansteen’s labours,
we have briefly noticed his journey to Siberia, and the erec¬
tion of magnetic observatories by the Emperor of Russia, on
the recommendation of Baron Humboldt; and we have
also referred to the early researches of this distinguished
philosopher. When travelling in the equinoctial regions
of America during the years 1799-1804, Baron Humboldt Baron
had devoted much attention to the determination of the Humtoldt.
intensity of the magnetic forces, and of the dip and varia¬
tion of the needle. Upon his arrival in Europe, he con¬
ceived the design of examining the progress of the horary
changes of the variation, and the perturbations to which
it is subject, by employing a method which had never been
adopted on an extended scale. In a large garden at Berlin,
he measured, particularly at the period of the equinoxes
in 1806 and 1807, the angular alterations of the magnetic
meridian, at intervals of an hour, often of half an hour,
without interruption, during four, five, or six days, and as
many nights. The instrument employed was Prony’s
magnetic telescope, suspended according to the method
of Coulomb, and capable of being reversed upon its axis.
It was placed in a glass frame, and directed towards a very
distant meridian mark, the illuminated divisions of which
indicated six or seven seconds of hourly variation. In
these researches Baron Humboldt was struck with the fre¬
quency of oscillations whose amplitude extended beyond
all the divisions of the scale, and which repeatedly took
place at the same hours before sunrise. “ These vagaries
of the needle,” says the baron, “ the almost periodical re¬
turn of which has recently been confirmed by M. Kupffer,
in the account of his travels in the Caucasus, appeared to
me the effect of a reaction of the interior of the earth to¬
wards the surface; I should venture to say, of magnetic
storms, which indicate a rapid change of tension.” With
the view of investigating the causes of these disturbances,
Baron Humboldt proposed to erect similar apparatus on
both sides of the meridian of Berlin; but the political
tempest in Germany, and his mission to France by the go¬
vernment, delayed the execution of his plan. M. Arago,
however, as we have already seen, began and prosecuted
the inquiry with singular success.
When Baron Humboldt again fixed his x-esidence in
Germany in 1827, he erected one of Gambey’s compasses
in a magnetic pavilion, without any iron, in the middle of
a garden, and began a series of regular observations in the
autumn of 1828. At his request, the Imperial Academy and
the curator of the University of Kasan erected magnetic
observatories at St Petersburg and Kasan; and the impe¬
rial department for mines established similar stations at
Moscow, Burnaoul, and Nertschinsk. The academy, too,
sent Mr George Fuss to Pekin, where he procured the
erection of a magnetic pavilion in the convent garden of
the monks of the Greek church. After Mr Fuss’s re¬
turn, M. Kowanko, a young officer of mines, continued
the horary observations corresponding to those made in
Germany and Russia. Admiral Greig established one of
Gambey’s compasses at Nicolaeff, near the Euxine. Baron
Humboldt procured the establishment of a magnetic ap¬
paratus at the depth of thirty-five fathoms, in an adit in the
mines of Freiberg in Saxony. Baron Von Wrangel w-as
also provided with one of Gambey’s compasses at Sitka,
in one of the Russian settlements. M. Arago caused to
be erected, at his own expense, one of Gambey’s com¬
passes in the interior of Mexico, where the soil is 6000
feet above the sea. The French minister of marine
established a magnetic station in Iceland, and the neces¬
sary instruments were sent in the summer of 1836 to Rei-
kiavig; and Baron Humboldt, at the desire of Admiral
de Laborde, sent instruments to the Havannah in Cuba,
18
MAGNETISM.
History, to furnish a magnetic observatory under the tropic of
Cancer.
Notwithstanding these insulated attempts to promote the
study of terrestrial magnetism, so creditable to the indi¬
viduals who made them, some more general and systematic
organization of a national or European character was re¬
quired. On the accession of Lord Grey’s government to
power in 1830, the writer of this article was requested by
a distinguished member of it to suggest any measures
which would be useful to science and improve the position
of its cultivators. Among these, some of which were
carried into effect, was the establishment of physical obser¬
vatories in different parts of the British empire. The
scheme was also brought before the British Association,
but no decided step was taken till the year 1836, when
Humboldt, in a letter to the Duke of Sussex, urged the
erection of physical observatories in the British depen¬
dencies. The British Association and the Royal Society
united their influence in the same cause ; and the govern¬
ment, with an unexampled liberality, organized, as M.
Kupffer expresses it, “ the most gigantic scientific enter¬
prise that had ever been conceived.” The expedition to
the South Pole, under Captain Sir James Ross, which sailed
in September 1839, was agreed to ; and arrangements were
made for the establishment of magnetical observatories at
Kew, Greenwich, Dublin, Toronto, St Helena, the Cape
of Good Hope, and Hobart Town in Van Diemen’s Land;
and the court of directors of the East India Company
authorised the erection of similar establishments at Simla,
Singapore, Madras, and Bombay.
Magnetic In order to organize this important enterprise, General
Conference Sabine and Dr Lloyd were deputed to repair to Berlin and
at Gottin- Gottingen, to confer with Humboldt and Gauss; and also to
gen, a.d. gt petersburgj to put themselves in communication with the
Russian government. This last journey, however, was ren¬
dered unnecessary. M. Kupffer was sent to Gottingen, by
order of the emperor, to attend the conference, and to offer to
the English philosophers the co-operation of the Russian ob¬
servatories. The conferences of the magnetic congress began
on the 15th October 1839, and the observations to be made
at the different observatories were then finally arranged.
gen
1839.
Appreciating the liberality of England, and stimulated
by its example, the Russian government proceeded, under
the direction of M. Kupffer, to erect observatories at
different stations which had been fixed upon, and they were
in due time completed at St Petersburg, Catherinebourg,
Burnaoul, Nertschinsk, Tiflis, Sitka (on the N.W. coast of
America), Helsingfors, and at the Russian mission-house
in Pekin, in China. The English government furnished
instruments for the observatories at Breslau, Hammerfest,
Cairo, and Algiers ; and magnetic observatories have been
established at Berlin, Breda, Brussels, Copenhagen, Got¬
tingen, Gotha, Hanover, Heidelberg, Leipzig, Marbourg,
Milan, Munich, Philadelphia, Prague, and Upsal. The
Austrian government has erected similar observatories
under the superintendence of Dr Kreil ; and Prussia has
done the same at various stations from Memel to the Rhine.1
Although France, from reasons which it is not easy to History,
understand, took no part in tins great scientific movement, ✓
yet individual members of the Institute took an active
part in establishing magnetical observatories on a limited
scale. So early as 1823 M. Arago erected, in the garden
of his observatory, a small building for magnetical observa¬
tions; and at his request M. Kupffer made corresponding
observations at Kazan in 1825 and 1826, thus anticipating
the great movement afterwards made in England ; but as
no previous consent had been made respecting the days
and hours of observation at these two stations, “ it was
only,” as M. Kupffer observes, “by accident that the
irregular motions of the two needles were shown to be
simultaneous.” Magnetical observations were carried on
for some time at Montrouge, St Denis, Vincennes, and St
Cloud, but they have not led to any important results.
The attention of the French government having been
recently directed by M. Count de Vaillart, the distinguished
minister-at-war, to the importance of meteorological obser¬
vations in reference to the culture of cottons and other
purposes in Algiers, the subject was brought before the
Academy of Sciences in 1853, and more recently in 1855 ;
when, after a violent opposition on the part of M. Biot2
to the establishment of meteorological observatories, it was
resolved to adopt the project of the government; and
arrangements are now making for a complete system of
magnetical observations at Paris and other places, and for
making Algiers the centre of a similar system in the N. of
Africa.
Notwithstanding the rash and incorrect statement of M. Researches
Biot, that no real fruit had been obtained from the mag-
netic observations, most valuable results had been obtained
several years before, with which he must have been ac¬
quainted. In the able hands of General Sabine, the To¬
ronto and Hobart Town observations had led so early as
1851 to the discovery of important laws. In three inte¬
resting papers “ On the Periodical Laws discoverable in
the mean effects of the larger Magnetic Disturbance,” he
has shown that this disturbance, which is of large amount,
and apparently of irregular occurrence, and to which the
name of magnetic storms has been given, is, when studied
in its mean effect, governed by periodic laws of systematic
order and regularity, and exhibits periods whose duration
is respectively,—1st, a solar day of 24 hours ; 2d, a solar
year of 365 days ; and, 3d, a period of about ten of our so¬
lar years, corresponding both in duration, and in the epochs
both of maximum and minimum variation, to the approxi¬
mately decennial period discovered by Schwabe in the phe¬
nomena of the solar spots.3 Hence we may conclude that
the sun is a great magnet, communicating to the earth its
magnetic properties as well as its temperature, and having
a force varying with the solar spots as indicating disturb¬
ances in its own atmosphere. Sir William Herschel en¬
deavoured to show that the heat of the sun, as indicated by
a good harvest or the low price of wheat,4 varies with the
solar spots ; and it is a new argument in favour of the con¬
nection between the magnetic poles and those of maximum
1 The Russian government has already (1856) published 14 quarto volumes, containing the magnetical and meteorological observations
made at their observatories since 1840 ; and the British government has also published several volumes, containing the observations made
at Toronto, St Helena, the Cape, and Hobart Town. These valuable works, many of them illustrated with numerous plates containing
drawings of the instruments employed, and diagrams exhibiting to the eye the various results of observations, have been liberally pre¬
sented to the principal scientific institutions in the Old and New World. . „
* M. Biot characterized the gigantic works published in Russia and England as “ large and expensive volumes filled with cyphers; and he
had the hardihood to say “ that neither in Russia nor anywhere else has any real fruit been obtained from these costly publications,'' and
that “ they can produce nothing but masses of disjointed facts, materially accumulated, and without any useful purpose in view, either for theory
or its applications.(See Gomptes Rendus, vol. xli., p. 1180. Dec. 31, 1855.)
3 Phil. Trans. 1851, art. v.; 1852, art. viii. In these papers the periodical laws were deduced from the disturbances in the magnetic
declination; but in a more recent memoir, read on the 14th February 1856, General Sabine has shown that the same laws regulate the
disturbances of the magnetic inclination and the magnetic force.
4 As the price of wheat depends upon many other causes than the summer heat, it is hardly an approximate measure of the temperature
by which grain is ripened. It would therefore be advisable to compare the phenomena of the solar spots with the actual temperature
©f the seasons throughout the globe, in so far as it can be obtained from meteorological registers.
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Influence
of the
moon on
the mag¬
netic
needle.
'l
General
properties
of magne¬
tic bodies.
MAGNETISM.
19
cold, that the magnetism of the earth, as well as its heat,
varies with the number of spots or openings on the sun’s
atmosphere.
Among the other grand results of our magnetic establish¬
ments we must rank the discovery of the moon’s influence
on the magnetic elements of the earth. Dr Kreil1 seems to
have first recognised the moon’s influence upon the mag¬
netic needle in the magnetical observations made at Prague
in 1839 and 1840. Mr Broun obtained a similar result
from the observations made at Makerstoun, in Scotland,
and traced periodical law7s, dependent not only upon the
moon’s hour angle, but upon her declination and distance
from the earth. Believing that the sun influenced the
earth’s magnetism mainly, if not entirely, by its thermal
influence, Dr Lloyd could hardly believe that the moon,
whose heat was insensible, could exert any magnetic influ¬
ence. Upon discussing the Dublin observations, however,
he obtained results in accordance with those of Kreill and
Broun in so far as the magnetic declination was concerned.2
In a subsequent paper Dr Lloyd determined the law of the
moon’s action, the north pole of the needle deviating twice
to the E. and twice to the W. in the course of the lunar
day, and the maxima occurring one or two days after the
syzigies, and the minima one or two days after the
quadratures.3 In a third paper he has shown that the moon
exercises an influence upon the horizontal component of
the magnetic intensity.4 Dr Lloyd found that the effect
of the moon upon the declination was to that of the sun
as 1 to 13 ; and that the extreme variation of the morning
range is DSo, and that of the evening one l'*60; their
mean variations being l,-60 and l,-20 respectively.
The discussion of the observations at Toronto by General
Sabine has enabled him to determine with greater accu¬
racy the influence of the moon on the earth’s magnetism.
From five years’ observations made hourly, General Sabine
has drawn the following conclusions:—“ 1. The three
magnetic elements concur in showing that the moon exer¬
cises a sensible magnetic influence at the surface of the
earth, producing in every lunar day a variation which is
distinctly appreciable in each of the three elements by the
instruments employed. 2. That the lunar diurnal va¬
riations in each of the three elements constitutes a double
progression in each lunar day, the declination having two
easterly and two westerly maxima, and the inclination and
total force each two maxima and two minima between two
successive passages of the moon over the astronomical
meridian ; the variation passing in every four times through
zero in the lunar day. The approximate range of the lunar
diurnal variation at Toronto is in the declination,
4 ‘4 in the inclination, and '000012 parts of the total force.
3. That the lunar diurnal variation thus obtained, appears
to be consistent with the hypothesis that the moon’s mag¬
netism is, in great part at least, if not wholly, derived by
induction from the magnetism of the earth. 4. That there
is no appearance in the lunar diurnal variation of the deci¬
mal period which constitutes so marked a feature in the
solar diurnal variations.”0 These important results have
been deduced from 106,619 observations, namely, 40,503 of
the declination, 34,303 of the horizontal force, and 31,773
of the vertical force.
CHAP. n. ON THE GENERAL PHENOMENA AND PROPER¬
TIES OF MAGNETIC BODIES.
A body is said to be magnetic when it has the power of
attracting soft iron, either in the subdivided state of iron General
filings, or in large portions; or of attracting arid repelling Properties
other magnetic bodies like itself: of taking a particular po- of .
sition when freely suspended, or moving on a pivot: and of
communicating magnetism either temporarily to soft or v
permanently to hard iron in the form of steel. Hence we v' "
may arrange the general properties of magnetic bodies
under the following heads :■—
1. On the attractive power of magnetic bodies upon soft
iron.
2. On the attractive and repulsive power of magnets
over each other, or over iron either temporarily or perma¬
nently magnetized.
3. On the effect of masses of iron on the attractive force
of a magnet.
4. On the polarity of magnetic bodies.
5. On the power of magnets to communicate magnetism
to other bodies.
6. On the distribution of magnetism in artificial magnets.
7. On the effect of division and fracture on the distribu¬
tion of magnetism.
8. On the magnetic charge.
9. On magnetic figures.
Sect. I.—On the Attractive Power of Magnetic Bodies
upon Soft Iron.
The natural magnet or loadstone was for a long time the Attraction
only body considered as possessing magnetic properties, of magnets
It is an ore of iron, of a grey colour, and a dark metallic over iron,
lustre. Its specific gravity is about four and a half times
that of water. It crystallizes in the form of the regular
octahedron, and it consists of from 85 to 75 parts of iron,
and from 15 to 25 parts of oxygen. It is found in almost
every part of the world,6 and often forms rocks of consider¬
able magnitude; but different specimens of it possess very
different powers of attraction.
The smallest loadstones generally have a greater attrac- Loadstone,
tive power in proportion to their size than larger ones.
They have been found of such strength, that though
weighing only about 25 grains, they could lift a piece of
iron about forty times heavier than themselves. A small
magnet set in a ring, and worn by Sir Isaac Newton, is
said, but we know not on what authority, to have been
capable of lifting 746 grains, or 250 times its own weight;
and it is stated by Cavallo, that he has seen a loadstone
which weighed only about 6^ grains, which lifted a weight
of 300 grains. A magnet weighing 38 lb., and which was
found in 1781 to sustain above 200 lb., was presented to
John V. of Portugal by the Emperor of China.
Natural loadstones often possess unequal powers of at¬
traction in different parts of their mass, in consequence of
want of homogeneity of structure and composition; and
hence a portion has often been cut from a large loadstone
which could lift a greater weight of iron than the large
one itself, the portion detached having possessed the most
suitable structure, and the other part having weakened
the action of the powerful part by keeping the body to
be lifted at a greater distance from those points where the
magnetism was strongest. It is, no doubt, from a similar
cause that small magnets have a greater proportional
power than large ones, or that those of 2 lb. weight have
seldom been found capable of lifting more then ten times
their own weight of iron.
If we now take a natural loadstone L, however shapeless,
1 Memoirs of the Imperial Academy of Sciences of Vienna, 1850.
2 Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, Feb. 28, 1853.
3 Ibid., May 9, 1853. 4 Dec. 12, 1853.
5 Proceedings of the Royal Society, June 13, 1856, vol. viii., No. 22, p. 216; and Phil. Trans., 1856, art. xv.
6 According to Norman, the best loadstones were those brought from China and Bengal.
20
M A G N E T I S M.
Fig. 1.
General and after rolling it in a quantity of iron filings afterwards
Properties withdraw it, we shall find that the filings are accumulate
Ma °netic more abundantly in two opposite points A, B, than in anv
Bodies! other, as shown in fig. 1. These
i y two points A, B, are called the
poles of the magnet, and are the
points of greatest attraction.
When either of these poles is held
at a distance from the iron filings,
the filings will be attracted to it,
and will adhere with such force that it is difficult to brush
them off.
If we suspend a small needle of iron or steel by a fine
linen or silken fibre, or balance it on a pivot, and bring
the poles of the loadstone L near it, it will be attracted to
it in the first case, or will oscillate on its pivot in the second
case. -*
If we make the needle float on water in a glass tumbler,
and bring any pole of L on the outside of the tumbler, the
needle will be attracted towards the pole, notwithstanding
the interposition of the glass; and by using the needle
upon a pivot, it will be found that the attractive force of the
loadstone is in no respect diminished by the interposition of
any substance whatever, except iron ; conductors and non¬
conductors of electricity having no effect whatever in stop¬
ping or diminishing the action of the loadstone, unless the
interposed body be iron, or contains iron in any of its me¬
tallic states.
While the loadstone thus attracts iron, and all bodies
containing it in a metallic state, these same bodies exercise
a reciprocal attraction upon the loadstone, action and re¬
action being equal and opposite. The truth of this may
be exhibited by suspending a magnet, and bringing into
the vicinity of its poles a piece of soft iron. The magnet
will be gradually attracted by the iron, in the same manner
as if the iron had been suspended and a pole of the magnet
held near it.
The power of natural loadstones is greatly increased by
what is called an armature. After finding the poles of the
loadstone, the opposite faces which contain them should be
ground off, and the mass wrought into a regular shape,
armed, as explained in chap, x., sec. 12.
Sect III On the effect of Masses of Iron on the Attrac- General
live Force of a Magnet. Proper:
If we suspend a piece of iron C from the arm of a ba- ^fagnetie
•- •” 1  *■-J Bodies.
Armature
of load¬
stones.
Attraction
and repul¬
sion of
magnets.
b-
uS
Effect of
masses of
iron on the
attractive
force.
Sect. II.—On the Attractive and Repulsive Power of
Magnets over each other, or over Iron either tempo¬
rarily or permanently magnetized.
If we suspend near each other two loadstones, AB,
A'B' (as represented in lT |'r
fig. 2), by two threads  I ( ,
T, T, we shall find by A( ^)B A _ Js
changing the relative Fig- 2*
position of their poles, AB, A'B', that there are certain
positions in which these poles attract each other, and others
in which they are repelled. By marking the poles which
attract each other, such as A, B' and A', B, we shall find
that the poles which repel each other are A, A' and B, B,
and that this mutual attraction and repulsion takes place
under every change of circumstances.
If w e suspend a piece of soft iron ah from a loadstone
AB, we shall find that the end b of
the iron exercises the same attractive
and repulsive power upon the poles
A', B' (fig. 3), of a suspended magnet
that B did ; and in like manner, if the
piece of iron d li is suspended from
the pole A', the end a w ill exercise
the same attraction and repulsion upon the poles of a sus¬
pended magnet that A' did.
Fig. 3.
lance, it will be attracted
by the pole P of a mag¬
net A, and will descend
towards P in virtue of
this attraction. If we
now place a mass of iron
I close to A, the sus¬
pended iron C w ill rise,
as if the attractive force
of P were diminished. Fis-4-
This power of the mass of iron 1 seems only to extend to
a given point within the magnet A, the distance between
the magnet and the iron remaining the same; for if the
iron C is suspended above a point x at some distance from
P, the action of 1 will not be felt at the point x, except by
diminishing the distance between P and C, or by increasing
the neutralizing power of the mass I.
Sir William Snow Harris, to whom we owe this experi¬
ment, has shown that a similar effect is produced when the
iron I is placed between the magnet P A and the suspended
iron C, and also when I is placed below P. In the first of
these cases I stops the attraction of P upon C, and acts as
a screen.
Sir William has observed a very curious result of the
action of iron upon a magnet. If we join the poles ot a
bar-magnet by a piece of soft iron, which is called its keeper
or armature, the power of the magnet is preserved and
increased; but if we envelope the bar completely in soft
iron, its power is decreased. In a hollow cylinder of soft
iron, Sir William placed a cylindrical magnet which fitted
it accurately. The force of the inclosed magnet having
been previously carefully measured, its power was found
^reatly diminished when it was withdrawn. Sir William
found the decrease so great, that he believes the power of
the magnet might be thus entirely annihilated by a careful
arrangement of the experiment.
Sect. IV.— On the Polarity of Magnetic Bodies.
If we suspend a loadstone, as in fig. 2, or make it float Polarity of
upon Mater or mercury, by placing it on a thin plate of magnets*
cork or wood, it will gradually change its place till it rests
in a position M’here a line joining the poles A, B is nearly
north and south. This is, generally speaking, the case in
Europe ; the end A, which points northward, deviating in
some places from the meridian to the M est, in some places
to the east; while in other parts of the globe it points ex¬
actly to the north. The deviation of the loadstone from
the meridian is called its declination, or variation. This
property of the magnet is called its polarity, or directive
power; and the pole A, which turns to the north, is called
its north pole; and the pole B, which turns to the south,
its south pole. It will now be found that the poles and
magnets A, A', or B, B', which repel each other, are either
both north or both south poles ; and that the north and south
poles attract each other. Hence there are in magnetism, as
there are in electricity, two opposite powers or principles,
namely, the northern and the southern, or boreal and austral
magnetism; and, as in electricity, a repulsion takes place
between the two powers of the same name, and attraction
between the two powers of an opposite name.
The magnetism from which loadstones derive their po¬
larity, or their tendency to direct themselves to particu¬
lar points of the compass, is obviously derived in some way
or other from the earth or its atmosphere ; and hence it is
called the Magnetism of the Earth, or Terrestrial Magne¬
tism, which will be treated more fully in a luture part of
this article.
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Communi¬
cation of
magnetism,
Magnetic
induction.
Reaction
of iron on
magnets.
MAGNETISM.
21
Sect. V.— On the Power of Magnets to communicate Mag¬
netism to other Bodies.
We have already seen, that if a piece of soft iron is
suspended to a magnet by the attraction of one of its poles,
the iron becomes magnetic, but only during the time that
it is in contact with the loadstone. But if we use a piece
of hardened iron, or steel, ab, and suspend it as in fig. 3,
. it will be found to have acquired a permanent magnet¬
ism, the strength of which will depend on the pow'er
of the natural magnet AB, and on the time which the
steel bar has been suspended. The pole a will be a north
pole similar to A, and the pole &a south pole similar to B ;
and the little magnet ab will possess all the properties of
the natural magnet, such as attraction for soft iron, and
polarity; and its action upon another little steel magnet
db', made in a similar manner, will be the same as the
action of two natural magnets upon each other. A steel
magnet thus made is called an artificial magnet; and wTe
shall in the sequel consider the magnets of which w'e
speak as steel bars rendered permanently magnetic.
A little magnet ab has been made by a very simple pro¬
cess, namely, that of contact with the pole of a natural
magnet; but there are more complex and efficacious me¬
thods, by which a very high degree of permanent magnet¬
ism can be communicated to steel, which will be fully ex¬
plained in the practical part of this treatise.
In order to communicate magnetism from a natural or
artificial magnet to unmagnetized iron or steel, it is not
necessary that the two bodies be in contact. The com¬
munication is effected as perfectly, though more feebly,
when the bodies are separated by space.
If the north pole N of an artificial steel magnet A is
placed near the ex- ,
tremity s of a piece
of soft iron B, the A 15 o o
end s will instantly 5-
acquire the properties of a south pole, and the opposite
end 7i those of a noi-th pole. The opposite poles would
have been produced at n and s if the south pole S of the
magnet A had been placed near the iron B.
In like manner, the iron B, though only temporarily
magnetic, will render another piece of iron C, and this
again another piece D, temporarily magnetic, north and
south poles being produced at s, and rc", s'.
The magnetism inherent in B, C, and D, is said to be
induced by the presence of the real magnet A, and the
phenomena are exactly analogous to the communication of
electricity to unelectrified bodies by induction, the positive
state inducing the negative, and the negative the positive,
in the parts of a conductor placed in a state of insulation
near an electrified body.
In order to show by simple experiments that soft iron
is itself a magnet while placed  
near a magnet, let A be a mag- A
net, and K a key held near its
lower edge; a nail N will re- h
main suspended by virtue of its
induced magnetism ; but if A is
withdrawn, or K removed from
A, the nail N will instantly fall, Fisc-
the induced magnetism diminishing with the distance.
If we hold the key K above a portion of iron filings, they
will not be attracted by it; but if we then bring the magnet
A near the ring of the key, as in the figure, the iron filings
will instantly start up, and be attracted by the key.
We have already noticed, in Sect. I., that the iron at¬
tracted by a magnet reacts upon the magnet, and attracts
it in return. The same is the case with a bar of iron on
which magnetism is induced. It reacts on the magnet
which induces its magnetism, and increases its magnetic
intensity. Hence we derive a distinct explanation of the
remarkable facts, that a magnet has its power increased by
having a bar of iron placed in contact with one of its poles,
and that we can gradually add more weight to that which
is carried by a magnet, provided we make the addition
slowly and in small quantities; the power of the magnet
being increased by the reaction of each separate piece of
iron that it is made to carry.
If the bar of iron on which magnetism is induced is long,
and the strength of the magnet great, a succession of poles
is produced along its length, a north pole always following
a south pole, and vice versa.
These facts enable us to explain the phenomena of mag¬
netic attraction and repulsion, which are necessary conse¬
quences of magnetic induction. The magnet attracts a
piece of iron by inducing an opposite polarity at the end in
contact with it, and the two opposite principles attract each
other. In like manner, the north pole of one magnet at¬
tracts the south pole of another, and similar poles repel
each other, in consequence of the attraction and repulsion
of the opposite or similar principles. The attraction of
iron filings is explained in the same manner. The particle
of iron next the magnet has magnetism induced upon it,
and it becomes a minute magnet, like B in fig. 5. This
particle again makes the next particle a magnet, like C, and
so on ; the opposite polarities in each particle of the filings
attracting one another, as if they were real magnets.
In comparing the amount of the attractive force of two
dissimilar poles of two magnets with the amount of the
repulsive force of the two similar poles, it has been found
that the former force is considerably greater than the latter.
This result is a necessary consequence of the inductive pro¬
cess above described. When the two attracting poles are
in contact, each magnet tends to increase the power of the
other, by developing the opposite magnetisms in the ad¬
jacent halves, and thus increasing their mutual attraction.
But when the two repelling poles are brought into contact,
the action of each half brought into contact has a tendency
to develop in that half a magnetism opposite to that which
it really possesses, and thus to diminish the two similar prin¬
ciples, and Aveaken their repulsive power. This injurious in¬
fluence of opposite poles upon the repulsive power of the
magnets inaction is finely exhibited when one of the magnets
is very powerful, and the other very weak. When the two
similar poles are held at a moderate distance a repulsion is
distinctly exhibited ; but when they are brought into contact,
the stronger attracts the weaker magnet, an effect which is
produced by its actually destroying the similar weak mag¬
netism in the half next it, and inducing in that half the op¬
posite magnetism, which, of course, occasions attraction.
When the magnet A and the piece of iron B are placed
in the same straight line, as in fig. 5, the pole N acts favour¬
ably in inducing south polar magnetism at n, and north polar
at s; but it is evident that the remote pole S must tend to
weaken the inductive force of N, by inducing, though in a
feeble degree, north polar magnetism at n and south polar at
s. If the soft iron B is placed
as in fig. 7, the induced mag¬
netism will be nearly as strong
as before, the greater proxi¬
mity of N tending to pro¬
duce south polar magnetism
in n, being compensated by
the increased proximity of S
tending to produce north polar
magnetism in n. In the inclined position C the induced
magnetism is still stronger, as S acts
more powerfully upon n; and when
the two are parallel, as in fig. 8, the
two bars or magnets are in the posi¬
tion most favourable for developing
and sustaining the magnetism which they receive or possess.
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Consecu¬
tive poles.
Magnetic
attraction
and repul¬
sion ex¬
plained.
Fig. 7.
22
MAGNETISM.
General Hitherto we have considered the natural and artificial
Properties magnet as producing magnetism in soft or hai d iron, dis-
of .. tributed in the same manner as in the inducing mag-
BodleslC net; but by the action of one or more magnets we can
v > distribute the magnetism in various ways, as follows.-
In the case of bars, we may have a north pole in the
middle of it, and a south pole at each "
extremity. Thus, in fig. 9, if the mag¬
net NS has its north pole N placed op¬
posite the middle of the soft iron bar
nn, this bar will have a south pole at s,
the wires to converge, as in fig. 14, the north poles w, n, General
.mi i *i  xi-_•  i. 1 Prnm»rtiP
Tig. 9.
The very same effect will be pro-
Fig. 10.
Fig. 11.
and north poles at n, n
duced if, as in fig.
10, we place the soft
iron bar B between s
two magnets A, C,
whose north poles N, N, tend to produce south poles at 5, s,
and consequently northern polarity in the middle at n.
In the preceding case, a south pole may be produced in
the middle, and north poles at the ends of the bar, by
placing the south poles of the magnets where the north
poles are placed. _ „
In like manner, a piece of soft iron ss, ss, of the toim
of a cross, will have south poles at s, s, s, s, if the
south pole S of a magnet A is placed on or near
its centre, as in fig. 11; as it may be con¬
ceived to consist of two bars ss, ss. For
the same reason, if a circular plate of soft
iron is substituted in place of the cross ss, ss,
and the south pole S of the magnet placed upon
or near its centre, that centre will be a north
pole, and every point of the circumference of the plate will
be a south pole. , .
A very instructive experiment, founded on magnetic in¬
duction, is exhibited in fig. 12, where several
soft-iron wires or slender bars sn, sn, sn, are
suspended at the north pole N of a magnet N.
Each of the ends s, s, s, becomes a south pole
by induction from the action of the north, and
consequently the lower ends n, n, n, north poles.
The south poles s, s, s have a tendency to repel
each other, but are prevented from yielding
to their repulsive forces in consequence of
their strong adhesion to the north pole N. The
north poles n, n, n, however, are free from this
restraint, and exhibit their mutual repulsion Fig. 12.
by their diverging as shown in the figure. Hence we see
the reason why rows of iron filings adhering to each other,
when attracted by a magnet, keep separate from each other
by the repulsive forces of the similar poles.
In the following form of the experiment given by Cavallo,
the repulsion of both poles is
well illustrated. If we suspend
two short pieces of soft iron wire
ns, ns by threads, they will hang
in contact in a vertical position.
If we now bring the north pole
N of a magnet A to a mode¬
rate distance from the wires,
they will recede from each
other, as in fig. 13. The ends
s, s being made south poles by
induction from the north pole
N, will repel each other, and so
will the north poles n, n. This
separation of the wires will in¬
crease as the magnet A ap¬
proaches nearer them; but there
will be a particular distance at
which the attractive force of N
still exhibiting their mutual repulsion.
The neutralization or destruction of induced magnetism,
by two equal and opposite magnetic actions, " ■*-“
is shown in the following experiment, given
by Dr Robison. If we take a forked piece
of soft iron CDE, and suspend it by the
branch D from the north pole of a magnet B,
it will be magnetized by induction, and will
carry a key at its lower end E, which will
be a north pole. If we now apply to the other
branch C the south pole S of another and
equal magnet A, the key will instantly drop off.
This obviously arises from the south pole S in¬
ducing a south pole at E, which either destroys
or neutralizes the north polar magnetism pre¬
viously induced by N.
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Fig. 15.
Fig. 13.
Fig. 14.
overcomes the repulsive force of the poles s, s, and causes
Sect. VI.— On the Distribution of Magnetism in Artificial
Magnets.
It is very obvious from the preceding experiments that Distribu-
in regular magnets, with a north pole at one end and south tion of
pole at the other, the two kinds of magnetism, north polar magne ISTn-
and south polar, are equally and regularly distributed, the
one occupying one-half of the magnet, and the other the
other half. It is obvious, also, that each kind ot magnetism
has no intensity at the centre of the magnet, or its middle
part, and that it increases, according to some regular law,^
from that point towards the two poles at the extremities ot
the magnet. .
The first person who determined the law of distribution CoulomVs
which we have now mentioned was M. Coulomb. T.heexperl-
magnet which he employed for this purpose was a cylinder merits.
2 lines in diameter, 27 inches long, and its weight 1946
grains; and he ascertained the intensity of magnetism at
each point, from its middle to its extremity, by observing
the number of oscillations which a small magnetic needle
performed in a minute, when it was made to oscillate before
different points of the wire. He had previously observed
the number of oscillations which the same needle performed
out of the sphere of the magnet, and he considered the
magnetic intensity as proportional to the difference of the
squares of those two numbers of oscillations. The first needle
which he employed was 3 lines in diameter and 6 lines long;
and it was made of such a size, and of such hardness, that
its magnetism should not be perceptibly altered by the ac¬
tion of the wire during the experiments ; for if any change
did take place, the results obtained at different points of
the magnet could not be compared. The great length of
27 inches was given to the magnet, in order that its remoter
pole might be so distant from the needle that it would be
unnecessary to make any allowance for its action upon the
oscillations of the needle. In this way Coulomb obtained
the following results:—
Observed intensity
of the Magnetism at
these distances.
 165
    90
    48
    23
    9
  6
The distribution of the magnetism is exhibited in fig. 16,
where AN is half of the magnet, and N its north pole ; and
the ordinates to the curves represent the intensities in the
preceding table. ,, _ . , .,
These experiments were repeated by vyoulombj with mag¬
nets of the same shape and diameter, but of a less length,
all other circumstances being unchanged, and he obtained
nearly the same results for the three inches of the magnet
Distances from the
North Pole of the
Magnet.
0 
1 
2 
3 
4, 5 
6,
MAGNETISM.
23
General nearest N ; and hence he concluded, that whatever was the
Properties length of the magnet, provided it was greater than (5 or c
of .
Magnetic i
Bodies. i\
ments.
Fig. 16.
inches, the 3 inches at both its north and south poles gave
always the same results as the 27-inch magnet. From this
point towards the centre, the magnetism became weak and
insensible in all of them; and, in very long magnets, he
even found that the ordinates sometimes passed from po¬
sitive to negative.
M. Biot has remarked that the curve ,fB
of intensity, as determined by Coulomb, y)
results from the combination of two 1o-a
garithmic curves ACB', A'CB, which, r—*
setting out from each pole A, B of the
magnet AB, would have their ordinatesAf
equal and in an opposite direction, as Fig.17.
shown in fig. 17. The intensities calculated upon this sup¬
position agree exactly with the observed results.
Becquerel’s As Coulomb had examined the distribution of magnetism
experi- only in magnets of considerable size, M. Becquerel1 was
desirous of ascertaining if the law was observed in steel
wires of a small diameter, such as ^th of a millimetre, or
ssVuth of an inch. In order to procure such wires, he in¬
cased a steel wire, 1 millimetre in diameter, in a cylinder of
silver, and having drawn out the whole into a wire, the silver
was removed by means of boiling mercury. He employed
the method used by Coulomb in determining the law of
distribution; but on account of the fineness of the wires,
and the weakness of the magnetism which they acquired,
he was obliged to make some changes in the method. He
obtained, however, the very same results as those given
by Coulomb.
A number of interesting experiments on the distribu¬
tion of magnetism were made by M. Kupffer of Kasan,2
by means of the method of Coulomb. He employed a flat
and very narrow needle 12 millimetres long, and he placed
it at a horizontal distance of 3 decimetres from a cylindrical
bar-magnet of cast steel not tempered, 607 millimetres long,
and 12jj millimetres thick. He began his experiments with
magnets that possess a weak degree of magnetism. In mag¬
netizing them, he rubbed the steel bar perpendicularly on
the north pole of a very strong artificial magnet, and re¬
placed the bar vertically before the needle, the north pole of
the bar being uppermost. He found that the south pole
was stronger than the north, and that the point of indif¬
ference, or the neutral point, was nearer the stronger pole
than the other. Upon reversing the magnet, the magnetic
intensities of its different points increased, and the neutral
point approached the middle of the magnet. These changes
were produced successively, and the magnet did not attain
its final state till it had remained some time in the same
position. Kupffer observed, that whenever the magnetic
intensities of the bar increased, the neutral point slowly ap¬
proached the middle point; that this point was always nearer
the stronger pole; that a bar magnetized vertically was al¬
ways more powerful when its north pole was downwards; and
that a bar magnetized by the method mentioned above was
always strongest in the pole immediately produced by that
of the magnet.
After detailing his observations with a bar magnetized
Kupffer’s
experi¬
ments.
to saturation, he proceeds to determine the influence exer- General
cised by the form of the extremities of the bar on the mag- Properties
netic intensity, and on the position of the neutral point. A jja„net;c
cylindrical bar of steel, cast, but not tempered, having been Bodies,
rounded at one of its ends, and magnetized to saturation, v ^ —j
was placed 14 centimetres from a magnetic needle, and in
the line of its direction. When its north pole was directed
to the south, the force of the rounded north pole was 2,0319,
and that of the south pole was 2’1558. In the opposite
position of the bar, the magnetic force of the north pole was
2‘2198, and that of the south pole 2-3006, the neutral point
being in the middle.
The rounded end of the bar was now filed to a point, and
made sharper and sharper in every successive experiment,
after being each time magnetized to saturation. The force
of the sharpened pole diminished with its acuteness. The
neutral point receded always from this extremity.
This interesting subject has been more recently investi¬
gated by Hansteen and Sir W. S. Harris. According to
Hansteen, the intensity of any magnetic particle in a bar
magnet situated in the axis, is directly as the square of its
distance from the middle point of that axis, or the centre
of the magnet; while it results from Sir William Harris’s
experiments “ that the magnetism in different points of a
regularly tempered and magnetized steel bar is directly as
the distance from the magnetic centre ; whilst the reciprocal
force between any given point and soft iron is as the square
of the distance from that centre.”3
In order to ascertain the distribution of magnetism in the Distribu-
interior of magnets, Coulomb formed sixteen rectangular ^°n
magnets out of the same piece of steel. Each was 6 inches
long, 9£ lines wide, and 382 grains in weight. They were terior of
annealed at a white heat without being tempered, in order magnets,
that he might be certain of having them always in the same Coulomb’s
state. He magnetized them all to saturation, and formed expert-
bundles with a certain number of them, similar poles being ments-
placed together. The magnets in each bundle were bound
tightly together with a strong silk thread. Each bundle
wras then placed in a torsion balance, and placed 30° out of
the magnetic meridian. The force of torsion necessary to
retain it in this position was a measure of its magnetic in¬
tensity. The following were the forces or degrees of torsion
necessary to keep the different bundles at rest:—
Degrees of Torsion.
1 magnet  82
2 magnets united  125
4 magnets
6 magnets
8 magnets
12 magnets
16 magnets
150
172
182
205
229
Hence it follows that the magnetic force of each bundle
increases in a ratio much less than that of the number of
plates.
Coulomb next determined the magnetic state of each of
the magnets composing the bundles of eight and sixteen
magnets ; and he found that the two outermost magnets,
those which formed the surface of the bundles, had a much
greater force than the rest.
The first had a force which measured 46
The second 48
And the mean force of all the rest was 30
A single magnet had its directing force 82°, while for six¬
teen of them united the mean directing force of each was
only 140,3, that is, about the sixth part of the other.
In examining the bundle of eight magnets by the me¬
thod of oscillation, he found that the two outermost per¬
formed twenty oscillations in 90^ minutes, while all the
1 Ann. de Chimie, tom. xxii., p. 115; Becquerel, Traite Experimentale de VElectricite et de Magnetisme, tom. i., p. 305.
® Ibid, tom., xxvi. p. 50. 3 End. Mag., part iii., p. 60.
24
MAGNETISM.
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Effects
produced
by break¬
ing mag¬
nets.
rest performed the same number in from 211 to 278 nearly,
showing the weakness of their magnetism. It is curious
that the outermost but one had its poles reversed.
Coulomb also found that a bundle ol magnets will take
nearly the same degree of magnetism as a single magnet
of the same shape and weight; which leads us to believe
that, in magnets of one piece, the magnetism diminishes
from the surface to the centre, as in the preceding bun¬
dles of magnets.
Sect. VII.— On the Effect of Division and Fracture in
the Distribution of Magnetism.
As no natural or artificial magnet has ever been seen
with only one pole, or one kind of magnetism, it became
interesting to determine experimentally the distribution
of magnetism in a part of a magnet cut from its north or
south extremity. This experiment has been often made,
both by cutting it through at the middle or neutral point,
or by cutting or breaking off a portion from the end of it.
If NS, for example, is a
magnet, N its north and
S its south pole, and ACB
the curve representing the
intensity of its magnetism ;
then, if we cut it through
the middle, C, each half
ns, ns will be a complete
magnet, with a north pole
at n, and a south one at s, and their neutral points at c, c ;
the curves at acb, dcU, representing the distribution of
their north and south polar magnetism, being similar to the
curve ACB of the large magnet of which they are the
halves.
When Alpinus made this curious experiment, he did
not divide the magnet in two, but he set two steel bars
end to end, and magnetized them as one magnet; so that
this compound magnet had its magnetism distributed as in
a single bar, like NS, fig. 18. He then separated them,
and found that each bar was a perfect magnet, with two
poles. Dr Robison repeated this experiment successfully
on some occasions ; but he sometimes found indications of
the compound magnet acting as two magnets. We are
persuaded that this arose from an imperfect union of the
two bars, and not from any defect in iEpinus’s experi¬
ment. The united ends of the bars should be ground to¬
gether, so as to be kept in perfect contact, and preserved
in this state by a powerful pressure during the time that
they are magnetized. If this be done, we have no doubt
that they will act on iron filings, and throw them into
curves, as if they were a single bar, and will, by examina¬
tion with a fine needle, exhibit the same regular distri¬
bution of magnetism which takes place in the most per¬
fect magnet.
Upon the separation of the magnets thus united, ASpinus
found that two poles were instantly developed in each half,
but that the neutral points c, c, fig. 18, were nearer the
interior poles s, n'; or, what is the same thing, nearer the
original neutral point C, than to n and s. In the space of
about a quarter of an hour, it had, however, advanced
nearer to the middle points c, c, and continued for some
nours, and sometimes for days, to advance to these points,
which it finally reached, thus completing the regular dis¬
tribution of the two opposite magnetisms.
Some observations, but not very accurate ones, have
been made on the division of magnets in the direction of
their lengths. According to Dr Derham, the two por¬
tions sometimes have contrary, and sometimes the same
poles, as when they were united. When one portion was
much thinner than the other, the thinner portion had ge¬
nerally its poles reversed. This experiment does not
possess much interest; for it can scarcely be doubted that,
if w e could divide a magnet in the direction of its length
without any violence or concussion, each portion, whether
thinner or thicker, would have, when separate, the same
polarities as when combined. The experiment would be
easily made by pressing two equal steel bars into close
contact, magnetizing them in this state, and then separat¬
ing them.
A very remarkable analogy has been pointed out by Sir Analogy
David Brewster between the preceding results and those between
which he has obtained with parallelopipeds of glass, which
received the doubly refracting structure by being quickly nea]e(i
cooled on all their surfaces from a state of red heat. This giass.
change is analogous to that of temper in a magnet; and
the effect of it is to produce a certain development of posi¬
tive and negative double refraction throughout the whole
of the parallelepiped of glass. These phenomena will be
minutely explained in our article on Optics ; but we may
state at present, that the structure of the glass modifies
the action of the ether which it contains, just as the struc¬
ture of the tempered steel keeps the two magnetisms in
an uncombined state. This is shown in fig. 19, where
Fig. 19.
AB is a thick plate of glass quickly cooled. The middle
portion of it P has positive, and the external portions N, N,
negative double refraction. The density of the ether
in each of these portions varies according to a regular
law; and the intensity of the doubly refracting force, at
different points both of the positive and negative struc¬
tures, is represented by a curve formed by the superpo¬
sition of a straight line and a parabola. If we now cut the
parellelbpiped of glass into two halves, through the dotted
lineAB, fig. 19, each half will have the same structure as
the whole, as shown in fig. 20 ; the parts that were former¬
ly positive being now negative, and vice versa; and the in¬
tensity of the doubly refracting force in each half will be
represented by the ordinates of a curve formed by the su¬
perposition of a straight line and a parabola. This fact is
in perfect analogy with the magnetic one, and there are
many other remarkable points of resemblance.
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Sect. VIII.— On the Magnetic Charge.
The subject of magnetic charge, or the quantity of
magnetism in a bar-magnet under a given attractive force,
which may be termed intensity, has been investigated by
Sir William Harris. He has shown, in the following in¬
teresting experiment, that this intensity is independent of
the mass of the magnetized body, and, therefore, that mag¬
netism, like electricity, is entirely confined to the sur¬
face.
Let AB be a cylinder, of soft iron 2 inches long, £ an
inch in diameter, and -j^th of an inch thick. A solid cylin¬
der of soft iron, ab, is made to fit into AB like one of the
draw-tubes of a telescope, so that it can be pulled out to any
point c, or altogether. Fix a magnet M, at a constant dis-
MAGNETISM.
25
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
Magnetic
figures.
Jt
3
tance p, beneath AB, and bring the whole under the trial
cylinder £ of a magnetometer,
in order to measure the quan¬
tity of magnetism induced up¬
on the cylinder by the magnet
M. The distances p and t
being regulated by a divided
scale, the intensity or force on
t induced upon AB and ab,
or in mass, was 10°. The a 
cylinder ab being now pulled'jc
out to c, the intensity or
force on t gradually declined ;
and when ab was pulled out
as far as possible, the inten¬
sity was reduced, to 5° or
When the interior cylinder was
wholly removed the intensity
became IQ0, the same as when the two cylinders formed one.
Hence it follows, that magnetism resides on the surface,
a result confirmed by the fact that a hollow cylinder of
tempered steel may be magnetized as powerfully as a solid
cylinder of the same dimensions.1 Sir W. Harris has
found that the intensity or attractive force is as the quan¬
tity of magnetism, as in electricity.
M
Fig. 21.
Sect. IX.— On Magnetic Figures.
In our article on Electricity we have given an account
of the beautiful electrical figures discovered by M. Licht-
enberg, and which form one of the most interesting po¬
pular experiments in that science. We are indebted to M.
Haldat of Nancy for the analogous discovery of magnetic
figures, which may be easily produced. For this purpose,
he employed plates of steel from eight to twelve inches
square, and from one-twentieth to one-eighth of an inch
thick. The plates which he used were of that kind of steel
which is used for the manufacture of cuirasses, so that it
did not require to be tempered, being sufficiently hard to
preserve the magnetism communicated to it. Figures of
any kind may be traced on the surface of the steel plate,
either by one magnet or by several combined ; and the best
form for this purpose is that in which the poles are round¬
ed. In this way we may write upon a steel plate the name
of a friend, or sketch a flower or a figure, with the extre¬
mity of a magnet. If it is a south pole that we use, all the
traces which it makes will have north polar magnetism;
and if we shake steel filings upon the plate out of a gauze
bag, the filings will arrange themselves in the empty spaces
between the lines traced by the pole of the magnet, and
thus represent, in vacant steel, the name which has been
written, or the flower or figure which has been sketched.
“ These figures,” says M. Haldat, “ have a perfect resem¬
blance to those which are formed on the surface of non¬
magnetic plates,—viz., wood, card, glass, or paper, under
which a magnet is placed. The resemblance between the
two sorts of figures, when the magnets and the parts mag¬
netized have the same form, is not only exact in the whole
figure, but even in the smallest details. The filings collect
at the parts where the magnetism is most intense, they ar¬
range themselves in pencils and radii, and form the same
curves which we have represented above (see fig. 1).
These curves, and pencils, and rays, so similar at the two
poles of the same magnet, have such a resemblance that
they do not allow us to distinguish the two parts from one
another.”
M. Haldat likewise produced these curves by inter¬
posing between the tracing magnets and the steel plates
solid non-magnetic bodies, such as cards, glass, and even
metallic plates that are not ferruginous. This method of
producing magnetism in the steel plate by induction gives
the same figures ; but, in order to be efficacious, the mag¬
net must have its pole carried parallel to and at a small dis¬
tance from the plate of steel, and must repeat its traces, in
order that the magnetism may be sufficiently developed.
For rectilineal figures, M. Haldat employed rules with
grooves, which keep the motion and distance of the bar in¬
variable ; for curvilineal figures he interposed some thin and
uniform plate, and varied the distinctness of the figures by
varying the distance of the tracing pole of the magnet.
In sifting the iron filings upon the steel plate, a gentle
vibration of the plate, by tapping its edge with the ring of
a small key, will assist the filings in taking their proper
places ; but we must avoid such vibrations as will produce re¬
gular acoustic figures, unless we wish, as M. Haldat found
to be practicable, to unite the magnetic with the acoustic
figures, which produces very interesting and varied forms.
M. Haldat found that the magnetic figures will con¬
tinue for six months. In order to remove the magnetism
which produces them, he recommended the heating of the
plate upon red-hot charcoal, till it is brought to the straw-
yellow temperature. In order to render the repolishing
of the plate unnecessary, M. Haldat tinned it, and the tem¬
perature at which the tin melted, when it was required to
efface the magnetism, indicated the necessary heat. M.
Haldat employed also another method which is perhaps the
best. He placed the steel plate upon a block of wood, and
by repeated and violent blows of a wooden hammer he re¬
moved the magnetism of the plate, the figures gradually be¬
coming weaker and weaker when the experiment was tried
with it in different stages. The effect was often produced
General
Properties
of
Magnetic
Bodies.
^Magnetic
figures.
in three or four minutes.
As the figures traced on the steel are nothing more than
magnets of different forms, and are surrounded on all sides
with a substance capable of acquiring the magnetism which
may be developed by communication, we might expect, as
M. Haldat remarked, that this means of communication be¬
tween the opposite poles of the magnets would bring them
into a neutral state. This, however, is not the case; and the
portion of the metal which surrounds the magnetic figure
performs the part of the armature of a loadstone, and the
magnetism is thus kept up. If the figure be a simple rec¬
tangle, like that of a bar-magnet, the state of the plate,
examined with a small needle, is exactly the same as a
bar-magnet, and the parts which surround this magnetic
portion are in a neutral state, as if unconnected with the
rectangular space; from which it follows that the magnetic
virtue, which communicates itself so easily by influence,
ceases to communicate itself between the continuous parts
of a magnetizable body, of which one portion is magnetic,
and the rest in a neutral state.
In carrying into effect the preceding method of making Improve-
magnetic figures, a very great difficulty must be experi- ments 011
enced in recollecting the invisible traces made by the pole
of the magnet, so as to complete a regular figure or drawing. thod
When the figures are made immediately, as M. Haldat ex¬
pressed it, that is, by the actual contact of the pole of the
magnet, without any intermediate body, the best method
would be to cover the plate of steel with the slightest coat¬
ing of grease, and sift upon the surface, through a linen
bag, some of the finest flour. The pole of the magnet, while
tracing the figures on the steel, will remove the flour, and
thus exhibit to the eye an accurate picture of what it has
traced; and it will thus be easy to make the magnetic
figures more distinct by repeating the traces with the mag¬
net. The same thing may be done by putting an etching
ground upon the steel plate, and tracing the figure as be¬
fore. When the figure is completed, the coating of grease
and flour, or the etching ground, must be removed previous
to the application of the iron filings.
D
VOL. XIV.
1 Rud. Mag., part iii. 61, 62.
23
MAGNETISM.
Magnetism When the figures are to be produced viediately, oi by
of Bodies intervention of a non-magnetic substance, such as paper,
not. er<i card, wood, or glass, a fine dust may in like manner be laid
v ^ upon the surface ; but when the interposed substance will
77"' receive the mark of a pencil or sharp point, it woukl be
J3eestic preferable to attach to the cylindrical pole of the tracing
magnet a very short point of a non-magnetic substance,
which would make a visible mark on the paper, card, or
wood, without strewing any fine dust on their surfaces. By
the use of such a point, indeed, we may dispense altogether
with the interposed substance, and communicate the mag¬
netism by induction to the steel plate, in the very same way
as if it had been done by the intervention of anon-magnetic
plate whose thickness is equal to the length of the short point
or tracer affixed to the pole of the magnet.
The magnetic figures might be rendered permanent by
covering the steel plate either with a gummy or balsamic
solution, which will indurate by exposure to the air; or with
a coating of some easily melted substance, which becomes
fixed at ordinary temperatures. If we sift the iron filings on
the steel plate when covered with such a fluid, the filings
will take their magnetic position round the traced lines, and
will become fixed by the induration or solidification of the
fluid coating.
CHAP. III.—ON THE MAGNETISM OF BODIES NOT
FERRUGINOUS.
Sect. I.—On the Magnetism of Metals, Minerals, and
other Bodies.
Magnetism Iron was long regarded as the only body endowed with
of metals, property of acting and of being acted upon as a mag-
ftrru"i- net 5 antJ tlloush otlier metals an(i substances have been
nous!01 found to possess the same property, and though all sub¬
stances whatever were found by Coulomb to obey the
power of a strong magnet, yet it is still a matter of doubt
whether the magnetic effects thus produced are owing to a
magnetism residing in the proper substance of the body, or
are owing to a minute quantity of iron which enters into
their composition.
Magnetism The most magnetic metal next to iron is nickel. It re-
of nickel. ceiv£S ancj retains communicated magnetism longer than
any other metal, and needles of nickel have a distinct po¬
larity. These properties have been found in nickel after it
has been repeatedly purified, though some authors have
stated that they could not detect this property in certain
specimens. A very decisive and instructive experiment on
the magnetic qual ities of nickel was made by M. Biot.1 He
possessed a needle of nickel which had been purified by M.
Thenard. It was 212 millimetres long, six broad, and
5-178 grains in weight. Having made a needle of steel of
exactly the same dimensions, and which weighed 4-586
grains, he magnetized them both to saturation, and caused
them to oscillate in the magnetic meridian. The nickel
needle performed ten oscillations in eighty-seven seconds,
and the steel one the same number in forty-five and a half
seconds. As the shape of the needles was the same, the mo¬
menta of their directive forces were directly as their weights,
and inversely as the squares of eighty-seven seconds and
forty-five and a half seconds, that is, as 03088 to 1, that is,
the directive force of the needle of nickel was nearly one-
third of that of the steel needle. Now it is impossible to
suppose that purified nickel could contain such a large pro¬
portion of iron as is necessary to produce such a degree of
magnetic polarity, without its being easily recognised by the
chemist; and M. Biot supposes that the magnetic power of
the nickel might have been still further increased by the
means which are used to modify the coercive power of steel Magnetism
i • * of Bodies
and iron. „
A series of careful experiments were made by M. Ca- ^ - ^
vallo, on the magnetism of brass when hammered. He y ^
found that brass, whether old or new, British or .foreiSn\Brasg/~"'
was made magnetic when placed between two pieces ol ras *
card and hammered on an anvil with a common hammer;
and that the magnetism thus imparted was always removed
by making the brass red hot, and could again be commu¬
nicated to it. Lest it might be supposed that ferruginous
matter might pass to the brass through rents or openings
in the card, he hardened a piece of brass by beating it
between two large flints, using one piece as a hammer, and
the other as an anvil. The hammered brass became mag¬
netic, but not so strongly as before; which arose probably
from the rough and irregular surfaces of the flints, which
prevented the brass from being hardened as uniformly as
it was with the steel hammer. The flints, before and after
the experiment, did not possess the slightest magnetism.
The degree of magnetism communicated to brass by
hammering is vaguely stated by Cavallo to have been such
“ as to attract either pole of the needle from about a quar¬
ter of an inch distance.” The following are the conclu¬
sions which M. Cavallo has drawn from these and other
experiments:—
“ 1 st, That most brass becomes magnetic by hammering,
and loses its magnetism by annealing or softening in the
fire, or at least its magnetism is so far weakened by it, as
afterwards to be only discoverable when set to float on
quicksilver.
“ 2d, The acquired magnetism is not owing to particles
of iron or steel imparted to the brass by the tools employed,
or naturally mixed with the brass.
“ 3c?, Those pieces of brass which have that property,
retain it without any diminution after a great number of
repeated trials, viz., after having been repeatedly hardened
and softened.
“ Ath, A large piece of brass has generally a magnetic
power somewhat stronger than a smaller piece, and the flat
surface of the piece draws the needle more forcibly than
the edge or corner of it.
“ 5?A, If only one end of a large piece of brass be ham¬
mered, then that end alone will disturb the magnetic needle,
and not the rest.
“ §th, The magnetic power which brass acquires by
hammering has a certain limit, beyond which it cannot be
increased by farther hammering. This limit is various in
pieces of brass of different thicknesses, and likewise of dif¬
ferent qualities.
“ Ith, Though there are some pieces of brass which have
not the power of being rendered magnetic by hammering,
yet all the pieces of magnetic brass that I have tried lose
their magnetism, so as no longer to affect the needle, by
being made red hot, excepting indeed when some pieces ot
iron are concealed in them, which sometimes occurs; but
in this case the piece of brass, after having been made red
hot and cooled, will attract the needle more forcibly with
one part of its surface than with the rest of it; and hence,
by turning the piece of brass about, and presenting every
part of it successively to the suspended magnetic needle,
one may easily discover in what part of it the iron is
lodged.
“8/A, In the course of my experiments on the magnetism
of brass, I have twice observed the following remarkable
circumstance :—A piece of brass which had the pioperty
of becoming magnetic by hammering, and of losing the
magnetism by softening, having been left in the fire till it
was partially melted, I found upon trial that it had lost the
property of becoming magnetic by hammering ; but having
1 Traite de Fhysique, tom. iii., p. 126.
M A G N E T I S M.
27
Magnetism been afterwards fairly fused in a crucible, it thereby ac-
of Bodies quired the property it had originally, viz., that of becoming
not Fer- magnetic by hammering.
rugmous^ « j jlave iifcewise 0ften observed, that a long con-
" J tinuance of a fire so stro*ng as to be little short of melting
hot, generally diminishes, and sometimes quite destroys,
the property of becoming magnetic in brass. At the same
time the texture of the metal is considerably altered, be¬
coming what some workmen call rotten. From this it ap¬
pears, that the property of becoming magnetic in brass by
hammering, is rather owing to some particular configura¬
tion of its parts, than to the admixture of any iron; which
is confirmed still farther by observing that Dutch plate
brass (which is made, not by melting the copper, but by
keeping it in a strong degree of heat whilst surrounded by
lapis calaminaris) also possesses that property ; at least all
the pieces of it which I have tried have that property.
From these observations it follows, that when brass is to
be used for the construction of instruments wherein a mag¬
netic needle is concerned, as dipping needles, variation
compasses, &c., &c., the brass should be either left quite
soft, or it should be chosen of such a sort as will not be
made magnetic by hammering, which sort, however, does
not occur very frequently.”
These judicious suggestions of M. Cavallo respecting
the condition of the brass parts of azimuth compasses were
not attended to as they ought, and we have no doubt that
various grave errors have arisen from their neglect. Many
examples have since occurred in which the errors were
detected; and it is now the invariable practice of well-in¬
formed instrument-makers to reject hammered brass bowls
for compasses, and to use those which are cast and turned
for the purpose.
Magnetism M. Cavallo and others have observed, that cobalt, zinc,
°f cobflt> copper, and bismuth, as well as their ores, are attracted by
zinc, c. tjie magnetj an[} antimony when gently heated. Minerals
which are not metallic are almost all acted upon by the
magnet, particularly where they have experienced the ac¬
tion of fire. The pure earths, and particularly silex, are
found to have the same property. Among minerals, the
following table shows those which are attracted and those
which are not attracted by the magnet; but we place little
faith in their accuracy.
Minerals not attracted.
Of gems. Diamond.
Pellucid crystals.
Amethyst.
Topaz.
Calcedony, and other crys¬
tals whose colouring mat¬
ter is expelled by heat.
Minerals attracted.
Oriental ruby.
Chrysolite.
Tourmaline.
Emerald.
Garnet.
Several micas containing
iron.
Of mica. Some accurate experiments were made on mica by M.
Biot. The chemical composition and optical structure
of different varieties of this mineral vary greatly. M. Biot
examined particularly mica from Siberia and mica from
Zinwald in Bohemia. Though both were highly pellucid,
yet chemical reagents indicated in each the existence of
oxide of iron. In the Bohemian mica it was greatest, and,
according to an accurate analysis by Vauquelin, amounted
to 20 per cent. Before the Siberian mica was analysed,
M. Biot tried their magnetic properties. He cut out of
each, thin rectangular plates of the same form, which he
subdivided into smaller similar pieces, and having united
them in a bundle, he suspended each bundle by a silk fibre,
and caused each bundle to oscillate in succession between
the poles of two strong magnets. The bundle of Zinwald
mica performed 12 oscillations in 55 seconds, and that of
the Siberian mica only 7 in the same time. Hence the
magnetic powers of the two micas were as 6*8 to 20, the
ratio of 49 and 14 to the squares of the number of oscilla¬
tions. If the oxide of iron, then, be the cause pf their
magnetic virtue, it should exist in the above proportions Magnetism
of 6-8 to 20; and as it was found to be 20 per cent, in the of j^ie3
Zinwald mica, it ought to be 6*8 in the Siberian. It is inQaSi
very remarkable that the result of Vauquelin’s analysis v j
gave exactly this percentage of the oxide of iron, though
it was not known to M. Biot till his experiment had been
made.
The existence of magnetism in brass, while there ap- Magnetism
peared not the least trace of it either in the copper or zinc com-
of which it is composed, led philosophers to investigate the me"
effects produced by the union of different metals, or by
their combination with other substances. Iron itself is a
simple chemical body. Steel is a combination of iron and
carbon. The loadstone is a combination of iron and oxy¬
gen ; and as no magnetism was found either in carbon or
oxygen, philosophers were naturally led to believe, as M.
Pouillet has remarked, that the magnetic fluid resides in
the iron, and that it is carried with the atoms of that
metal into all the chemical combinations which they form.
They therefore expected to find magnetic properties more
or less developed in all ferruginous bodies, whether the
iron was an accidental or an essential ingredient; and
indeed cast iron, plumbago, and the oxides and sulphurets
of iron, exert a sensible action on the magnetic needle.
These views, however, are not in unison with facts Anti-mag-
which seem to have been well ascertained. Dr Matthew
Young found, that the smallest admixture of antimony was1,0 ies‘
capable of destroying the polarity of iron ; and M. Seebeck
stated, that an alloy of one part of iron and four parts of
antimony was so completely destitute of magnetic action,
that, even when it was put into rotation, it exerted no
power over the magnetic needle. The magnetic qualities
of nickel also are destroyed by a mixture with it of other
metals. Chenevix found that a very small proportion of
arsenic deprived a mass of nickel which had previously ex¬
hibited a strong magnetic power, of the whole of its mag¬
netism ; and Dr Seebeck found that an alloy of two parts
of copper with one of nickel was entirely devoid of magnet¬
ism, and on this account he recommended it as well suited
for the manufacture of compass boxes. On the other hand,
Mr Hatchet ascertained, that when a large proportion of
carbon, or sulphur, or phosphorus, was combined with iron,
the iron was enabled fully to receive and retain its mag¬
netic properties; but he at the same time found that there
was a limit beyond which an excess of any of these three
substances rendered the compound wholly incapable of re¬
ceiving magnetism.
Animal and vegetable substances, after combination, are
said to be attracted by the magnet. The flesh, and parti¬
cularly blood, are acted upon more powerfully than other
parts, and bone less powerfully. Burned vegetables have
the same property, and also soot and atmospheric dust;
and M. Cavallo maintained that brisk chemical efferves¬
cence acted upon the magnetic needle.
Sect. II.—Account of the Experiments of Coulomb, Bec-
querel, Arago, and Seebeck, on the Existence of Univer¬
sal Magnetism.
These various experiments on the magnetic power of so Universal
many classes of bodies, differing essentially in their com- magnetism,
position, and in many of which it could not be reasonably
supposed that iron existed, led some philosophers to believe
that almost all substances gave indications of magnetism.
M. Cavallo announced this opinion, but Mr Bennet ques¬
tioned the accuracy of the experiments, and ascribed the
movements observed in the needle to the agitation of the
air in the receiver, arising from changes of temperature
produced by the proximity of the observer’s body, or from
other causes.
It was not therefore till 1802, that the supposition of
28
MAGNETISM.
Magnetism
of Bodies
not Fer¬
ruginous.
Coulomb’s
experi¬
ments.
universal magnetism was put to the test of rigorous expe¬
riment. The apparatus which Coulomb employed for this
purpose is shown in fig. 22,
where A A is a glass receiver
perforated at its top, and hav¬
ing a tube A'B, with a cork B,
which could be raised and low¬
ered with facility. Through
this cork passed a rod ti of
wood or metal, to which was
attached a silk fibre, which
suspended a ring of very fine
paper, on which the small
needle ns (about the third of
an inch long and ^th thick)
was placed. The receiver was
then placed so as to inclose the opposite poles N, S of the
powerful magnets M, M, each formed of four bars of steel
tempered to a white heat. Each bar was 17 inches long,
f ths of an inch wide, and -|dh of an inch thick ; each bundle
of four bars being 1 fth of an inch wide, and Jd of an inch
thick. The distance N, S, of their poles was T87ths of
an inch. In making the experiments, the rod ti was
turned till the needle ns was removed from the influ¬
ence of the magnets ; and after the number of its oscilla¬
tions was observed, the rod tt' was turned till the needle
descended between the poles N, S of the magnets, when
the number of oscillations of the needle was again counted,
or the time in which a given number of oscillations was
Fig. 22.
performed. If the needle performed the same number of
oscillations in the same time, whether it oscillated between
the poles N, S, or beyond their influence, it is obvious that
the magnets exercised no power over them; but this was
never the case, and Coulomb asserted that all substances
whatever, when formed into small needles, turned them¬
selves in the direction of the poles N, S, and after a few
oscillations, finally settled in that position. When these
bodies were moved a very little way out of their position of
equilibrium, they immediately begiin to oscillate round it,
the oscillations being always performed more rapidly in the
presence of the magnets than when they were removed out
of their influence. Gold, silver, glass, wood, and all sub¬
stances, whether organic or inorganic, thus obeyed the
power of the magnets. Hence it was natural to conclude,
either that all bodies are susceptible of magnetism, or that
they contain minute quantities of iron, or other magnetic
metals, which give them that susceptibility. M. Biot did
not consider this alternative so inevitable as it appears, and
threw out the conjecture, that the action may not be mag¬
netic, but may be owing to some small force similar or
analogous to the electrical forces developed by the simple
contact of heterogeneous bodies. This no doubt might be,
if there was any contact; but, in the absence of any
other reasons, such as later experiments have afforded, for
ascribing the observed effects to another cause, we cannot
but think that it was even then the wiser alternative to give
a preference to that opinion which ascribes the phenomenon
to the existence in all bodies of a slight susceptibility to
magnetic action.
The results of experiments made by Coulomb on the
comparative magnetic susceptibilities of cylindrical needles
of gold, silver, lead, copper, and tin, which had been puri¬
fied with the greatest care by MM. Sage and Guyton, we
have already given in our history of magnetism. M. Cou¬
lomb made a number of experiments on the effects ex¬
perienced by needles of white wax containing different
proportions of iron filings, and he came to the conclusion
that the intensities of the action which they experienced
not Fer¬
ruginous.
when oscillating between two magnets, was proportional to Magnetism
the absolute quantities of iron which they contained, the of Bodies
distribution and chemical state of the ferruginous particles
being the same.  
Since the time of Coulomb, methods different from his
have been employed in developing magnetism in all bodies
whatever. In order to detect small quantities of iron in
minerals, M. Haiiy employed the process of what he calls
double magnetism. For this purpose he placed a small
bar-magnet in the direction of the needle, and in the
same horizontal plane, the two similar poles being placed
towards each other. The magnet being now brought
slowly towards the needle, the latter deviates from the
direction of the magnetic meridian, and takes a position
perpendicular to it; an effect arising from the combined
action of the poles of the magnet and the earth upon the
magnetism of the needle. In this position, a very feeble mag¬
netic action is sufficient to make the needle turn round and
place its south pole opposite the north pole of the needle.
When the magnet is above the plane of the needle, and
their opposite poles placed near each other, the needle
does not change its direction while the point of suspension
is beyond the bar and at a suitable distance; but it is not
so when the distance changes, for it tends continually to
place itself perpendicular to the line of the poles.
This important subject was investigated by M. Bee- Researches
querel, who obtained the following results.1 His bar- of M. Bee-
magnet consisted of six united bars, each 8 decimetres (luereh
long and 2 centimetres broad. The needle was place at
different heights within and without the bar, and he sought
to determine for each height the horizontal distance from
the point of suspension (which is always in the line of the
poles) to the nearest extremity of the needle, in order
that its direction might be perpendicular to that line. The
results were as follows :—
Vertical Distances from
the centre of suspen¬
sion to the Bar.
Millimetres.
100 
150 
200  
250   
300  
350  
400 
Horizontal distances of the centre
of suspension to the extremity, in
order that the needle might take
a perpendicular position.
Millimetres.
  60 within.
  55
  46
  23
  12
  45 without.
  82
Hence it appears, that when the centre of suspension is
above the bar, the perpendicular position is obtained by
increasing the vertical and diminishing the horizontal dis¬
tance ; and that both these distances are increased while
the centre of suspension is below the bar; and the direc¬
tion of the deviation depends on accidental causes, and is
often determined by the simple motion of the apparatus.
When M. Becquerel substituted for his magnetic needle
a needle of soft iron, the results were exactly the same,
differing only in their intensity. We come now to the ori¬
ginal part of M. Becquerel’s inquiry. Instead of a needle
he used a small paper case filled with deutoxide of iron,
or a mixture of deutoxide and tritoxide. With the former
the effects were the same as with the steel needle; but it
was different with the latter, in which one part of deut¬
oxide was mixed with thirty parts of tritoxide.
If the centre of suspension be placed as near as possible
to the north pole of the bar-magnet, and in the line of the
poles, the paper case will take immediately a direction
perpendicular to this line, instead of one coincident with
it, as a soft-iron needle would have done. If we put it
out of this direction, it will return to it by a series of
oscillations, whose velocity depends on the quantity of
the deutoxide. From this it follows, that all the south-
1 Traite Exp. de VElectricite, dr., tow. ii., p. 387.
Magnetism
of Bodies
not Fer¬
ruginous.
MAGNETISM.
29
polar magnetism of the paper case is situated on the side of
it next the bar-magnet, while the north polar magnetism is
on the other side, as may be exhibited by carrying a small
magnetic needle along the paper case. Such a distribution
of’ magnetism is impossible in soft iron or tempered steel.
If the centre of suspension be above the bar, the paper
case will deviate from the position which it had at first,
and tend to place itself in the direction of the line of the
poles; an effect quite opposite to that produced by a steel
or iron needle. The following were the experimental re¬
sults :—
Vertical Distances of
the Centre of Sus¬
pension from
the Bar.
Horizontal Distances
of the same Centre
to one of the Extre¬
mities of the Bar.
Deviations of the Paper
Case from the Direction
perpendicular to the
Line of the Poles.
10 millimetres.
20 millimetres,
30 millimetres.
,24Q
.44
.60
.73
.78
.84
.50
.65
.73
.77
.32
.70
.76
.82
The transverse magnetism acquired by the paper case is
permanent for some time, however small may be the pro¬
portion of the deutoxide which it contains.
M. Becquerel next filled the paper case with very pure
tritoxide, obtained by calcining nitrate of iron. The effect
was much weaker than before. When the point of sus¬
pension was very near one of the extremities of the bar,
the paper case still placed itself in a position perpendicular
to the line of the poles ; but if this point was placed above
or below the bar, changing at the same time the verti¬
cal distance, the paper case deviated from its primitive
direction, without, however, taking a direction perpendi¬
cular to that which it commonly takes when the centre
of suspension is very near the extremity. It might be pos¬
sible, M. Becquerel thinks, to attain the perpendicular direc¬
tion by employing much stronger magnets. The following
were the experimental results:—
Vertical Distances
from the Point of
Suspension to
the Bar.
5 millimetres.
10 millimetres,
5 millimetres.
10 millimetres
Horizontal Distances Deviations from the
of the same Point Direction perpendicular
from the end of the to the Line of the
Bar. Poles.
Without the Bar.
Whenever the tritoxide contains the smallest quantity
of the deutoxide, the velocity of the oscillations increases
very powerfully. If, for example, we take two paper cases,
one filled with tritoxide, and the other with tritoxide
mixed with one-thirtieth of the deutoxide, the first will
perform twelve oscillations in thirty seconds round a direc¬
tion perpendicular to the line of the poles, while the other
will execute twenty-five in the same time. Hence we may Magnetism
by this means readily determine the quantity of the deutox- of Bodies
ide of iron contained in the tritoxide. ruginous"
M. Becquerel next employed needles of wood, gum-lac, ^ 'j
and other substances, which have still a feebler magnet-
ism than the tritoxide of iron. He placed a needle °f nee,jjeg 0f
white wood, ns, four centimetres long and two millimetres W00(j
in diameter, above the interval between the opposite poles
of two bar-magnets, as in fig. 22, the distance between N
and S being three or four millimetres. The point of sus¬
pension was as near as possible to NS. The needle placed
itself perpendicular to the line of the poles NS, in place
of the position observed by Coulomb coincident with NS.
It comports itself therefore like the mixture of deutoxide
and tritoxide of iron, or like the tritoxide alone. But if we
separate gradually the extremities N, S of the bars, the
wooden needle will place itself in the line NS joining the
poles, as shown in the figure. The deviations were as
tbllows :—
Deviations of the Wooden
Distances of N, S. Needle from the perpen-
cular position.
3 or 4 millimetres 0°
10  18
20  36
30  56
When the bars are very close, and the needle in the per¬
pendicular position, if we draw it out of this position, and
keep it some instants in the direction of this line, it will
remain there ; but the smallest motion will cause it to re¬
turn into its primitive direction, which it takes in preference
to any other.
If we use only one bar-magnet, and place the wooden
needle precisely opposite one of its poles, and as near as
possible to the end of the bar, it will still direct itself per¬
pendicularly to it; but if, while the point of suspension
remains always in this line, we advance it within the bar,
the needle will deviate from its direction, without, however,
reaching the position of 90°, as will be seen from the fol¬
lowing results:—
Distances of the Centre of Suspension Deviations of the
from the Extremity of the Bar. Wooden Needle.
5 millimetres 12°
10  18
Beyond ten millimetres the deviations increase insensibly
and irregularly, so that they cannot be measured.
From these interesting experiments, M. Becquerel con- General
eludes that the magnetic effects produced by a strong bar- conclusion,
magnet upon a magnetic needle, or one of soft iron, differ
essentially from those which take place in all bodies where
the magnetism is very weak. In the former, whatever be
their positions and directions, the magnetism is always dis¬
tributed in the direction of their length, to the exclusion of
every other direction ; w'hereas in the tritoxide of iron,
wood, and gum-lac, it is distributed in a direction which
depends on the distance of the body from the poles of the
magnet, so that the distribution varies with the direction
which the magnet causes these needles to take, in virtue of
the action which it exercises over them.
The universal prevalence of magnetism in all bodies Discoveries
whatever has been established by a beautiful discovery of of
M. Arago. This distinguished philosopher conceived the Arag°*
idea of studying the oscillations of a magnetic needle when
placed above or near any body whatever. Having sus¬
pended a magnetic needle above metal, or even water, and
caused it to deviate a certain number of degrees from its po¬
sition, it began, when left to itself, to oscillate in arcs of less
amplitude, as if it had been placed in a resisting medium ;
and, what was peculiarly curious in these experiments, this
diminution in the amplitude of the oscillations did not
alter the number of oscillations which were performed
in a given time. The following were some of M. Arago’s
30
MAGNETISM.
Magnetism experiments with water, ice, and glass, the semiamplitude
of Bodies 0f oscillations being at the instant 43 .
not Fer- The distanCe 0f the water from the needle was 0 65 millimetres,
ruginous. The amplitude lost 10= in  30 oscillations.
When the distance was  52’2 millimetres.
A loss of. 10° of amplitude required  60 oscillations.
That is, the number of oscillations required to diminish the
amplitude 10° was twice as great when the distance of the
needle from the water was 52-2 millimetres, as when it
was 0'65.
By placing the same needle upon ice M. Arago obtained
the following results :—
Distance of the
Needle from the
Ice.
Millimetres.
070
1-26
30-50
52-20
Diminution of the
Amplitude.
Number of Oscillations
by which this diminu¬
tion was effected.
From 53° to 43°
From 53 to 43
From 53 to 43
From 53 to 43
26 oscillations.
34
56
60
By placing another needle near a plate of crown glass, he
obtained the following results :—
Millimetres.
0-91
0-99
304
401
From 90° to 41°
From 90 to 41
From 90 to 41
From 90 to 41
122 oscillations.
180
208
221
Plates of metal afforded M. Arago similar results ; but
he nevertheless observed that those metals which act with
more energy than glass, wood, &c., have a mode of action
different from that of these substances. From all these re¬
sults, it is manifest that all bodies, when placed near a mag¬
netic needle in a state of oscillation, exercise over it an
action, the effect of which is to diminish the amplitude of
its oscillations, without altering their number; and hence
the doctrine of the universal prevalence of magnetism in
all bodies derives a new confirmation.
When Dr Seebeck of Berlin heard of the discovery of
M. Arago, he made a magnetic needle two and an eighth
inches long oscillate at a distance of three lines above plates
of various bodies, and counted the number of oscillations
which were required in each case to reduce the amplitude
from 45° to 10°.
Substances em- Thickness of the Number of Oscilla-
ployed. Plates. tions of the Needle.
Marble  — line 116 oscillations.
Mercury  2-0 ... 112
Bismuth  20 ... 106
Platina  0-4 ... 94
Antimony  2 0 ... 90
Lead  0-75 ... 89
Gold  0-2 ... 89
Zinc  0-5 ... 71
Tin  10 ... 68
Brass  2-0 ... 62
Copper  0-3 ... 62 ...
Silver  0-3 ... 55
Iron  0-4 ... 6
Dr Seebeck found, that in alloying magnetic with non¬
magnetic substances, he formed compounds which exercised
no action on the magnetic needle. The alloys which had
particularly this singular property were those consisting of
four parts of antimony and one of iron, or two parts of
copper and one of nickel. In these cases the magnetism
of the two ingredients must have been neutralized by their
opposite actions.
Sect. III.— On Diamagnetism.
The doctrine of universal magnetism, as explained in the
two preceding sections, has not stood the test of recent and
more profound investigations. The fine researches of Dr
Faraday have thrown a new light upon the subject, and
brought to view a series of remarkable phenomena of which
we shall endeavour to give a brief account.
In the year 1845 Dr Faraday discovered, that when
magnetic currents, or, as he expresses it, lines of magnetic Magnetism
force, pass through certain bodies, they communicate to of Bodies
these bodies a certain magnetic condition, which, in trans- r”°jn^g*
parent bodies, is analogous to rotatory double refraction v J* 0 ',
and polarization, and which in other bodies is the reverse
of that which takes place on iron, nickel, and some other
metals.
If a parallelepiped, NSras, of heavy flint glass, 2 inches
square and an inch thick, and having no action on po¬
larized light, is placed, as in the
figure, on the poles N, S, of a power¬
ful electro-magnet NCS, and a
strong galvanic current passed
through it in the direction of sn,
the glass will neither be attracted
nor repelled, but is found to have
received, while the current is pass¬
ing through it, such a structure, re¬
sembling that of quartz and certain
fluids, as to turn the plane of a po¬
larized ray in the same direction as
the current. If the polarized ray
is transmitted through the upper and under faces G, H, no
effect whatever is produced. The rotation of the plane of
polarization is from left to right when the ray enters the
face sN and the observer looks into the face ?*S, and from
right to left when the ray enters wS and the observer looks
into sN. This is a very remarkable fact, as the direction of
rotation is the same in rock-crystal and other bodies through
whatever side the light enters.
The intensity of the rotatory force depends upon the
strength of the galvanic current, and upon the length of
the piece of glass. When the ray, by reflections at n and s,
was made to pass three or five times through the length ns
of the glass, the effect was increased three or five times,
just as in rock-crystal it is increased by increasing the thick¬
ness of the plate.
M. Berlin found that this electro-magnetical polarization
as it has been called, or magne-crystallization as Dr Tyndall
calls it, as produced in boro-silicate of lead (Faraday’s flint
glass), and the sulphuret of carbon, does not vary in inten¬
sity, by a variation, within very considerable limits, of the
electro-magnetic force. He found that the most energetic
of the fluids which exhibited the rotatory structure were
bichloride of tin, sulphuret of carbon, olive oil, alcohol, and
water; the sulphuret of carbon having three times the
force of water.
In studying this subject, M. Matthiessen of Altona ob¬
tained the following results :—
1. The rotatory force diminished as the distance of the
poles N, S was increased, the diminution being more rapid
when the glass was thinner.
2. The effect was not a maximum when the glass was in
absolute contact with the poles of the magnet; the magnet¬
ism probably passing freely through the glass without pro¬
ducing rotation.
3. When the parallelopiped wsNS consisted of six simi¬
lar plates, the effect was diminished about /^ths, but there
was no diminution when the plates were cemented by
Canada balsam.
4. With 50 elements of Bunsen’s pile, producing such a
degree of magnetism that one of the vertical poles of the
magnet raised'25 kilogrammes, M. Matthiessen obtained the
following results:—
Thickness in Angle of
Millimetres. Rotation.
Silicate seplombique 15 20
Silicate quadroplombique 10 18
Silico-aluminate of lead 10 16
Borate triplombique 17 16
Red realgar 12 11
Borate of bismuth 14 11
Borate of lead, neutral   .....24 10
Fig. 23.
MAGNETIS M.
31
Magnetism
of Bodies
not Fer¬
ruginous.
Thickness in
Millimetres.
Silicate of lead, neutral  30
Glass of antimony  27
Borosilicate of lead 26
Rock-salt    .....26
Angle of
Rotation.
10
9
9
6
From a series of interesting experiments, M. Bertin re¬
cently obtained the following values of the rotatory force,
which he calls the coefficients of magnetic polarization. In
all the experiments, the thickness of the body and the dis¬
tance of the poles of the magnet were the same:—
Coefficient.
Faraday’s flint-glass 1‘00
Guinand’s do 0’87
Matthiessen’s do 0'83
Common do   0-53
Bichloride of tin  0 77
Sulphuret of carhon   0 74
Protochloride of phosphorus 0‘51
Chloride of zinc, dissolved 0'55
Chloride of calcium, dissolved 045
Water 0'25
Alcohol, ordinary, of 36 Beaume  018
Ether 
The remarkable property of magnetic polarization will,
no doubt, be found in many other bodies both solid and
fluid; but it has not yet been detected in Iceland spar,
rock-crystal, or any doubly-refracting substances. It will
be found doubtless in diamond, garnet, and other minerals
that do not possess double refraction.
But though a crystalline structure is not produced in
doubly-refracting bodies, they are influenced by the mag¬
netic current in a different way, like a large class of bodies
to which the name of diamagnetic has been given.
If N, S are the poles of a very powerful electro-magnet
NAS, and if bodies such as those ex- 0
amined by Coulomb are placed between a
these poles, they will take the position
mn; but there is another class of bodies,
such as bismuth, which if placed in the
magnetic field NS, will not place
themselves axially like mw, but equa-
torially like op, even though they had
previously the position mn. If the
diamagnetic body is nearer N than
S, or nearer S than N, that is, out of
the centre C, then on pointing equa-
torially it is apparently repelled, and
this, too, by both poles; so that it was inferred by Dr Fa¬
raday we have here magnetic repulsion with polarity or di¬
rective power.
Among the numerous diamagnetic bodies which take the
equatorial position op, we find wood, animal fibre, and
common vegetable matter; and it has been remarked by
Sir W. Harris, “ that if a man could be suspended with
sufficient delicacy in the magnetic field between the poles
of a powerful magnet, he would point equatorially (like
op') and be repelled by both poles; for all the substances
constituting the human frame have this property.”
The following is a list of metals which, according to Dr
Faraday, when placed in the magnetic field NS, take the
axial position mn :—
Magnetic Metals.
Cerium
Titanium
Fig. 24.
Magnetic Metals.
Iron
Nickel
Cobalt
Manganese
Chromium
Palladium
Platinum
Osmium.
Diamagnetic Metals.
Mercury
Lead
Silver
Copper
Gold
Diamagnetic Metals.
Arsenic
Uranium
Rhodium
Iridium
Tungsten.
Develop¬
ment of
Magnetism
in all
Bodies by
Rotation.
The following is a list of metals which, according to Dr
Faraday, when placed in the magnetic field, take the equa¬
torial position op:—
Diamagnetic Metals.
Bismuth
Antimony
Zinc
Tin
Cadmium
Sodium
The repulsion of bismuth and antimony was observed in
1778 by Brugmans, by M. Lebaillif in 1827, and by other
philosophers ; but these observations do not affect the entire
originality of Dr Faraday’s discoveries. M. Becquerel, who
noticed the equatorial position of certain substances, supposed
it to be the result of ordinary magnetic action, the bodies
being magnetized transversely, or across their length, an
explanation entirely disproved by the researches of Dr Fa¬
raday, which established the existence of a new magnetic
condition of matter hitherto unsuspected.
This subject has been treated with great ability by Pro¬
fessor Tyndall, in the Philosophical Transactions for 1854
and 1856. Professor W. Weber, in opposition to the re¬
ceived opinion that metals such as bismuth had no polarity
or directive power, had proved experimentally the ex¬
istence of a reverse polarity in diamagnetic bodies. M. von
Feilitzsch denied the validity of this inference, and ascribed
the observed effect to ordinary induction. By means of
an apparatus constructed by Professor Weber, Professor
Tyndall has, by aid of able experiments, completely esta¬
blished the doctrine of a duality of action, that is, of a repul¬
sive and a directive power residing in diamagnetic bodies.
In submitting to experiment liquid magnets, or liquid
diamagnets (metallic solutions), Professor Tyndall has clearly
shown that the former exhibit a polar action the reverse of
that exhibited by the latter; and in a subsequent paper1 he
has pointed out the relation of diamagnetic polarity to
magnecrystallic action.
CHAP. IV.—ON THE DEVELOPMENT OF MAGNETISM IN ALL
BODIES BY ROTATION.
When M. Arago was engaged in the experiments de- ^ Arago’s
scribed in the preceding chapter, ^ experi-
the idea occurred to him of try- Im ments.
ing if the magnetic needle would R-
be dragged along by the rotatory
plates which had the power of
diminishing the amplitude of its
oscillation. This happy conjec¬
ture was immediately confirmed
by experiment, and one of the p[
most beautiful discoveries added T
to the science of magnetism.
The apparatus which he used
for this purpose is shown in fig.
25, where H is a clock made of
copper, with the exception of
two or three pivots, which are of
steel. It is supported on a tri¬
pod stand, which can be levelled
by screws S, S, at the end of its
three feet; and the object of it
is to give a rapid rotatory mo¬
tion by a vertical axis, on which
is fitted a piece abc, fig. 26,
with three branches, upon which
the revolving discs are to be
placed. These discs are perfo¬
rated at the r centre by a small
hole which receives the prolon¬
gation of the axis of rotation, and
Fig. 25.
they are kept upon the branches a, b, c, by the pressure of a
1 Philosophical Magazine, February 7, 1856.
■ **
32
MAGNETIS M.
Develop¬
ment of
in all
Bodies by
Rotation.
Fig.2e.
screw. Wings xc, w, w (fig. 26), which can be inclined at
,, . any ande, are applied for the purpose
MT.r of retarding the velocity of the discs.
A plate PP, with an opening in its
centre a little larger than the diameter
of the discs, rests upon the table T I ;
and a sheet of paper ff, shown in fig.
27 (which is an enlarged view of that
part of the apparatus), is pasted to the lower face of PP.
A glass receiver
HR rests upon
the upper face of
PP, and within it
is suspended the
magnetic needle
ad, by a fibre of
silk attached to
the axis and
button mn, by
which the needle
can be raised or
depressed. A
weight W gives
motion to the?
clock, and a hand
indicates upon
the dial-plate the
number of revo¬
lutions performed jig. 27.
by the disc in a given time.
When a disc of copper was placed on the support abc,
fig. 26, as shown at PP, fig. 27, and the copper made to
revolve beneath the needle ad, with the sheet of paper//’
intervening, the needle ad is drawn out of the magnetic
meridian the instant that the copper begins to revolve, and
with a degree of force proportional to the velocity of rota¬
tion. As the force with which the needle is dragged from
its place is opposed to the magnetic action of the earth,
which tends to keep the needle in the magnetic meridian,
the needle will take a position of equilibrium depending on
the ratio of these forces. When the motion of the copper
disc, however, is very rapid, the magnetism of the earth is
overpowered by that of the revolving plate, and the needle
does not stop, but continues to turn. The action of the
revolving disc decreases in proportion as the distance of the
needle from the plate PP is increased, the velocity being
the same ; so that if the motion of the needle be continuous
when the two bodies are separated only by a sheet of paper,
the needle will take a fixed position by increasing its dis¬
tance from the plate; and its deviation from the magnetic
meridian becomes less and less as it is removed to a greater
height above the disc. When the plates have portions cut
out in the direction of their radii, their action on the needle
is diminished.
In trying plates of various metals, M. Arago found the
results so dependent on the alloy which the metals con¬
tained, that he did not publish the results which he obtained.
He devoted his attention to the determination of the direc¬
tions of the force which is developed in the revolving discs,
and for this purpose he sought the components of this force
in the direction ot three lines parallel to three co-ordinate
planes perpendicular to each other. The component per¬
pendicular to the plate he found to be a repulsive force,
which may be rendered sensible by means of a very long
magnet suspended by a thread vertically to the extremity
of the arms of a balance kept in equilibrium by a weight at
the other extremity. The moment that the plate begins
to revolve, the magnet is repelled, and the beam of the
balance inclines to the other side. The second component
is horizontal and perpendicular to a vertical plane which
contains the radius abutting against the projection of the
pole of the needle. This is the force which gives a motion Develop-
of rotation to the needle, and it acts in the direction of a tan- ment of
gent to the circle. The third component is parallel to theMagnetism
radius which abuts against the projection of the pole of the
needle. It may be determined with a dipping needle
placed vertically, so that its axis of rotation is continued in y, ^ _Ji
a plane perpendicular to one of the radii of the disc. A
similar needle placed at the centre of the disc experiences
no action. There is also a second point, nearer the margin
than the centre, where a needle experiences no change in
its position; but between these points the lower pole is
constantly attracted towards the centre, while it is repelled
beyond that point.
No sooner were M. Arago’s experiments announced tOEXper;.
the Institute, which was done at the sitting of the 7th March meats of
1825, than philosophers in every part of Europe repeated Messrs
them, and succeeded in adding several important facts to Katt,age
those discovered by M. Arago. MM. Babbage, Herschel, g"jfejHer"
Barlow, Nobili, Baccelli, Christie, and MM. Prevost and
Colladon, took a prominent part in these researches. The
results obtained by Messrs Babbage and Herschel were the
most important, and the experiments were made in a manner
different from those of M. Arago. A horse-shoe magnet,
which lifted twenty pounds, was made to revolve rapidly
round its axis of symmetry, placed vertically, with its poles
uppermost. A circular disc of copper, 6 inches in diame¬
ter and T^th of an inch thick, was suspended above the
revolving magnet. As soon as the rotation of the magnet
commenced, the copper began to turn in the same direction,
at first slowly, but afterwards with an increasing velocity.
When the magnet was made to turn in the opposite direc¬
tion, the disc of copper changed the direction of its motion
also, and exhibited the same phenomena. Metallic plates,
10 inches in diameter and half an inch thick, when inter¬
posed between the magnet and the copper disc, did not
sensibly modify the results, as M. Arago had observed.
Glass produced no effect, but a sheet of tin-plate iron
diminished greatly the influence of the magnet, while two
such plates almost destroyed it. They also found that a
disc of copper, 10 inches in diameter, and half an inch
thick, and revolving with a velocity of seven revolutions in
a second, did not communicate any motion to a similar disc
freely suspended above it.
In comparing the influence of different metals, each disc
had the same diameter and the same velocity; and the fol¬
lowing were the results which were obtained by this and
another method of observation :—
Ratio 'by another
Method.
Ratio of the Force
to that of Copper.
Copper 1-00 DOO
 1-11
 0-51
 0-25
 0-01
 0-00
 000
  000
Zinc O’OO.
Tin 0-47.
Lead 0-25.
Antimony  O il.
Mercury 0-00.
Bismuth 0-01.
Wood 0-00.
The second method of observation by which the results
in the last column were obtained was more expeditious than
the first. Portions of different bodies of the same form and
dimensions were suspended above a revolving magnet, and
the time of successive oscillations and the points of equili¬
brium were observed.
Our authors next sought to determine the effect pro¬
duced by a solution of continuity in the metallic disc upon
which the revolving magnet acted. For this purpose a
disc of lead, 12 inches in diameter and xVth of an inch thick
was suspended at a given distance from a horse-shoe magnet
revolving with the ordinary rapidity, first in its entire state,
and afterwards in the state shown in figs. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32;
the black lines in the direction of the radii being the planes
where the lead was cut through. The accelerating forces
MAGNETISM.
33
Develop¬
ment of
Magnetism
in all
Bodies by
Rotation.
represented by where s is the number of the revolutions,
and t the time employed, are as follow:—
Uncut Disc as in Disc Disc Disc Disc
Disc. fig. 28. fig. 29. fig. 30. fig. 31. fig. 32.
1258 1047 913 564 432 324
Effects similar, but differing in degree, wrere obtained
with other metals. With soft tinned iron the cutting pro- Develop-
duced a very slight diminution of effect, whilst in copper ment .of
the same operation reduced the accelerating force in the ^agnet’sni
ratio of five to one. _ Bodies by
Messrs Babbage and Herschel next tried the effect of Rotation,
filling up the cuts with other metals. A light copper disc, i ^ y
suspended at a given distance above a revolving magnet,
performed six revolutions in 54‘ 8. When it was cut, as in
fig. 32, its magnetic action was so weakened that it took
121-3 to perform six revolutions. When the eight open
radial spaces were filled up with tin, its magnetic action
was restored to such a degree that it made six revolutions
in 574'3. This fact is very interesting, as tin has less than
half the energy of copper. The following results were ob¬
tained from other experiments, the numbers representing
the accelerating forces or the magnetic energies developed
in the plates :—
Brass not cut  1-00
Brass cut  0 24
Brass soldered with bismuth  0-53
Brass soldered with tin  0’88
Copper not cut  TOO
Copper cut  O^O
Copper soldered with tin  O'Ol
Law of the
force.
In determining the law of the force in relation to the
distance, Messrs Babbage and Herschel found it to vary
between the ratio of the square and the cube of the dis¬
tance. Mr Christie found, that when the revolving disc
was thick and the needle delicate, the force which produced
the deviation of the needle increased directly as the velocity
of rotation, and inversely as the fourth power of the dis¬
tance. MM. Prevost and Colladon found that the angles
of deviation, and not their sines, increased in the direct
ratio of the velocity, at least within certain limits; and that
the sines of the angles of deviation were in the inverse
ratio of the two and a half power of the distance.1
Experi- M- Haldat made some interesting experiments on this
ments of subject. He found that every needle, however weak was
M. Haldat; its magnetism, obeyed the action of the revolving disc ; but
that this action disappeared entirely when its polarity dis¬
appeared. He found it impossible to magnetize needles by
the action of the revolving disc, however rapid; and ascribing
this effect to the want of coercive power, he employed discs
of iron and steel, both soft and hardened.
A disc of soft iron acted with more energy than one of
copper, and with the same velocity it dragged the needle
twice the distance that a disc of brass did. Iron strongly
hammered acted like soft iron, and was unable to give po¬
larity to a steel needle. But a disc of untempered steel
?Vth of an inch thick did not produce any appreciable
effect on the magnetic needle, which, after a few irregular
oscillations, maintained its ordinary position of equilibrium.
Hence M. Haldat concluded that the force which acted upon
it was in the inverse ratio of the coercive force. He also
found that discs in a state of incandescence exercised the
same action as those at the ordinary temperature.
We have already seen, in our historical detail, that about
six months previous to the announcement of M. Arago’s
discoveries, M. Barlow had announced to the Royal Society
of Mr Bar-
low.
of London the result of a series of experiments on the mag¬
netic effects produced by iron in rotation. Having found
that an iron ball performing 640 revolutions in a minute
caused a magnetic needle to deviate several degrees, and to
take a fixed position during the continuance of the motion ;
that the needle deviated in an opposite direction when the
motion of the ball was reversed; that there w-ere certain
positions in which a bomb 12 inches in diameter, moved
by a steam-engine, occasioned no deviation in the needle;
that in some positions the deviation was in one direction,
and in other positions in another; and that the deviation
varied between 0° and 80° ; he constructed a regular appa¬
ratus for determining the laws of these phenomena, and in
which the iron which formed part of it should not influence
the results. This apparatus is shown in fig. 33, where S
is an iron sphere, made to revolve on a horizontal axis AB,
by means of two wheels, like an electrical machine, their
diameters being as six to one, so as to perform 720 revolu¬
tions in a minute. A table LM was placed near the
sphere, for holding the needle, so that the needle could be
placed in any position, either above or below the sphere.
The table LM being brought to the height of the axis A B,
the needle was placed successively in different positions
round the sphere. The influence of the earth’s magnetism
on the needle being destroyed or neutralized by the action
of a magnet properly placed for this purpose, and shown at
NS standing vertically, Mr Barlow found, that whatever
was the azimuth of the needle, its north pole approached
the sphere S when the upper part of the sphere was
moving towards the needle, and that its south pole ap-
VOL. XIV
1 Univen., tome xxix., p. 316.
E
34
MAGNETISM.
Develop- proached the sphere when the upper part moved from the
nieni of nee(jle.
Mafn all8m Having placed the axis of rotation sometimes in the
Bodies by magnetic meridian, sometimes in the direction of east and
notation, west, and sometimes in intermediate positions, he found,
^ that whatever was the direction of the axis of rotation, the
needle being always a tangent to the sphere, the north end
of the needle was attracted when the sphere moved towards
the needle, and repelled when its motion was from the
needle. When the needle was carried round the revolving
sphere in the semicircle, where the motion was directed
towards the needle, its north extremity approached the
sphere, and in the other semicircle it receded from it. The
points where the sphere exercised upon it no action were at
the two extremities of the axis, and those where the effect
was a maximum were at the two extremities of an axis at
right angles to this. In this case the direction of the
needle was towards the centre of the ball.
The different positions of the needle are shown in fig. 34,
Develop¬
ment of
Magnetism
in all
Bodies by
Rotation.
Effects of
a hollow
ball.
Fig. 34.
where s is the sphere, ah its axis of rotation, and cd its
equator. The lines ns, ns, &c., show the primitive position
of the needle, and the dotted lines ns, ns, &c., those as¬
sumed by it when the motion is made from c to d. The
effects are reversed when the motion is made from d to c.
If we carry the needle, when perfectly neutralized, round
the sphere, and parallel to its axis, it has a tendency to
place itself at right angles to the axis, and takes opposite
directions at certain parts of the circle. If, for example, the
axis be in the magnetic meridian, and the motion from
the west to the east point of the horizon, the needle will
direct itself to the west, and will do the same at all points
between the horizon and an altitude of 60°. Beyond this
the north end will direct itself to the east till it has passed
the zenith 30° to the west; and then from this point to the
west horizon, the north extremity will direct itself to the
west; and similar changes will take place under the sphere.
The same effects are produced whatever be the direction of
the axis and that of motion.
When a magnetic needle not neutralized is placed in
Fig. 35.
different positions round the sphere whose axis is in the
magnetic direction, the effects produced are as shown in
fig. 35, where AB is the axis of rotation, the black lines
representing the natural deviations of the needle, and the
dotted ones those which it assumes when the sphere is in
motion. Beginning at the point A, if the motion be from
left to right, that is, from west to east, the needle moves
from n to ri in the same direction till it arrives at 30°. It
then remains in its natural direction. The needle moves
in a contrary direction from right to left at 60°, 75°, and
at 90°.
Mr Barlow was next desirous of ascertaining the differ¬
ent effects produced by a solid and hollow ball of iron,
and with this view he put in motion a solid ball 7‘87 inches
in diameter, and weighing 68 lb., and also a hollow sphere
of iron, weighing only about 34 lb. Both of them per¬
formed 640 revolutions in a minute, and the following were
the average results:—
Weight-
Mean deviation of the solid ball 28° 24' 68 lb.
Mean deviation of the hollow ball 15 5 34
When the two balls were at rest, the difference of their
action was nothing.
Mr Barlow’s paper on rotation was communicated to the Experi-
Royal Society on the 14th April 1825, and on the 20th meats of
Mr Christie communicated one On the Magnetism of Iron MrChnstie,
arising from its Rotation. Mr Christie’s experiments were
made with circular plates of iron put in motion by an in¬
genious piece of machinery, by which he could make the
plate revolve in every possible plane in reference to the
magnetic meridian. From a great body of well-devised
experiments, he obtained the following general law of the
deviation due to rotation, so that the direction of the rota¬
tion being given, he could tell the direction of the devia¬
tion. This law we must give in his own words:—
“ I refer the deviations of the horizontal needle to the
deviations of magnetic particles in the direction of the dip,
or to those of a dipping needle passing through its centre;
so that, in whatever direction this imaginary dipping needle
would deviate by the action of the iron, the horizontal
needle would deviate in such manner as to be in the same
vertical plane with it; thus, when the north end of the
horizontal needle deviates towards the west, and conse¬
quently the south end towards the east, I consider that it has
obeyed the deviation of the axis of the imaginary dipping
needle, whose northern extremity has deviated towards
the west, and its southern towards the east; so that the
western side of the equator of this dipping needle has
deviated towards the south pole of the sphere, and its east¬
ern side towards the north pole. It would follow from this,
that if the north and south sides of the equator of the dip¬
ping needle (referring to these points in the horizon) de¬
viated towards the poles, no corresponding deviations
would be observed in the horizontal needle; the effect, in
this case, taking place in the meridian, would only be ob¬
servable in the angle which the dipping needle made with
the horizon. As it is not my intention at present to ad¬
vance any hypothesis on the subject, I wish this to be
considered only as a method of connecting all the pheno¬
mena under one general view. Assuming it, then, for this
purpose, it will be found that the deviations of the horizontal
needle due to rotation are always such as would be produced
by the sides of the equator of this imaginary dipping needle
deviating in directions contrary to the directions in which
the edges of the plate move, that edge of the plate nearest
to either edge of the equator producing the greatest effect
on it.” . _ ,
From another set of experiments, Mr Christie also found
that the effect produced on the iron by its rotation is per¬
manent so long as the plate remains stationary; that it
is independent of friction; that it is so far independent of
velocity, that the iron can scarcely he moved so slowly that
MAGNETISM.
35
Influence
of Heat
on Mag¬
netism.
Experi¬
ments of
Mr Snow
Harris.
the whole effect shall not be produced; and that the whole
effect is produced by making it perform one-fourth of a revo¬
lution. After Mr Christie had discovered these peculiar
effects, he exhibited some of the phenomena to Mr Bar-
low, who conceived that the effect would be increased by
rapid rotation, and who was thus led to make the experi¬
ments of which we have already given an account; but the
phenomena differ essentially from those observed by Mr
Christie; the former being temporary and dependent on
velocity, while the latter are permanent, and independent
of the rapidity of rotation.
In comparing the magnetic forces produced by rapid
and slow rotation, Mr Christie found that the forces ex¬
erted on the needle during the rapid rotation of the plate
are always in the same direction as the forces which are de¬
rived from the slowest rotation, and which continue to act
after the rotation has ceased; but that the former forces are
greater than the latter. From a mean of all the observa¬
tions, the forces seem to be in the ratio of seventeen to
thirteen, or very nearly of three to two. Hence Mr Christie
conceives that the polarizing of the iron in the same direc¬
tion will account for the phenomena in both cases; but
that the intensity of the polarity during the rapid rotation
is greater than of that which appears to be permanent
after the rotation, whether slow or rapid, has ceased; and
that the phenomena observed during rapid rotation are
such as should be expected from what have been de¬
scribed as arising from rotation, without regard to its ve¬
locity. *
We have already seen that Messrs Babbage and Herschel
interposed plates of various metals between the revolving
magnet and the copper disc, and found no perceptible effect
to be produced. Mr S. Harris,1 however, has more recently
shown that several substances not supposed to contain iron
have the power of intercepting the influence of a revolving
magnet. A circular magnetic disc being delicately balanced
on a fine central point by means of a rim of lead, was put
into a state of rotation on a small agate cup, at the rate of
600 revolutions in a minute; and a light ring of tinned iron,
also finely balanced on a central pivot, was placed imme¬
diately over it, at about 4 inches distance, by means of a
thin plate of glass, on which its pivot rested. When the
ring of tinned iron began to move slowly on its pivot by
the influence of the magnet revolving below, a large mass
of copper, about three inches thick, and consisting of plates
a foot square, was carefully interposed between the magnet
and the iron ring. The interposition of the copper soon
sensibly diminished the motion of the iron disc, and at length
arrested it altogether. On again withdrawing the copper,
the motion of the disc was restored; and the same effects
were repeatedly obtained. In this experiment both the
magnet and the disc were inclosed by glass shades, and
supported on a firm base.
The same effects were produced by a mass of silver and
zinc ; but when their thickness was considerably diminished
by removing the central plates, the motion of the disc was
not impeded. A very great thickness of lead was necessary
to stop the disc, in consequence, as Mr Harris supposes, of its
magnetic energy being so much less than that of copper.
CHAP. Y.—ON THE INFLUENCE OF HEAT ON MAGNETISM.
Influence This interesting department of magnetism divides itself
of heat on into three parts: ls£, On the effect of heat on the develop-
magnetism.nient of free magnetism; 2dly, On the anomalous attraction
observed during the bright red and red heats; and, Zdly,
On the effect of heat on the distribution of magnetism in
magnets.
Influence
of Heat
on Mag¬
netism.
Sect. I.—On the Effect of Heat on the Development of
Magnetism in Cast and Malleable Iron.
In the course of his experiments on the relative magnetic
powers of different kinds of iron and steel, already given in
the history of magnetism, Mr Barlow was led to the con- In cast and
elusion that the harder the metal was, the less it exhibited malleable
of a magnetic quality: a result which was highly favourableiron-
to the hypothesis, that the cohesive power of hardened steel
not only prevented the entire development of its magnet¬
ism, but also the re-combination of the two kinds of mag¬
netism when they were displaced by the action of a powerful
magnet. With the view of establishing this hypothesis,
Mr Barlow found it necessary to ascertain whether these
different kinds of iron and steel would exhibit the same
magnetic powers when reduced to the same degree of soft¬
ness, which could only be done by heating them in a fur¬
nace, and trying their magnetic qualities in that state.
Having procured a bar of soft iron 25 inches long and
square, and a cast-iron one of nearly the same dimen¬
sions, he inclined the bars in the direction of the dip; and
having placed a magnetic needle nearly on a level with the
upper extremity, and at the distance of 6 inches from it,
he observed the deviations produced by the bars in different
states of heat. Thus,—
Mean deviation.
Cast iron  Cold 21° 30'
Ditto  White heat  0 0
Ditto   Blood-red heat 62 0
Malleable iron Cold 40 0
Ditto  White heat  0 0
Ditto  Blood-red heat 55 0
These experiments were often repeated with the same
results. It deserves to be remarked as a singular result, that
cast iron is decidedly inferior in its action when cold, and
when hot possesses a superior power to malleable iron.
Mr Barlow now compared malleable iron with soft and
hard shear steel. The bars were 24 inches long and
square, and the following were the results:—
Mean deviation.
Malleable iron Cold 15° 10'
Ditto  White heat  0 0
Ditto  Blood-red 41 11
Soft shear steel Cold 11 0
Ditto  White heat  0 0
Ditto  Blood-red 48 0
Hard shear steel Cold  8 0
Ditto  White heat  0 0
Ditto  Blood-red  47 30
These experiments establish the curious fact of the total
destruction of the magnetic virtue by a white heat; and
also the no less important one, that every kind of iron or
steel has a greater capacity for developing its magnetism
when softened by fire than when cold.
Sect. II.—On the Anomalous Attraction observed in Cast
and Malleable Iron during the Bright Bed and Red
Heats.
In pursuing the preceding researches, Mr Barlow was led Anoma-
to observe a remarkable anomaly in the action of the ironlous attrac-
at the red heat. When iron brought to a white heat has tion of iron
wholly lost its power, it again acquires, as it passes into the red
bright red and red, a magnetic power; but what is truly Ga "
strange, its power is attractivefor the south end of the needle;
that is, if the north pole of the needle was attracted when
the iron was cold, the south end will be attracted when the
iron is at a bright red heat.
In order to investigate this subject thoroughly, Mr Bar-
low made a very extensive series of experiments with four
1 Phil. Trans., 1831, p. 497.
36
MAGNETISM.
Influence different bars, each 25 inches long and 1|- square, two of
of Heat them being of cast, and two of malleable iron. He used
°n Mag- alg0 other tw0 barg) one of cast an(i one 0f malleable iron,
v ne lsn1, ^ 0f j.be same dimensions, which were kept as standards to
vdetermine the quantity of cold attraction. The time em¬
ployed in each experiment was a quarter of an hour: the
white heat generally continued about three minutes when
the negative attraction commenced. This attraction lasted
on Mag¬
netism.
about two minutes more, when the usual attraction began. Influence
This sometimes reached its maximum with great rapidity, of Heat
but at other times it increased very gradually. The fol¬
lowing table contains the results of Mr Barlow’s experi¬
ments. The letters CB denote the cast-iron bar, and MB
the malleable-iron bar ; and the sign + indicates when the
ordinary attraction of the iron takes place ; and — the ano¬
malous or negative attraction.
Anomalous
action of
red-hot
iron.
Table of the Results of Mr Barlow's Experiments on the Effect of Iron on the Compass Needle at different
Degrees of Heat.
2?B. We have omitted the column for white heat, as no effect is ever produced at that temperature.
No.
Description
of Bar.
Height and
Depth of
Centre of Bar
from Needle.
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
C. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
C. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
M. B. No. 2
Ditto
C. B. No. 1
Ditto
M. B. No. 2
Ditto
C. B. No. 1
Ditto
M. B. No. 2
Ditto
C.B. No. 1
Ditto
M. B. No. 2
Ditto
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
M. B. No. 1
M. B. No. 2
Inches.
0-0
4-5 below
Ditto
Ditto
1'3 below
4-5 below
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
DO above
12-5 below
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
'9-0 below
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
6-0 below
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
3’0 below
Ditto
0-0
DO above
Ditto
9-0 above
Ditto
DO below
4,5 above
1-7 below
1-7 above
Ditto
4-5 above
Ditto
00
00
Distance
of Bar
from
Needle.
Position of
Needle.
Inches.
6-0 S. 80° W.
6-0
60
60
6-0
60
6-0
6-0
60
60
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
8-5
6-0
6-0
60
5-3
5- 3
6- 0
6-0
5-5
7-0
5-5
5-5
5- 5
6- 0
6-0
4-7
4-7
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
N. 80 W.
S. 80 W.
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
N. 80 W.
N. 80 E.
N. 80 W.
N. 80 E.
N. 80 W.
N. 80 E.
N. 80 W.
N. 80 E.
N. 80 W.
N. 80 E.
N. 80 W.
N. 80 E.
S. 80 E.
N. 45 W.
Ditto
N. 60 W.
Ditto
N. 85 E.
Ditto
N. 45 W.
N. 75 E.
N. 45 W.
Ditto
Ditto
N. 55 E.
Ditto
W.
N.
Effect when
Cold.
+ 0° O'
+ 30 0
+ 18 0
+ 29 30
Not observed
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
29 30
30 0
16 0
15 30
28 30
29 30
15 45
16 0
25 0
26 0
+ 11 30
+ 13 0
+ 80
Not observed
0 0
+ 20
Not observed
+ 47 30
+ 47 30
Not observed
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
+ 3 30
0 0
Effect of
Red Heat.
Effect at
Blood-red Heat.
- 17° 0'
0 0
0 0
- 12 0
0 0
- 12 30
- 12 30
0 0
19
15
0
0
0
0
1
1
1
1
3
3
3
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
30
30
30
0
30
30
Not observed
- 21 30
- 25 30
- 40 0
- 4 30
- 12 30
- 2 30
- 2 30
- 55 0
- 2 30
+ 100 0
- 26 0
30 0
0° 0'
+ 45
+ 49
+ 44
+ 52
+ 70 0
+ 30 0
+ 25 0
+
5 30
0 0
50 0
0 0
30 0
4 0
37 30
41 0
42 30
47 30
39 30
42 0
45 0
49 0
32 30
33 0
36 30
36 30
Not observed
+ 25 30
0 0
+ 5 30
+ 5 30
+ 60 0
+ 60 0
+ 5 45
+ 33 30
+ 13 30
+ 13 30
+ 13 30
+ 35 30
+ 35 30
+ 80
0 0
Remarks.
South end drawn to the bar at
red beat.
This bar being left standing, it
attracted the same three
, days after.
The needle suspected to touch
the box.
Observed at the same time with
two compasses.
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
ditto.
ditto.
ditto.
ditto.
ditto.
ditto.
| North end drawn to the bar at
1 red heat.
Both attractions very gradual,
f.Passed suddenly to 12J0, but
\ returned immediately.
Attractions gradual.
Ditto.
f Negative attraction rather
\ sudden.
Motion of needle very slow,
f 100° very sudden, returned
\ immediately.
Both attractions gradual,
f The same as No. 32; both
| anomalous.
Attractions very gradual.
Motion regular, but quick.
No motion in the needle.
One of the most remarkable results of these experiments
is, that the anomalous action of the bar between a bright-
red and blood-red heat increases as we raise the bar above
the needle, and becomes a maximum at the centre of the
bar; whereas at low temperatures the action of a bar of
iron under the very same circumstances goes on diminish¬
ing as the bar is raised, and becomes a minimum at the
centre. When the needle is placed at the height of the
centre of the bar, when heated to produce the anomalous
effect, the smallest displacement is sufficient to change the
sign and the quantity of the deviation.
Mr Barlow made some experiments with a twenty-four
pound ball of iron, but the heat was too intense to allow
The results
any very accurate observations to be made,
however, were as follow:—
Cold attraction  + 13° 30' deviation.
Red heat  - 3 30
White heat  ^ 0 ...
Blood-red heat  + 19 20
No effect whatever was produced on the needle by heated
bars of copper.
In order to explain the singularly anomalous action above
described, Mr Barlow supposed, that during the cooling of
the bars, the extremities where this cooling is most rapid
become magnetic before the rest of the metal, and that
there results from this a complex action. He allowed, how-
MAGNETISM.
37
Influence ever, that this supposition does not sufficiently explain all
of Heat the observed phenomena. The explanation given by Pro-
on Mag- fessor Kupffer is more satisfactory. In weakly magne-
vDe ism‘ tized bars the points of indifference are very near the ex-
tremities; but in Mr Barlow’s experiment the magnetism
ffer’sex" comrnunicated to soft iron by the earth being nothing at a
rfl a nation bright-red, and reaching its maximum at a blood-red heat,
there is probably formed a point of indifference at each
extremity of the bar. If this is the case, the raising of the
bar places the needle in front of points which are beyond
the point of indifference, and which possess a magnetism
opposite to that of the extremity itself. At the first epoch
of cooling, this opposite magnetism should even increase
to a certain point, and the more as we approach the middle
of the bar; but in proportion as the magnetism of the bar
increases, the point of indifference will approach its middle,
and the phenomena of ordinary attraction reappear.
Sect. III.—On the Effects of Heat on the Distribution of
Magnetism in Magnets.
Effect of M. Coulomb was the first philosopher who investigated
heat on the the important subject of the influence of heat on the dis-
distribu- tribution of magnetism in needles and magnets.1 He took
irnTnef m a ^ar s^ee^ 162 millimetres long, 14 wide, and weighing
‘ ® '82 grammes. This bar was brought to a cherry-red heat,
about 900°, and cooled slowly in the air, so as to have no
temper. It was then magnetized to saturation at the tem¬
perature of about 12° Reaumur. In this state the time of
making ten oscillations was observed. Its temperature was
again raised successively so many degrees, and after being
cooled, the time of performing ten oscillations was again
measured. The following were the results:—
Temperature in degrees
of Reaumur.
12° 
40 
80 
- 211  
340  
510 
680  
Time of performing
Ten Oscillations.
  93s
  97-5
 104
 147
 215
 290
...very great.
Hence it is obvious that the magnetic intensity of the
bar diminishes rapidly as its temperature is raised.
From another set of experiments, Coulomb concludes
that the tempering of a bar previous to its being magnet¬
ized has no influence until the heat at which it is tempered
becomes about 750°. When the tempering is at 900°, the
bar will take double the magnetic force that it did at 12°;
the ratio of the time of ten oscillations being 63* and 93‘,
the squares of which, to which the magnetic forces are pro¬
portional, are nearly as one to two.
After the magnet had received the hardest temper at
950°, it was magnetized to saturation. When it was brought
back, by annealing, to lower temperatures, and again mag¬
netized, the effects were as follow :—
»
Time of Ten Oscillations
Temperature. of a Bar tempered
at 95°.
12°    63s
80  66
214, blue colour  80
410, colour of water 170
Hence we see that the progressive rise of temperature
alters the magnetism of the bar much more when it had
been first tempered towards 900° and cooled slowly, than
when it had been first put into the annealed state.
When in the annealed state the bar is exposed only to
temperatures below 500°, it receives its original force by Influence
being again magnetized; but in the state of temper it is Heat
not so. Each rise of temperature diminishes perceptibly on ?.Iag“
the magnetic force which the bar can receive from being y
again magnetized. This is shown in the following table :—
Annealing Temperature.
Time of performing Ten
Oscillations when
again magnetized.
12° 63*
214 64-5
410, colour of water 70
900, cherry-red 93
The bar, therefore, attained its maximum energy when
tempered at 900°. It then performed ten oscillations in
63“ Setting out from this term, the directive force dimi¬
nished in proportion as the annealing temperature increased.
At 900° the bar, magnetized anew to saturation, employed
93“ to make ten oscillations, as in the first experiments,
which ought to have been the case, as it was brought back
to the same state of perfect annealing from which it was at
first taken.
The bars used by Coulomb were about thirty times as
long as they were thick, and with such bars similar results
were always obtained. But this was not the case with
larger bars. Having taken a steel wire 326 millimetres
long, and 4 in diameter, he tempered it at 820°, magnet¬
ized it to saturation, and determined its directive force.
He repeated the same operation after having annealed it
at different temperatures, and the following were the re¬
sults :—
Annealing Temperature. Time of Ten Oscillations.
12°, temperature of atmosphere 89*
320, colour of water 75
450, deep red 68
530, less deep red 70
900, bright cherry-red 76
Here the hard temper gives the weakest directive force,
as we have already seen in the preceding experiments.
The maximum effect takes place when the wire is an¬
nealed at about 450°, and this result is a general one for
all wires and plates whose length is very great relative to
their width.
This result seems to be connected with a particular
mode of distribution of free magnetism. In bars whose
length does not exceed thirty times their diameter there
is never more than one magnetic centre, which is in the
middle of the bar. But when the ratio of the length to
the breadth is greater than this, magnetizing it produces
always three centres, one in the middle of the bar, and the
other two at equal distances from its extremities. This
effect is shown in fig. 36, and in fig. 37. The effect of
ir---
-- c
Fig. 36.
C° "'"i
placing such a magnet in iron filings is shown in fig. 37;
and in fig. 36 the curve of the intensities is seen to cross the
A
Fig. 37.
axis between the centre C and the poles A, B, the two
new centres being at C and C".
M. Coulomb found that the distance C'A, C"B of the
two new centres from the extremities of the magnet varies
with the temper, and the annealing heat is shown by the
following results obtained with a wire-magnet 326 milli¬
metres long:—
1 Biot, Traite de Physique, tom. iii., p. 106.
38
MAGNETISM.
Influence
of Heat
on Mag¬
netism.
Time of Ten
Oscillations.
Hard temper 89
Annealed at the colour of
water 75
Ditto at dark-red heat 68
Ditto at cherry-red 76
Distances of the Centres €', 0°
from the Centre C, the Middle
of the Magnet.
O' C°
98 98
63 63
43 43
0 0
In proportion as the annealing heat increases, the two
centres C', C" approach each other, and are reunited with
the centre C at a cherry-red heat. This last result is very
important in the construction of compass-needles. Cou¬
lomb regards the dark-red as the best annealing heat for
needles or bars whose length exceeds thirty times their
thickness, and the state of hard temper for those where the
ratio between the length and the thickness is less.
It is extremely probable, as M. Biot supposes, that when
magnets are larger in proportion to their thickness than
those used in the preceding experiments, a greater num¬
ber of centres will be produced, were it from no other
cause than the reaction of the plate upon itself.
on Mag¬
netism.
magnet it lost only 429*. When brought to the tempera- Influence
tures in the table, and then cooled, the oscillations of the of Heat
needle were observed.
Temperature of the Magnet. Duration of 300Oscillations.
13° Reaumur 429 seconds.
80  476
21  464J
13  463
11  462J
Hence it appears that the magnetic force diminishes
with heat, and that a magnet at the temperature of 13°,
when heated to 80°, and then cooled to 13, does not re¬
sume its first magnetic state, which is diminished. The
cause of this is, that in cooling slowly the bar loses a part
of its temper, and consequently a part of its free mag¬
netism.
From these observations M. Kupffer deduces the fol¬
lowing formulae, which represent with great accuracy the
influence of temperature, viz.:—
Ve + F
M. Kup-
ffer’s ex¬
periments.
In examining the influence of temperature on magnets,
Professor Kupffer began by examining the
effect of heat in altering the distribution
of magnetism. For this purpose he took a
parallelepiped of tempered steel, 503 mil- ^
limetres long, 15^- wide, and 5 thick, and ssss-
having magnetized it to saturation, he
heated it, and allowing it to cool slowly, he
submitted it to examination. The magnet
was placed vertically, as at «7/, and a
needle suspended by a silk fibre was made
to oscillate before any point ah, in order to
determine the intensity of magnetism at that
point. In this way he obtained the fol¬
lowing results:—
Fig. 38.
Distance db' in
Millimetres.
156
136-5
116-5
96-5
76-5
56-5
Magnet not heated.
Magnetic Force.
0-5569
0-7374
0-9455
1-1862
1-4311
1-6518
Same Magnet heated to
80°, and examined
after cooling.
Magnetic Force.
0-4376
0-5765
0-7280
0-8897
1 0559
1-1929
Hence it appears that the bar heated to 80° had not
only lost much of its magnetic virtue, but that this loss
was not uniform along the whole length of the bar, being
greater towards the extremities V than towards the
middle. This may be easily seen by dividing the forces
in columns 2 and 3 by one another, when it will appear
that the quotients are greater for points nearest d and l).
M. Kupffer next studied the changes which take place
in the forces of a magnetic needle when its temperature is
increasing, the heat being kept constant during the time
of each experiment. He used a cylindrical needle of fused
steel, 0-57 millimetre long, and 2-395 grammes in weight.
The temperature increased from 8^° to 18°, and the devia¬
tion of300 oscillations varied from 777^ to 781, which shows,
as Coulomb had previously observed, that the magnetic
force diminished as the temperature increased. By an¬
other series of experiments, M. Kupffer has shown that the
diurnal variations of the needle did not at all affect these
results.
In order to determine the law of the decrease of the
magnetic forces at temperatures above 30°, he made a
needle oscillate above a newly magnetized bar 0-5 milli¬
metre long, the opposite poles looking to each other, and
he raised the temperature of the bar from 13° to 80° by
means of hot water. At 13°, the needle, when by itself,
performed 300 oscillations in 762s, and in presence of the
where c is the force exerted by the earth on the oscillating
needle.
;z, the number of seconds in which n oscillations are
made.
F, the force exerted by the bar at the same tem¬
perature.
the number of seconds which the same needle
employs at the temperature t.
p, the intensity of the magnetic force of the bar at
13°; and
q, the intensity of the same force at 80°.
M. Kupffer proceeded to examine the effects which the
heating of only one pole of a magnet produced upon the
distribution of its magnetism. With this view he placed a
magnet parallel to a needle suspended horizontally, the
dissimilar poles being placed opposite to each other. The
needle will not remain in the magnetic meridian unless its
neutral point and that of the bar are in the same line per¬
pendicular to the needle. This position may be found by
a few trials. When, by shifting the magnet, its neutral
point approaches one of the poles of the needle, and always
in the same direction, this pole will be repelled, because
the opposite pole of the needle is more strongly attracted
by the corresponding pole of the magnet, which is brought
near it, while the other is removed from it.
Let us nowheat the north pole of the magnet; the south
pole of the needle opposite to it will be attracted. Hence
it is clear that the point of indifference, or neutral point, has
receded from the heated pole, or from the pole whose mag¬
netic intensity is diminished, which agrees with the law of
Coulomb. The following results were obtained with ,a
magnet 05 millimetre long, the needle being placed in the
magnetic meridian:—
Temperature of the extre¬
mity of the Bar.
0° Reaumur. .,
13
40
56
15
11
Duration of 100
Oscillations.
 275-5 seconds.
 276
 278
 279-5
 277-5
 277
When the magnet had cooled slowly, the needle returned
gradually to its first position; but it never recovered it
entirely. By the earth’s action only, the needle performed
50 oscillations in 2073*
When a bar of soft iron was substituted for the magnet,
MAGNETISM.
39
Action of
Simple
Iron Bodies
on the
Magnetic
Needle.
Mr Chris¬
tie’s expe¬
riments.
and placed in the magnetic meridian, it was magnetized
by the action of the earth. When one of its extremities
was heated, the pole of the needle next it was attracted
instead of repelled, the neutral point having approached to
the heated extremity, in place of receding from it as for¬
merly. Hence the magnetic force of the iron was increased
by heat.
In examining the diurnal deviations of the needle when
under the influence of magnets, Mr Christie conceived
that the deviations might be partly the effect of changes
in the temperature of the magnets ; and he therefore un¬
dertook a series of experiments to determine the precise
effects of changes of temperature on magnets. By a
peculiar apparatus, and a method of observation which our
limits will not allow us to introduce, he obtained the fol¬
lowing results:—
Mean Tempera¬
ture of the
Magnets.
Fahr.
62°-05
59 -05
77 -65
74 -00
70 -65
67 -15
63 -80
62 -05
Difference of
Heats in suc¬
cessive Obser¬
vations.
- 3o,00
+ 18 *60
- 3-65
- 3
- 3
- 3
- 1
•35
•50
•35
•75
Magnetic In¬
tensity.
212-5620
212-9423
210-6228
210- 9892
211- 4178
211- 8353
212- 2167
212-4640
Variation of In¬
tensity for
1« of Fahr.
0°-1268
0 -1247
0 -1004
0 -1279
0 -1193
0 -1138
0 -1413
By discussing these results, Mr Christie concludes that
01226 is the mean variation of the intensity of the mag¬
nets, from a change in their temperature of 1° between the
temperatures of 59o,05 and 77°’65. Taking the case where
the intensity at 60° was 218, the change for 1° was OT23;
and supposing the intensity to be 1, each degree will pro¬
duce a diminution of 0000564.
From a number of experiments made with a balance of
torsion, the needle being suspended by a brass wire ^^th
of an inch in diameter, Mr Christie ascertained the follow¬
ing facts:—
1. Beginning with — 3° of Fahrenheit, up to 127°, the
intensity of magnets decreased as their temperature in¬
creased.
2. With a certain increment of temperature the decre¬
ment of intensity is not constant at all temperatures, but
increases as the temperature increases.
3. From a temperature of about 80°, the intensity de¬
creases very rapidly as the temperature increases; so that
if, up to this temperature, the differences of the decrements
are nearly constant, the differences in the decrements also
increase.
4. Beyond the temperature of 100° a portion of the
power of the magnet is permanently destroyed.
5. On a change of temperature, the most considerable
portion of the effect on the intensity of the magnet is
produced instantaneously, showing that the magnetic power
resides on or very near the surface.
6. The effects produced on soft iron by changes of tem¬
perature are directly the reverse of those produced on a
magnet; an increase of temperature causing an increase
in the magnetic power of the iron. This was observed
between the temperatures 50° and 100° Fahr. Mr Christie
regards this fact as a strong argument against the hypo¬
thesis, that the action of iron upon the needle arises from
the polarity which it receives from the earth.1
CHAP. VI.—ON THE ACTION OF SIMPLE IRON BODIES ON
THE MAGNETIC NEEDLE.
Action of Mr Barlow undertook the interesting experiments which
simple iron we are about to describe, with the view of discovering some
bodies on
the needle.
method of correcting the local attraction ol a ship’s guns Action of
and other iron on the compass-needle. Simple
His attention was first directed to the action of s°hd
spheres and spherical shells of iron; but he afterwards Magnetic
applied the principles to which he was led to the action Needle,
of bars and plates of simple iron, and to irregular masses.
We shall therefore lay before our readers, in three separate
sections, the results of his experiments and theoretical inves¬
tigations respecting these two forms of unmagnetized iron.
Sect. I.— On the Action of Spheres and Spherical Shells of
Iron on the Magnetic Needle.
The earliest experiments of Mr Barlow, by which he Action of
was led to some of the properties of iron spheres, were spheres on
made in an imperfect manner; but the phenomena were the needle,
such as to induce him to construct an apparatus capable
of affording him the most accurate measures of the devia¬
tion of the needle.
The apparatus
which he finally em¬
ployed is shown in
fig. 39. It consists
of a large and steady
round table TT, hav¬
ing its surface hori¬
zontal. The points
of the compass are
laid down on its up¬
per face. In its cen¬
tre is a hole 18| in.
wide, for receiving an
18-inch or smaller
iron shell or ball B,
which is suspended
above it by pulleys
p, p, which allow the
observer to raise or
lower it at pleasure. Fig. 39.
When a diameter of
this table is brought into the magnetic meridian, Mr Bar-
low found, that in whatever part of the table a compass-
needle was placed, except in the meridian, the south end of
the needle was drawn to the ball when the latter was wholly
above the table, as in the figure. The attraction increases
as the ball descends, till at a certain point it is a maximum,
and then decreases again towards zero as the ball descends
farther. Hence it is clear, that there is all round the ball
a position where the attraction is zero; and it was easily
observed that these points lay in a plane inclined to the
horizon. In this way Mr Barlow established his funda¬
mental principle, that—
In every ball or shell of plain unmagnetized iron there
exists a plane of no attraction, of a plane in which the iron
produces no disturbance on the needle, and which plane in¬
clines from north to south (magnetic), forming with the ho¬
rizon an angle equal to the complement of the dip.
This line on the surface of the ball may be called the
magnetic equator; and, taking the meridian which passes
through the east and west points as the first, Mr Barlow is
able to designate every part of his iron sphere by the
magnetic longitude and latitude of that point.
Mr Barlow therefore proceeded to determine whether
the quantity and deviation at any point could be expressed
by any function of the latitude and longitude of that point,
when the mass of the ball and the distance of the needle
from it were constant. From these experiments, which it
is unnecessary to detail, he found—
1 See Philosophical Transactions, 1825, p. 1-65.
40
MAGNETISM.
Action of That the tangent of the deviation of the needle is propor-
Simple tional to the rectangle of the sine and cosine of the latitude,
r°on the'69 or ^ie s*ne °f ^ie double latitude.
Magnetic By observing the deviations throughout a great circle in
Needle, which the longitude was constant, and also in a circle in
'v ^ which the latitude and longitude were variable, he found
Professor the following law :—
Barlow on That the tangent of the deviation of the needle is nearly
the action proportional to the sine of the double latitude multiplied by
of iron tfie cos[ne qJ' the longitude.
spheres. comparing the constant numbers obtained on the pre¬
ceding principles at different distances from the centre of
the sphere, Mr Barlow found,—
That the tangent of the deviation is inversely proportional
to the cube of the distance.
The remaining object of Mr Barlow’s inquiry was a very
interesting one, namely, to determine the law of the de¬
viation as dependent on the mass of the iron ball by the
action of which it was produced. The result was equally
new and unexpected. He found,—
That the tangent of the deviation was directly propor¬
tional to the cube of the diameter of the ball or shell; but
that it is still wholly independent of the mass, being the
same in quantity whatever be the thickness of the metal,
provided only that it exceed -£$th of an inch.
Hence it follows, that the entire magnetic power of an
iron sphere resides on the surface, and is independent of the
solidity.
Mr Barlow was so much surprised at this result, that he
constructed a 10-inch shell of tin plate and another of iron
plate, the former weighing 43 ounces and the latter 45
ounces, and he found that the power of neither was so
great as that of the solid ball of the same diameter, but ap¬
proached to it in the ratio of 2 to 3. As the thickness of
the iron in these shells was at an average about ^th of an
inch, Mr Barlow concluded that the magnetic fluid requires
a certain thickness of metal, exceeding ^th of an inch, in
order effectually to develop itself, and act with its maxi¬
mum energy.
This important result was some time afterwards verified
by Captain Kater, with three cylinders, one of soft iron,
and -j^th of an inch thick; another of what is called chest-
plate, OT 85 of an inch thick; and the third solid. The
deviations produced by these three cylinders, when re¬
duced to the same extent of surface, were 141, 184, and
187, thus proving that the cylinder whose thickness was
only OT85, or between £th and £th of an inch thick, had
the same magnetic power as a solid cylinder of iron. The
distribution of magnetism on the surface of magnetic bodies
presents us with another interesting analogy between the
magnetic and electric fluids ; and it deserves our particular
notice, that in the results obtained by Mr Barlow, the ac¬
tion of the sphere is related to the centre of its mass, and
not to the poles of its magnetic equator.
Mr Barlow next proceeds to the investigation of analy¬
tical formulae, which shall exhibit the action of iron spheres
upon a magnetic needle. In this inquiry he sets out with
the established experimental fact already mentioned, that
the entire magnetic power of an iron sphere resides on the
surface, and is independent of the solidity ; and he proceeds
on the following hypothesis:—
1. Magnetic phenomena are due to the existence of two
fluids in a greater or less degree of combination, and such
that the particles of the same fluid repel, and those of an
opposite nature attract, each other.
2. These fluids in iron bodies exist naturally in a state
of combination and equilibrium till that state is disturbed
by some exciting cause.
3. But if a body already magnetic, i.e., one in which the
fluids are held in a state of separation, be brought within
the vicinity of a mass of iron, such as is supposed above,
the concentrated action of each fluid in the magnetized Action of
body will act upon the latent fluids in the quiescent body, Simple
by repelling those of the same, and attracting those
the contrary kind, and thus impress upon the latter a tem- M°° ®ic
porary state of magnetic action, which will remain only Needie.
while the two bodies maintain their respective situa-
tlODS. Professor
4. The quantity of action impressed upon the iron body Barlow on
will depend, \st, upon the intensity of the exciting mag- the action
net; 2dly, upon the capacity of the quiescent body for of iron
magnetism, or the quantity of those fluids contained in it; spheres,
and, 3e%, upon the cohesive power of the iron; which lat¬
ter quality determines the depth to which the exciting
magnet is able to disengage the two fluids.
The above embraces every case, namely, of any magnet,
natural or artificial, developing the magnetism in any given
iron body; but the displacement occasioned by the magnetic
action of the earth, or spheres of iron, is more limited in its
results, and more susceptible of correct mathematical in¬
vestigation.
5. In this case, for instance, we may suppose the action
to take place on every particle of the mass in lines parallel
to each other, and corresponding in direction with the
dipping needle ; also, that every particle is at the same dis¬
tance from the centre of the disturbing force, and conse¬
quently that the displacement in each particle is equal also.
6. For the sake of illustration,
let A.EBD represent a sphere
of iron in its non-magnetic or
quiescent state, and let CM be
the line on which the terrestrial
magnetism is exerted from a
centre of action M, which is at
such a distance that the diame¬
ter of the sphere is inconsider¬
able in comparison with it; then
every particle on its surface, and
to a certain distance within it,
will be acted upon by equal
powers, and in directions parallel
to each other, whereby the fluids
in the quiescent body, before in a state of combination,
will be separated in each particle ; and the two fluids may
now therefore be conceived to form two spherical shells
AeBrf, Ae'Bef, whose centres of action will be c, c, their
distances from each other being greater or less, according
to the circumstances stated in No. 4.
7. Therefore, in computing the action of such a mass of
iron, in its temporary state of magnetism, upon a distant
particle of magnetic fluid, Mr Barlow refers it to these
centres, and assumes that the law of action in this, as in
other cases of emanating forces, is inversely as the squares
of the distance.
By means of this hypothesis Mr Barlow arrives at the
following formula for the deviation A of a horizontal
needle.
Tan. 7 A -- . 0(2A. cos l),
M 2d3 cos 8
Tig. 40.
where r = radius of the iron spheres;
d — the distance of the needle from the centre of
the spheres;
X = the complement of the magnetic latitude ;
l = the complement of the magnetic longitude;
S = the dip of the needle; and
■—= 1-0539 a constant quantity for cast-iron balls
M
and shells, of every diameter, and for all distances
and positions.
From this formula it necessarily follows,—
1. That though the development of the magnetism of
the spheres takes place by the hypothesis only at the sur-
MAGNETISM.
41
Action of face, yet the effect, as shown by the tangent of the devia-
Simple tion, is proportional to the cube of the diameter.
Iron Bodies 2. That the tangent of deviation is inversely as the cube
Magnetic of the distance.
Needle. 3. That the tangent of the deviation is proportional to
the sine of the double latitude and cosine of the longitude,
the latter being extended from the east and west points.
These are the very laws which Mr Barlow had deduced
from experiment, and he has established the correctness of
his formula by comparing it with a great body of experi¬
ments made by himself and Mr Christie, and also with ob¬
servations on the dipping needle.
netism on
Chemical
Action.
These results Mr Barlow justly regards as a further Influence
proof of the accuracy of the principles upon which his hy- of
pothesis is founded, and of his general deduction that the
action of plain unmagnetized iron on a compass needle may
be referred to two poles indefinitely near to each other in
the common centre of attraction of the surface of the
body.
Mr Bonnycastle performed another series of experiments
with a plate of malleable iron 12 inches square and half an
inch thick, and he obtained results almost equally accordant
with Mr Barlow’s hypothesis.
Sect. II.— On the Action of Simple Iron Bars and Plates
on the Magnetic Needle.
As spherical bodies possess the peculiar property of
having their centre of attraction in the centre of the mass,
the former becomes a fixed point whatever be the distance
of the magnetic needle. As this is not the case, however,
with bodies of other forms, such as bars and plates, Mr
Barlow was desirous of ascertaining whether, in these cases
also, the magnetic attraction of the body could be referred
to the action of two centres indefinitely near to each other
in the general centre of attraction of the surface of the
body, viz., that point into which, if all the matter of the
surface were collected, its action on the centre of the
needle would be the same as the action of the whole body
in its natural form.
In pursuance of this plan, he supposes
AB to be a bar of iron, and C the place
of the needle, and, letting CD fall per¬
pendicular on AB, he joins AC, BC.
He then finds the following expression for
the deviation :—
. . mn cos l
tan A =■• A r-r-l ^r,
(m2 + nf*
A being a constant quantity, l the longi¬
tude, m the force in the direction DC,
and n the force in DA. In the experi¬
ments with which Mr Barlow proposed
to compare this formula, the needle was
placed due east and west of the bar, the
longitude of its position was zero, and hence cos / = 1.
The formula, therefore, becomes
4. a a mn * (^*2 + w2)! . ,
tan A = A -7———-r, or tan A •   — = A, what-
+ n-f mn
ever may be the distance of the needle or its position, pro¬
vided its longitude be zero. The following experiments
Mr Bonny- were made by Mr Charles Bonnycastle, with a bar 24
castle’s ex- inches long and 1|- inch square, inclined in the direction of
periments. the dipping needle. The magnetic needle was placed to
the east and west of the bar, first opposite to its centre,
and then at every 3 inches from the centre to the extre¬
mities, at the distance of 12 and 16 inches from the axis of
the bar. The following were the results:—
fig. 41.
Distance of
Compass from
Bar in inches.
16
16
16
16
12
12
12
12
Distance
below Cen¬
tre.
3
6
9
12
3
6
9
12
Observed
Deviation.
2C
4
5
6
5
10
12
11 30
Value of
mn
(m + n2)«
■00240
•00438
•00563
•00596
•00484
•00899
•01152
•01160
Values of A.
17-03
17-62
17-88
17- 63
19-28
19-62
18- 45
17-54
Mean 18-13
Sect. III.—On the Action of Irregular Masses of Iron on
the Magnetic Needle.
Mr Barlow was next desirous of ascertaining if the same Action of
law which applied to spheres, bars, and plates, was true in irregular
irregular masses of iron, such as a 24-pounder gun ; an ex- ™asses of
periment peculiarly applicable to the object he had in view. non‘
He found that the plane of no attraction existed in the most
irregular masses of iron, and the agreement between the
observed deviations produced by the gun, and those calcu¬
lated by his formula, was such as to satisfy him that the
same laws applied to irregular as to regular masses of
iron ; and he was thus furnished with the means of com¬
puting the local attraction of a ship’s guns upon the com¬
pass under all circumstances, and in all parts of the
world.
I hese views were strikingly confirmed by several in- Experi-
genious observations, made, without knowing of Mr Bar- ments of
low’s labours, by Mr Lecount, with bars, handspikes, mast count;6'
rings, and various other iron bodies, from which he con- C°Un "
eluded “ that a plane or circle held east and west (mag¬
netic), and at right angles to the direction of the dipping
needle, divides the north from the south magnetic effluvia,
each lying on that side to which the dipping needle points;
and by referring the position of all iron bodies to this
plane, the plane of section shall divide the two into north
and south polarity, provided it be of uniform thickness, or,
if not, the section must be drawn through its centre of
(gravity) attraction.”1
CHAP. VII. ON THE INFLUENCE OF MAGNETISM ON
CHEMICAL ACTION.
An opinion had long prevailed among philosophers that influence
the phenomena of magnetism and electricity had a similar of magnet-
origin ; and hence various observers had been led, previous ism on
to the discovery of electro-magnetism by Oersted, to inquire chemical
if any actions of a chemical nature could be produced by actl0IU
magnetism.
The German philosopher Ritter was the earliest and the Experi-
most active of these inquirers. He maintained that a mag- ments of
netic wire, combined with another wire not magnetized, Bitter,
produced contractions in a frog, the south pole of the wire-
magnet producing stronger contractions than the unmag¬
netized wire; and as he had constantly observed that the
metals most susceptible of excitation excited the strongest
contractions, he concluded that the south pole of a magnet
has a greater affinity for oxygen than simple iron, and the
north pole a less affinity. Hence he was led to confirm
these views by means of several chemical reagents. He
placed a magnetized wire upon pieces of glass in an earthen¬
ware dish containing weak nitric acid, when he found that
the south pole was more corroded by the acid than the
other, and was soon encircled with a deposition of oxygen
greater than that at the other pole. In another experiment
he took two flasks filled with tincture of turnsol, in one ot
which he placed the two south poles of two wire-magnets,
VOL. XIV.
* Decount on the Magnetic Properties of Iron Bodies.
F
42
MAGNETISM.
Influence
of Mag¬
netism on
Chemical
Action.
Experi¬
ments of
Ritter.
Experi¬
ments of
Musch-
and llan
steen.
and in the other the two north poles of two similar magnets.
In the last flask the oxidation of the wires was much greater
than in the first.
The difference in the oxidation of the south pole was
exhibited by Ritter in another way. He took three small
and equal bottles filled either with pure or slightly acidu¬
lated water, and having placed in one the south pole of a
wire-magnet, in another the north pole, and in the third the
extremity of an unmagnetized wire of the same length, he
observed that the south pole first began to deposit oxide,
the unmagnetized wire next, and the north pole last. In
order to exclude the access of air, the surface of the water
should be covered with very fresh oil of almonds; and as
light accelerates oxidation, none of the bottles should be
more exposed to the sun than the rest. In support of this
last observation, Ritter exposed two iron wires to the sun
when placed in water, and having covered one of the bottles
with black paper, he found that the wire in the uncovered
bottle was oxidated more rapidly than the other.
Ritter repeated the preceding experiment with the three
bottles containing an infusion of litmus in place of acidu¬
lated water. The south pole reddened the infusion most,
the unmagnetic wire less, and the north pole least of all.
A week is required to produce a distinct effect; and in order
even to effect this, Ritter found it necessary to add as much
acetic acid as would incline the infusion to red without
completely changing its colour.*
The following experiment of Ritter, if correctly repeated,
establishes the same result. We shall give it nearly in his
own words:—“ Sixteen magnetic wires, of equal size and
power, were placed in six vessels, all equally full of a mix¬
ture of one part nitric acid and thirty-six parts water, in
the following manner: In the first glass were placed two
wires, one with the north pole immersed in the fluid, the
other with the south, and not more than half a line asunder ;
in tlie second, the same, but the wires an inch and three-
fourths apart; in the third and fourth were each three
wires, with the south poles of all immersed, but their dis¬
tances in the two glasses different, as in the first and second;
in the fifth and sixth were wires similarly arranged, but
with the north poles immersed. Different quantities of
oxide were gradually deposited, and, to express the whole
in a few words, we will call the south pole S, the north
pole N, their greater distance g, and their less p, and we
will express the order of oxidations as follows: SN^^>
SNp> 3Sp> 3S.y> 3N/>> SNy. On the nineteenth day
it was observed that the loss of fluid by evaporation had
not been equal in all the vessels, but took place in the in¬
verse order of the oxidations. All the magnetic wires were
weakened in power; NS*/least, NS/? more; of the wires
3Sp, two had lost less power than the third; and in like
manner ■ 3Sr/, 3N/?, 3%, had each two left more powerful
than the third; the strongest were equal to N S*/.”
The next experiments on this subject were made by M.
Muschman, professor of chemistry in the university of Chris¬
tiania, who endeavoured to ascertain the effect of the earth’s
magnetism on the precipitation of silver. In his chemical
course in 1817, when he was desirous of explaining the
chemical theory of the tree of Diana, he took a tube like a
syphon, and poured mercury into it, which accordingly
occupied the lower part of the two branches: above the
mercury he poured a strong solution of nitrate of silver.
He then placed the two branches of the syphon so that the
plane passing through them was in the magnetic meridian,
and after standing a few seconds, the silver began to preci¬
pitate itself with its natural lustre ; but it accumulated itself
particularly in the northern branch of the syphon, while that
which was less copiously precipitated in the other branch
had a less brilliant lustre, and was mixed with the mercurial
salt deposited from the solution. M. Muschman and Pro¬
fessor Hansteen repeated this experiment in an improved
form with the very same result. On this occasion they Laws of
used simultaneously two syphons prepared in the same Magne^c
manner, the one being placed in the direction of north and ^orces’^
south, and the other in that of east and west. The silver v ^
began to precipitate itself in the direction of north and south,
and it particularly raised itself in the north branch with a
lustre more brilliant than in the south one; whereas in the
syphon whose plane lay east and west, no change had taken
place even at the end of twelve hours. Hence the two
Norwegian philosophers concluded, with some reason, that
the magnetism of the earth had an influence on the preci¬
pitation of silver from a solution of its nitrate; and M.
Muschman inferred, from the experiment, the identity of
galvanism and magnetism. He regarded every dissolution
as the result of a galvanic effect, the precipitated metal
carrying off the electricity set at liberty, and carrying itself,
in order to be disengaged, to the place where it could find
the opposite electricity, which was the north pole. M.
Muschman considered this hypothesis confirmed by the
geological fact, that at Konigsberg silver was found in the
metallic form, stretching from north to south ; and the pre¬
sence of the silver is always indicated by a certain quantity
of pyrites and blendes. Hence he conceived that the silver
had been insensibly united to sulphur, and that by the effect
of the earth’s magneti-sm alone it had been carried towards
the copper and the zinc.
M. Fresnel made a series of experiments with the view Expen-
of decomposing water by the magnet. He proposed to
produce an electric current in an electro-magnetic helix ’
inclosing a bar-magnet covered with silk. The two ends
of the wire were plunged in slightly acidulated water, and
he observed very decided effects ; but there were so many
anomalies in the result, which he could not explain, that he
abandoned the inquiry. He was particularly struck with
the fact, that the wire which should be the positive one was
strongly oxidated, whilst the other extremity preserved its
metallic lustre during a whole week. The negative extre¬
mity was covered with a saline deposit, which he conjec¬
tured to be sulphate of lime, and which he supposed had
protected the wire from oxidation.
M. Erdmann, after a very elaborate inquiry into the effects of 1‘jrd*
of magnets as chemical agents, came to the conclusion that
the observed phenomena were due to the influence of other
causes, which had not been sufficiently guarded against.
A curious fact, connected perhaps with the class of phe¬
nomena under our observation, was noticed by M. Lebaillif.
He observed that the poles of a magnetic needle delicately
suspended were repelled by pieces of antimony or bismuth
that were brought near them.
CHAP. YHI.—ON THE LAWS OP THE MAGNETIC FORCES, THE
MUTUAL ACTION OP MAGNETS, AND MAGNETIC CURVES.
Sect. I.—On the Laiv of the Magnetic Force.
In our history of magnetism we have given very full Law of the
details of the various attempts which were made by philo- 10
sophers to determine the law according to which the in¬
tensity of the attractive and repulsive power of magnets
varied with the distance at which these forces were exerted.
Like all other laws, an approach to the discovery ot it had
been made by various philosophers; but the merit of its
perfect establishment undoubtedly belongs to Dr Robison
and Coulomb, the last of whom placed it beyond the leach
of doubt. The difficulties which were to be overcome in this
inquiry arose from the invariable co-existence ot two oppo¬
site polarities in each of the two bodies whose mutual action
was under examination; and this difficulty was increased
from these polarities not being concentrated in particular
points, but diffused in an unequal degree over each half of
the magnet and the needle.
MAGNETISM.
43
Laws of In this delicate inquiry Coulomb employed two methods.
Magnetic Jn the first he suspended a magnetic needle by a silk fibre,
Forces, &c. an(j wpen jj. was in the magnetic meridian, he presented to
it at different distances another magnetic needle, and deter-
Researches mine(j hy observation and calculation the force with which
of Coulomb they acte(j Up0n each other at these distances. A needle
an inch long, weighing 70 grains, and magnetized to satu¬
ration, was suspended by a fibre of silk three lines long, and
a steel-wire magnet 25 inches long was placed vertically in
the magnetic meridian at different distances, so that its south
pole was always ten lines below the northern extremity of
the suspended needle. The needle was now made to oscil¬
late when the magnet was at different distances from it, and
the following were the number of oscillations in 60s, the
number being fifteen when the magnet was removed, and
the needle influenced only by the magnetism of the earth.
Distance of a Wire-Magnet from
the middle of the Needle.
Number of Oscillations
in 60 seconds.
4 inches 41
8 ditto  24
16 ditto  17
By means of the formula for the pendulum, in which the
forces are in the direct ratio of the square of the number of
oscillations performed in the same time, Coulomb has com¬
puted their intensity. As all the forces concerned are in
the plane of the magnetic meridian, the force which pro¬
duces the horizontal oscillations depends on the parts of these
forces which are decomposed in a horizontal direction. Now
Coulomb had demonstrated that the magnetic fluid might
be considered as concentrated at a point 10 lines from the
extremity of the wire-magnet; but as the suspended needle
was 1 inch long, its north pole was attracted at the dis¬
tance of inches, and its south pole at the distance of
inches, so that 4 inches was the mean distance at which, in
the first experiment, the lower pole of the wire-magnet ex¬
erted its action on the two poles of the needle. In the
second experiment the mean distance was 8 inches. But
as the horizontal force which produces the oscillations is the
square of the number performed in 60s, the magnetic force
of the earth will be 152, and the combined forces of the
earth and the wire-magnet will, in the first, second, and third
experiments, be 412, 242, a?nd ] 72, so that the forces which
emanate from the wire-magnet will be 412— 152, 242— 152,
172 — 152, whence we deduce the following results :—
Mean Distance. Force d(.ePen5ing on the Action
of the Wire-magnet.
1st experiment 4 inches 412—152=1456
2d experiment 8 ditto  242 —152z= 351
3d experiment 16 ditto 172 —152= 64
The distances in the first and second experiments being as
one to two, the variation of the force would have been ex¬
actly as the squares of these numbers had the force in the
second experiment been 364 instead of 351 ; and the same
would have been the case had the force in the second and
third experiments been 332 and 83, instead of 351 and 64.
This difference, therefore, requires to be investigated. Cou¬
lomb has accounted for it, and calculated the correction for
these numbers in the following manner. In the experi¬
ments the action of the- superior pole of the wire-magnet
was neglected. The distance of its inferior pole from the
centre of the needle was 16 inches, and the distance of
the superior pole from the centre of the needle is nearly
V'(16’ + 232), so that the force of the former is to that of
the latter nearly as 100 to 19. Hence, as the oscillations
of the needle are produced by the action of those two poles,
which exert their force in opposite directions, the square of
the number of oscillations which the single action of the
inferior pole of the magnet would produce, should be di¬
minished -j^oths by the opposite action of the superior pole ;
so that 64 is only the excess of the real amount of the single
action of the lower part of the magnet over T^ths of the
balance.
number which represents it. The true value will therefore Laws of
be 79. The true intensities of the forces will, at the dis- Magnetic
tances 4, 8, and 16 inches, be 1456, 351, and 79, or nearly 1 orceS) &c/’
in the inverse ratio of the squares of the distances.
M. Coulomb has in like manner demonstrated, that the
repulsive force of similar poles follows the same law of the
distance.
The second method employed by Coulomb requires the Coulomb’s
use of the magnetic balance, which is represented in figs, magnetic
42 and 43, which
is a modification
of the torsion ba¬
lance already de¬
scribed in our ar¬
ticle on Electri¬
city. The sus¬
pending wire ab,
fig. 42, carries at s ^
lower extre-
its
mity a pair of
pincers c, which
holds a stirrup 1,
2, 3, formed of a
plate of very light
copper. In this stirrup is placed a small piece of card co¬
vered with a coat
Eg. 42.
Fig. 43.
of Spanish wax, on
which is impressed
the mark of the
w ire or bar of steel
SN to be used, in
order that it may
always be put in
the same position.
Under the middle
of the stirrup is
fixed a vertical
plane PP, wholly
immersed in a ves¬
sel VV of water,
the resistance of
which may quickly
stop the oscillations of the needle or magnet SN in the
stirrup. When fitted up for the experiments under our
consideration, the apparatus shown in fig. 42 is placed in a
sqpare box AB (see fig. 43), 3 feet wide and 18 inches high.
At the height of 9 inches above the bottom is placed a ho¬
rizontal circle of wood or copper, 2 feet 10 inches in dia¬
meter, and divided into degrees. On this box is placed a
cross piece CD, which supports at its middle point a tube
EF, 30 inches long, and terminating in a torsion microme¬
ter at M. The pincer of this micrometer holds the upper
end of a brass wire, to the other extremity of which is
adapted a ring of copper intended to carry a steel needle.
Before the commencement of the experiment, the box
AB is placed so that the direction of the magnetic meridian
passes through the divisions zero and 18° of the horizontal
circle. The next step is to place in the stirrup a well mag¬
netized steel needle NS, of a rectangular form, and to adjust
the torsion micrometer M, so that the torsion of the wire is
nothing when the needle NS is in the magnetic meridian,
or that the magnetic meridian passes through the zero on
the scale of the torsion micrometer. In the direction of the
magnetic meridian a vertical ruler of wood or copper, 1 or
2 lines thick, is fixed, so that the end of the needle may come
against it when it is in the magnetic meridian.
Coulomb now took two wire magnets 24 inches long and
1 g in diameter, and he placed one of them in the stirrup, as
at NS, and determined the force with which the magnet¬
ism of the earth drew it back into the magnetic meridian.
For this purpose he twisted the suspending wire ab through
44
Laws of two circles or circumferences, minus 20 , till the needle
Magnetic st0pped 20° from the magnetic meridian, so that, consider-
Forces, &c • the forces ag nearly proportional to the arcs (when the
angle is about 20°), about 35° of torsion were necessary to
keep the magnetic needle one degree out of the magnetic
meridian. The two circles of torsion, viinus 20 , are equal
to 2 x 360° -20° = 700°; the degrees of torsion required to
keep the needle 20° out of the magnetic meridian, or 700
of torsion, are a measure of the directive force of the needle
when 20° out of the magnetic meridian. For any other
number of degrees, S, the degree of torsion necessary to
balance the directive force will be 700 because the
directive forces are proportional to the sines of the angles.
* ]qut at 20° the angles may be substituted for the forces,
TOO S
and we shall have —9Q^=:^^ ^ ’ that is, as we stated above,
35° of torsion will balance the directive force of the needle
when one degree out of the magnetic meridian. Coulomb
now placed the other similarly magnetized wire vertically
in the magnetic meridian, so that if the two wires had been
prolonged, they would have met at the distance of ten lines
from their extremities, the point where the magnetism of
each acts as if it were concentrated there. He placed the
similar poles of each opposite to each other, and conse-^
quently the horizontal needle or wire was repelled out of
the magnetic meridian ; and it took a position at which the
force of repulsion of the vertical needle or wire was balanced
by the united forces of torsion and the earth s magnetism,
which tended to bring the horizontal wire to rest. The
following results were obtained after different trials:
M A G N E T I S M.
Circles of Torsion given to
the suspending wire hy the
Torsion Micrometer.
0  
3  
8 
Observed Angles of
Repulsion.
  24
  17
  12
Now, in the first experiment, the angle through which the
horizontal wire was repelled was 24°, reckoning from the
zero of torsion; and when it rested in this position, it was
driven towards the zero by a force of torsion of plus the
directive force of the earth’s magnetism, which being 35°
for every 1°, amounts to 24 x 35 = 840 . The total repul¬
sive force was therefore 840°+ 24° = 864°.
In the second experiment the torsion micrometer was
turned round three circles, in a direction opposite to the 24°
first produced ; but notwithstanding this great torsion, the
horizontal wire-magnet, repelled by the vertical one, re¬
turned only to 17° from the magnetic meridian. The force
of torsion was therefore 3 circles + I7° = 109i : but the
directive force for 17° is 17 x 35° = 595°, hence we have for
the total repulsive force 1097°+ 595° = 1692 .
In the third experiment the torsion micrometer was turned
round eight circles, and the wire magnet stopped at 12 from
the magnetic meridian. The force of torsion was therefore
8 circles +12° = 2892°; but the directive force for 12° is
12 x 35° = 420°, hence we have for the total repulsive force
2892°+ 420° = 3312°.
As the arcs of repulsion are in these experiments so
small, we may safely reckon them equal to their chords, and
we obtain the following results
the magnetic meridian. Such an error is certainly a very Laws of
small one in experiments of this kind, and we therefore Magnetic
conclude that the attractive and repulsive forces of magnets forces, &c-
decrease as the squares of their distances increase. “
Had the experiments been made upon magnetic points,
such an error would not have existed; but they were made
with forces diffused over portions of the wire-magnet of some
extent. In the last experiment (M. Biot remarks) “ when
the two wires were nearest each other, the influence of the
points lying near the intersection was more weakened by
obliquity than in the other experiment; or, in other words,
there were at equal obliquities more points which acted in
the greater distances (24 and 17) than in the smaller one (12).
But as we did not take this augmentation into account, we
ought to find that the repulsive force observed at the smaller
distance, being reduced in the ratio of the square of the dis¬
tance, gives for larger distances repulsive forces a little more
feeble than those which were actually observed.”
In the first method of observation, Coulomb was obliged
to calculate the effect of the distant pole ; but in the present
method this was unnecessary, as the wire magnets were 2
feet long, and the greatest arc of repulsion, viz. 24°, corre¬
sponded to a distance of 5 inches between the repelling
poles. The other poles were therefore at least four times
more distant than those whose repulsive action was calcu¬
lated; their direct action was therefore 16 times weaker,
besides being greatly weakened by the extreme obliquity
with which it acted. Had the wire magnets been shorter,
the action of all the poles might have been taken into con¬
sideration.
Sect. II.—On the Mutual Action of Magnets.
We have already seen, from Professor Barlow’s experi-
ments on spheres and bars of soft iron, that they act upon
needles, whether temporarily or permanently magnetized,
as if their magnetism emanated from the centre of their
surface, or from two points indefinitely near to each other.
This, however, is not the case with permanent magnets,
in which the magnetic force is concentrated in poles con¬
siderably distant from each other.
Case 1. When the needle or a small magnet is placed in
the line joining the poles of the other magnet.—In con¬
sidering the mutual action of magnets, we shall suppose the
larger one NS to be fixed, and the smaller one ns to have
the form of a needle, moveable in a horizontal plane round
the pivot in its centre A,
B, or C. Let the needle
then be placed at A, with
its centre A in the line
SN prolonged, and let us
suppose that the magne¬
tic forces emanate from
Fig. 44.
Distances at which the Repul¬
sive Force is exerted.
12  
17  
24  
Corresponding Repulsive Forces
i Degrees of Torsion.
in Degrees <
  3312°
  1692
  864
Assuming 3312° as correct, the other numbers ought to have
been 1650 and 828 instead of 1692 and 864, if the force
varies inversely as the square of the distance. The differ¬
ences 42° and 36° correspond nearly with a degree of error
in the observed position of the moveable steel wire, since
the directive force is 35° for every degree of deviation from
points N, S ; rc, s, being the analogous poles of the needle.
The north pole N of the magnet attracts the south pole s of
the needle with a force inversely proportional to the square
of Ns, and repels the north pole n with a force inversely
proportional to the square of Nrc. The effect of both of
these forces is to bring s as near as possible to N, and to
remove n as far as possible, that is, to place the needle in
the same straight line as NS, as shown in fig. 44.
Case 2. Let the needle ns be now placed at B, fig. 45,
so that its centre B is anywhere in the direction of a right
line MB perpendicular to the middle M of the magnet. W hen
the centre of the needle is placed above M, it is quite clear
that it will stand with its north pole n towards the south
pole S of the magnet, and its south pole 5 towards the pole
N. When the needle is removed to B, the same thing will
happen; S will attract n with a force equal to nb, while N
repels n with a force nc, a little less than nb, on account of
the increase of distance. 1 he result ot these will be the
MAGNETISM.
Laws of force na, in the diagonal of the parallelogram ncab. In
Magnetic the same manner, the pole N will attract s with a force es
Forces, &c.
Fig. 45.
and the pole S will repel s with a less force fs, the result¬
ant of which is sg; but as the poles S, N are equally
strong, and act at equal distances upon the needle, the re¬
sulting force an must be equal to gs, and the needle will
remain in that position, which is parallel to the axis SN of
the magnet.
Case 3. When the centre of the needle is placed in an
intermediate position, as at C, fig. 45, neither in the axis
NS, nor in the perpendicular MB, it will take an interme¬
diate position, which may be thus found. Its north pole
n is shown in the figure as directed to the centre M of the
magnet; but it cannot remain in this position ; N repels n
with a force equal to nc, and S attracts it with a force nb
smaller than nc, from the greater distance. The resultant
of these is na, which is very different from ns. For the
same reason, the south pole s, repelled by S with a force sf,
and attracted by N with a force se, will have a tendency to
move in the direction sg, nearly equal and opposite to each
other; it will therefore take a position ns, fig. 45, nearly at
right angles to its former position. It will rest therefore in
its new position with its north pole towards N, and its south
pole towards S.
If we project upon paper the magnet and the needle
placed in different positions, and make the forces of each
pole of the magnet on each pole of the needle inversely
proportional to the squares of the distances, it will be easy
to find the position in which the needle will rest at any
distance from the magnet, and at any position of its centre
with regard to the axis of the magnet.
When a needle is exposed to the combined action of two
magnets, as shown in the annexed figure, the phenomena,
though capable of calculation by the principles already ex¬
plained, are extremely perplexing and complicated when
studied experimentally. Dr Robison, who first discovered
and explained these phenomena, has given such an inte¬
resting account of them, that we shall make use of his de-
45
scription of the phenomena, leaving the explanation of them Laws of
to the next section on magnetic curves. Magnetic
“ Two large and strong magnets, A and B, were placed Forces> &c-
with their dissimilar poles fronting each other, and about
three inches apart. A small needle, supported on a point,
was placed between them at D, and. it arranged itself in
the same manner as the great magnets. Happening to set
it off to a good distance on the table, as at F, he was sur¬
prised to see it immediately turn round on its pivot, and
arrange itself nearly in the opposite direction. Bringing it
back to D, restored it to its former position. Carrying it
gradually out along DF, perpendicular to NS, he ob¬
served it to become sensibly more feeble, vibrating more
slowly ; and when in a certain point E, it had no polarity
whatever towards A and B, but retained any position that
was given it. Carrying it farther out, it again acquired po¬
larity to A and B, but in the opposite direction ; for it now
arranged itself in a position that was parallel to NS, but its
north pole was next to N, and its south pole to S.
“ This singular appearance naturally excited his atten¬
tion. The line on which the magnets A and B were placed
had been marked on the table, as also the line DF, perpen¬
dicular to the former. The point E was now marked as
an important one. The experiments were interrupted by
a friend coming in, to whom such things were no entertain¬
ment. Next day, wishing to repeat them to some friends,
the magnets A and B were again laid on the line on which
they had been placed the day before, and the needle was
placed at E, expecting it to be neutral. But it was found to
have a considerable verticity, turning its north pole towards
the magnet B ; and it required to be taken farther out to¬
wards F before it became neutral. While standing there,
something chanced to joggle the magnets A and B, and
they instantly rushed together. At the same instant the
little magnet or needle turned itself briskly, and arranged
itself, as it had done the day before at F, quivering very
briskly, and thus showing great verticity. This naturally sur¬
prised the beholders ; and he now found, that by gradually
withdrawing the magnets A and B from each other, the
needle became weaker, then became neutral, and then
turned round on its pivot, and took the contrary position.
It was very amusing to observe how the simply separating
the magnets A and B, or bringing them together, made
the needle assume such a variety of positions, and degrees
of vivacity in each.
“ The needle was now put in various situations in respect
to the two great magnets, namely, off at a side, and not
in the perpendicular DF. In these situations it took an
inconceivable variety of positions, which could not be re¬
duced to any rule; and in most of them it required only a
motion of one of the great magnets for an inch or two, to
make the needle turn briskly round on its pivot, and assume
a position nearly opposite to what it had before.”
In the preceding observations, the action of the one
magnet tended only to change the direction of the other,
and this change is clearly produced by the sum of the ac¬
tions of the two poles of the magnet; for while the one pole
tends to draw the one half of the needle into its position
of equilibrium, the other pole repels the other half into the
same position. The force, therefore, which thus acts upon
a needle, is called the directive force of a magnet.
The attractive force of a magnet is, on the other hand,
equal to the difference of the two forces exerted by its
poles on the needle; and when the two forces happen to be
equal, the attractive force will be nothing, and the needle
will have no tendency to approach the magnet, though the
directive power of the latter may be very great. This will
be understood from fig. 45, when the needle ns is at right
angles to the axis of the magnet. The attraction of the
pole N for s is equal to its repulsion of n, and these two
forces will neutralize each other, so as to prevent any ten-
46
MAGNETISM.
Laws of dency to approach N, even if the needle ns were free to do
Magnetic Qn hand, in fig. 44, where the needle at C
Forces, &c. hag its south ^ ^ more attracted by N than its north pole
V "~v ^ n is repelled by it, the predominance of the attraction would
carry the needle towards N if it were at liberty. These
views explain the well-known fact, that a needle floated on
a piece of cork quickly places itself in the magnetic meri¬
dian ; but it never will approach the north side of the vessel.
In order to explain this fact, Dr Gilbert asserted that the
directive power of a magnet extended much farther than
its attractive power; a mistake which arose from his not
having observed the effects of the simultaneous action of
the four poles of the magnets which acted upon each other.
Magnetic
curves.
BF: FA, and BC - AD : AD = AB : AF, we have AF = Laws of
AB X AC3 Magnetic
 . Forces, &c.
BC3 - AC3
“ 3. A fluxionary expression for AF may also be found
in terms of the angles CAB, ABC. In CF take the inde¬
finitely small part CH; draw AH, BH, and from C draw
CL perpendicular to AH, and CK to BH ; draw also
BG and AM at right angles to FH. Let the angles CAB
= and CBA = i/r, then CAH = and CBH = -
also CL = AC x <£, and CK = - BC x i/r. Now HC
A P2 x
: CL = AC : AM =—hc 5 and f°r the Same reaS°n
Sect. III.— On Magnetic Curves.
The name of magnetic curves has been given to those
curves into which an infinite number of very minute needles
would arrange themselves when placed round a magnet,
and at liberty to move round an axis. A rude idea of these
curves is given by the appearance of iron filings when
scattered upon a sheet of paper, and agitated immediately
above a magnet.
The action of a magnet upon a needle is greatly simpli¬
fied when the needle is so small that its two poles may be
considered as coincident; in which case the difference be¬
tween the action of any one pole of a magnet upon them
will be infinitely small. When this is the case, the direc¬
tive force of the magnet upon the small needle must be
very considerable, while the attractive force, measured by
the difference of the action on the two poles, is nothing.
Hence it is that alone which is concerned in the arrange¬
ment of minute needles or particles subjected to the action
of a magnet.
An investigation of the force of the magnetic curves was
made by Professor Playfair, at the request of Professor
Robison. Professor Leslie afterwards undertook the same
investigation j1 and Dr Roget2 more recently gave a more
simple demonstration of the two fundamental propositions
respecting them, and described an instrument which he
invented for the mechanical description of these curves.
Playfair’s investigation, which is sufficiently simple, is as
follows; the only change which we have made upon it be¬
ing the substitution of the second power of the distance for
the mth power as used by him.
Prop. Two magnetical poles being given in position, the
force of each of which is inversely as the square of the
distance from it, it is required to find a curve, in any point
of which a needle (indefinitely short) being placed, its di¬
rection, when at rest, may be a tangent to the curve.
“ 1. Let A and B be
the poles of a magnet,
C any point in the curve
required; then we may
suppose the one of these
poles to act on the
needle only by repul¬
sion, and the other only
by attraction, and the
direction of the needle 47*
when at rest will be the diagonal of a parallelogram the
sides of which represent these forces. Therefore, having
joined AC and BC, let AD be drawn parallel to BC, and
make =AC : AD ; join CD, then CDF will
touch the curve in C.
“ 2. Hence an expression for AF may be obtained; for,
AC3
by the construction, AD = and since BC : AD =
BG= -
Therefore, since AF : FB = AM
HC
AC2 X <^> BC2 X l/r
: BG, we have AF : FB = —HC~^ : HC-^’ and
AF : AB = sin ^2 <£>: - sin - sin <£fy; where-
. „ — er <f> sin \j/2
fore, if AB = a, AF =   —-j—.
if/ sin p2 + (/> sin if/
“ 4. If this value of AF be put equal to that already
found, a fluxionary equation will be obtained, by the inte¬
gration of which the curve may be constructed. Because
AB x AC3 „ a s\nif/ and
AF =
BC3 - AC3’
and since AC =
AF =
sin (<f> + >//)
BC— g sin we have by substitution
sin(<£ + if/)
a sin if/3   a sin if/2
sin </>3 - sin if/3 ^ s[n ft + $ sin ft'
Hence sin ft x ij/ sin ft + </> sin ft = — sin ft x sin ft
+ <p sin ft, and therefore sin ^ + <p sin <p = 0, and cos <p
-j-cos if/= C.
“ 5. Hence, if, besides the points A and B, any other point
Fig. 48.
be given in the curve, the whole may be described. For
instance, let the point E be given in the curve, and in the
line DE which bisects AB at right angles. Describe from
the centre A a circle through E, viz. QER; then AD be-
1 Geometrical Analysis*
2 Journal of the Royal Institution of Great Britain, vol. i., p. 311. Feb. 1831.
MAGNETISM.
47
Laws of ing the cosine of DAE to the radius AE, the sum of the
Magnetic cosines of cp x if/ will be everywhere (to the same radius)
Forces, &c. _ 2 AD = AB. Therefore, to find E', the point in which
any other line AN, making a given angle with AB, meets
the curve, draw from N, the point in which it meets the
circumference of the circle QER, NO perpendicular to
AB, so that AO may be the cosine of NAO, and from O
toward A take OP = AB, then AP will be the cosine of
the angle ABE'; so, to find BE', draw PQ perpendicular
to AP, meeting the circle in Q; join AQ and draw BE'
parallel to AQ, meeting AE' in E'; the point E' is in the
curve. In this way the other points of the curve may be
found.
“ The curve will pass through B, and will cut AB at an
angle of which the cosine = RB. If then E be such that
AE = AB, the curve will cut AB at right angles. If E"
be more remote from A, the curve will make with AB an
obtuse angle toward D; in other cases it will make with it
an acute angle.
“ A construction somewhat more expeditious may be
had by describing the semicircle AFB, cutting AE in F,
and AE' in N, and describing a circle round A with the
distance AL = 2 AF, cutting AE' in b. If BG be applied
in the semicircle AFB = N6, BG must cut AN in a point
E' of the curve, because AN + BG = 2 AF, and AN and
GB are cosines of the angles at A and B.
“As the lines AN and BG may be applied either above
or below AB, there is another situation of their intersec¬
tion E'. Thus An being applied above, and Bg below, the
intersection is in e. The curve has a branch extending
below A; and if De be made = DE, and Be be drawn, it
will be an asymptote to this branch. There is a similar
branch below B. But these portions of the curve evi¬
dently suppose an opposite direction of one of the two
magnetic forces, and therefore have no connection with the
position of the needle.”1
The general form of the magnetic curves is shown in
fig. 49, where they are seen
converging to the two poles
N, S of the magnet NS, and
changing their form with
their distance from the mag¬
net.
We have already stated
that iron filings, arranged by
the action of a powerful
magnet, afford the finest ex¬
perimental illustration of the
magnetic curves. The best
way to do this is to stretch
a sheet of paper tightly over
a wooden frame, and place
it horizontally immediately
above a powerful bar magnet lying on the table. Fine iron
filings are now to be shaken through a gauze bag upon the
surface of the paper. When the filings are thrown into a
state of agitation by gently tapping upon the paper frame,
they will dispose themselves into regular lines, stretching
from one pole of the magnet to the other, and following the
course of the magnetic curves, and exhibiting them beauti¬
fully to the eye. This effect is shown in the annexed
figure 50, where N, S are the m „
poles of the magnet NS, mn ■■ i 
being the mean line where no “
filings adhere. The same ar¬
rangement is also produced when Fig-50-
the magnet is held above the paper containing the filings.
In the case of induced magnetism, the steel filings ar¬
range themselves in curves round the iron on which the Laws of
magnetism is induced, as shown in fig. 51, where the Magnetic
Forces, &c«
Fig. 52.
small bar of iron is in contact with the north pole N of a
magnet, mn being the mean line which separates the two
opposite actions of the little iron bar. When the little bar
of iron is placed at a distance from the magnet N, as in
fig. 52, the filings arrange themselves as in that figure, mn
being the mean line as before.
Dr Roget gives the following interesting account of the
phenomena which take place by continuing to agitate the
filings when they are arranged, as in fig. 53:—
“ By continuing to tap upon the paper,” says he, “ the
filings arrange themselves still more visibly into sepa¬
rate lines; but here a curious and perhaps unlooked-for
phenomenon presents itself. The lines gradually move and
recede from the magnet, appearing as if they were repelled
instead of attracted, as theory would lead us to expect.
This arises from the circumstance, that each particle of
iron, or cluster of particles, is thrown up into the air by
the shaking of the paper, and, while unsupported, imme¬
diately turns on its centre, and acquires a position more or
less oblique to the plane of the paper. This is shown in
fig. 53, in which M
represents a section p|
\ \ 1 / /V^
of the magnet, PP a
section of the paper,
and ff the position
of the filaments of iron thrown up into the air. The end of
each filament nearest to the magnet is thus turned a little
downwards, and the filament falls upon the paper at a point
a little more distant than that which it before occupied;
and thus, step by step, it moves farther and farther from the
magnet, till it reaches the edge of the paper, and falls off.
“ When the magnet, instead of being beneath the paper,
is held above it, the effect is just the reverse. In this
latter case, the lower ends of the filaments having a ten¬
dency to turn towards the magnet, the filings gradually
collect under it, when made to dance by the vibrations
of the paper, instead of falling outwards as they did be¬
fore. This will
be seen from fig.
54, where the let¬
ters have the same
indications as in p
fig. 53 ”2
A different set of magnetic curves is produced when
two similar poles, for example, two north poles, as shown
in fig. 55, are placed near each other. These curves are
called divergent curves, and may be exhibited by iron filings
like the convergent ones.
Dr Roget has given the following expeditious method
of delineating a great number or magnetic curves, related
to the same distance between two magnetic poles. He de¬
scribes from each pole N, S, fig. 56, as centres, the equal
circles or semicircles A A, BB, with as large a radius as
the paper will allow; and dividing the axis produced till
Fig. 54.
1 Robison’s Mechanical Philosophy, vol. iv., p. 350-3.
Library of Useful Knowledge, art. Magnetism, p. 21.
Laws of it meets both circles, he marks off, on the circumferences
Magnetic 0f both circles, the
lorces, &c. . ^
v j points where they
are cut by per¬
pendiculars from
these points of di¬
vision ; then draw¬
ing radii from the
centre of each cir¬
cle to the divi¬
sions of the re¬
spective circum¬
ferences, the mu- N
tual intersections :Fis-55-
of these radii will give different sets of points indicat¬
ing the form of the magnetic curves which pass through
them. These curves are, in the present case, composed
of a succession of diagonals of the lozenge-shaped inter¬
stices formed by the intersecting radii, as shown from con¬
vergent curves in the upper half of the figure. In the case
of divergent curves in fig. 55, we must take the other
diagonals of the lozenge-shaped intervals between the
intersecting radii; that is, the diagonals which cross those
constituting the convergent curves. This is shown in the
lower half of the figure.
The curves which are formed when the north and south
poles of two magnets are placed near each other, as in fig. 56,
enable us to explain the phenomena discovered by Dr
Robison, and described in the preceding section. Ihe
following is the explanation given by that eminent philoso¬
pher. (See fig. 46.)
“ Let NHM, NEL, be two magnetic curves, belonging
to A ; that is, such that the needle arranges itself along the
tangent of the curve. Then the magnet B has two curves
SGK, SEI, perfectly equal, and similar to the other two.
Let the curves NHM and SGK intersect in C and F.
Let the curves NEL and SEI touch each other in E.
“ The needle being placed at C, would arrange itself in
the tangent of the curve KGS, by the action of B alone,
having its north pole turned towards the south pole S of B.
But, by the action of A alone, it would be a tangent to the
curve NHM, having its north pole turned away from N.
Therefore, by the combined action of both magnets, it will
take neither of these positions, but an intermediate one,
nearly bisecting the angle formed by the two curves, hav¬
ing its north pole turned toward B.
“ But remove the needle to F. Then, by the action of
the magnet A, it would be a tangent to the curve FM,
having its north pole toward M. By the action of B, it Laws of
would be a tangent to the curve KFG, having its north pole Magnetic
in the angle MFG, or turned toward A. By their joint Forces’ &c;
action, it takes a position nearly bisecting the angle GFM,
with its north pole toward A. Let the needle be placed in
E. Then, by the action of the magnet A, it would be a
tangent to the curve NEL, with its north pole pointing to F.
But, by the action of B, it will be a tangent to SEI, with
its north pole pointing to D. These actions being supposed
equal and opposite, it will have no verticity, or will be neu¬
tral, and retain any position that is given to it.
“The curve SEI intersects the curve NHM in P and
Q. The same reasoning shows that when the needle is
placed at P, it will arrange itself with its north pole in the
angle SPH; but, when taken to Q, it will stand with its
north pole in the angle EQM.
“ From these facts and reasonings we must infer, that,
for every distance of the magnets A and B, there will be a
series of curves, to which the indefinitely short needle will
always be a tangent.
“ They will rise from the adjoining poles on both sides,
crossing diagonally the lozenges formed by the primary or
simple curves, as in fig. 46. These may be called compound
or secondary magnetic curves. Moreover, these secondary
curves will be of two kinds, according as they pass through
the first or second intersections of the primary curves, and
the needle will have opposite positions when placed on them.
These two sets of curves will be separated by a curve
GEH, in the circumference of which the needle will be
neutral. This curve passes through the points where the
primary curves touch each other. We may call this ihe
line of neutrality, or inactivity.
“We now see distinctly the effect of bringing the mag¬
nets A and B nearer together, or separating them farther
from each other. By bringing them nearer to each other,
the point E, which is now a point of neutrality, may be
found in the second intersection (such as F) of two magne¬
tic curves, and the needle will take a sub-contrary position.
By drawing them farther from each other, E may Wfe in the
first intersection of two magnetic curves, and the needle
will take a position similar to that of C.
“ If the magnets A and B are not placed so as to form a
straight line with their four poles, but have their axes
making an angle wdth each other, the contacts and intersec¬
tions of their attending curves may be very different from
those now represented; and the positions of the needle will
differ accordingly. But it is plain from what has been said,
that if we knew the law of action, and consequently the
form of the primary curves, we should always be able to
say what will be the position of the needle. Indeed, the
consideration of the simple curves, although it was the
means of suggesting to the writer of this article the expla¬
nation of those more complicated phenomena, is by no
means necessary for this purpose. Having the law of mag¬
netic action, we must know each of the eight forces by
which the needle is affected, both in respect of direction
and intensity; and are therefore able to ascertain the single
force arising from their composition.
“ When the similar poles of A and B are opposed to
each other, it is easy to see that the position of the needle
must be extremely different from what we have been de¬
scribing. When placed anywhere in the line DF, between
two magnets, whose north poles front each other in N and
S, its north pole wdll always point away from the middle
point D. There will be no neutral point E. If the needle
be placed at P or Q, its north pole will be within the angle
EPH, or FQI. This position of the magnets gives ano¬
ther set of secondary curves, wdiich also cross the primary
curves passing diagonally through the lozenges formed by
their intersection. But it is the other diagonal of each
lozenge which is a chord to those secondary curves. They
MAGNETISM.
49
Terrestrial will therefore have a form totally different from the former
Magnet- species.”
ism.
CHAP. IX.—ON TERRESTRIAL MAGNETISM.
We have already seen, in preceding chapters, that a mag¬
netic bar or needle, when either suspended by a thread, or
at liberty to move freely upon a pivot, will, when all other
magnetic bodies are entirely removed from it, settle in a
fixed position, which, in this country, is about 25° to the W.
of N.; this deviation of the needle from the N. is called
its variation or declination. The very same thing will take
place if a magnet or magnetized needle is placed on a piece
of cork, and made to float on any fluid surface. The mag¬
netic force by which the magnetic needle is thus made to
take a fixed direction, and to return to it when it is pushed
aside from that direction, has been naturally supposed to
reside in the earth, and hence it has been called terrestrial
magnetism.
But not only is a magnetized body directed in this man¬
ner by some unseen power; an unmagnetized body, such
as a piece of iron, may be rendered permanently magnetic
by the same power. This phenomenon is said to have been
first observed in the vertical rod of the weather-cock of the
church of the Augustines at Mantua, though others have
ascribed the discovery of the fact to Gassendi. This rod
had become magnetized by the continued action of the in¬
visible power of which we speak. In later times it has
been observed, that a bar of soft iron is, by the influence of
the same power, converted into a temporary magnet, with a
N. and S. pole, when it is placed in the direction which a
magnetic needle assumes, and is inclined to the horizon.
If, in place of suspending the needle, or making it move
horizontally on a pivot, we take an unmagnetized needle,
and balance it upon a horizontal axis, then it will of course
lie horizontally; but if we magnetize the needle, we shall
find that it no longer remains horizontal, but takes an in¬
clined position, or dips, as it is called; the dip, or the incli¬
nation downwards from a horizontal line, being about 70°
in this country.
If we now take a magnetic needle, and suspend it by a
silk fibre, we shall find that when it is pushed out of its
position of rest, it will perform a certain number of oscilla¬
tions in a given time before it again takes a fixed position.
When this observation is made in different latitudes, it is
found that the needle is brought to rest sooner in some places
than in others ; which proves that the intensity or strength
of the magnetic force which directs the needle to the N.
varies in different latitudes. Hence we have to consider
three important classes of phenomena in reference to ter¬
restrial magnetism.
1. The variation or declination of the needle, and its
laws.
2. The dip or inclination of the needle.
3. The intensity of terrestrial magnetism; of which we
shall treat as perspicuously and fully as the nature of the
subject and our confined limits will permit.
Sect. I.—On the Variation or Declination of the Needle.
Variation
of the
needle.
A general account of the phenomena of the variation of
the needle has been given in the order of their discovery
in the historical part of this article. We shall now pro¬
ceed to give a more minute account of them.
Measures of the variation of the needle have been taken
by navigators and travellers in every part of the globe.
Setting aside the inaccuracies common to them all, arising
from the imperfect instruments which were in many cases
employed, the observations made on shipboard were par¬
ticularly liable to error, owing to the action which the iron
on board exercised upon the compass.
VOL. XIV.
The first person who attempted to collect and generalize Terrestrial
the immense number of observations which had been made Magnet¬
on the variation of the needle was Dr Halley, who pub- ism‘
lished them in a sea-chart in 1700, in which he traced lines
through all the parts of the globe where the variation was Halley.
0°, 5°, 10°, &c. These lines, which have since been called
Halleyan lines or curves, excited great interest, and had
the advantage of giving, at one glance, an ocular picture
of the phenomena in every part of the world. As this
Variation Chart, however, soon became old, from the rapid
changes in the variation, as well as from confused methods
of observation, Messrs Mountain and Dodson collected,
from the records of the Admiralty, and from the papers of
various naval officers, about 50,000, which they laid down
in variation charts for 1745 and 1756.
The next step in the generalization of the phenomena Church-
of variation was made by Mr Churchman, who published man.
in 1794 a programme of a Magnetic Atlas. He refers
his variation lines to two poles, one of which he places, for
the year 1800, in Lat. 58° N., and Long. 134° W. of
Greenwich, very near Cape Fairweather ; while the other
pole is in Lat. 58° S., and Long. 165° E. of Greenwich.
He supposes the northern pole to revolve in 1096 years,
and the southern one in 2289 years.
It is to Professor Hansteen, however, that we are in- Hansteen.
debted for the most satisfactory collection of observations
on the variation of the needle, and for the most philoso¬
phical generalization of them. In the Magnetic Atlas
which accompanies his work on the magnetism of the
earth, he has published a variation chart for 1787, in which His varia-
the irregularities and inflexions of the curves, and their tion chart,
total want of symmetry, prove how irregular are the causes
on which terrestrial magnetism depends. In this chart
the western line of no variation, or that which passes
through all the places on the globe where the needle points
to the true N., begins in Lat. 60°, to the W. of Hudson’s
Bay, proceeds in a S.E. direction through the North Ameri¬
can lakes, passes the Antilles and Cape St Roque, till it
reaches the South Atlantic Ocean, where it cuts the meri¬
dian of Greenwich in about 65° of S. Lat. This line of
no variation is extremely regular, being almost straight till
it bends round the eastern part of South America, a little
S. of the equator. The eastern line of no variation is ex¬
ceedingly irregular, being full of loops and inflexions of
the most extraordinary kind, indicating the action of local
magnetic forces. It begins in Lat. 60° S., below New
Holland, crosses that island through its centre, extends
through the Indian Archipelago with a double sinuosity, so
as to cross the equator three times, first passing N. of it to
the E. of Borneo, then returning to it and passing S. be¬
tween Sumatra and Borneo, and then crossing it again
beneath Ceylon, from which it passes to the E. through the
Yellow Sea. It then stretches along the coast of China,
making a semicircular sweep to the W., till it reaches the
Lat. of 71°, where it descends again to the S., and returns
northwards with a great semicircular bend, which terminates
in the White Sea. These lines of no variation are accom¬
panied through all their windings by other lines where the
variation is 5°, 10°, 15°, &c.; these last lines becoming more
irregular as they recede from those of no variation. In
the South Pacific Ocean, and the equatorial part of the
North Pacific, they are so little dependent on the lines of
no variation, that they form returning curves of an elon¬
gated oval form, the curves of 2°, 3°, 4°, 5°, 6°, and 7°,
crossing the equator and the tropic of Capricorn twice, so
that, in the centre or axis of the ovals which these lines
form, there should be a fragment of a line of no varia¬
tion.
The great changes which had taken place in the varia- Barlow,
tion since 1787, and the number of new observations which
had been made in every part of the world, induced Pro-
G
50
MAGNETISM.
Terrestrial
Magnet¬
ism.
Four mag¬
netic poles
of Han-
steen.
fessor Barlow, in 1833, to
In the charts both of Hansteen and Barlow the variation
lines exhibit a convergency at their extremities f and Han¬
steen considers it proved that there axe four points of con¬
vergency, two in each hemisphere, a weaker and a stronger,
on opposite sides of the poles of revolution. These four
points he considers as the four mognetic poles of the globe;
and, by comparing observations which have been made at
different times, he concludes that they have a regular motion
round the globe, the two northern ones from W. to E., in
construct a new variation an oblique direction, and the two southern ones from E Terrestrial
to W., also obliquely. The following are the periods of Magnet-
their revolution, as calculated from the best observations „ 1£™*
previous to 1817, when his work was published :— S*V*'/
The strongest north pole in 1740 years.
The strongest south pole in 4609 years.
The weakest north pole in 860 years.
The weakest south pole in 1304 years.
Upon these data he computed the following table, showing
the position of these poles from 1800 to 1850 :—
Years.
Strongest North
Pole.
Strongest South
Pole.
Weakest North
Pole.
Weakest South
Pole.
1800
1810
1820
1830
1840
1850
West
Longitude.
93° 33'
91 28
89 24
87 19
85 15
83 10
North
Latitude.
69° 53'
69 45
69 38
69 30
69 22
69 14
East
Longitude.
134° 8'
133 21
132 35
131 47
131 1
130 14
South
Latitude.
East
Longitude.
69° 7'
68 59
68 52
68 44
68 37
68 29
131° 43'
135 54
140 6
144 17
148 28
152 40
North
Latitude.
West
Longitude.
85°25'
85 18
85 12
85 6
85 0
85 0
130° 28'
133 14
135 59
137 45
140 31
143 16
South
Latitude.
77° 50'
78 3
78 16
78 29
78 41
78 54
Hansteen remarks, that the four periods above men¬
tioned, viz., 860, 1304, 1740, and 4609, become, by a slight
alteration, 864, 1246, 1728, and 4320 ; and he adds, rather
fancifully for a matter of science, that these numbers are
equal to 2 x 432, 3 x 432, 4 x 432, and 10 x 432, and that
the number 432 is one of the most important among the
sacred numbers of the Indians, Babylonians, Greeks, and
Egyptians, which are said to depend on certain combinations
of natural events. According to the mythology of the
Brahmins, the duration of the world is divided into four
periods; the first of which is 432,000 years; the second,
2 x'432,000; the third, and so in all (1 +2 + 3 + 4) =
10 x 432,000. Hansteen also considers it worthy of re¬
mark, that the sun’s mean distance from the earth is 216
(the half of 432) radii of the sun, the moon’s mean distance
216 radii of the moon, and, what he says is still more strik¬
ing, 60 x 432 = 25920, the smallest number divisible at once
by all the four periods ; and hence, he adds, the shortest
line in which all the four poles can accomplish a cycle, and
return to the same state as at present, coincides exactly with
the period in which the precession of the equinoxes will
amount to a complete circle, reckoning the precession at a
degree in 72 years.
Hansteen considers the four poles as originating in two
magnetic axes, the two strongest being the termination of
one axis, and the two weakest, of the other; and he con¬
ceives that they may have been produced either along
with the earth itself, or at a later epoch. According to
the first supposition, it is not easy to account for their
change of position; but according to the last, they must
have originated either from the earth alone, or from some
external cause. If they originated in the earth, their
change of position is still unsusceptible of explanation ; and
hence Hansteen conceives that they have their origin from
the action of the sun heating and illuminating the earth,
and producing a magnetic tension, as it produces electrical
phenomena.
After the publication of Professor Hansteen’s work, the
valuable observations made during the British voyages of
discovery in the arctic regions were given to the world;
and by availing himself of these, and obtaining access to
others unpublished in the marine chart office at the Ad¬
miralty, the Norwegian philosopher obtained more accurate
determinations both of the positions and periods of revo¬
lution of the magnetic pole. The following is a brief ab¬
stract of his calculations :—
1. Strongest North Pole.—In 1813 the observations made
on board H.M.S. Brazen, in Hudson’s Bay, give 67° 10'
for the latitude of the strongest north magnetic pole, and
92° 24' for its west longitude. Hence, by comparing this
with previous determinations, we have—
Latitude of West Longitude
Pole. of Pole.
1730 70° 45' 108° 6'
1769 70 17 100 2
1813 67 10 92 24
From these data we obtain the motion of the pole to
the E.
„ . v   Change of Place Annual
Epochs. \ears. jn Longitude. Motion.
From 1730 to 1769  39 8° 4' 12' 44"
1769 to 1813 44 7 38 10 41
From which we obtain—
Mean annual motion of the pole 11’ 4"-25
Period of complete revolution 1890 years.
In August 1819, Captain Parry was to the N. of this
pole, and found the dip to be 88° 37’, and on the 11th Sep¬
tember he was three degrees W. of the pole. Hence, as
his latitude was then 74° 27', the latitude of the pole must
have been about 71° 27'.
According to the more recent observations of Com¬
mander Ross, this pole, upon which he erected a flag, is
situate in north latitude 70° 5' 17", and west longitude 96
45' 48", which coincides strikingly with Hansteen’s result.
According to the survey of Lieut.-Col. Lefroy in 1843
and 1844, this pole was situate in north latitude 52 19,
and west longitude 92°. Its force was 1*88 in the arbi¬
trary, and 14*2 in the absolute scale. Hence the attractive
forces at the strongest and weakest north poles are as 14'2
to 13'3, or nearly as 107 to 100.
2. Strongest South Pole.—By combining the observations
of Cook in 1773 and 1777, with those of Furneaux in 1773,
and comparing these with 1 asman’s observations in 1642,
Hansteen has found the following position of it:
1 See Philosophical Transactions, 1833, pp. 667-675, and plates xvii. and xviii.
2 Professor Barlow remarks that the very spot where Sir James Ross found the needle perpendicular, et that is, the pole itself,, is pre¬
cisely that point in my glohe and chart in which, by supposing all the lines to meet, the several curves would best preserve their unity
of character, both separately and conjointly, as a system.”
Terrestrial
Magnet¬
ism.
MAGNETISM.
51
Motion in
131 Years.
1642, N. Lat. 71° 5'; E. Long. 146° 57' \ ,
1773, N. Lat. 69° 26' 5"; E. Long. 136° 15' 4" J 14
Hence the real motion of this pole in 131 years is 10° 14'
or 4'-67 annually, and its period of complete revolution will
be 4605 years.
3. Weakest North Pole.—By comparing observations
made in 1770 and 1805, at Tobolsk, Tara, and Udinsk, in
Siberia, Professor Hansteen found—
1770
1805
North
Latitude.
.85° 46'
.85 21£
East
Longitude.
91° 29'30"
116 19
Motion in
35 Years.
14° 35'
Annual
Motion.
35'T28
Hence this pole completes its revolution from E. to W.
in 860 years. By the observations of Hansteen in 1828-9
this pole is in east longitude 120°, its force in the arbitrary
scale P76, and in the absolute scale 13*3.
4. Weakest South Pole.—By comparing observations
made by Cook and Furneaux in 1774, with those recorded
by Halley as made in 1670, Hansteen obtained the follow-
in results:—
1670
1774
South
Latitude.
..64° 7'
..77 17
West
Longitude.
94° 33£'
123 17
}
Motion in
104 Years.
28° 43J'
Annual
Motion.
16'-57
Hence this pole completes its revolution from E. to W.
in 1303 years.
The Rev. Mr Grover has recently endeavoured to show
“ that the movement of the magnetic pole governing Europe
is capable of recognition, and that it possesses an orbitual
character, the general features of which can be distinctly
traced.” The form of the magnetic orbit which he has
deduced from a careful examination of authentic observa¬
tions made at London, Paris, and St Petersburg, is shown
in the annexed figure, where N is the true north pole, in
the middle of a section of the northern hemisphere, and the
irregular elliptical curve the path of the pole, so far as hitherto
observed. The place of the pole at different times between
1580 and 1846 are marked on the curve. The isodynamic
poles, or those to which the lines of equal magnetic intensity
converge, as shown in fig. 62, are marked by the letters A
and S. In the course of his investigation, Mr Grover has
noticed a certain acceleration and retardation of the motion,
and the opposite bias of the two isodynamic hemispheres,
and deduces some curious facts explanatory of the ovals,
loops, and singular curvatures of the magnetic lines. Mr
Grover regards the ovals as produced temporarily from the
peculiar position of the moving magnetic pole in relation
to the isodynamic poles A and S, by which a bias is given
to the needles of a whole district.
Professor Barlow endeavoured to deduce the position
of the magnetic pole, upon the supposition that the mag¬
netic phenomena of the earth are analogous to those ex¬
hibited by a simple iron ball. The tangent of the dip
being equal to double the tangent of the magnetic latitude,
Mr Barlow supposes tt to be the magnetic pole, N, S the
terrestrial poles, and L a known place where the dip and Terrestrial
variation have been well ascertained. Then by the clip we Magnet-
obtain the magnetic latitude dL; NL being the terrestrial ism'
latitude, and NLtt the variation.
Hence, in the spherical triangle
NLtt, we have two sides and
the contained angle to find the
side Ntt the terrestrial latitude
of the magnetic poles, and ttNL
the longitude of the same pole,
in reference to the meridian
NL.
In making this computation,
Mr Barlow selected a certain
number of the best observations
on the dip and variation of the
needle, made in different parts
tained the following results :—
Fig. 58.
of the world, and he ob-
Place of
Observation.
Tristan d’Acunha.
Trinidad  
St J ago 
Teneriffe  
Madeira 
Madrid 
Paris 
London  
Berlin 
Copenhagen  
Davis’ Straits  
Regent’s Inlet 
Baffin’s Bay  
Possession Bay 
Melville Island 
Date.
1821
1821
1820
1820
1820
1799
1814
1818
1805
1813
1820
1820
1820
1820
1820
Dip.
37053'S.
10 27 N.
48 ON.
58 22 N.
63 47 N.
67 41 N.
68 36 N.
70 34 N.
69 53 N.
71 26 N.
83 43 N.
88 26 N.
84 30 N.
86 4 N.
88 43 N.
Variation
12° 0'W.
5 0 W.
15 55 W.
20 47 W.
23 7 W.
19 59 W.
22 34 W.
24 30 W.
18 2 W.
18 22 W.
60 20 W.
118 16 W.
82 2 W.
108 46 W,
127 46 E.
Computed Place of
Magnetic Pole.
N. Lat.
70° 56'
73 59
69 37
69 49
68 4
72 47
75 31
75 2
79 2
79 43
67 37
71 10
71 13
69 40
73 12
W. Lon g.
49° 33'
47 20
67 4
69 14
65 26
50 33
67 4
67 41
70 44
67 38
94 26
98 16
97 3
99 10
.102 46
Among these results there is a discrepancy of no less
than 55° in longitude, and 10° in latitude; and hence Mr
Barlow concluded that every place has its particular polar¬
izing axis, which probably in all cases falls within the frigid
zones, varying within these limits through all possible de¬
grees of latitude and longitude.
These aberrations Mr Barlow ascribed to local inequalities
in the distribution of the ferruginous parts of the terrestrial
sphere.
In the last edition of this work we published extensive
tables of the variation from observations collected by Han¬
steen, and communicated to us by himself. Although these
tables must always be valuable, as containing important
facts in terrestrial magnetism, yet so many new measures
have been taken of the variation of the needle in all parts of
the world, that a complete table of the latest results would
be quite unsuited to a work like this.
General Sabine recently collected all the best observa-
vations, and published them graphically in his interesting
Map of the Lines of Equal Declination for the Epoch
of 1840.
On the progressive Changes in the Variation of the Needle.
\\ e have already seen that the variation of the needle Change in
experiences a progressive change in every part of the globe.varia-
I he following table shows very satisfactorily the change ^on*
which has taken place in London:—
Table of the Variation at London from 1576 to 1831.
Years. Observers. Variations.
15' easterly.
17 maximum.
12
5
0 no variation.
157b Norman 11°
1580 Burroughs 11
1622 Gunter  6
1634 Gellibrand  4
1657 l
1662 I     0
52
Terrestrial
Magnet*
ism.
MAGNETISM.
Yeara.
1666.
1670.
1672.
1700.
1720.
1740.
1760.
1774.
1778..
1790.
1800.
1806.
1813.
1815 .
1816.
1820.
1823.
1831.
Observers. Variations.
  0 34 westerly.
 2 e
  2 30
   9 40
 13 0
 16 10
 19 30
 22° 20'
.Phil. Trans 22 11
 23 39
 24 36
..Phil. Trans 24 8
.CoLBeaufoy 24 20 17"
Ditto 24 27 18 maximum,
 24 17 9
 24 11 7
  24 9 40
 24 0 0
The following table shows the progressive change in the
variation of the needle at Paris:—
its N. pole more towards the E. But when the weak S. Terrestrial
pole receded from the Cape, and the strong one approached Magnet¬
ic the S. pole of the needle turned more and more towards ism- y
the strong pole, and its declination became consequently Vs—
more westerly.
Mr Barlow has therefore given the following rule for
calculating the variation of the needle, on the supposition
that the magnetic pole which governs the needle in London
was in 1818 in N. Lat. 75° 2’, and W. Long. 67° 41', and
that its motion was uniform at the rate of 4° 14 in ten years,^
the variation being 0°, or the pole being in the meridian ot
London, in 1660.
Rule.—To the co-tangent of half the angle ttNL (see the
last figure), add the constant log. l-65642; find the angle
of which the sum is the tangent, and call it arc (A). To
the same co-tangent add the log. 0’03987, and find the arc
of which the sum is the tangent, and call it arc (B).
Then B —A w ill be the variation or the angle ttLN.
The following comparison of the variations thus computed
with actual observation is very interesting:—
Table of the Variation at Paris from 1541 to 1829.
Years. Variations.
1683  3° 50' westerly.
Years. Variations.
1541  7° O' easterly.
1550  8 0
1580 11 30 maximum.
1603  8 45 ...
1618  8 0 ...
1630  4 30 ...
1640  3 0 ...
1659  2 0 ...
1664  0 40 ...
1669   0 0 no variation.
1667  0 15 westerly.
1670   1 30 ...
1680  2 40
1700  7 40
1750 17 15
1767 19 16
1780 20 35
1785 22 0
1800 22 12
1807 22 34
1814 22 54
1819 22 29
1824 22 23
1829 22 12,5 Arago.
The following table shows the progressive change in the
variation in the southern hemisphere since the time of Vasco
de Gama:—
Table of the Variation at the Cape of Good Hope.
Variations.
.16° 271 westerly.
.19 0
.19 30
.21 14
.25 40 maximum.
.25 4
Professor Hansteen has explained these progressive
changes in the variation of the needle by the motion of the
four magnetic poles. 4 aking the variations at 1 aris for
the northern hemisphere, he remarks that in 1580 the weak
N. pole in Siberia was about 40° E. of Greenwich, or to
the N. of the White Sea; while the strong American pole
was about 136° W. of Greenwich, or 36° E. of Behring’s
Straits. The W. pole, therefore, lay nearer Europe than
now, and the strong one more remote. Hence the action
of the former predominated, and drew the needle eastward.
But the weak pole now withdrew itself towards the Sibe¬
rian Ocean, from Europe, and the strong one approached
it. The action of the latter therefore predominated, and
the needle turned westward till 1814, in which year it
reached its greatest declination, and commenced its east¬
erly course.
The explanation is equally satisfactory in reference to
the southern hemisphere, and the variation at the Cape.
In 1605 the weak S. pole was 76£° W. of Greenwich, and
the strong S. pole about 150° E. of that meridian. The
weak pole was, therefore, much nearer the Cape than now,
while the stronger pole was more remote from it. The in¬
fluence of the iveah pole was therefore most powerful, so
that the S. pole of the needle moved towards the W., and
Years. Variations.
1605  0° 30' easterly.
1609  0 12 westerly.
1614  1 30
1667  7 15
1675  8 30
1702 12 50
Years.
1724.
1752.
1768.
1775.
1791.
1804.
Years.
1660
1670
1690
1720
1740
1750
1770
1780
1790
1800
1810
1818
Variations.
Observed.
0° O'
2 30
6 0
14 17
17 0
17 48
21 9
23 17
23 39
24 3
24 11
24 30
Computed.
0° O'
2 44
7 59
14 47
18 20
19 47
22 4
22 54
23 33
24 1
24 18
24 30
Differences.
0° 0'
0 14 +
l 59 +
0 30 +
l 20 +
1 59 +
0 55 +
0 23 -
0 6 -
0 2-
0 7 +
0 0
Observers.
Bond.
Halley.
Ditto.
Graham.
Ditto.
Ditto.
Heberden.
Gilpin.
Ditto.
Ditto.
Ditto.
The numbers in the column of differences are very small,
and may arise as much from errors of observation as from a
defect in the theory. The average difference is only about
45'.
Mr Barlow has computed the variation also for Paris and
Copenhagen, and compared it with the best observations
made at these places. The average difference for Paris is
less than 30'. At Copenhagen it is 37', or only 20' if we
throw aside the observed variation for 1731, which seems
to err greatly in defect.
On the Annual Variation of the Needle.
Besides the progressive changes in the declination of
the needle, M. Cassini observed an annual change, de- Annual va-
pending on the position of the sun in reference to the equi- riation.
noctial and solstitial points.
Between the months of January and April the magnetic
needle recedes from the N. pole of the globe, so that its
western declination increases.
From April to the beginning of July, that is, from the
vernal equinox to the summer solstice, the declination
diminishes, or the needle approaches the N. pole of the
glebe.
*.'From the summer solstice to the vernal equinox, the
needle, receding from the N. pole, returns to the \V., so
that in October it has nearly the same position as in May,
and between October and March the western motion is
smaller than in the three preceding months.
Hence it follows, that during the three months between
the vernal equinox and the summer solstice, the needle
retrogrades towards the E.; and during the following nine
months its general motion is towards the W.
This important subject particularly occupied the atten-Arago.
MAGNETISM.
53
Terrestrial tion of M. Arago. Taking the mean declination of each
Magnet- day, or that of the maximum and minimum, and the mean
ism. declination of each month, he arranged in tables the mean
monthly declinations at Paris from 1784 to 1788, and also
those at London, near the equinoxes and solstices, from
1793 to 1805, as calculated from the observations of Mr
Gilpin, and, by a comparison of the results, he found a
maximum of declination towards the vernal equinox, and a
minimum towards the summer solstice; but this difference
was less at London than at Paris.
In comparing the observations of Cassini in 1786 with
those of 1800, corresponding to the measures of Gilpin,
M. Arago found that they do not differ from one another
in their magnetical relations, but in one point. In 1786
the annual change of declination was nine minutes, whereas
in 1800 it was scarcely a minute. Hence he observed,
that the retrograde motion which the needle experiences
between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice de¬
creases at the same time with the general and annual motion
towards the W.
At Salem, in Massachusetts, where observations were
made in 1810 by M. Bowditch, the declination is W., and
has diminished for a great number of years about 2 minutes
annually. In examining these observations, M. Arago
did not find any trace of the period of Cassini. The de¬
clination has never diminished between the vernal equinox
and the summer solstice, but it gradually increases from
April to August. This increase is compensated by a de¬
crease of the declination between September and Decem¬
ber, so that the period seems to be transferred from spring
to autumn. M. Arago conceived that if this idea should
be found correct, the annual changes would be regulated
by the following principles :—
1. When the needle, having a westerly declination, re¬
cedes from the meridian, it experiences a retrograde motion,
which brings it back to this place. This is the discovery
of Cassini.
2. This retrograde oscillation is greater in proportion
as the annual change of declination is greater; a result
deducible from a comparison of Cassini and Gilpin’s obser¬
vations.
3. The oscillation disappears, and every month gives
nearly the same mean declination, when, the needle having
arrived at the limit of its western digression, the annual
change of declination becomes nothing. This result is
deduced from Colonel Beaufoy’s observations.
4. When the westerly declination diminishes from year
to year, no remarkable oscillations are observed in the
needle towards the E., excepting between the months of
September and December. This is the observation of Mr
Bowditch. According to Colonel Beaufoy’s observations,
the daily variation is greatest in June and August, and less
in July, so that the annual curve has two maxima and two
minima in the course of the year, the two maxima being
in June and August, and the two minima in December
and July.
On the Diurnal Variations of the Needle.
Diurnal That there is a daily change in the variation of the
variation, needle, as originally discovered by Mr Graham in 1724,
has been placed beyond a doubt by observations made
with the most accurate instruments in almost every part
of the world. The following table contains the mean diur¬
nal changes in the variation, according to the observations
of Canton in 1759, of Gilpin in 1787 and 1793, and of
Colonel Beaufoy in 1817-19.
Table of the Mean Daily Changes in Variation.
Terrestrial
Magnet-
Months.
January....
February..
March 
April 
May 
June 
July 
August 
September.
October 
November.,
December..
Mean daily change..
Observa¬
tions of
Canton.
1759.
r 8"
8 58
11 17
12 26
13 0
13 21
13 14
12 19
11 43
10 36
8 9
6 58
10 43
Observations of Gilpin,
1787.
10' 2"
10 4
15 0
17 4
18
19
19
19
15
14
11
8
14 39
1793.
4' 3"
4 6
8
11
10
12
12
9
7
3
3
12 5
8 0
Colonel
Beaufoy.
1817-18-19.
5' 3"
6 3
8 22
11 48
9 53
11 15
10 43
11 26
9 44
8 46
7 10
4 7
9 32
The following ranges in the variation for every month
were obtained by Dr Lloyd from the Dublin observations
during the years 1840-43.
Summer Half-Year.
Month.
April 
May 
June 
July 
August 
September.
Mean..,
Westerly
move¬
ment.
Min.
13-3
12-2
12-3
11-6
11-8
10-1
11-9
Easterly
move¬
ment.
Min.
11-6
8- 4
9- 2
92
10-2
10-8
99
Winter Half-Year.
Month.
October....
November.
December
January..
February
March....
Mean.
Westerly
move¬
ment.
Min.
7-8
4- 8
3-9
5- 2
6- 8
9-7
6-4
Easterly
move¬
ment.
Min.
9-7
7-0
6-6
7- 6
8- 1
10-5
8-3
It is remarkable, as noticed by Dr Lloyd, that the mean
ranges of the easterly movements for the entire year are
precisely equal, the mean value of each being 9'’1
Dr Lloyd has shown, from the Dublin observations,
that the curves representing the annual variations in the
declination of the needle, and in the temperature of the
air, present the most complete accordance, not only as
to the hours of maxima and minima, but in their entire
course. Mr Horner obtained the same result from the
Stockholm observations.1
Dr Lloyd has obtained the following measures of the se
cular variation:—
Year.
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
Variation.
Deg. Min.
332 30-69
332 34-65
332 43-55
332 50-10
332 53-43
332 59-75
333 7-22
Difference.
Min.
+ 31-96
+ 8-90
+ 6-55
+ 3-33
+ 6-32
+ 7-47
The variation is here measured from the N. east¬
ward.
From these results Dr Lloyd concludes that the N. end
of the magnet moves to the east from year to year, and that
the westerly variation diminishes by annually in its-
mean quantity.
1 Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. xxii., part 1, 1849.
54 '
Terrestrial The following Table shows the Amount of the Daily I aria-
Magnet- tfon ai other places compared with that at London.
MAGNETISM.
London, general mean 60
Geneva ^
Col du Geant   
Freiberg 
Petersburg ^
NicolaefF  ^6
Kasan ' ^
44"
42 'I
6 V Saussure.
43 J
11-9
10-1
53-4
36-5
When the diurnal variation of the needle was first dis¬
covered, it was supposed to have only two changes in its
movements during the day. About seven a.m. its N. end be¬
gan to deviate to the W., and about two p.m. it reached its
maximum westerly deviation. It then returned to the east¬
ward to its first position, and remained stationary till it
again resumed its westerly course in the following morn-
inn-. When magnetic observations became more accurate,
it was found that the diurnal movement commences much
earlier than seven A.M., but its motion is to the E. At half¬
past seven a.m. it reaches its greatest easterly deviation,
and then begins its movement to the W. till two p.m. It
then returns to the eastward till the evening, when it has
again a slight westerly motion; and in the course of the
mght, or early in the morning, it reaches the point from
which it set out twenty-four hours before. The most accurate
observations made in England were those of Colonel
Beaufoy, when the variation was about 24£' W. In these
the absolute maxima were earlier than in Canton’s observa¬
tions, and the second maxima W. about eleven p.m.
The following were the diurnal changes observed at Paris:
—During the ni^ht it is nearly stationary. At sunrise its
north extremity moves to the westward, as if it were avoid¬
ing the solar influence. Towards noon, or more generally
from noon to three o’clock, it attains its maximum westerly
deviation, and then it returns eastward till nine, ten, oi
eleven o’clock in the evening; and then having reached
its original position, it remains stationary during the night.
The amount of this daily variation is, for April, ^ May,
June, July, August, and September, from 13' to 15' ; and
for the other six months of the year, from 8' to 10'. On
some days it rises to 25', and on others it does not ex¬
ceed 5' or 6'.
According to M. Dove, the maximum easterly devia¬
tion of the °needle takes place at eight a.m. at Freiberg,
Nicolaeff, and St Petersburg, and at nine a.m. at Kasan; and
the maximum of westerly deviation at two p.m. at Kassan,
Nicolaeff, and St Petersburg, and at one p.m. at Freiberg.
In the northern regions, such as Denmark, Iceland, and
Greenland, the diurnal variations are greater, and less
regular. The needle is not stationary during the night,
and it does not reach its maximum westerly deviation till
between eight and ten p.m., and its most easterly about
nine or ten a.m.
In advancing from the N. to the magnetic equator, the
diurnal variation diminishes in amplitude, and it ceases to
be perceptible in the magnetic equator. Captain Duper-
rey, however, found that when the place is either under
the magnetic equator, or at a little distance from it, the
N. point of the needle advances every morning to the west
or to the east, according as the sun passes to the north or
to the south of the place of observation.
In the southern magnetic hemisphere the daily variation
takes place in an opposite manner, the north end of the
needle moving to the E. at the same hours that it did to
the W. in the northern hemisphere; a result which was
established by the observations of Mr J. Macdonald at
St Helena, and at Fort Marlborough, in Sumatra.1 M.
Freycinet was led to the same result by observations made Terrestrial
in the Isle of France, Timor, Rawak, Guham, Mowi, Port Mg£et*
Jackson, and other places. At the Marianne and Sand-
wich Isles, in the northern hemisphere, the north point of '
the needle moves to the W., as in Europe, fiom eight
a.m. till one p.m., though the variation there is easterly.
At Timor, Rawak, and Port Jackson, to the S. of the
equator, the N. point of the needle moves during the
morning in an opposite direction; hence the observations
made to the N. of the line agree with those in Europe,
while those in the southern hemisphere, like those ot Mac¬
donald, exhibit an opposite motion. M. Freycinet found
that the diurnal oscillations have a small amplitude be-
tween the tropics. At Rawak, only the fortieth of a degree
S. of the equinoctial line, M. Freycinet found that the
needle oscillated every day with an amplitude of 3 ; so
that it is the magnetic, and not the terrestrial, equator, as
Duperrey afterwards found, which separates the zone of
westerly from the zone of easterly diurnal variations.
Observations are still wanting to show whether or not
the daily variations have the same direction in places where
the variation is westerly and in those where it is easterly.
The dipping needle also undergoes, as will be after¬
wards seen, daily variations, but their amplitude is of less
amount. There can be no doubt, as M. Pouillet observes,
that a needle capable of moving in any given azimuth will ex¬
perience daily changes; and that a needle moveable in every
direction round its centre of gravity would describe every
day a cone whose base would be an ellipse, or some other
curve more or less elongated, in different parts of the earth.
The sun is now universally allowed to be the cause °f ^au®e 0
the diurnal variations of the needle. Canton ascribed them variationi
to the action of solar heat, having ascertained that heat
tends to diminish the attractive powers of a magnet, and
assuming that the direction of the needle was due to the
resultant of all the magnetic forces of the terrestrial sphere.
When the sun was to the eastward of the needle, the forces
Iving to the eastward suffered a diminution of power, in
consequence of which the westerly force prevailed, and the
N. end deviated to the W. When the sun, on the othei
hand, was to the westward of the needle, the power on that
side diminished, and the needle returned again to the east¬
ward. Canton, however, did not give any explanation of the
morning easterly variation of the needle.
On the Irregular Motions of the Magnetic Needle as pro¬
duced chiefly by the Aurora Dorealis.
Besides the regular changes of an annual and diurnal
nature to which the needle is subject, it is sometimes the needle
affected with sudden and extraordinary movements, to pr0(juce(i
which Baron Humboldt has given the name of magnetic by the au-
storms or hurricanes, during which the needle traverses rora borea-
with a shivering motion, and often oscillates seveial de- 1S»
grees on each side of its mean position.
° These sudden and capricious motions have been most fre-
quently’observed during the existence of the aurora boreales,
and have therefore been ascribed to that cause. The in¬
fluence of this meteor on the magnetic needle was first
noticed by Wargentin in 1750. It was observed by Beig-
man and others ; and Van Swinden remarks, that he sel¬
dom failed to observe aurorae boreales after any anomalous
motion of the needle; and he always concluded that there
must have been one at the time, though he did not see it.
As needles made of other substances, such as copper or
wood, have not been found to be affected, the action oi the
aurora cannot be considered as an electrical one.
The influence of the aurora on the needle was particu-
i Made in 1794, 1795, and 1796 ; see Philosophical Transactions. Mr Macdonald observes, that the diurnal variations are sensibly less
between the tropics than in Europe.
MAGNETIS M.
Terrestrial larly studied by Dr Dalton, who has stated his views in
Magnet- his Meteorological Observations and Essays, published
ism. in j 793t in a dissertation of great ability, which has never
' received the notice which it merits. He has shown that
Dr Dal- the luminous beams of the aurora are parallel to the dip-
ton’s obser- pjng needle ; that the rainbow-like arches cross the mag-
vatxons. netjc meridian at right angles ; that the broad arch of the
horizontal light is bisected by the magnetic meridian ; that
the boundary of a limited aurora is half the circumference
of a great circle crossing the magnetic meridian at right
angles, the beams perpendicular to the horizon being only
those on the magnetic meridian.
Dr Dalton has shown, from numerous observations, that
the aurora exercises an irregular action on the magnetic
needle; and he has deduced from these observations the
following results:—
1. When the aurora appears to rise only about 5°, 10°,
or 15°, above the horizon, the disturbance of the needle is
very little, and often insensible.
2. When it rises up to the zenith, and passes it, there
never fails to be a considerable disturbance.
3. This disturbance consists in an irregular oscillation of
the horizontal needle, sometimes to the eastward and then
to the westward of the mean daily position, in such sort
that the greatest excursions on each side are nearly equal,
and amount to about half a degree each at Kendal.
4. When the aurora ceases, or soon after, the needle re¬
turns to its former station.
Professor Hansteen’s observations on the magnetical in¬
fluence of the aurora are peculiarly interesting. He states
that the extraordinary shivering movements of the needle
are perhaps never exhibited except when the aurora is visi¬
ble ; and that this disturbance seems to operate at the same
time in places the most widely separated. The extent of
these movements may in less than twenty-four hours amount
to five or five and a half degrees. In such cases, he adds,
the disturbance is also communicated to the dipping needle ;
and as soon as the crown of the aurora quits the usual
place (the points where the dipping needle produced would
meet the sky), that instrument moves several degrees for¬
ward, and seems to follow it. After such disordei’s, he con¬
tinues, the mean variation of the needle is wont to change,
and not to recover its previous magnitude till after a new
and similar disturbance. During the continuance of the
aurora borealis, the intensity of the earth’s magnetic force
seems to grow weaker; for which reason the needle recedes
from that magnetic pole where the ray of the aurora is dis¬
played.
The influence of the aurora borealis on the needle was
studied with particular care by M. Arago, whose accu¬
rate and regularly continued series of observations on the
daily changes of the magnetic needle at Paris enabled
him to compare these changes with the occurrence of the
northern light. The following is an abstract of his views
on the subject:—The appearance of an aurora causes the
magnetic needle to vary several degrees to the E. and W.
of its mean position. In the region where it appears, lumi¬
nous beams, differently coloured, shoot up from all points
of the horizon ; and the part of the heavens where all these
beams or radiations unite is precisely that to which a mag¬
netic needle directs itself when suspended by its centre of
gravity. M. Arago also showed that the concentric cir¬
cles, which become visible almost always before the lumi¬
nous beams, rest each upon the two points of the horizon
equally distant from the magnetic meridian, and that the
most elevated points of each arch are exactly in this meri¬
dian. Fi’om these two facts, he concludes that there is a
relation between the causes of the aurora borealis and the
motions of the magnetic needle; and, fi'om observations
made in places remote from each other, he infers that the
aurora acts even before it shows itself in the horizon, and
55
that its influence is exerted at very considerable distances. Terrestrial
In a subsequent paper on the subject, M Arago showed that Magnet-
the aurorae which are visible only in America, at St Peters- ^ lsm-
burg, and in Siberia, in spite of the immense distance which
sepax-ates us from these regions, produces a perceptible de¬
rangement of the magnetic needle at Paris. M. Arago at
first believed that even the aurorae of the southern hemi-
sphei’e extended their influence to Paris; but he afterwards
found, that on the days when these southern aurorae took
place, the phenomenon was observed also in the N., so
that no conclusion can be properly deduced from this co¬
incidence with the observed derangements of the needle.
M. Kupffer confirmed by his own observations the first Kupffer.
results obtained by M. Arago, and concluded that the
aurora extends its influence to a great distance. When
the needle was driven from its mean position by the influ¬
ence of this meteor, M. Kupffer could not perceive any
sensible difference between the duration of an oscillation
at this time and at any other. He has, however, excepted
some cases where the deviation was very considerable ; but
what was very remarkable was, that when the needle devi¬
ated to the E., the duration of an oscillation was greater
than usual, whilst on the 24th November 1825, when the
needle deviated to the W., the duration of an oscillation
was smaller. On the other hand, the dip being in the ratio
of the duration of the oscillation, the preceding observations
seem to prove that the dip diminishes when the needle
deviates to the W., and increases with an easterly devia¬
tion.
Notwithstanding the body of evidence which proves the
connection between the aui'ora and the derangement of the
needle, it is a very remarkable fact, that during the fre¬
quent occui'rence of that meteor at Port Bowen, Captain
Foster did not observe any peculiar changes in the devia¬
tion of the needle, although, from his vicinity to the mag¬
netic pole, the diurnal variation sometimes amounted to 4°
or 5°, and it was to be presumed that the slightest action
of the aurora would, under such circumstances, have been
visible. From these observations of Captain Foster and
others, the natui’al conclusion is, that there are some auro¬
rae which do not disturb, while there are others which do
disturb, the magnetic needle.
During Captain (now Sir Geoi’ge) Back’s residence at
Foi’t Reliance (N. Eat. 62. 46. 29., and W. Long.
109. 0. 39.) for six months in 1833-4, and four months
in 1834-5, the aui’ora occurred almost every night. The
magnetic needle seems to have been constantly affected
by it, and on one occasion the effect exceeded eight de¬
grees. “ Brilliant and active coruscations of the aurora
borealis,” says Sir G. Back, “ when seen through a hazy
atmosphere, and exhibiting the prismatic colours, almost
invariably affected the needle. On the contrary, a very
bright aurora, though attended by motion, and even tinged
with a dullish red and a yellow, in a clear blue sky, seldom
produced any sensible change, beyond, at the most, a tremu¬
lous motion.
“ A dense haze or fog, in conjunction with an active
aurora, seemed uniformly favourable to the disturbance of
the needle ; and a low temperature was favourable to bril¬
liant and active coruscations. On no occasion, during two
winters, was any sound heard to accompany the motions.
The aurora was frequently seen at twilight, and as often to
the eastward as to the westward. Clouds, also, were often
pei’ceived in the day time, in form and disposition very
much resembling the aurora.”
Mr Christie explained the absence of any apparent ac- Christie,
tion of the aurora, by the supposition that the apparatus
employed was not fitted to exhibit that action; and he
entertained therefore the opinion, “ that changes in the de¬
viation and intensity of the terrestrial forces are simultane¬
ous with the aui'ora borealis.” The following is the method
56 MAGNETISM.
Terrestrial recommended by Mr Christie for observing the effects of
Magnet- ^]le aur0ra to the greatest advantage:—
^ Lsm~ t “ If the magnetic forces brought into action during an
aurora are in the'direction of the magnetic meridian, they
Christie. wj]i affect a dipping needle adjusted to the plane of that
meridian ; but the direction of a horizontal needle will re¬
main unchanged. On the other hand, if the resultant of
these forces makes an angle with the meridian, the direc¬
tion of the horizontal needle will be changed, but the dip¬
ping needle may not be affected. In order to determine
correctly the negative influence of the aurora, by means of
a horizontal needle, it is therefore necessary not only to
have regard to those forces which influence its direction, but
likewise to those which affect the horizontal intensity.. The
effects of the former are the objects of direct observation,
but those of the latter are not so immediately observable.
As, during an aurora, the intensity may vary at every in¬
stant, and it is these changes which are to be detected, the
method of determining the intensity by the time of vibra¬
tion of the needle cannot here be applied, and other means
must be adopted. The best method appears to me to be
that which I employed for determining the diurnal variation
of the horizontal intensity, the needle being retained nearly
at right angles to the meridian by the repulsive force of a
magnet, or by the torsion of a fine wire or thread of glass.
For the purpose, then, of detecting, in all cases, the magnetic
influence of the aurora, I consider that two horizontal
needles should be employed; one adjusted in the meridian,
for determining the changes which may take place in the
direction of the horizontal force, and the other at right
angles to the meridian, to determine the changes in the in¬
tensity of that force, arising principally from new forces in
the plane of the meridian, and which would affect the di¬
rection of the dipping needle alone. Both these needles
should be delicately suspended, either by very fine wire, or
by entwisted fibres of silk. In order to render the changes
in the direction of the needle in the meridian more sensible,
its directive force should be diminished by means of two
magnets N. and S. of it, and having their axes in the me¬
ridian. These magnets should be made to approach the
needle until it points about 30° on either side of the meri¬
dian, and they should be so adjusted that the forces acting
upon the needle will retain it in equilibria, with its marked
end at about 30° to the E. and 30° to the W. of N., and also
at S. The needle is to be left with its marked end point¬
ing S., for the purpose of observing the changes occurring
in its direction. If magnets are employed to retain the
second needle nearly at right angles to the meridian, they
should be made to approach its centre until the points
of equilibrium are at about 80° E., 80° W. and S., the
observations being made with the needle at 80° E. and
80° W. An objection to this method of adjusting this
needle by means of magnets is, that any change in their
temperature will have a very sensible effect on the direction
of the needle in this position ; and should such change take
place during the observations, corrections must be applied
to the results before any accurate conclusions can be drawn
from them. I have before remarked, that this inconvenience
will be in a great measure obviated by employing the tor¬
sion of a fine wire, or a very fine plummet of glass, to
retain the needle at about 80° from the meridian. In this
case, the ratio of the force of torsion to the terrestrial force
acting upon the needle having been determined, a measure
will be obtained of the changes which take place in the in¬
tensity of the terrestrial force during the occurrence of an
aurora. It is very desirable that it should be ascertained
whether the effects on the needle are simultaneous with
any particular class of phenomena connected with the au¬
rora ; whether these effects are dependent on the produc- Terrestrial
tion of beams or coruscations, or on the formation of lu- Magnet-
minous arches; or whether any difference exists in the- ^ 13m^ t
effects produced by them. In order to determine this, it **
is necessary that the times of the occurrence of the different
phenomena, and also of the changes in the directions of the
needles, should be accurately noted; and for such obser¬
vations three observers appear to be indispensable.”
It has been considered a question of some importance, Influence
whether the electric state of the clouds produces any effects of electri-
upon the needle : and this question has increased in interest Clty on the
since the discovery of the magnetical effects of galvanic nee e‘
and common electricity. Mr Christie made some valuable Mr Chris-
observations on this subject. Adjusting in a particular tie.
manner a needle between two magnets, so that its directive
force was considerably diminished, he found that changes
in the position of electric clouds were accompanied by
changes in the position of the needle. Captain Sir Everard ®ve*
Home also observed, that, in two instances, a vibratingrari1
needle came sooner to rest during a thunder-storm than it
did either before or after it. The number of vibrations
was reduced in one case from 100 to 40, and in another
from 200 to 120.
An analogous fact was observed by Sir George Back, in ®ir Oeorge
1833, at Fort Alexander, at the southern extremity of Lake
Winnipeg, where a “ considerable alteration appeared, both
in the number of vibrations, and the point at which the
needle finally rested. A second time showed a similar
discrepancy. The reason of this peculiarity I could not
divine, until about an hour afterwards, when some gentle¬
men arrived from the westward, and acquainted us that
they had just encountered a severe thunder-shower, though
the sky over the fort underwent no visible change, and
wore the same sultry aspect as it had done most of the
forenoon.”1
The view which we have given, in a subsequent section,
of the magnetic condition of our atmosphere, arising from
the uniform dissemination of ferruginous and other me¬
tallic matter, enables us to give a satisfactory explanation
of the general phenomena of the aurora, of its action on
the needle, and of the circumstances under which it will
affect or not affect its stability. That there is magnetic
matter in the atmosphere is indubitable, and that this matter
may be heated by the electricity of the atmosphere, so as
to give out light of different colours, and may have its mag¬
netic influence increased or diminished by this electrical
action, as well as by ordinary changes of temperature, can¬
not be doubted. When the magnetic forces are in a state
of equilibrium, the needle will take its mean position, sub¬
ject only to those diurnal changes which arise from the
action of solar heat. But when the magnetic matter is
exposed to the electrical agents which exercise so powerful
an influence on the regions of the clouds, when the ferru¬
ginous matter, and the other metallic vapours which accom¬
pany it, are rendered luminous by the transmission of the
electric fluid, and when the magnetic matter has its induced
magnetism either diminished or increased by this cause,
the resultant of the forces which act upon the needle must
be changed, and motions regular and irregular, easterly and
westerly, or in any given direction, communicated to a
needle freely suspended by its centre of gravity. A local
displacement of the magnetic matter, by the various causes
which are constantly disturbing our atmosphere, or local
and limited electric action, must necessarily affect such a
needle; but it is easy to conceive that those local and
limited actions may be such as to balance each other, and
not change the direction of the resultant force which acts
either upon a horizontal or a dipping needle. Nay, it is
1 Narrative of the Arctic Land Expedition, &c., p. 41, 42.
ism.
Terrestrial easy to conceive a general diffusion of electricity, capable
Magnet- of illuminating the magnetic matter with such perfect equa-
lity in all magnetic azimuths, without at all affecting any
needle, however balanced or suspended ; because the elec¬
trical influence may not change the direction of the result¬
ing forces which give the needle its mean direction. In
such a case, however, it is probable that the magnetic in¬
tensity might be increased or diminished during the exist¬
ence of such an electric state of the magnetic matter. We
cannot, therefore, adopt the opinion of Mr Christie, that
every aurora must disturb the magnetic needle ; and we
admit only the observed fact, that there are aurorae
which disturb, and auroras which do not disturb the
needle.
In order to explain more fully our views on this subject,
let us suppose our magnetic atmosphere to be undisturbed
by any cause, and that the needle in every magnetic me¬
ridian rests in a state of perfect equilibrium in its mean
position. Let us now suppose that the magnetic atmosphere
is disturbed in east longitude 90° and latitude 0°, either by
a change of temperature, or by electric action, or by any
cause which displaces the magnetic matter from that me¬
ridian, or accumulates it there. Such a change must ne¬
cessarily affect the horizontal magnetic needle in all places
to the east and west of it; but it will not affect the hori¬
zontal needle in the meridian where it takes place, or in
the opposite meridian, as the resultant of the magnetic
forces, though they may be changed in intensity, will not
be changed in direction. In like manner, if various dis¬
charges take place simultaneously or successively, there
will be certain places where the direction of the resultant
forces is not changed, and other places where the change
of direction is a maximum. A universally suspended
needle, however, will have its direction always changed,
unless when the disturbing cause is in the direction of its
axis, or in a plane perpendicular to that axis. Hence, then,
it is easy to understand (nay, the fact is a necessary result
of our hypothesis) why there are aurorae which disturb and
aurorae which do not disturb the needle, why distant aurorae
affect it when nearer ones do not, and why the needle is in
a shivering or constantly oscillating state during aurorae in
which the places where the magnetic atmosphere is dis¬
turbed are constantly changing. In the same manner, we
may account for the influence on the needle, observed by
Sir Everard Home and Sir George Back, during the pre¬
valence of a thunder storm, while the electricity of the
atmosphere destroys by its action the magnetic equilibrium,
when this action is not compensated by an equal one on
the opposite side of the magnetic meridian. When such a
compensation takes place, the needle will not deviate from
its mean position, though the number of its vibrations in a
given time may be altered.
Among the other causes which have a tendency to dis¬
turb the magnetic needle, we may enumerate earthquakes
and volcanic eruptions, all of which are accompanied in
general with electrical phenomena. In 1767 Daniel Ber¬
noulli observed the dip of the needle to diminish half a
degree during an earthquake; and De la Torre observed
changes of several degrees in the variation of the needle
during an eruption of Vesuvius.
In treating of the periodical disturbances, or irregular
changes, in the variation of the needle, Dr Lloyd arrives at
the conclusion that there are probably two classes of dis¬
turbances, the results of distinct physical causes, one of
which is periodical, and the other wholly irregular; the
former being local (depending on the time at the place of
observation) and the latter universal. The principal, if not
the only one, of the periodical disturbances, occurs a few
minutes before ten p.m., and causes the north pole of the
magnet to deviate to the east. Its mean magnitude is 10''0
and its mean duration an hour and a half.
VOL. XIV.
MAGNETISM.
57
Sect. II.—On the Dip or Inclination of the Needle.
Terrestrial
Magnet-
The dip or inclination of the needle is, as we have already lsm‘
had occasion to ob-
serve, the angle Dip of the
which a well-ba- ' ' needle,
lanced needle forms
with the horizon
after it is rendered
magnetic, and when
it has the power of
free motion in the
plane of the mag¬
netic meridian, as
shown in fig. 59,
where NS is the
needle balanced on
a horizontal axis, at
right angles to its
length.
The dip of the
needle, like the va¬
riation, has different
values in different Pig. 59.
parts of the globe; generally speaking, being nothing, or
horizontal, near the equator, and 90°, or perpendicular to
the horizon, at the magnetic poles. The line passing round
the globe near its equator, in every part of which 'the dip
is nothing, is called the magnetic equator, which is a very
irregular line, crossing the
equator atfour points, as shown
in the annexed figure, where
the black line E E is the real
equator, and the dotted line
MMM the magnetic equator,
which is seen to cross the other
at four points, in place of two.
I he general inclination of the magnetic to the terrestrial
equator is about 12°, its principal intersections or nodes
being placed in , 113 14.' west longitude and 66° 46' east
longitude from Greenwich; and it is a tolerably regular
line throughout one-half of its circumference in the At¬
lantic and Indian Oceans. In discussing the observations
made by Cook and others in the South Sea, M. Biot has
shown that the above elements are incorrect everywhere
beyond the western node, between 115° and 270° west
longitude; and he concludes that between 256° and 158°
50' of west longitude it again cuts the terrestrial equator at
least once, which renders it necessary that it cut it another
time near the east coast of Asia, provided it is found in the
Atlantic Ocean or the south latitude. Hence there will
be at least three nodes, and perhaps four, as shown in the
preceding figure. This singular inflexion of the magnetic
equator in the South Sea has been confirmed by the more
recent observations of M. Freycinet.
The exact position of these nodes, and the true form Morlet and
of the magnetic equator, were determined with great Hansteen
care by MM. Morlet and Hansteen. There are some
slight differences between their results, which have been
pointed out by Arago, in the following excellent sum¬
mary of the results of their inquiryBoth Morlet and
Hansteen place the magnetic equator wholly to the south
of the terrestrial equator, between Africa and America;
its greatest southern latitude being at 25°, one node is in
a’i*n ak°ut 22° of east longitude, or in 18° according
to Morlet. In setting out towards the east from this node,
which is nearly in the centre of that part of the African
continent, the magnetic equator advances rapidly to the
noith of the terrestria. equatoi, quits Africa a little to the
south of Cape Guardafui, and in the Arabian Sea it attains
its most northerly latitude of about 12°, in 62° of east lon-
Eig. 60.
58
magnetism.
Terrestrial gitude. Between this meridian and 174 east, the mag-
Magnet- netic equator is constantly to the north of the equinoctial
ism. ling. It cuts the Indian Peninsula a little to the north of
Cape Comorin, traverses the Clulf of Bengal, making a
Morlet and glio-ht advance to the equinoctial, from which it is only 8
Hansteen. &t the entry of the Guif 0f Siam. It then re¬
ascends a little to the north, almost touches the north point
of Borneo, traverses the Isle of Paragua, the strait which
separates the most southern of the Philippines from the
Isle of Mindanao, and under the meridian of Naigiou it
again reaches the north latitude of 9 . From this point it
traverses the archipelago of the Caroline Islands, and de¬
scends rapidly to the equinoctial line, which it cuts, accord¬
ing to Morlet, in 174°, and according to Hansteen in 187°,
of east longitude. There is much less uncertainty respect¬
ing the position of a second node, also situate in the Pa¬
cific Ocean. Its west longitude ought to be about 120°;
but while M. Morlet’s inquiries lead him to conclude that
the magnetic equator merely touches the equinoctial at that
point, and then bends again to the south, M. Hansteen
makes it cross the line into the northern hemisphere, and
continue there through an extent of 15° of longitude, and
then return southward, and cross the equinoctial again in
about 108° of west longitude, or 23° from the west coast
of America. This discrepancy between the deductions of
Morlet and Hansteen is, after all, very trivial; for, in the
case just mentioned, the magnetic equator does not go more
than 1^° to the north of the equinoctial; and, in general,
the magnetic equator of Morlet differs in no part so much
as 2° in latitude from that of Hansteen.
The magnetic equator thus traced over the globe has a
motion from east to west, in so far as can be determined
by direct observations on the position of its nodes. Ihe
two nodes of Hansteen, corresponding to the tangent node
of Morlet, are divided between 108° and 126° of west lon¬
gitude. In 1819 M. Freycinet found, on board the Uranie,
that this node was in 132° of longitude; and General Sabine
found that the node in Africa, which w'as far from the coast
in 1780, had advanced from east to west even to the At¬
lantic Ocean. M. Morlet had indicated, with some distrust,
this motion of the magnetic equator; and he considered it
probable that its form and position regulated the direction
of the annual variations of the needle. He found that the
dip of the needle diminished wherever the motion of the
equator tended to diminish the magnetic latitude, and that
it increased, on the contrary, wherever the magnetic lati¬
tude w as increased; a result which was confirmed by future
observations.
Much light has been thrown on the subject of terrestrial
magnetism, but particularly on the form and motion of the
magnetic equator, by the observations of Admiral Duperrey,
made on board the Coquille, in the years 1822-1825. This
vessel crossed the magnetic equator six times, and Du-
perrey was able to determine directly two of its points,
situate in the Atlantic Ocean. On the chart of M. Morlet,
and in that of Hansteen, the latitudes of those parts which
correspond to the same longitudes are greater by 1° 43' and
and 1° 50'; and hence Arago concluded that the mag¬
netic equator has approached the terrestrial equator by
the same quantities. In the South Sea, near the coast of
America, Duperrey determined two points of the mag¬
netic equator. On the charts of Morlet and Hansteen
the latitudes of these points is about a degree smaller, but
the difference is in a direction contrary to that which was
found in the Atlantic Ocean ; from which it follows, that
near the coast of Peru the magnetic equator has removed
from the equinoctial line.
In discussing the magnetic observations made on board
the Coquille, Duperrey has traced the form of the mag-
Admiral
Duperrey.
netic equator with an unexpected degree of accuracy ; em- Terrestrial
ploying the formula of Barlow, which makes the tangent of Magnet-
the magnetic latitude equal to half the tangent of the dij), v lsm~ t
and making one only of dips which do not exceed 30 .
Having obtained the magnetic latitudes of the places where
the observations were made, he deduces, both from these
and from the variation of the needle at the same place, the
changes in longitude and latitude, which, being combined
with the geographical positions of the stations, give him
the co-ordinates of the corresponding points of the magnetic
equator. By means of this method, and relying only on
his own observations, he has traced a portion of this curve
through an extent of 247° of longitude, comprehending the
Atlantic Ocean, a part of South America, the great equi¬
noctial ocean, and the Asiatic archipelago, as far as the
western extremity of the island of Borneo. In prolonging
the magnetic equator to the east, he has used the observa¬
tions of General Sabine in 1822, made in the island of St
Thomas, in the Gulf of Guinea. Between the west of
Borneo and the north of Ceylon, he availed himself of the
observations made in 1827 by M. de Blosseville, in the
Chevrette. Adopting General Sabine’s determination of
one of the nodes of the magnetic equator, which he places
3° 20' to the east of the meridian of Paris, not far from the
west coast of Africa, Duperrey shows that this equator, after
resting at this node, rises to the north, traverses Africa,
and reaches probably 15° of north latitude, in the Red
Sea (as appears from an observation made by Pantin in the
Isle of Socotra in 1776). It then descends a little to the
south, to join a point in it fixed by M. Blosseville in the
north of Ceylon. From these facts it appears, that the
magnetic equator will meet the equinoctial line only in two
points, which are diametrically opposite, the one situate
in the Atlantic Ocean, and the other in the great ocean
nearly in the plane of the meridian of Paris. When this
equator meets only some scattered islands, it recedes only
a little from the equinoctial line. When the islands are
more numerous, it recedes farther ; and it reaches its maxi¬
mum deviation in both hemispheres only in the two great
continents which it traverses. He found also, that between
the northern and southern halves of the magnetic equator,
there is a symmetry very remarkable, and much more per¬
fect than had been previously believed. These results are
laid down by Duperrey in a chart of the equatorial re¬
gions published in the Ann. de Chimie for 1830.
The dip of the needle increases on each side of the mag¬
netic equator, and Hansteen has projected the lines of equal
dip in his chart already referred to. These lines are nearly
parallel to the magnetic equator, till we reach 60° of north
latitude, and they then begin to bend round the American
magnetic pole, which Commander Ross found to be situate
in north latitude 70° 5' 17", and west longitude 96° 45' 48",
the needle having at this point, in Boothia Felix, lost wholly
its directive power, and the dip being 89° 59', within a
minute of 90°. Had we inferred the position of the needle
from the form of the magnetic equator, we should have
placed it in 25° of west longitude, viz., the meridian in which
the magnetic equator advances farthest to the south, or
about 131°, and in 76£° of north latitude, or 90 -13^ .
This, however, as all the arctic observations prove, is not
the case; and we are led by the phenomena of the dip, as
well as by those of the variation in different points or the
globe, to conclude that every place has its own magnetic
axis, with its own pole and its own equator, as already stated
by Mr Barlow. .
The following table contains the best observations on the
dip of the needle, as collected by Professor Hansteen, and
also the magnetic intensities from the equator to the
poles:—
MAGNETISM.
59
Places of Observation.
Port du Nord 
Port du Sud  
Surrobaya in Java  
Amboyna 
Lima  
Magnetic Equator in Peru
Tompenda 
Loxa 
Cuenca  
Quito 
St Antonio 
St Carlos  
Popayan 
Santa Pe de Bogota 
Javita   
Esmeralda  
Carichana  
St Thomas  
Carthagena 
Cumana  
Mexico  
Atlantic Ocean
B. 20° 46'n. L. 41° 26'w.F
_ 11 0   44 32 —
— 12 34   33 14 —
_ 14 20  28 3 —
_ 20 8   8 34 —
— 21 36   5 39 —
— 25 15   0 36 —
Portici  
Naples   
Rome  
Vesuv. Crater   
St Cruz, TenerifFe 
Valencia  
Florence 
Atlantic Ocean
32° 16' n. 2° 52' w 
Barcelona 
Marseilles  
Nimes   
Dip.
South.
75° 50
70 48
25 40
20 37
9 59
0 0
North.
3 11
5 24
8 43
13 22
14 25
20 47
20 53
24 16
24 19
25 58
30 24
35 6
35 15
39 47
42 10
41 46
41 57
45 8
52 55
56 42
47 49
60 18
60 5
61 35
61 57
62 0
62 25
63 38
63 51
64 21
64 37
65 10
65 23
Inten¬
sity.
1-5773
1-6133
0-9348
0-9532
1-0773
1-0000
1-0191
1-0095
1-0286
1-0675
1 0871
1-0480
1-1170
1-1473
1-0675
1-0577
1-1575
1-1070
1-2938
1-1779
1-3155
1-1779
1-2617
1-2300
1-2830
1-2510
1-2617
1-2830
1-2883
1-2745
1-2642
1-1933
1-2723
1-2405
1-2782
1-2938
1-3482
1-2938
1-2938
Places of Observation.
Mailand 
Montpellier 
Airola 
Turin 
Medina del Campo  
Lans le Bourg Mont Cenis
Como 
St Michel 
Lyons 
St Gothard 
Mont Cenis 
Ursern  
Altorf 
Atlantic Ocean
37° 14' n. 3° 30'  
38 52 - 3 40   
Madrid 
Tubingen 
Atlantic Ocean
38° 52' n. 3° 40’  
Ferrol 
Paris  
Gottingen  
Berlin 
Carolafh 
Berlin 
Dantzig 
London  
Ystad 
Schleswig  
Copenhagen  
Odensee 
Helsinburg 
Kolding 
Soroe  
Freidrichsburg 
Aarhuus 
Aalborg 
Odensala   
Friedrichshaven 
Gbttenburg  
Altorp 
Dip.
North.
65°40'
65 53
65 55
66 3
66 9
66 9
66 12
66 12
66 14
66 22
66 22
66 42
66 53
67 30
67 40
67 41
68 4
68 11
68 32
69 12
69 29
69 53
68 21
68 50
69 44
69 57
70 13
70 36
70 36
70 50
70 52
70 53
70 57
70 59
71 13
71 27
71 39
71 48
71 58
72 14
Inten¬
sity.
1-3121
1-3482
1-3090
1-3364
1-2938
1-3227
1-3104
1-3488
1-3334
1-3138
1-3441
1-3069
1-3228
1-3155
1-3155
1-3938
1-3569
1-3155
1-2617
1-3482
1-3485
1-3703
1-3509
1-3533
1-3737
1-3697
1-3742
1-3814
1-3672
1-3650
1-3782
1-3846
1-3842
1-4028
1-3838
1-3660
1-3666
1-3842
1-3826
1-3891
Places of Observation.
Korset 
Quistrum  
Skieberg   
Elleoen 
Helgerone  
Soner  
Christiania 
Ryenberg 
Bogstad  
Bogstadberg    
Nasoden 
Barum 
Bolkesjoe 
Ingolfsland  
Norsteboe  
Drammen 
Maursater 
Ullensvang  
Gran 
Kongsberg 
Tomlevold 
Bekkervig 
Vang  
Bergen  
Moe  
Mauristuen 
Leierdal 
Slidre 
Brassa 
Davis Straits,
68° 22' n. 36° 10' w 
Hare Island,
70° 26' n. 37° 12' w 
Baffin’s Bay,
75° 5'n. 42°43'w 
75 51 - 45 26 — 
76 45 - 58 20 —  
76 0 - 60 41 — 
70 35 - 49 15 — 
Magnetic Pole,
70° 5'17" n. 96° 45'48"w.
Dip.
North,
72°24'
72 27
72 29
72 38
72 39
72 41
72 34
72 45
72 34
73 13
73 2
72 44
73 15
73 19
73 33
73 37
73 44
73 44
73 45
73 47
73 50
73 58
73 59
74 3
74 3
74 4
74 6
74 34
74 21
83 8£
82 49
84 25
84 44$
86 9
86 0
84 39
89 59
Inten¬
sity.
1-3735
1-4070
1-3725
1-3340
1-3980
1-3835
1-4195
1-4208
1-4378
1-4195
1-4517
1-3902
1-4053
1-4159
1-4136
1-3771
1-4656
1-4260
1-4221
1-4144
1-4246
1-4114
1-4308
1-4220
1-4254
1-4058
1-4190
1-4543
1-4471
1-6365
1-6406
1-6169
1-6410
1-7052
1-6885
1-6837
Terrestrial
Magnet-
On the Progressive Change in the Pip of the Needle.
Progres- The dip of the needle, like the variation, undergoes a
sive change continual change, increasing in some parts of the world,
m the dip. an(j diminishing in others. The following table shows the
change which has taken place in the dipat Paris from 1671
down to 1829:—
Year. Dip.
1671  75° 0'
1754  72 15
1776  72 25
1780  71 48
1791  70 52
1798  69 51
1806  69 12
1810  68 50
1814  68 36
1816   68 40
1817   68 38
Year. Dip.
1818  68° 35'
1819   68 25
1820   68 20
1821   68 14
1822   68 11
1823   68 8
1824   68 7
1825   68 0
1826   68 0
1829  67 41 Arago.
The following table shows the changes of the dip at Lon¬
don from 1720 to 1833:—
Year. Observed. Computed
1720  74° 42' Graham. 76° 27'
1773  72 19 Heberden. 73 40
1780  72 8 Gilpin. ' 73 18
1790  71 53 Ditto. 72 39
1800  70 35 Ditto. 71 58
1810  71 15
1818  70 34 Rater 70 34
1821  70 3 Sabine.
1828    69 47 Ditto. 69 43
1830  69 38 Rater.
1833  69 21
The last column in the table was calculated by Professor
Barlow, by his formula, 2 cotan ttL = tan. dip, or that the
tangent of the dip is equal to double the tangent of the
magnetic latitude.
The progressive variation in the dip of the needle is,
as Humboldt has shown, the necessary consequence of a
change in the magnetic latitude, arising from the motion
of the nodes of the magnetic equator modified by the form
of this curve; and M. Morlet applied the same principle to
account for the variations of the dip in different parts of
the globe.
Humboldt and Arago have endeavoured to deduce the
annual diminution of the dip occasioned by the motion of
the magnetic equator. By comparing the observations of
1778 and 1810 for Paris, the annual diminution was about
5', whereas, from those of 1820 and 1825, it appears to be
only 3'’3. The observations at Turin from 1805 to 1826
give 3'*5, and those of Florence
Besides the progressive variation of the dip, Hansteen has
found, from a series of observations made with a dipping
needle by Dollond, that the dip during the summer was about
15 minutes greater than during the winter, and about 4 or
5 minutes greater in the forenoon than in the afternoon.
Sect. III.— On the Intensity of Terrestrial Magnetism.
The determination of the intensity of the earth’s mag- intensity
netism at different points of its surface, and of the changes of terres-
which it undergoes either progressively, or at different times trial mag-
of the day, and different seasons of the year, has become netism-
one of the most important practical problems connected
with the physical condition of the globe.
The method of determining this important element by
the number of oscillations of the needle was first suggested
J
60 • .
MAGNETISM.
Terrestrial by Graham, and brought to perfection by Coulomb, Hum-
Magnet- boldt, and Hansteen. Observations on the dip and inag-
*sm' J netic intensity were made between 1791 and 1 /94 at Brest,
V ^ v V TenerifFe, Van Diemen’s Land, Amboyna, and Surabaya.
They were published in the second volume of the \oyage
d'Entrecarteaux in search of Laperouse. If a needle
whose axis of suspension passes through its centre of gra¬
vity, and which has its north polar and south polar mag¬
netism equal, and similarly distributed, is made to vibrate
by turning it from its position, and allowing it to receive
that position by a series of oscillations, it is obvious that
the earth’s magnetism acts with equal force on each half,
and that both these forces tend to draw the needle into the
magnetic meridian. The greater the magnetic force, the
more quickly will the needle oscillate and recover its pri¬
mitive position. The needle is, in short, in the same cir¬
cumstances as a pendulum oscillating by the action of gra¬
vity ; and, as in this case, the forces are as the squares of
the number of oscillations made in the same time.
Let us now suppose, to take the simplest case, that we
make the dipping needle oscillate in the plane of the mag¬
netic meridian, round the line of the dip, and that when
the experiment is performed at the equator, the number in
a second is 24, while in another place it is 25; then the
intensities of the magnetic force at these places is as 25J to
242, or as 625 to 576, or as LOBS to LOGO. By carrying
the same needle to different parts of the earth, the mag¬
netic intensity at these places will be found from the num¬
ber of its oscillations.
In the application of this method there are various prac¬
tical difficulties, particularly the necessity of its resting
upon knobs, edges of steel, or agate, during its oscillation,
which do not exist if we make a needle oscillate horizon¬
tally when suspended by a fine fibre of silk. I his latter
method has, therefore, been the one universally employed,
though a little calculation is necessary to obtain the inten¬
sity of terrestrial magnetism from the number of oscillations
which are performed.
Let NS be a magnetic needle suspended horizontally by
a fibre of silk P, and let NC be
the line of the dip, or ANC — D
the dip itself. Then if F is the
force of terrestrial magnetism act¬
ing upon the oscillating needle,
and tending to bring it to rest, we s
may decompose this force into
two, viz., one, NB, acting in a ver¬
tical direction, and which, being
counteracted by the suspended
force, has no tendency to affect
the needle; and the other, NA, Fig.ei.
acting horizontally, and tending to direct the needle, and
cause it to oscillate. This force NA is the cosine of ANC,
the dip D. Hence the force NA will be equal to F x cos
D. For any other place where the magnetic intensity is
F’ and the dip D', the effective force will be F' x cos D';
and if we call N the number of oscillations made in a
second at the first place, and N' the number at the second,
we shall have F x cos D : F' x cos D' = N2: N'2, and the
ratio of the magnetic intensities at the two places, or
F N2 cos D
F' N'2 cos D'
In this way observations on the magnetic intensity have
been made in almost every part of the world, and a table
containing upwards of 300 results, obtained principally by
Professor Hansteen and his friends, was drawn up by him¬
self, and republished in the last edition of this work. It
contained the number of seconds in which 300 vibrations
of the needle were performed, and the longitude and lati¬
tude of the places of observation. At that time these ob¬
servations had not appeared in any English work, and had
therefore a peculiar value; but we have not reprinted them, Terrestrial
as a much more extensive and correct table of the actual Magnet-
magnetic intensities has been recently drawn up by General y, 1Sm‘ L /
Sabine, and printed in the Seventh Report of the British
Association.
The principal intensities computed from Hansteen s ob¬
servations will be found in our table of the dip given above.
It appears from these data that the magnetic intensity
increases from the equator to the poles, and the law of va¬
riation is shown in the following table:—
Dip of the
Needle.
0°  
24 
45 
64  
Magnetic
Intensity.
 1-0
 1-1
 1-2
 1-3
Dip of the
Needle.
73 ...
76§...
81 ...
86 ...
Magnetic
Intensity.
 1-4
 1-5
 T6
 1-7
Professor Hansteen projected upon a map of the globe
the lines passing through all the places in which the intensity
has the same value. These lines he calls isodynamic lines,
or those of equal force, and they are, generally speaking,
nearly parallel to each other, and to the lines of equal dip.
Many valuable observations on the intensity of the Han®^6®11 s
earth’s magnetism were made during the numerous arctic
expeditions which were sent out by the British government; gibej-ia.
but Professor Hansteen being extremely desirous of estab¬
lishing, by direct observations of his own, the existence of
the secondary magnetic pole, which he believed existed in
Siberia, set out for this purpose in 1827, at the expense of
the Norwegian Storthing, and with every encouragement
and assistance from the Russian government. The results
of this expedition exceeded his most sanguine expectations.
The Russian Academy of Sciences were, in consequence
of Professor Hansteen’s scientific journey, induced to take
a new interest in the subject of terrestrial magnetism, which
exhibits such interesting features throughout the Russian
empire; and the Russian government has since estab¬
lished regular observatories in different parts of its vast do¬
minions, for making magnetical experiments. The Rus¬
sian empire is actually traversed by two lines of no varia¬
tion, and it is proposed to determine with great precision,
every ten years, the exact position of these two lines. Near
the first of them, which traverses European Russia, Peters¬
burg, Moscow, and Kasan, are situate ; and near the second,
which passes through Siberia, are situate Kiachta and Nizni-
Oudinsk.
The principal observations made by Hansteen in Siberia
MAGNETISM. *61
Terrestrial have been laid down in a map of the northern hemisphere
Magnet- General Sabine, along with other observations made by
v 18m^ y himself and Humboldt. In this map, of which the pre-
l-r fixed figure is a copy, it is exceedingly interesting to ob¬
serve the isodynamic lines surrounding the two northern
magnetic poles, and forming a series of returning curves
similar to lemniscates, and which may be calculated by the
formulae of Sir David Brewster, already given in the His¬
tory of Magnetism.
In this map the American pole is situated nearly in 60°
of N. Lat. and 80° of W. Long.; and the Asiatic pole in
60° N. Lat. and 100° of E. Long. The black lines pass
through the places where the magnetic intensity was ob¬
served to be equal, and the dotted parts of the same curves
indicate the probable direction of the lines where observa¬
tions had not been made. The lines round the American
pole are laid down principally from General Sabine’s obser¬
vations, and those round the Asiatic pole from the later
observations of Hansteen. The following is the account
given by General Sabine of the different isodynamical lines
in the figure :—
The first curve, or that nearest the magnetic poles, is
that in which a magnetic needle which performs n oscilla¬
tions in 3008 in London, performs the same number in 269s
round the Asiatic pole. This curve contains a smaller
space than the corresponding curve round the American
pole, which proves the inferior activity of the former pole.
Hansteen traced the S. part of this curve below Lat. 60°,
from the River Yenisei to 115° of W. Long.; that is,
25° beyond the Yenisei, and to Lat. 60°, where it takes a
direction almost due north.
The second curve, or that in which the same number n
oscillations are performed in 278s, goes round both the
American and Asiatic poles, including both within its area.
It passes to the N.W. of Melville Island, and to the N.E.
of some stations on the W. coast of Greenland ; and it
cuts the American coast between the Havannah and New
York. Dr Erman, who accompanied Hansteen into Siberia,
traced the same curve from the embouchure of the Oby,
in N. Lat. 68°, and E. Long. 70°, following the direction of
the River Mina as far as 60° N. Lat. The curve here gra¬
dually bends to the E., and after passing between Tobolsk
and Narym, it was again detected by M. Hansteen at
Kainsk, a few degrees to the S. of Lake Baikal.
The third curve, or that in which n oscillations are per¬
formed in 287s, is drawn on the American side, from ob¬
servations made at the Havannah, at the Pendulum Isle on
the E. coast of Greenland, in N. Lat. 74° 5' and between
Spitzbergen and Hammerfest, near the North Cape. This
curve, according to Hansteen, enters Europe between
Archangel and Nova Zembla ; and he met with it again
between Moscow and Tobolsk, at 564° of E. Long, and
57^° of N. Lat.
I he fourth curve, or that in which n oscillations are per¬
formed in 297s, passes near Jamaica, where the oscillations
were performed in 294s, and, after traversing the N. of
Britain, it enters Norway to the S. of Bergen. Advanc¬
ing eastward, it passes between Stockholm and Tornea, and
thence by St Petersburg and Moscow.
The observations of Professor Hansteen do not extend
farther S. than these lines, and therefore General Sabine
has laid down in the map the line in which n oscillations
are performed in 308s, 321s, 335s, 351s, and 370s, from
his own observations and those of Humboldt. The lowest
number of seconds in which n oscillations are performed is
at the magnetic poles, where it is nearly 262 or 263, and
the greatest, 370, the time in which they are performed at
the equator.
W e have stated that the isodynamical lines are nearly
parallel to those of equal dip. This is the case in Scot¬
land; but towards the E., in Norway and Sweden, the
lines of equal intensity bend more to the N., and cut Terrestrial,
the former; and also, under the same line of equal dip, the Mfgnet*
intensity is weaker to the E. than to the W. Hence ism'
Professor Hansteen found that the pole of the lines of equal
dip lies in 71° of Lat., and 102° of Long., while the pole of
intensity is in 56° of Lat., and 80 of Long. W. of Paris.
The first of these determinations coincides very nearly with
the pole of Sir James Ross, where the dip was 90°. The
observations made during the arctic expeditions from Eng¬
land, and also those by Hansteen and Erman in Siberia,
prove beyond a doubt the accuracy of the earlier conclu¬
sion ot Hansteen, that the lines of equal intensity and equal
dip are not parallel. Humboldt discovered the node of
the magnetic equator with the isodynamical curve in 7° of
S. Lat., and 81 of Long. W. of Paris. He traced this last
line to the W. of the Cordilleras of the Andes, and along
the coast of Peru, towards Kasma and Fluormay, even to
the 10th degree of S. Lat. M. Adolphus Erman found in
Siberia, that the isodynamic line, where the intensity is
1-60 (that of the equator being POO), directs itself also
from N. to S. with a slight inclination to the S.E. He
observed this line cut almost at right angles the curves of
equal dip, and then descend from the N.N.W. to the
S.S.E., from Ochotsk, near the mouths of the Oby, to
1 omsk. Humboldt is of opinion that the isodynamical
line and the Peruvian node of the magnetic equator have
been carried, since his voyage, from E. to W.; and he
informs us that M. A. Erman, in the 135th degree of
Long. W. of Paris, and in the magnetic equator, found
that the intensity of the magnetic forces was sensibly the
same as he had found them twenty-six years before on the
magnetic equator in Peru.
As the intensity of terrestrial magnetism at different
places is not a function of the dip at these places, and the
isodynamic lines are not parallel to those of equal dip, it is
probable that different points of the equator have not the
same magnetic intensity. “ Having carried,” says Hum¬
boldt, “ the same needle or needles compared with them,
from Paris to Mexico, to the magnetic equator in Peru, to
Berlin, to Petersburg, to the shores of the Caspian, and
to the N. of Asia, I have expressed the magnetic inten¬
sities at these places, by taking for unity the intensity
which I find on the magnetic equator in Peru, or rather in
the intersection of this equator with the isodynamical line
of minimum intensity. On this supposition, I find for Paris
P3482, for Milan P3121, for Naples P2745. The very
valuable observations of M. Rossel, at Surabaya in Java,
and those of General Sabine near St Thomas, 5° N.
of the equator, indicate that the magnetic intensity is less
on the magnetic equator near the W. coast of Africa
(W. Long. 40° 24'), and in the great Italian archipelago,
than in the portion of the magnetic equator which crosses
Peru. Besides, M. A. Erman has observed, that on the
E. coasts of South America the intensities are much
weaker at the same distances from the S. terrestrial pole
than on the W. coasts. The intensity POO, found to the
W. of the new continent, on the magnetic equator in the
South Sea, in 135° of W. Long., and 1° 55^ of S. Lat.,
shows itself on the coasts of Brazil towards the 38th degree
of S. Lat., while the dip is there even more than 37°
S. It appears to me more probable that the minimum
intensity at the surface of the earth is to the maximum, not
as 1 to P6 or 2, as has been supposed, but even much
beyond the ratio of 1 to 2-6.”
Observations are yet wanting to determine in what man¬
ner the intensity varies with the height. Humboldt is of
opinion that it decreases, thus confirming the deductions of
Kupffer.
By combining all the observations of intensity from 179°
to 183°, Professor Hansteen came to the conclusion, that the
total magnetic intensity is smaller in the southern than in
62
MAGNETISM.
Terrestrial (he northern hemisphere. Admiral Duperrey confirmed tins
Magnet- regUik According to the investigations of Biot, the natu¬
ral magnetic intensity, or I, is = 2A .
that of the horizontal needle = 2 A\/
1
and
3 + sec2S
3 sin2 8
, 8 being
the dip; but these formulae presuppose that the earth is
perfectly homogeneous, and of course they cannot be
verified by insulated observations. Admiral Duperrey was
therefore obliged, in order to bring all these observations
into this state, to take the mean intensity of the ter¬
restrial equator and of each of the parallels of the globe,
and to multiply the circumference of each curve by its in¬
tensity in order to have the total intensity, and then to
take the mean of the total intensities of the corresponding
parallels in each hemisphere. In this manner he obtained
all the points of the curve which represents the law of the
increase of the magnetic forces from observation. The
curve thus traced, when compared with that which is cal¬
culated by the formula of M. Biot, does not deviate from
it above O’Olo of the intensity, supposing the intensity at
the magnetic equator in Peru to be 1. He found also
that the surface of the north magnetic hemisphere is to
that of the south one in the ratio of P0000 to 1-0152, a
ratio which is the same as that of the total intensity of
the south terrestrial hemisphere to the total intensity of the
north terrestrial hemisphere; and he hence concludes, that
the surfaces of the two magnetic hemispheres are propor¬
tional to the intensities of the two terrestrial hemispheres.
The lines of equal magnetic intensity had the values 0-9,
1-0, 1*1, T2, &c., given to them in reference to an arbitrary
unit, which was the measure of the force at the place in
South America when Humboldt measured it early in the
present century. Compared with this measure, the inten¬
sity in Paris was 1-348, and that in London 1"372. ihis
arbitrary scale, however, though useful in bringing together
the results obtained by different observers, assumed that
the magnetic force was constant at the same place, whereas
all the three magnetic elements are subject to change.
Poisson first pointed out a method of surmounting this diffi¬
culty ; but Gauss, in his work entitled Intensitas vis Mag-
neticoe, already referred to, explained and introduced a
method of determining the absolute magnetic intensity at
the place where the experiment is made, expressed in
terms of standards of weight and linear measure, and re¬
cognised subdivisions of time. As the absolute values of
the intensity have the same relation to each other as the
arbitrary values, it is necessary only to have the values of
the two scales at one station to enable us to convert the
one into the other at all other places.
The first general map of the isodynamic lines was laid
before the British Association in 1837 by General Sabine;
but he afterwards adapted it to 1840, and in the revised
state he has published it in his admirable article forming
plate 23 in the new edition of Johnston’s Physical Atlas,
just published. The lines are numbered on the arbitrary
scale, but the relative absolute values, which are as follows,
are given on the map:—
Arbitrary scale. Absolute scale.
Arbitrary scale. Absolute scale.
0-9  6-81
10  7-57
11,  8-32
1-2  9 08
1-3  9 84
1-4 10-60
1-6 11-35
1-6  1211
1-7  12-87
1-8  13-62
1- 85 14-00
1'9  14-37
2- 0  1514
2-05 15-52
The first of these numbers, viz., 0-9, corresponds with
the equatorial intensity in the Atlantic; and the last of Terrestrial
them, viz., 2'05, with the maximum observed intensity in Magnet-
S. Lat. 60., and E. Long. 170. to 150. 1S“-
In order to discover the causes of terrestrial magnetism,
the localities in which they operate, and the laws which
regulate the periodical changes which have been observed,
maps of the three magnetic elements must be constructed
in every part of the globe. The determination of these
elements for the British Islands was undertaken in 1834, at
the suggestion of the British Association, by General
Sabine, Dr Lloyd, Sir James Ross, Mr Phillips, and Mr
W. Fox, who published the result of their observations
in the Reports of that body for 1838.1 General Sabine
proposes, that as 20 years have now elapsed, the observa¬
tions should be repeated; and we would suggest that they
should be made at the bottom of mines and the top of
mountains.
Dr Kreil has made similar observations in 1846-54
in the Austrian States, and Dr Lament in and around
Bavaria in 1849-53. The Messrs Schlagintweit are occu¬
pied in the same work in British India; and Dr Bache
in the United States of America, Captain Elliot in the
Indian Archipelago, and Mr Vogel in Northern and Cen¬
tral Africa, at the expense of the British government.
On the Monthly and Daily Change of Intensity.
The magnetic intensity, like the other elements of ter- Monthly
testrial magnetism, suffers monthly and diurnal changes, and daily
By means of the vibrations of a needle delicately suspended, of
M. Hansteen found that the minimum of the daily changein ensi y‘
of intensity is between ten and eleven in the forenoon, and
the maximum between four and seven in the afternoon in
May, and about seven in June. The intensity is a maxi¬
mum in December, and a minimum in June. The great¬
est monthly change in the intensity is a maximum in the
months of December and June, about the time when the
earth is in its perihelion and aphelion. It is a minimum
near the equinoxes, or when the earth is at its mean dis¬
tance from the sun. The greatest daily change is least in
the winter and greatest in the summer; the greatest differ¬
ence of the annual change of intensity is 0-0359. Profes¬
sor Hansteen likewise found that the magnetic intensity is
diminishing in Europe, and that the decrease is greater in
the northern and eastern, than in the southern and west¬
ern parts, an effect which he conceives to be produced by
the motion of the Siberian pole towards the east. At Port
Bowen, Sir Edward Parry observed an augmentation of the
magnetic intensity to take place from the morning till the
afternoon, and a diminution of it from the afternoon till the
morning. Jhe results of Hansteen were also confirmed
by Mr Christie,2 who showed that the terrestrial magnetic
intensity is a minimum between ten and eleven o’clock
in the morning, the time nearly when the sun is in the
magnetic meridian; that it increases from this time until
between nine and ten o’clock in the evening, after which
it decreases, and continues decreasing during the morning,
till it reaches its minimum between ten and eleven. These
results were deduced from observations made in. May,
within doors, to determine the positions of the points ot
equilibrium at which a magnetic needle was retained at
different hours during the day, by the joint action ot two
bar-magnets and of terrestrial magnetism, reduced to their
true positions at the standard temperature (60 ) of the
mao-nets. As this change in the position of these points
was* produced by the change in the magnetic intensity, Mr
Christie thus obtained accurate measures of the last of these
elements bv means of the following formula
1 This report was published separately, entitled Report on the Magnetic, Isoclinal, and Isodynamic lines in the British Islands. Lond.
1839. * Phil. Trans., 1825, p. 49-51.
MAGNETISM.
63
Terrestrial M - F (-004690814 + *000829329 cos2 <p) = 0;
Magnet- in which M is the horizontal part of the terrestrial mag-
ism. netic force, acting on the north arm of the needle in the
line of the dip, F the force with which a pole of the needle
is repelled from a pole of the same name of either magnet,
or attracted towards that of a contrary name at unity of
distance, and <p the angle which the axis of the needle
makes with the meridian, or the azimuth of the point of
equilibrium.
Mr Christie repeated his observations in the open air in
June, and from these it appears that the minimum inten¬
sity happened nearly at the time the sun passed the mag¬
netic meridian, and rather later than in May, which was
also the case with the time of the sun’s passage over the
meridian. The intensity increased until about six o’clock
in the afternoon, after which it appears to have decreased
during the evening, and to have been decreasing from an
early hour in the morning. Mr Christie has given the fol¬
lowing interesting view of Hansteen’s results and his own :—
Intensity deduced from Hansteen’s
Observations in 1820.
Time.
May.
June.
Intensity deduced from Mr Chris¬
tie’s Observations in 1823.
Time.
May.
June.
8 A. Om.A.M.
10 30
4 0 p.m,
7 0
10 30
1-00034
1-00000
1-00299
1-00294
1-00191
1-00010
1-00000
1-00251
1-00304
1-00267
7 7t. 3 m.
10 30
4 30
7 30
9 30
1-00114
1-00000
1-00175
1-00220
1-00231
1-00061
1-00000
1-00223
1-00239
1-00209
The principal difference between these results is, that in
Mr Christie’s observations the intensity seems to diminish
more rapidly in the morning, and increase more slowly in
the afternoon, than it does in those of Hansteen.
The following table shows the horizontal magnetic in¬
tensity at Gottingen, as determined by Professor Gauss, in
different months of 1832, with great accuracy.
1832.
May 21 
... 24 
June 4 
... 24-28
July 23, 24.
Horizontal
Intensity.
... 1-7820
...1-7694
... 1-7713
... 1-7625
... 1-7826
1832.
July 25, 26,
Sept. 9 
... 18 
... 27 
Oct. 15 
Horizontal
Intensity.
.. 1-7845
.. 1-7764
.. 1-7821
.. 1-7965
.. 1-7860
In order to obtain from these numbers the absolute mag¬
netic intensity, to compare them with the results in Han¬
steen’s table, they must be multiplied by the secant of 68°
22' 22", the dip at Gottingen on the 23d June 1832.
Sect. IV.—On the Nature and Causes of the Earth's
Magnetism.
Nature The phenomena described in tne preceding sections
and causes afford abundant evidence that the earth is in some way or
^1® other magnetic; but what is the nature of its magnetic
magnetism con(^^^on> or from what cause it derives its origin, are
° points which it is not easy to determine. The earliest and
the most natural supposition is that of Dr Gilbert, that the
earth contains within itself a powerful magnet, lying in a
position which nearly coincides with its axis of rotation.
In this case, the pole of this magnet, which acts in our
northern hemisphere, must have south-polar magnetism, as
it attracts the north pole of the needle; while the pole in
the southern hemisphere must have north-polar magnetism,
as it attracts the south pole of the needle. That this hypo¬
thesis would, generally speaking, represent the ordinary
phenomena of terrestrial magnetism, may be easily shown
by placing a bar-magnet within a terrestrial globe, and ob¬
serving the phenomena exhibited by a small needle sus¬
pended at its centre of gravity by a fine thread or fibre.
As the magnet is placed out of the axis of rotation, the
needle in the northern hemisphere will always point to the
north end of the inclosed magnet, exhibiting all the phe¬
nomena of the variation of the needle, as usually observed.
The general phenomena of the dip will also be exhibited, Terrestrial
as shown in the annexed figure, where NS is the direction Magnet-
of the inclosed
magnet, shown
by dotted lines,
S being the
northern mag¬
netic pole, and
N the southern,
and ns, ns, small
needles suspend¬
ed by fibres/,/,/.
The needle has
no dip at the
equator, because
each pole is
equally attracted by the corresponding poles of the in¬
closed magnet, and at the poles S, N, the dip is 90°, as
observed at the northern magnetic pole by Sir James
Ross. At latitudes intermediate between the magnetic
equator and the magnetic poles, the dip has an interme¬
diate value.
In the same manner as a common bar-magnet communi¬
cates magnetism to a piece of soft iron held near it, the
supposed magnet in the earth communicates magnetism to
a soft iron bar held in the magnetic meridian, and parallel
to the dipping needle, which in this country is not far from
a vertical position. The soft iron is temporarily a magnet,
exactly like the soft bar in the presence of a real magnet,
and possesses the very same properties.
In the progress of discovery, however, it has been found
that the phenomena of the dip and the variation are more
complex than this hypothesis will allow us to suppose; and
in measuring the magnetic intensity in Siberia, Hansteen has
proved that there is another magnetic pole in that country,
which regulates the magnetic phenomena. In order to ac¬
count for these, we must therefore suppose another magnet
passing through the globe in the direction of a diameter
whose pole coincides with the Siberian magnetic pole. But
even this addition to the hypothesis of Gilbert will not ex¬
plain the phenomena, unless we resort to the absurd as¬
sumption of Halley, who gives rotatory movements to mag¬
netic spheres placed in the interior of the globe.
A more sober and philosophical hypothesis is one which
has been long gaining ground, and which later discoveries
have rendered still more probable. According to this hypo¬
thesis, the magnetism of the earth is not that of a magnet,
but that of a sphere or spherical shell of iron on which
magnetism is induced. The difference between these two
magnetic states is very great. In regular magnets the
centres of action are placed at their extremities or poles;
but in masses of iron, either hollow or solid, either regular
or irregular, the centres of action are always coincident
with the centre of attraction of the surface of the mass.
When the observations on the variation and dip of the
needle became numerous and accurate, philosophers soon
perceived that they could not be explained by the action of
two magnetic poles at a distance from each other. M. Biot
had the merit of first viewing the subject in this light, and
he at length came to the conclusion that the nearer the
poles were taken to each other, the greater was the agree¬
ment between the computed and observed results; and by
assuming the two centres as indefinitely near to each other
in the centre of the earth, the coincidence between obser¬
vation and calculation was as great as could be expected.
Now, it is a remarkable fact, that Mr Barlow discovered, as
we have already seen, that such a coincidence in the centre
of action actually takes place in all bodies which are mag¬
netic by induction, such as iron spheres or shells; and he
has applied this principle to account for the various pheno¬
mena of the dip and variation of the needle. Almost all
64
Terrestrial
Magnet¬
ism.
Causes of
the earth’s
magnetism
Uansteen.
MAGNETISM.
the philosophers who have since investigated the subject
have adopted this idea; and the only difficulty which at¬
taches to it is, where to find the cause by which the earth s
magnetism is induced. The following speculations on this
curious subject are hazarded by M. Hansteen, in his work
on the magnetism of the earth : —
u For these reasons, it appears most natural to seek their
origin in the sun, the source of all living activity ; and our
conjecture gains probability from the preceding remarks
on the daily oscillations of the needle. Upon this prin¬
ciple, the sun may be conceived as possessing one or
more magnetic axes, which, by distributing the force, oc¬
casion a magnetic difference in the earth, in the moon,
and all those planets whose internal structure admits of
such a difference. Yet, allowing all this, the main difficulty
seems not to be overcome, but merely removed from the
eyes to a greater distance ; for the question may still be
asked with equal justice, whence did the sun acquire its
magnetic force ? And if from the sun we have recourse
to a central sun, and from that again to a general magne¬
tic direction throughout the universe, having the milky-way
for its equator, we but lengthen an unrestricted chain,^
every link of which hangs on the preceding link, no one of
them on a point of support. All things considered, the
following mode of representing the subject appears to me
most plausible. If a single globe were left to move alone
freely in the immensity of space, the opposite forces exist¬
ing in its material structure would soon arrive at an equi¬
librium conformable to their nature, if they were not so at
first, and all activity would soon come to an end. But if
we imagine another globe to be introduced, a mutual rela¬
tion will arise between the two; and one of its results will
be a reciprocal tendency to unite, which is designated, and
sometimes thought to be explained, by the merely descrip¬
tive word attraction. Now, would this tendency be the
only consequence of that relation ? Is it not more likely
that the fundamental forces, being driven from their state
of indifference or rest, would exhibit tbeir energy in all
possible directions, giving rise to all kinds of contrary
action ? The electric force is excited, not by friction alone,
but also by contact, and probably also, though in smaller
degrees, by the mutual action of two bodies at a distance ;
for contact is nothing but the smallest possible distance,
and that, moreover, only for a few small particles. Is it
not conceivable that magnetic force may likewise originate
in a similar manner? When the natural philosopher and
the mathematician pay regard to no other effect of the re¬
ciprocal relation between two bodies at a distance, except
the tendency to unite, they proceed logically, if their in¬
vestigations require nothing more than a moving power;
but should it be maintained that no other energy can be
developed between two such bodies, the assertion will need
proof, and the proof will be hard to find.
“ I reckon it possible, therefore, that, by means of the
mutual relations subsisting between the sun and all the
planets, as well as between the latter and their satellites, a
magnetic action may be excited in every one of those
globes whose material structure admits of it, in a direction
depending on the position of the rotatory axes with regard
to the plane of the orbit. Each of the planets might thus
give rise to a particular magnetic axis in the sun ; but as
their orbits make only small angles with the sun’s equator
and each other, these magnetic axes would, perhaps, on
the whole, correspond with the several rotatory axes. Such
planets as have no moons would, on this principle, have
but one magnetic axis ; the rest would, in all cases, have
one axis more than they have moons, if those different
axes, by reason of the small angles which the orbits of
their several moons form with each other, did not combine
into a single axis. The conical motions by which the
rotatory axes of the planets are carried round the pole of
the ecliptic (the precession in the earth), joined to the re- Terrestrial
volving motion of the orbits about the sun’s equator (which Magnet-
occasions the present diminution in the obliquity of the v /
ecliptic), might perhaps, in this case, account for the v
change of position in the magnetic axis. It would greatly ^,ausest<^v
strengthen this hypothesis, if the above great magnetic ms^ ^aertif,
period, after the lapse of which both axes again assume the
same position, should in fact be found to coincide with the
period of the precession, which, however, seems a little
doubtful.”
Such was the state of speculation on this part of the sub¬
ject when Hansteen published his work on the magnetism
of the earth. The poles of our globe were then regarded
as the coldest parts on its surface; and no conjecture even
had been hazarded regarding the connection between the
phenomena of terrestrial temperature and terrestrial mag¬
netism, till Sir David Brewster proved, from an immense
number of meteorological observations, that there were in
our northern hemisphere two poles of maximum cold ; that
these poles coincided with the magnetic poles; that the
circle of maximum heat, like the magnetic equator, did not
coincide with the equinoctial line ; that the isothermal
lines, and the lines of equal magnetic intensity, had the
same general form surrounding and inclosing the magne¬
tic poles and those of maximum cold; and that, by the
same formula, mutatis mutandis, we could calculate the
temperature and the magnetic intensity of any point of the
globe. These views we have referred to more fully in the
“ History of Magnetism.”
The monthly and daily changes in the intensity ot ter¬
restrial magnetism, and in the dip and variation of the
needle, had led Canton and others to ascribe these changes
to the action of the sun ; and Admiral Duperrey, in his
paper on the magnetic equator, demonstrated that the
points of this great circle, or those where the magnetic in¬
tensity is minimum, are also the warmest points of each
meridian, or that the thermal and the magnetic equator are
connected, as we had already proved to be the case with
the thermal and magnetic poles. Admiral Duperrey like¬
wise attributes the differences in the magnetic intensities of
different places to their difference of temperature ; and he
remarks, that in comparing the isothermal and the isody¬
namic lines, he found a remarkable analogy in their cur¬
vatures, and particularly in the direction of their conca¬
vities and convexities. In support of these views, Admiral
Duperrey refers to the changes in the daily variation, as
following the movements of the sun ; and he infers that
the southern hemisphere of our globe is a degree colder
than the northern hemisphere.
But though it is now placed beyond a doubt, that the
phenomena of temperature and magnetism are closely con¬
nected, and that the latter are powerfully influenced by the
former, yet various questions arise, which it is very difficult
to answer.
1. Have the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism an
electric origin ; that is, is the magnetism developed by
electro-magnetic or thermo-magnetic causes ? or,
2. Are the phenomena owing to the diffusion of iron or
other magnetic metals through the solid mass of our globe,
in which magnetism is induced by some exterior cause ?
The electro-magnetic hypothesis, which was first stated
by Sir David Brewster, was ably supported by Proiessor Bar-
low in a paper which appeared in the Phil. Irans. for 1831,
On the probable Electric Origin of all the Phenomena of Ter¬
restrial Magnetism ; in which he considers it as probable,
that magnetism, as a distinct quality, has no existence in
nature.” ^As all the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism
can be explained on the supposition that the magnetic
power resides on its surface, it occurred to Mr Barlow, that
if he could distribute over the surface of an artificial globe
a series of galvanic currents, in such a way that their tan-
MAGNETISM.
ism.
Barlow’s
electro¬
magnetic
globe.
Terrestrial gential power should everywhere give a corresponding
Magnet- direction to the needle, this globe would exhibit, while
under electrical induction, all the magnetic phenomena
^ of the earth upon a needle freely suspended above it. He
accordingly put this idea to the test of experiment in the
following manner:— j
“ I procured,” says he, “ a wooden globe sixteen inches
in diameter, which was made hollow for the purpose of re¬
ducing its weight; and, while still in the lathe, grooves
were cut to represent an equator, and parallels of latitude
at every 4£° each way from the equator to the poles ; these
grooves were about an eighth of an inch deep and broad ;
and lastly, a groove of the same breadth, but of double the
depth, was cut like a meridian, from pole to pole, half
round. These grooves were for the purpose of laying in
the wire, which was effected thus :—The middle of a cop¬
per wire nearly ninety feet long, and one-tenth of an inch
in diameter, was applied to the equatorial groove, so as to
meet in the transverse meridian ; it was then made to pass
round this parallel, returned again along the meridian to the
next parallel ; then passed round this again; and so on,
till the wire was thus led in continuation from pole to pole.
“ The length of wire still remaining at each pole was
bound with varnished silk to prevent contact, and then re¬
turned from each pole along the meridian groove to the
equator. At this point, each wire being fastened down
with small staples, the wires of the remaining five feet were
bound together to near their common extremity, where they
opened to form two points for connecting the poles of a
powerful galvanic battery.
“ When this connection was made, the wire became of
course an electric conductor, and the whole surface of the
globe was put into a state of transient magnetic induction ;
and consequently, agreeable to the laws of action above
described, a neutralized needle freely suspended above
such a globe would arrange itself in a plane passing from
pole to pole through the centre, and take different angles
of inclination, according to its situation between the equa¬
tor and either pole.
“ In order to render the experiment more strongly repre¬
sentative of the actual state of the earth, the globe, in the
state above described, was covered by the gores of a com¬
mon globe, which were laid on so as to bring the poles of
this wire arrangement into the situation of the earth’s mag¬
netic poles, according to the best observations we have for
this determination. I therefore placed them in latitude 72°
N. and 72° S., and on the meridian corresponding with longi¬
tude / 6 W., by which means the magnetic and true equators
cut^ one another in about 14° E., and 166° W. longitude.
“ The globe being thus completed, a delicate needle must
be suspended above it, neutralized from the effect of the
earth’s magnetism, according to the principle I employed in
in my observations on the daily variation, and described in
the Philosophical Transactions for 1823 ; by which means
it will become entirely under the superficial galvanic ar¬
rangement just described. Conceive now the globe to be
placed so as to bring London into the zenith, then the two
ends of the conducting wire being connected with the poles
of a powerful battery, it will be seen immediately that the
needle, which was before indifferent to any direction, will
have its north end depressed about 70°, as nearly as the
eye can. judge, which. is .th& actual .dip in LojndonAit will
also be directed towards the magnetic poles of the globe,
thereby also showing a variation of about 24° to 25° to W.,
as is also the case in London. If now we turn the globe
about on its support, so as to bring to the zenith places
equally distant with England from the magnetic pole, we
shall find the dip remains the same; but the variation
will continually change, becoming first zero, and then gra-
65
dually increasing to the eastward, as happens on the earth. Terrestrial
If again we turn the globe so as to make the pole approach Magnet-
the zenith, the dip will increase, till at the pole itself the isI11,
needle will become perfectly vertical. Making now this
pole recede, the dip will decrease, till at the equator it va- Barlow’s
nishes, the needle becoming horizontal. Continuino' the electr0*.
motion, and approaching the south pole, the south end of
the needle will be found to dip, increasing continually from h
the equator to the pole, where it becomes again vertical,
but reversed as regards its verticality at the north pole.”
Although the artificial globe represents very exactly on
a small scale all the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism,
and although, as Mr Barlow says, “ he has proved'the ex¬
istence of a force competent to produce all the phenomena,
without the aid of any body usually called magnetic yet
he acknowledges that, “ we have no idea how such a sys¬
tem of currents can have existence on the earth, because,
to produce them, we have been obliged to employ a parti¬
cular arrangement of metals, acids, and conductors.” The
discovery of Dr Seebeck, however, that the mere applica¬
tion of heat to a circuit composed of two metals1 is capable of
developing the magnetic effects above described, is regarded
by Professor Barlow as bringing us a step nearer to an
explanation of the earth’s magnetism, by referring us to
nature as the great agent of all these phenomena, and he
conceives that only one link is wanting to complete the ex¬
planation. This link, however, is a very important one,
and we are just as much puzzled to discover the metallic
thermo-magnetic apparatus, as we are to discover the
electro-magnetic one. If it could be shown that the action
of solar heat is capable of developing magnetism in parti¬
cles such as those which are known to constitute our globe,
the great difficulty would be removed ; but until this is
done, we are disposed to lean to the old though not yet ex¬
ploded notion, that terrestrial magnetism is the effect of
magnetic or ferruginous materials, which are disseminated
through the mass of the earth. This leads us to consider the
second question relative to the origin of terrestrial magnetism.
2. Are the phenomena owing to the diffusion of iron or
other magnetic metals through the solid mass of our globe,
on which magnetism is induced by some exterior cause ?
In so far as our knowledge extends, iron and other mag¬
netic metals are not so regularly diffused as to produce the
magnetic phonomena; and we are not entitled to assume
the existence of any regular metallic nucleus, or regular
arrangement of metallic strata, capable of producing that
uniform action in the magnetic needle which is indicated by
the regularity of the isodynamical lines, or those of equa*I
magnetic intensity. That there are actual magnets within
the crust of our globe, and abundance of ferruginous matter
capable of producing locally magnetic phenomena, cannot
be doubted ; but the action of these two classes of bodies
is regulated by different laws, and we can only regard them
as exercising a disturbing force in rendering irregular the
action of some more general cause. If the ferruginous
matter which produces magnetism is situated near the sur¬
face of the earth, we should expect a diminution in the
intensity when the needle is made to oscillate above the
deepest parts of the ocean, where the solid crust may be
many miles distant. If it is, on the other hand, deeply
seated, the intensity ought to diminish greatly as we ascend
in balloons, or to the tops of our highest mountains ; but
none of these effects are observed, and it becomes there¬
fore very improbable that the magnetic phenomena are pro¬
duced either by ferruginous matter near the surface, or far
removedfrom it.
But though we cannot find the seat, or rather the inter¬
medium, of terrestrial magnetism in the bowels of the earth,
may we not, as a last resource, seek for it in our atmo-
®tUrge0n 0f Woolwich Produced similar effects by the application of heat to only one metal, viz., a rectangle of bismuth only.
- i
66
Terrestrial
Magnet¬
ism.
v—*v—
Terrestrial
magnetism
supposed
to reside
in the at¬
mosphere.
Effect of
height on
the in¬
tensity.
MAGNETISM.
sphere ? It appears to be demonstrated by the experiments ^
of Fusinieri, of which we have given a full account in our
article on Electricity, that metals, and particularly iron,
exist in a state of vapour in our atmosphere; and hence
we have a regular hollow shell of magnetic matter envelop¬
ing the earth, and capable, when magnetism is induced upon
it by an exterior cause, of producing all the phenomena of
terrestrial magnetism. In its undisturbed state of equili¬
brium, this magnetic atmosphere will act upon the needle,
according to the laws which Mr Barlow found to regulate
the action of an iron sphere or shell; but these laws will
be modified by those which regulate the thermal state of
the globe, and will be disturbed by sudden changes of tem¬
perature, and by the various electrical agencies which ex¬
ercise so powerful an influence over the meteorological con¬
dition of the atmosphere. The more violent disturbances
of electrical equilibrium will fuse, and throw down, in the
form of meteoric stones, the metallic vapour in their vici¬
nity. Inferior electrical actions will render their progress
visible in the form of lightning and fiery meteors, arising
from the heated state of the metallic particles ; while still
feebler electricities will, by their accompanying heat, pro¬
duce the sheets of summer lightning, and the more con¬
tinued and shifting phenomena of the aurora. Hence the
electric sounds and other accompaniments of the aurora ;
hence its connection with the magnetic pole and equator ;
and hence the disturbance of the needle, or the magnetic
hurricanes, as Humboldt calls them, while the regular ac¬
tion of the metallic atmosphere is disturbed during the
prevalence of the aurora, or of thunder-storms. These
views receive some support from the observations of MM.
Gay-Lussac and Biot, from which it appears that the in¬
tensity of terrestrial magnetism is not diminished at the
height of 13,000 feet above the earth ; and Mr Henwood
found the magnetic intensity as strong 710 feet above the
level of the sea as at the bottom of a mine 950 feet below
the same level. Kupffer, on the authority, we believe, of a
single observation, has given an opposite opinion; and
Saussure conceived that the intensity was less on the Col
de Geant than at Geneva, but the numbers which he gives
actually authorizes the opposite conclusion.
From a series of observations made in July 1830 by M.
Quetelet, in Switzerland, it appears that in place of the
intensity diminishing with the height, it actually increases,
the increase taking place gradually (with the exception of
Bonneville) in ascending from Geneva to the Col de Balme,
as is shown in the following table—
Horizontal Intensity.
Geneva 1’0805
Bonneville ....1'0765
Sallenches 1’0815
St Gervais T0861
Vaudagnes  I'OSSi
Servoz l-0872
Mer de Glace ....T0885
Horizontal Intensity.
Chamouni  T0935
Col de Balme 1,0917
Martigny 1’0921
Hospice St Bernard 1-0966
Simplon Village 1-0987
Domodossolo 1-0997
An argument for the atmospheric origin of terrestrial
magnetism may be derived from the admitted fact, that
there actually exists in our atmosphere a powerful source of
magnetism, with which the south pole of the needle has a dis¬
tinct connection. This source of magnetism is the aurora
borealis, and the south pole of the dipping needle points to
the focus to which the beams of the aurora converge.
These beams act as magnets, as we have seen in a previous Terrestrial
section ; the action of our magnetic atmosphere, when un- Magnet-
disturbed by any other cause but that of temperature, tends ^ ^srn- f
to fix the needle in a specific direction, which varies within v'—
certain limits, depending on the ordinary changes of tem¬
perature ; but when the regular magnetism of the atmo¬
sphere is disturbed by electric or other causes, the needle
must necessarily be affected by the displacement or altered
temperature of the magnetic matter, as exhibited in the
motions and variations in the lustre of the beams of the
aurora. The magnetic pole, therefore, in our hemisphere,
will be a north pole attracting the south end of the needle,
and creating an elevation of the south end in place of a dip
of the north end.
By the aid of these views, all the magnetic phenomena
of the aurora borealis, so ably described by Dr Dalton, and
the disturbances of the needle, so accurately observed by
M. Arago, in reference to the aurorae that occurred in every
part of the northern hemisphere, may be satisfactorily ex¬
plained, as we have attempted to do in a preceding section.
In seeking for a cause which is capable of inducing mag- Magnetic
netism on the ferruginous matter of our globe, whether we influence of
place it within the earth or in its atmosphere, we are limitedthe eun-
to the Sun, to which all the magnetic phenomena have a
distinct reference ; but whether it acts by its heat or by its
light, or by specific rays, or influences of a magnetic nature,
must be left to future inquiry. Without placing any reliance
on the observations which have been supposed to indicate
a magnetic action in the violet rays, we attach some im¬
portance to the observations of Barlocci and Zantedeschi,
who found that both natural and artificial magnets had
their magnetism greatly increased by exposure to the
common solar rays; a result which could not arise from
their heating power, as an increase of temperature inva¬
riably diminishes the power of magnets.
In the work of Dr Dalton, published in 1793, to which Dalton s
we have already referred, there are several ingenious hy- ^ew s. r*‘
pothetical views respecting the cause of the aurora borealis
and its magnetic influence, with which we were not ac¬
quainted till the sections on that subject were written ; but as
these views strongly confirm the hypothesisof terrestrial mag¬
netism which we have ventured to bring forward, we shall
state as briefly as we can the leading ideas of Dr Dalton.
1. The region of the aurora is 150 miles above the
earth’s surface. Immediately above the earth’s surface is
the region of the clouds, then the region of meteors called
falling stars and fire-balls, and beyond this region is that
of the aurora. In proof of the great height of the aurora
(independent of actual measurement) Dr Dalton adduces
its extreme attenuated light, which, he says, may spread
over one-half of the hemisphere, and not yield more light
than the full moon. “ This,” he continues, “ arises from
the extreme rarefaction of the air, which is almost tanta¬
mount to a Toricellian vacuum; in fact, the light of the
aurora exactly corresponds with that of the electric spark,
when sent through a tube in which the air has been rarefied
to as high a degree as can be effected by a good air-pump.”
2. The matter of the aurora.—li From the conclusions in
the preceding section,” says Dr Dalton, “ we are under the
necessity of considering the beams of the aurora borealis
of a. ferruginous nature, because nothing else is known to
1 These results are not consistent with those obtained by Gay-Lussac and Biot, and by others, as mentioned in the history prefixed to
this article. The careful experiments of Prof. J. D. Forbes, made on the Alps and Pyrenees, with Hansteen’s intensity needles, resulted
in giving a negative co-efficient to the height; and when eliminated by the method of least squares, the probable co-efficients of varied
intensity for 100 feet of elevation were as follows:—
Alps, with the cylindrical needle   -000033 of the absolute intensity.
Do. flat needle     -000027
Pyrenees, with both...   -000053
Probable mean     -000034
Hence, to produce a variation of -001, an elevation of 3000 feet is necessary.
M A G N
Terrestrial be magnetic; and consequently that there exists in the
Magnet- higher region of the atmosphere an electric fluid, partaking
ism. of the properties of iron, or rather of magnetic steel; and
's—-that this fluid, doubtless from its magnetic property, as¬
sumes the form of cylindric beams.” “ My fluid of mag¬
netic matterf adds Dr Dalton in another place, “ is, like
magnetic steel, a substance possessed of the properties of
magnetism.” “ Whether any of the various kinds of air or
elastic vapour we are acquainted with is magnetic, I know
not, but hope philosophers will avail themselves of these
hints to make a trial of them.”
3. Exciting cause of the magnetism of the aurora.—
“ With regard to the exciting cause of the aurora, I believe
it will be found in change of temperature.” “ Nothing is
known to affect the magnetism of steel; heat weakens or
destroys it; electricity does more—it sometimes changes
the pole of one denomination to that of another, or inverts
the magnetism. Hence we are obliged to have recourse
to one of these two agents, in accounting for the muta¬
tions above mentioned. As for heat, we should find it
difficult, I believe, to assign a reason for such sudden and
irregular productions of it in the higher regions of the at¬
mosphere, without introducing electricity as an agent in
these productions ; but rather than make such a supposi¬
tion, it would be more philosophical to suppose electricity
to produce the effect on the magnetic matter immediately.
“ The beams of the aurora being magnetic, will have their
magnetism weakened, destroyed, or inverted, pro tempore, by
the several electric shocks they receive during an aurora.”
4. The nature of the magnetism of the beams of the au¬
rora.—Dr Dalton conceives the magnetism to be perma¬
nent, and not induced; and each beam to be as it were a
separate magnet, with the regular polarity of permanent
magnets. “ I conceive that a beam may have its magnet¬
ism inverted, and exist so for a time, &c. . . . and I farther
conceive, that when the beam is restored to its natural
position of the north pole downward, it is effected, not by
inverting the beam wholly as a beam (for this is never ob¬
served in an aurora), but by inverting the constituent par¬
ticles, which may easily be admitted, of a fluid.”
“ If a magnet be required to be made of a given quan¬
tity of steel, it is found by experience to answer best when
the length is to the breadth as 10 to 1 nearly. It is a re¬
markable circumstance, that the length and breadth of the
magnetic beams of the aurora should be so nearly [in that
ratio. Query, if a fluid mass of magnetic matter, whether
elastic or inelastic, were swimming in another fluid of
equal density, and acted on by another magnet at a dis¬
tance, what form would the magnetic matter assume ? Is
it not probable it would be that of a cylinder, of propor¬
tional dimensions to the beams of the aurora ?
5. Governing cause of the magnetism of the aurora.—
“ As the beams,” says Dr Dalton, “ are swimming in a
fluid of equal density with themselves, they are in the same
predicament as a magnetic bar or needle swimming in a
fluid of the same specific gravity with itself; but this last
will only rest in equilibrio when in the direction of the
dipping needle, owing to what is called the earth's mag¬
netism ; and as the former also rests in that position only,
the effects being similar, we must, by the rules of philoso¬
phizing, ascribe them to the same cause. Hence then it
follows, that THE AURORA BOREALIS IS A MAGNETIC
PHENOMENON, AND ITS BEAMS ARE GOVERNED BY THE
earth’s magnetism.” “ I am aware that an objection may
be stated to this; if the beams be swimming in a fluid of
equal density, it will be said they ought to be drawn down
by the action of the earth’s magnetism. Upon this I may
observe, that it is not my business to show why this is not
the case, because I propose the magnetism of the beams as
a thing demonstrable, and not as a hypothesis. We are
not to deny the cause of gravity because we cannot show
E T I S M. 67
how the effect is produced. May^not the difficulty be Terrestrial
lessened by supposing the beam3 of less density than the -Magnet¬
surrounding fluid ?” ^sm’ i
Although this brief abstract of Dr Dalton’s essay contains
many views which in their general bearing add to the pro¬
bability of the hypothesis which we have maintained, yet
we must state in a few words the difference between the
two hypotheses.
1. According to our views, terrestrial magnetism resides
wholly in the earth’s atmosphere, which contains through¬
out its whole extent ferruginous and other metallic matter,
and sulphureous exhalations, all of which are carried off by
evaporation, by ejection from volcanoes, and by the return¬
ing strokes of electricity from the earth to the air. The
actual existence of such materials in the atmosphere, parti¬
cularly sulphureous and ferruginous matter, is proved by the
observations of Fusinieri, and by the existence of meteoric
stones and other solid substances which fall on the earth.
2. The magnetism which directs the needle is induced
upon the magnetic matter in the atmosphere, like that of
an iron sphere, by some exterior cause, although it is very
probable that small local effects may be produced by fer¬
ruginous matter within the earth, and near its surface;
but the only effect of these will be to produce small irre¬
gularities in the intensity of the magnetism of the needle,
and in its direction.
3. As the colour of the electric spark, when taken from
different bodies, or when passing through different media,
depends on the solid matter which it renders luminous, so
the different colours of lightning, of the auroral beams, of
falling stars, and of meteors of every kind, are produced
by the heat of the electric fluid either rendering the mate¬
rial substance visible by incandescence, or throwing it into
a state of combustion.
4. The beams of the aurora are those portions of the
magnetic atmosphere through which electricity is passing,
and which, by being heated to different degrees are
brought to different states of incandescence, and have
their induced magnetism increased, like that of all ferrugi¬
nous bodies which are brought to a temperature less than
that of white heat.
In his work On the Magnetic Orbit, already referred to, Views of
Mr Grover has expressed some new opinions on the nature Mr Grover,
and locality of terrestrial magnetism. He considers the
atmosphere as its immediate source, containing within it
isolated columns of conducting media, which surround
the earth in such a manner, that in 365 revolutions the
sun generates in it an electro-magnetic circulation. The
earth’s surface then becomes enveloped in a vast electro¬
magnetic spiral coil, and its inhabitants are thus placed
between the coil and the surface by those peculiar motions
of the earth which arise from the yearly cycle finding its
period at different hours of the day, and on different meri¬
dians. Such a change may take place, from time to time,
in the precise position of this great atmospheric coil as
would correspond with the orbit of the magnetic revolution.
In reference to these views Sir W. Harris remarks, “ that and of Sir
the phenomena of periodical variations depend evidently on W. Harrii,
the action of heat and the position of the sun, and pro¬
bably in resulting thermo-magnetic currents. Beyond this
mere assumption, however, we have no very secure basis
for reasoning. TheTnost admissible view, however, of this
kind of action, is the following:—During the daily motion
of the earth, its surface, especially about the tropics, is
successively heated and cooled in successive points, and in
an E. and W. direction. Then if we admit that thermo-
magnetic currents are thus excited (as in Dr Seebeck’s ex¬
periment of heating a combination of antimony and bismuth
bars at one point, and cooling them at another), and that
they circulate in an E. and W. direction over the earth’s
surface, the result will be a magnetic development in a N.
68
MAGNETISM.
Terrestrial ancl^S. direction, and hence there will be a magnetic de-
Magnet- velopment in a direction nearly parallel with its axis.”1
ism. -pjie 0pjni0n magnetism resides wholly or to a great
extent in our atmosphere, has been rendered more probable
by the important discovery of Dr Faraday, that oxygen gas,
which composes two-ninths of the atmosphere by weight,
is magnetic like iron, while nitrogen has no such property.
Hence it is to the magnetic constitution and condition of
the atmosphere, and the changes effected in it by variations
of temperature and pressure, winds, currents, rain and
snow, &c., that Dr Faraday refers the annual and diurnal
variation of the needle.
Although it is universally admitted that a source of mag¬
netism has been proved to exist in our atmosphere, and
though it is evident that the force which emanates from it
is greater than any magnetic force which can be proved to
have its origin in the solid part of the earth, yet it may be
asked if there is any reason for believing that the magnet¬
ism in the atmosphere is strong enough to be considered
as the only source of terrestrial magnetism ? To this ques¬
tion, some of the facts already stated afford a pretty satis¬
factory answer. M. Arago showed that the aurora? which
exist only at St Petersburg, in Siberia, and even in North
America, actually disturb the magnetic needle at Paris;
and he considered it highly probable that the aurorae
even round the south pole of our globe extend their in¬
fluence to Paris. If a force of such magnitude exists in
insulated beams which form regular magnets, according to
Dr Dalton, we need not. scruple to suppose that a ferru¬
ginous atmosphere is capable of producing that degree of
intensity which characterizes terrestrial magnetism, and
that the disturbances exhibited at Paris on the magnetic
needle are the effect of local diminutions or augmentations
of the magnetic force in Sibei'ia, America, or even in the
southern hemisphere.
CHAP. X.—ACCOUNT OF THE DIFFERENT METHODS OF
MAKING ARTIFICIAL MAGNETS.
Methods of In the “ History of Magnetism” we have already made a
making ar- inference to the principal methods of making artificial
11 cia magnets. We shall now proceed to give a short account
,nas,‘etS- of tile methods themselves.
In the infancy of the science, a bar B of hard steel was
magnetized by rubbing it throughout its whole length on
one of the poles N of a natural or artificial magnet A, in
a direction at right angles to the line joining the two poles
of the primitive magnet. By this
process the new bar a will be ren¬
dered slightly magnetic, but its mag¬
netism cannot possibly be completely
developed unless in the two cases
where the new bar is extremely small,
or the primitive magnet A extremely
powerful; and the magnetism which
is communicated often exhibits dif¬
ferent poles, or consequent points as
they are called, throughout the length
of the new bar.
In using this method, the exciting pole should be slightly
pressed upon the new bar; and after reaching the end of the
bar at s, it must be lifted up and applied again to the other
end, the friction being always made in the same direction.
Another old method of making magnets consisted in
placing the end 5 of a new bar B in contact merely with
one of the poles N of a powerful, ^
magnet, and- striking the new bar ‘ b
so as to make it ring during thel
time of its application. This me-® G5-
S ft
Fig. 64.
Artificial
Magnets.
thod, however, like the first, will be effectual only for very Methods
small bars; the pole s will be the strongest, and the neutral of making
point at B will be nearer s than n.
A more efficacious method of magnetizing small bars by
simple contact is A
is
shown in the an¬
nexed figure, by
placing the new bar
Fig. 66.
B between the opposite poles N, S of two strong magnetic
bars A, A, of nearly equal power. In this case the mag¬
netism of 13 will be nearly twice as great as when only one,
A or A', is used; and if there are no consecutive poles pro¬
duced the neutral point^B will bisect ns.
These simple methods were discontinued when the prin¬
ciples of magnetic induction were better understood, and
several ingenious and highly effective processes of making
artificial magnets were invented by the philosophers of the
eighteenth century. The first of these was that of Mr
Knight.
Sect. I.—Account of Dr Gowin Knights method of
making Artificial Magnets.
Dr Gowin Knight, a physician in London, was long .
celebrated for the excellence of the artificial magnets which '
he made, and some of which he presented to the Royal So¬
ciety. The method which he used was kept a secret during
his life, but was published after his death by Mr Wilson.
The bar or needle B, which he intended to magnetize,
was tempered at a cherry-red heat, and placed under the
Fig. 67.
opposite poles N, S of two equal magnets. These mag¬
nets are then separated in opposite directions SA', NA, so
that the south pole S of the one passes over the north-polar
half Bw of the bar B, and the north pole N of the other,
over the south-polar half Bs of B. This operation is re¬
peated several times, till the magnetism of the bar B is
fully developed.
In this process the north pole N, while it attracts to the
half Brc all the south-polar magnetism in Bs, repels at the
same time into Bs all the north-polar magnetism of Brc.
The same is true, mutatis mutandis, with the south pole S.
When the bars A, A' are large and powerful, it has been
found that this process is capable of communicating to small
bars all the magnetism of which they are susceptible. (See
Phil. Trans., vol. xliv., 1746-47).
By this process Dr Knight constructed a magnetic ma-
1 Rudim, Mag. iii, 119.
MAGNETISM.
69
Methods needles a very intense degree of magnetism. This machine
of making consisted of 480 bar-magnets, each 15 inches long, 1 inch
Artificial' wide, and half an inch thick, arranged in two separate ma-
Magnets. gazineS;i having 240 magnets in each ; one of these maga-
zines is represented in the annexed figure at SN. The
bars were arranged in four lengths ab, be, cd, and de, having
their north poles turned the same way, and consequently
their dissimilar poles in contact. Each bundle ab contained
60 bars, arranged in six beds of 10 bars each, set edgewise,
so that there were 10 bars in width and 6 in depth. Each
magazine weighed 500 lb., and was mounted on rollers as
in'; the figure. Dr Robison saw this machine about the
year 1800, and described the effect of pressing together
the dissimilar poles of the two magazines as if one were
pressing against a feather bed. Dr Faraday examined
them in 1830. Upon placing a cylinder of soft iron 1 foof
long and fths of an inch in diameter across the dissimilar
poles, a force of 100 lb. was necessary to overcome the
attractive force.
Sect. II.—Account of DuhameUs method of making Arti¬
ficial Magnets.
Duhamel’s After Dr Knight’s process had been known and used,
method. the artificial magnets which were made by it were in great
request, and distributed throughout Europe. When the
process, however, was
applied to bars of
great size, it was found
to be defective; and
M. Duhamel of the
Academy of Sciences,
in conjunction with
M. Antheaume, set
themselves to devise a better method, which is represented
in the annexed figure. The bars B, B' to be magnetized
are placed parallel to each other, and have their extremi¬
ties united by two pieces M, m of soft iron, at right angles
to the bars. He then took two strong magnets A, A', or
two bundles of small bar-magnets, the bars of each bundle
having their similar poles together; and having placed
them, as in the figure, at an angle of about 90°, or inclined
45° to the bar B, they were separated from each other,
as already described in the explanation of figure 67. The
same operation was repeated on the other bar B', and con¬
tinued alternately on both till the magnetism was supposed
to be completely developed in both bars. When A and
A are placed upon the second bar B', the disposition of
the poles must be reversed, the pole that was formerly
to the right hand being now placed to the left. The
two bars B, B' are then turned, so that the undermost
faces are uppermost, and the same process carried on as
before.
Eig. 70.
The distinctive peculiarity of Duhamel’s process con¬
Fig. 69.
sists in the employment of the pieces of iron M, in, and in
the use of bundles of small bars, which are more effica¬
cious than two single ones of the same size.
The very same method is applicable to curved bars, or
those of the horse-shoe form, as shown in fig. 70, where the
inclined bars are carried round the curved bar ABC, exactly
as they were along the straight bar B.
Methods
of making
Artificial
Magnets.
Sect. III.—Account of Mr MichelVsfmethod of making
Artificial Magnets.
About the same time that Duhamel was occupied with Michell’s
this subject, Mr Michell of Cambridge, and Mr Canton, method of
were separately engaged in the same inquiry. Mr Michell ^>1^e
published his method in 1750, to which he gave the name ^ D {750^
of the method of double touch. Having joined together,
at the distance of a quarter of an inch, two bundles of
strongly magnetized bars A, A' (fig. 71), their opposite
poles N, S being together, he placed five or more equal
steel bars B, B', B', B", B" in the same straight line ; and
resting the extremity of the bundle of magnets A, A' upon
the middle of the central bar B, he moved them back¬
wards and forwards throughout the whole length of the
line of bars, repeating the operation on each side of the
bars, till the greatest possible effect was produced. By
this method Mr Michell found that the middle steel bars
B, B', B', acquired a very high degree of magnetic virtue,
and greater than the outer bars B", B"; but by placing
these last bars in the middle of the series, and repeating
the operation, they acquired the same degree of magnetism
as the rest.
Mr Michell states, that two magnets will, by his pro¬
cess of double touch, communicate as strong a magnetic
virtue to a steel bar, as a single magnet of five times the
strength, when used in the process of single touch. The
bars A, A' act with the sum of their powers in developing
magnetism in all parts of the line of bars between them,
and with the difference of their powers in all parts of the
line of bars beyond them. The external bars act the same
part in this process as the two pieces of soft iron in the
method of Duhamel.
Sect. IV.—Account of Canton's method of making Arti¬
ficial Magnets.
In the year 1751 Mr Canton published his process, fanton’s
which he regarded as superior to preceding ones. He method,
placed the bars as in Duhamel’s method, joined by pieces
of soft iron. He then applied Michell’s method of double
touch, and afterwards he separated the two bundles of
magnets A, A', and having inclined them to each other,
as in Duhamel’s method, he made them rub upon the bar
from the middle to its extremities. The peculiarity of
Canton’s method is the union of these two processes; but
Coulomb and others have regarded the latter part of the
process as the only effectual one.
In order to make artificial magnets without the aid either without
of natural loadstones or artifical magnets, Mr Canton gives natural or
the following detailed process:— artificial
He takes six bars of soft and six of hard steel, the magnets,
former being smaller than the latter. The bars of soft
steel should be 3 inches long, ^th of an inch broad, and
-^oth thick; and two pieces of iron must be provided, each
having half the length of one of the bars, and the same
70
MAGNETISM.
M ‘the tls
of making
Artificial
Magnets.
breadth and thickness.
each 5-^ inches long,
The bars of hard steel should be
inch broad, and ^ths of an inch
thick, with two pieces of iron of half the length, and the
same breadth and thickness.
All the bars being marked with a line quite round them
at one end, take an iron
poker and tongs, or two bars
of iron, the larger and the
older the better, and fixing
the poker P upright, as in
fig. 72, hold to it with
the left hand, near the top
P, by a silk thread, one of
the soft bars B, having its (
marked end downwards; / _
then grasping the tongs T
with the right hand, a little
below their middle, and
keeping them nearly in a
vertical line, let the bar B
be rubbed with the lower
end L of the tongs, from the
marked end of the bar to its
upper end, about ten times
on each side of it. By this
means the bar B will re¬
ceive as much magnetism
as will enable it to lift a
small key at the marked
end ; and this end of the bar
being suspended by its mid¬
dle, or made to rest on a Fig.72.
point, will turn to the north,
and is called its north pole, the unmarked end being the
south pole.
When four of the soft-steel bars are thus rendered mag¬
netic, the other two AC, BD (fig. 73), must be laid parallel
to each other, at the distance of about Jth of an inch, as
in the figure, having
their dissimilar poles
united with the small¬
est pieces of iron AB,
CD. Two of the
magnetized bars are
then to be placed to¬
gether, as at G, with
their similar poles
united, and the other
two as at K; and when
separated by a piece ris-73-
of wood I, they are slid four or five times backwards and
forwards along the whole length of the bar AC, so that
the marked end F of G is nearest the unmarked end of
AC, and vice versa. This operation is carefully repeated
on BD, and on the other sides of both AC and BD. When
this is done, the bars AC, BD are to be taken up and sub¬
stituted for the two outer bars of the bundles G, K, these
last being laid down in the place of the former, and mag¬
netized in a similar manner. This operation must be re¬
peated till each pair of the soft bars has been magnetized
three ox four times.
W hen the six soft bars are thus magnetized, they must
be formed into two bundles of three each, with their simi¬
lar poles together, and must be used to magnetize two of
the hard bars in the manner already described ; and when
they are magnetized, other two of the hard bars must be
touched in a similar manner. The soft bars are now to be
laid aside, and the remaining two hard bars magnetized bv
the four hard bars already rendered magnetic; and when
this is done, the operation should be repeated by interchang¬
ing the hard bars, till they are impregnated with the'greatest
degree of permanent magnetism which this method is ca¬
pable of communicating to them.
In performing the above operations, which may be com¬
pleted in about half an hour, the bars AC, BD, and the
pieces AB, CD should be placed in grooves, or fixed be¬
tween pins of wood or brass, to keep them steady during
the successive frictions which are applied to them. Ac¬
cording to Canton, each of
the six artificial magnets
thus made will lift about
28 ounces troy. They
should be kept in a wooden
box, and placed as in the
annexed figure, so that no Fig. 74.
two poles of the same name may be together, and the pieces
pf iron AB, CD (fig. 74) placed beside them.
Methods
of making
Artificial
Magnets.
: Sect. Y.—Account of AEpinus’s method of making Arti¬
ficial Magnets. j
The method of magnetizing steel bars by the double 8
touch was greatly improved by ASpinus. In place of the me 0
pieces of iron M, m, used by Duhamel, he used magnets,
and formed the rectangle with the two steel bars tto be
magnetized, having their extremities united by two mag¬
nets M, m, placed as in figure 69. He then placed the ori¬
ginal magnet, or bundles of magnets A, A', as in the figure,
having their dissimilar poles N, S separated by a piece of
wood, and greatly inclined to each other ; and he made the
united poles pass backwards along the whole length of the
steel bar. The same operation was repeated on the other
bar, and on the other side of each of them, care being taken
to reverse the poles, as formerly mentioned, when the
rubbing bars are removed from the one steel bar to the
other. Alpinus found that a maximum effect was produced
when the bars A, A' were inclined 20° or 30° to the steel
bar over which they passed.
Sect. VI.—Account of Coulomb's method of making
Artificial Magnets.
The method of making artificial magnets employed by Co+}OIl']> 8
Coulomb consists of the most efficacious parts of the pre- me 0 ’
ceding processes, improved and extended by long experience
in the art. The apparatus which he uses consists of fixed
and moving bundles of magnets. Each of the fixed bundles
consists of ten bars of steel tempered at a cherry-red heat,
their length being about 21 inches, their breadth T6^ths of
an inch, and their thickness ^th of an inch. Having ren¬
dered them as strongly magnetic as possible, with a natural
or an artificial magnet, he joined them with their similar
poles together, and formed them into two beds of four bars
each, these beds being separated by small rectangular paral¬
lelepipeds m, n of soft iron, projecting a little beyond their
extremities, as shown in the annexed
fig. 75. The moving bundles consist of
four bars tempered at a cherry-red heat,
each being about 16 inches long, x6oths
of an inch wide, and T^ths of an inch
thick. When these bars were magnet- Fig-75-
ized in the same manner as the other bars, he united two
of them by their widths and two of them by their thick¬
ness, so that each bundle was 1 inch and -^oths wide, and
T4oths thick, the bars being separated as before by pieces of
soft iron. Coulomb used a kind of steel very common in
commerce (d’acier timbre a 7 etoiles) ; but he found that
all kinds, provided it was not of a bad quality, were capable
of receiving the same degree of magnetism. In order to
magnetize a bar, he placed the large fixed bundles M, N
in the same straight line, and at a distance a little less than
the length of the bar to be magnetized; and this bar BB'
MAGNETISM.
Methods was placed, as in fig. 76, so as to rest on the projecting
of making pieces of iron, so that the contact took place only over a
Artificial
Magnets,
71
Biot’s me¬
thod.
length of £th of an inch; the two moving bundles A, A'
having their dissimilar poles separated by a small piece of
wood or copper about £th of an inch wide between them,
and each being inclined at an angle of 20° or 30° to the
bar BB'. The united poles of the moving bundles are
then moved successively from the centre to each extremity
of the bar BB', so that the number of frictions upon each
half of the bar may be equal. When the last friction has
been given, the united poles are brought to the middle
point of the bar BB', and then withdrawn perpendicularly.
The same operation is then repeated on the other side
of the bar BB'. If we wish to employ the method of
Duhamel in place of that of ASpinus, we do not require the
piece of wood or copper, but have only to separate the bars
when their united poles are in the middle of the bar BB',
making each pole pass to the extremity of it.
When the fixed and moving bundles are composed of
bars which have not been magnetized to saturation, we
must form new bundles with the newly magnetized bars,
whose magnetism will be stronger than those by which
they were magnetized, and by their means magnetize anew
the bars first used; and by repeating this process three or
four times, the bars may be raised to the highest degree of
magnetic virtue.
When the bars BB' to be magnetized are very large,
the moveable bundle should contain more than four bars,
each of the bars retreating about half an inch in the direc¬
tion of their thickness, as shown in the annexed figure.
The advantage of this displace¬
ment arises from the fact, that
the highest degree of magnetism
resides in the extremity of the
bar. Hence, by this arrange¬
ment, not only the most efficacious parts of the moving bar
are brought into contact with the bar to be magnetized, and
act more powerfully, but the bar nearest to the central one
in the bundle tends not merely to maintain, but to aug¬
ment, in its extremity, its degree of magnetism. The
third bar produces the same good effect upon the second,
and so on with the rest.
Sect. VII.—Account of M. Biot's method of making Arti¬
ficial Magnets.
M. Biot proposed several important improvements on
the process of Coulomb. As the bars are always bent
a little in tempering, he recommends that they should at
first be brought to as hard a temper as possible, and then
annealed to the first shade of yellow. By this means they
will have a sufficient degree of malleability to be again
brought into shape, while they possess sufficient coercive
power for receiving and retaining a high degree of mag¬
netism. Regarding it as of essential importance to in¬
sure an intimate contact between the plates of the large
bundles and the soft iron or armour by which they are
united, Biot formed his armour of several plates of very
Fig. 77.
Fig. 78.
soft iron, which cover the elementary plates at that part Methods
of their extremities where the repartition of free magnet- of making
ism is perceptible. These plates of soft iron form part
of a mass of the same nature terminating in the form of a S ‘
trapezoid, as shown in the annexed
figure, and the plates of steel are
inserted in it, as shown by the
dotted lines; so that the plates
which lie in the axis of the bundles
project a little beyond the lateral
plates. The whole is then bound together with a collet of
soft iron, held firmly by a screw. Biot remarked, that he
has found from experience that this arrangement, indicated
by theoretical considerations, is extremely advantageous.
Coulomb’s method of fitting up, arming, and preserving Coulomb’*
his magnets is shown in the annexed figure, representing method of
two artificial magnets, armed at their extremities with two arnun£>
iron parallelepipeds, N, S, N', S'; N, N' being the north ma2ne
poles, and S, S the south poles. These parallelepipeds
have their inner ends enveloped within the magnetic bars.
The opposite poles N, S', N', S, are joined by pieces of
soft iron, A, B, and the bars of each magnet are held to¬
gether by the upper bands «, h, d, V.
With an apparatus of this kind, each part weighing 15
or 20 pounds, 80 or 100 pounds is required to separate the
pieces A, B from the poles, and an ordinary needle is mag¬
netized to saturation by merely placing it upon the ends
N, S' or N', S.
Sect. \ll\.—Account of Dr Scoresbfs method of making
Artificial Magnets.
A very simple and efficacious method of making artificial Scoresby’s
magnets by percussion was published by Dr Scoresby.1 method-
That iron became magnetic when struck by successive
blows of a hammer in the direction of the dipping needle,
was known to Dr Gilbert, and also to M. Du Faye and Dr
Desaguliers ;2,but it is to Dr Scoresby that we owe a com¬
plete investigation of the subject. In order to determine
the effects produced by percussion, Dr Scoresby used two
methods, the one by observing the weight which the new
magnet lifted, and the other by measuring the deviation
which it produced on a magnetic needle. The following
experiments were made with a cylindrical bar of soft steel
6J- inches long, |th of an inch in diameter, and weighing
592 grains. It was placed in a vertical position, resting
onaa piece of tin, and struck with a hammer of 12 ounces.
Number of
Strokes at
each Experi¬
ment.
1
1
5
10
5
Total
Number.
1
2
7
17
22
Weight
suspended by
the Bar.
2 grs.
0
4
6*
6*
Deviation of the
Needle ; distance
of Needle, three
inches.
8°
10
12
12*
12*
When the steel bar was placed u[ on a stone, the effect
1 Phil. Frant.f 1822, part ii., p# 241.
Phil. Tram., 1738.
72
MAGNETISM.
Methods was the same ; but, as the following experiments show,
oi making a great increase of power was obtained by supporting the
Artificial ]ower encj 0p bar Up0n the upper end of a large bar of
iron or soft steel. The hammer weighed 12 ounces, and
the distance of the needle was 3 inches.
Magnets.
Number of
Strokes at
each Experi¬
ment.
1
1
1
4
5
10
20
30
10
Total
Number.
1
2
3
7
12
22
42
72
82
Weight
suspended by
the Bar.
6i grs.
14
37
45
88
88
Deviation of
the N eedle.
13°
16
18
21
25
27
30
31
31J
By using a hammer weighing 22 ounces, an increased
effect was produced.
33
130
85
90
93
34
30
By reversing the poles, and again hammering with the
twelve-ounce hammer.
From these experiments it follows, that a cylindrical bar
of soft steel, weighing 592 grains, can be made to lift only
6^ grains, when struck in a vertical position, with its lower
end resting upon tin or stone ; whereas the same bar, when
struck with twenty-two blows upon a rod of iron suspended
at its lower end, which was a north pole, lifted 88 grains;
by using a larger hammer, its lifting power increased to
130. When the steel bar was reversed, so that its south
pole was uppermost, its magnetism was almost destroyed
by a single blow, and two blows were sufficient to change
its poles. Dr Scoresby found that when the steel magnet
was struck in the plane of the magnetic equator, its polarity
also disappeared ; but several blows were necessary to effect
this change.
In another set of experiments on the effect of percussion
on magnets, he employed a flat bar-magnet T-f^th inches
long, h inch wide, ^-th thick, and weighing 1170 grains.
When suspended vertically, with its south end upper¬
most, it produced, at the distance of 8 inches, a deviation
of 45° on the needle ; but after sixty, eighty, and a hundred
blows, the deviation was reduced to 25°.
When the north pole was placed uppermost, other thirty
blows reduced the deviation still farther, from 25° to 14°.
When the bar was again magnetized, and hammered upon
a piece of tin, it produced a deviation of 50°; but after
twenty blows, with the south pole uppermost, the deviation
became 33°. By other sixty blows, with the north pole
uppermost, the deviation became 24°.
From the results obtained in the preceding experiments,
Dr Scoresby deduced the following method of making ar¬
tificial magnets by percussion :—
“ I procured two bars of soft steel 30 inches long and 1
inch broad, also six other flat bars of soft steel 8 inches
long and ^ inch broad, and a large bar of soft iron. The
large steel and iron bars were not, however, absolutely ne¬
cessary, as common pokers answer the purpose very well;
but I was desirous to accelerate the process by the use of
substances capable of aiding the development of the mag-
netical properties in steel. The large iron bar was first
hammered in a vertical position ; it was then laid on the
ground with its acquired south pole towards the south, and
upon this end of it the large steel bars were rested while
they were hammered; they were also hammered upon each
other. On the summit of one of the large steel bars, each _ Methods
of the small bars, held also vertically, was hammered in .of making
succession; and in a few minutes they had all acquired
considerable lifting powers. Two of the smaller bars, con- w _ 'j
nected by two short pieces of soft iron in the form of a pa-
rallelogram, were now rubbed with the other four bars, in
the manner of Canton. These were then changed for two
others, and these again for the last two. After treating each
pair of bars in this way for a number of times, and chang¬
ing them whenever the manipulations had been continued
for about a minute, the whole of the bars were at length
found to be magnetized to saturation, each pair readily lift¬
ing above 8 ounces.
“ In accomplishing this object, I took particular care that
no magnetic substance was used in the process. All the bars
were freed of magnetism before the experiment, so that
none of them, not even the largest, produced a deviation of
five degrees on the compass at 3 inches distance. Any
bars which had been strongly magnetized, and had had their
magnetism destroyed or neutralized (either by hammering,
heating, or by the simultaneous contact of the two poles of
another magnet placed transversely), I always found had a
much greater facility for receiving polarity in the same di¬
rection as before, than the contrary. Hence it generally
happened that one blow with the original north end down¬
wards, produced as much effect as two or three blows did
with the original south end downwrards.” |
By this ingenious process, any person wrho has no mag¬
nets within his reach may communicate the strongest degree
of permanent magnetism to hard steel bars of any magni¬
tude, the bars magnetized by percussion being employed,
as in the process of Coulomb, to magnetize the large bars
wdiich are required.
Sect. IX.—Method of making Horse-Shoe Magnets.
Horse-shoe magnets are those which have the form of a Method of
horse-shoe, as shown in fig. 70; and this form is, generally ma^‘nS
speaking, the most convenient for use, and for the preser-horse‘®ll0e
vation of their magnetic power. In all experiments where °
a large weight is to be lifted, the horse-shoe magnet is in¬
dispensable ; and in consequence of the two poles being
brought together, they may be substituted with great advan¬
tage for magnetizing steel bars by the method of double touch.
In order to form a powerful magnetic battery, the best
way is to unite a number of similar horse-shoe magnets,
with their similar poles together, and to fix them firmly
together in a case of copper or leather. The following is
the method recommended and used by Professor Barlow:—
He took bars of steel 12 inches long, and
having bent them into the horse-shoe
shape, their length was 6 inches, their
breadth 1 inch at the curved part, and
fths of an inch at their extremities, and
their thickness ^th of an inch. They
were filed very nicely, so as to correspond,
and lie flatly upon each other. They
were then drilled with three holes in each,
as seen in the figure, and by means of
screws V, V' passing through these holes,
nine horse-shoe bars were bound together.
When the heads and ends of the screws
were constructed so as to leave the outer
surfaces smooth, the mass of bars was filed as if they were
one piece, and the surface made flat and smooth. When
the bars were separated, they were carefully hardened, so
as not to warp, and when they had been well cleaned and
rendered bright, but not polished, they were magnetized
separately in the following manner :—When the two extre¬
mities of the bar are connected by a piece of soft iron M
(fig. 81), the magnetism may be developed in the two
Methods
of making
Artificial
Magnets.
Barlow’s
method of
magnetiz¬
ing bars.
■MAGNETISM.
73
halves by Duhamel’s method, as in fig. 81 ; or, following
iEpinus, we may ap¬
ply a strong magnet
to each pole, and
connect their extre¬
mities either with a
piece of soft iron or
another magnet; or Fig.si.
we may apply two horse-snoe magnets to each other, as
in fig. 82, uniting the poles which are to be of con-
A
Fig. 82.
trary names. When the magnet or magnets are prepared
in any of these ways, they are then to be magnetized with
another horse-shoe magnet A, by placing its north pole
next to what is to be the south pole of one of the horse¬
shoe bars, and then carrying the moveable magnet round
and round, but always in the same direction. In this way
a very high degree of magnetic virtue may be communi¬
cated to each of the nine bars. When this is done, they
are to be reunited by the screws, and their poles or extre¬
mities connected by a piece of soft iron, or lifter, or arma¬
ture, mn, as in fig. 80, having at its middle a hook H for
suspending any weight. As the lifting power depends on
the accurate contact of the poles of the magnets with the
lifter, the extremities should, after hardening, be properly
rubbed down with putty upon a flat surface.
A magnet of this size and form was found by Professor
Barlow to suspend forty pounds ; but he afterwards found
that a greater proportional power could be obtained by using
bars that were long in comparison with their breadth.
Sect. X.—Account of Professor Barlow's method of mag¬
netizing a number of Rectilineal Bars with a Horse-
Shoe Magnet.
The following method of making artificial magnets is
both a simple and efficacious one, and was practised success¬
fully by Professor Barlow:—Having occasion for thirty-six
magnets, 12 inches long, broad, and -/g-ths of an inch
thick, he placed thirty-six bars of steel, of these dimen¬
sions, on a table, so as to form a square, having nine
bars on each side, the marked or north pole of each bar
being in contact with the unmarked or south pole. At the
angular points of the square the inner edges of the bars
were brought into contact, and the external opening thus
left was filled up by a piece of ironT^th inch square and
^ths of an inch thick. The horse-shoe magnet described
in the preceding section was set upon one of the bars, so
that its north pole was towards the unmarked end of the
bar, and was then carried or rubbed along the four sides of
the bars; and the operation was continued till the horse¬
shoe magnet had gone twelve times round the square.
Without removing the magnet, each bar was turned one
by one, so as to turn their lower sides uppermost, and the
horse-shoe magnet was made to rub along the four sides
of the square other twelve times. The bars were then
highly magnetized ; and the whole process did not occupy Methods
more than half an hour. of making
Artificial
Magnets.
Sect. XL—Account of Knight's method of forming Arti-
Jicial Magnets icith an Iron Paste.
Although the following method of making a magnetic Knight’s
paste has been given in almost every treatise on magnetism, artificial
and was kept a secret by its inventor, yet we have no dis- magnet3 of
tinct information that it has been found superior in any Paste-
respect to steel as a vehicle of magnetism. Mr Benjamin
Wilson communicated the method to the Royal Society
after the death of Dr Knight.
“ Having provided himself with a large quantity of clean
filings of iron, Dr Knight put them into a tub that was
more than one-third full of clean water; he then, with
great labour, worked the filings to and fro for many hours
together, that the friction between the filings of iron by this
treatment might break off such small parts as would remain
suspended in the water for some time; the obtaining of
which very small particles in sufficient quantity seemed to
him to be one of the principal desiderata in the experi¬
ment. The water being by this treatment rendered very
muddy, he poured it into a clean earthen vessel, leaving the
filings behind ; and when the water had stood long enough
to become clean, he poured it out carefully, without dis¬
turbing such of the iron sediment as still remained, which
was now reduced to an almost impalpable powder. This
powder was afterwards removed into another vessel, in order
to dry it; but as he had not obtained a proper quantity of
it by this first step, he was obliged to repeat the process
many times. Having at last procured enough of this very
fine powder, the next thing to be done was to make a paste
of it, and that with some vehicle which could contain a
considerable quantity of the phlogistic principle. For this
purpose he had recourse to linseed oil in preference to all
other fluids. With these two ingredients only he made a
stiff paste, taking particular care to knead it well before he
moulded it into convenient shapes. Sometimes, while the
paste continued in its soft state, he would put the impres¬
sion of a seal on several pieces, one of which is in the
British Museum. This paste was then put upon wood, and
sometimes on tiles, in order to bake or dry it before a
moderate fire, at about a foot distance. The doctor found
that a moderate fire was most proper, because a greater
degree of heat made the composition frequently crack in
many places.
“ The time necessary for baking this paste was generally
five or six hours before it attained a sufficient degree of
hardness. When that was done, and the several baked
pieces were become cold, he gave them their magnetic
virtue in any direction he pleased, by placing them between
the extreme ends of his magazine of artificial magnets for
a few seconds or more, as he saw occasion. By this method
the virtue they acquired was such, that when any one of
these pieces was held between any of his best ten-guinea
bars, with its poles purposely inverted, it immediately of
itself turned about to recover its natural direction, which
the force of these very powerful bars was not sufficient to
counteract.” 1 After giving the preceding method, M. Biot
remarks, that it consists in procuring a very fine powder of
iron a little oxidated, all the particles of which he united
by means of linseed oil, or any other substance fitted to
give them a proper degree of oxygenation. “ When this
paste was magnetized,” he continues, “ each particle of the
powder became a small magnet, in which the development
of the magnetism might be very powerful, on account of
the suitable degree of coercive power produced by the oxy-
VOL. xtv.
1 Phil. Tram., 1779, vol. Ixix., p. 51.
K
74
Methods
of making
Artificial
Magnets.
On arming
and pre¬
serving
magnets.
MAGNETISM.
genation ; and the homogeneity of this state in all the par¬
ticles, as well as their extreme tenuity, might give to the
whole system the most favourable arrangements for receiv¬
ing a high degree of magnetism.” M. Biot conceives that
a somewhat analogous effect might be obtained by steel of
an equal and homogeneous grain, the carbon giving a coer¬
cive power like oxygen ; but he thinks that the paste is
likely to form better magnets. He is of opinion also that
some powerful natural magnets may owe their virtue to the
union of similar qualities.
Dr Fothergill, who had seen Dr Knight’s paste magnets
in his own possession, says that the mass had the appear¬
ance of a piece of black lead, though less shining. He in¬
forms us also of a very remarkable fact, if it be true, that
while the poles of a natural loadstone, or of the hardest
steel magnet, could be changed, those of the paste magnets
were immoveable. A small piece, of about half an inch
square and one-fourth thick, was powerfully magnetic
though unarmed ; and its poles could not be altered though
it was placed between two of Mr Knight’s largest and most
strongly impregnated magnetic bars.1
Conceiving that the powder which formed the basis of
this paste was the black oxide of iron, or martial Ethiops,
M. Cavallo has given the following receipt for imitating
natural magnets; but he does not say that the magnets
made by it are better than those of steel:—“Take some
martial Ethiops reduced into a very fine powder, or, which
is more easily procured, black oxide of iron, the scales
which fall from red-hot iron when hammered, and are
found abundantly in smiths’ shops. Mix this powder with
drying linseed oil, so as to form it into a very stiff paste,
and shape it in a mould so as to give it any form you
require, whether of a terella, a human head, or any other.
This done, put it into a warm place for some weeks, and it
will dry so as to become very hard ; then render it mag¬
netic by the application of powerful magnets, and it will
acquire a considerable power.”
The idea of constructing magnets in this manner may
have been suggested by a fact described in the Memoirs of
the Academy of Science for 1731. A bell, about 400 years
old, was suspended at Marseilles by an iron axis resting on
stone blocks. Great quantities of rust were thrown off from
this axis from time to time, and these particles mixing with
those of the stone and the oil which lubricated the pivots,
formed a hardened mass which had all the properties of a
native magnet.
Sect. XII.—Account of the method of Arming and Pre¬
serving Natural and Artificial Magnets.
We have already stated, that when a piece of soft iron
is suspended at the pole of a magnet, this piece of iron is
rendered magnetic, and that a second and a third smaller
piece of iron suspended from the other piece of iron also
become magnetic, the magnet developing magnetism in the
first piece of iron, the first piece developing it in the second,
and so on. Each piece of iron reacts as a magnet on the
larger piece on which it hangs, improving or increasing the
development of its magnetism. Hence the lifting power
of a magnet may be increased by suspending to one of its
poles, day after day, a small additional piece of iron.
On this property is founded the method of arming natu¬
ral and artificial magnets, for the purpose both of increasing
and preserving their magnetic power. In order to support
the greatest weight with any magnet, both its poles should
be brought into action. In the horse-shoe magnet this is
easily done, so that the armature for it is made by merely
placing a piece of soft iron mn upon its poles A (north) B
(south), having a hook attached to it for hanging on weights, Methods
as in fi<r. 80. That the power of this magnet is not only of making
Fig. 83.
increased but preserved, is easily proved; but
the following striking experiment of Mr
Watkins affords the most beautiful illustration
of the principle. He magnetized a horse¬
shoe bar of soft iron, made of a bar nineteen
inches long and one inch square, when its
poles A, B were joined by another piece of
iron mn, and he found that it preserved its
magnetic virtue for a long time2 while its
poles were thus united. The moment, how¬
ever, that the armature mn was removed, the
magnetism of the horse-shoe bar almost wholly disap¬
peared.3
The bes tarmature for a natural magnet is shown in the
annexed figure, where
L, If are two broad
pieces of soft iron ap¬
plied to the poles, and
projecting on one side
of it. To these project¬
ing ends or transferred
poles A, B, a piece of
iron mn is applied, so
as to touch them both,
as in the horse-shoe mag¬
net in fig. 80. The late¬
ral pieces of iron L, L'
are commonly held firm
to the magnet by means
of a box of brass, silver,
or copper, cccc, and the
magnet is then said to be armed, the pieces of iron L, L',
A, B, constituting its arms or armature.
A loadstone armed in the preceding manner may be
strengthened by Professor Barlow’s method of magnetizing
horse-shoe magnets ; and if we suspend a scale or bag from
the hook H, and add, day after day, some additional weight,
it may be made to suspend tico or three times the weight
that it could lift if applied to it at once. If its force, how¬
ever, is overpowered by too great a load, its strength will
revert to what it was at first; but if we take out of the
scale a certain part of the load which it can suspend, we
may again proceed to add more weight gradually, till it
carries its maximum load.
In order to preserve loadstones and magnets, their arma¬
ture should always be applied to them. They should be
kept in a cool place, free from vibrations, and rough treat¬
ment of every kind. Bar-magnets should always be kept
with their dissimilar poles together ; and both single mag¬
nets and needles will have their power not only preserved,
but increased, by keeping them surrounded with a mass of
dry filings of soft iron, each particle of which will react,
by its induced magnetism, upon the point of the magnet
to which it adheres, and maintain in that point its primitive
magnetic state.
Artificial
Magnets.
Sect. XIII.—Account of the method of making Temporary
Bar-Magnets of Soft Iron under the influence of Elec¬
tric Currents.
In our history of Electricity we have given some ac- Electro¬
count of the discoveries of M. Arago, Sir H. Davy, M. magnets.
Savary, and others, relative to the communication of mag¬
netism to steel by ordinary electricity. The subject will be
resumed under the article Voltaic Electricity; but,
without anticipating what properly belongs to that science,
1 Tb.il. Trant., vol. Ixvi.
9 See the following section.
* Phil. Trans., 1833, p. 338.
Methods
of making
Artificial
Magnets.
Professor
Henry.
MAGNETISM.
75
we shall give an account in this section of the method of
making bar-magnets of soft iron by the influence of elec¬
tric currents.
This process consists in winding spirally round a horse-
I’ig. 85.
shoe bar of iron ABC a copper wire covered with silk
thread. A galvanic current is then made to pass through
the bar ABC by two wires W, w, communicating with two
wooden vessels D, E containing mercury. When the vol¬
taic apparatus consists of a single element, viz., one plate
of zinc placed in a copper vessel, and having an area of
5 square feet, the magnet, when armed, as shown at nin,
may suspend by the hook H 100 kilogrammes (2 cwt.).
M. Moll1 took a horse-shoe bar 0'22 of a metre high, and
0*025 thick, and rolled round it eighty-three times a copper
wire covered with silk, and 0O03 of a metre in diameter.
To each of the branches was adapted a counterweight of a
pound weight, and projecting a little on both sides. The
two extremities of the wire were made to communicate by
small vessels of wood filled with mercury, with two ele¬
ments of a voltaic battery, composed of a bucket of copper,
in which was plunged a plate of zinc, whose surface, in
contact with the fluid, was 11 square feet. The moment
the communication was made, the magnet supported 25
kilogrammes, and with some precautions 38. Another
horse-shoe bar, weighing 13 kilogrammes, 0-93 of a metre
high, and 55 millimetres thick, lifted 77 kilogrammes.
When the direction of the current is changed, the poles of
the magnet are instantly reversed ; and when the current
is stopped, the magnetism of the bar diminishes, though
M. Moll found it capable of carrying 25 kilogrammes a
quarter of an hour after the current ceased. He found
also that the magnetic intensity of the bar was not increased
by increasing the number of the voltaic elements or plates ;
that a horse-shoe of copper was not magnetized; and that
a horse-shoe magnet was not rendered more magnetic by
the electric current.
Professor Henry of Albany Academy had obtained ana-
Fig. 86.
logous results about the same time with Professor Moll.
The apparatus which he used is shown in the annexed
figure, which represents a strong rectangular wooden frame Methods
3 teet 9 inches high and 20 inches wide. The magnet A is
covered with linen, and the ends of the wires coiled round Magnets.
it all project so as to be soldered to the galvanic element v ^ ^ y
B, which can be plunged into the vessel C, placed on a
moveable shelf, and containing dilute acid. D is a gra¬
duated lever, E a counterpoise, and F a scale for support¬
ing weights, when the lifting power is not estimated by a
small weight sliding upon the lever. The magnet A was
fitted up in the following manner:—“ A bar of soft iron 2
inches square and 20 inches long was bent into the form
of a horse-shoe 9^- inches high; the sharp edges of the
bar were first a little rounded with a hammer ; it weighed
21 lb. A piece of iron from the same bar, weighing 7 lb.,
was filed perfectly flat on one surface, for an armature or
lifter; the extremities of the legs of the horse-shoe were
also truly ground to the surface of the armature. Around
this horse-shoe 540 feet of copper bell-wire were wound,
in nine coils of 60 feet each. These coils were not con¬
tinued around the whole length of the bar, but each strand
of wire, according to the principle before mentioned, oc¬
cupied about 2 inches, and was coiled several times back¬
ward and forward over itself; the several ends of the wires
were left projecting, and all numbered, so that the first
and the last end of each strand might be readily distin¬
guished. In this manner was formed an experimental
magnet on a large scale, with which several combinations
of wire could be made by merely uniting the different
projecting ends. Thus, if the second end of the first wire
be soldered to the first end of the second wire, and so on
through all the series, the whole will form a continued
coil of one long wire. By soldering different ends, the
whole may be formed into a double coil of half the length,
or into a triple coil of one-third the length,” &c.2
In making experiments with this magnet, a small single
battery was used, consisting of two concentric copper cy¬
linders, with zinc between them; the whole of the zinc
surface in action, including both sides of the zinc, was fths
of a square foot, and the quantity of dilute acid only half a
pint. The following were the results:—
Number of wires
soldered to the
Battery in suc¬
cession.
Weight lifted, in
pounds avoir¬
dupois.
1.
2.
2.
3.
4.
6.
9.
9.
Each soldered to the battery in succession  7
One on each side of the arch   145 i
One from each end of legs  200
f One from each end of legs, and the other 1
j from middle of arch J
Two from each end  507
Wires attached    570
All the wires attached     650
f A plate of zinc 12 inches long and 6 wide, 'j
and surrounded with copper, substituted W50
t for the preceding battery J
When a pair of plates, exactly one inch square, was at¬
tached to the wires, the weight lifted was 85 lb.
Professor Henry mentions that this magnet weighed 21
lb., and lifted more than 35 times its own weight; whereas
the largest natural magnet known, and in the possession of
Mr Peale of Philadelphia, lifts 310 lb., or about six times
its own weight.
MM. Lipkens and Quetelet found that great effects will MM. Lip-
be produced by small voltaic surfaces, provided that the ^ens and
chemical action is energetic, and that the degree of mag- ^uete et*
netism depends more on the size of the iron shoes, than on
the dimensions of the voltaic plates.3
The horse-shoe iron magnets formed by electrical cur- Mr Wat-
rents are only temporary, and it became interesting to dis- kins,
cover the time of duration of the magnetism. Mr Francis
Watkins made some interesting experiments on this sub-
1 Ann. de Chim., vol. 1., p. 326. 3 Professor Silliman’s Journal, 1831, vol. xix., p. 404.
* Ann. d* Chim., vol. 1., p. 328-331J and Quetelet’s Corresp. Astronom. de Bruxelles.
76
MAGNETISM.
Methods ject.1 He found that when the armature or keeper is re-
Artitda? m0Ved fr0m the two poles of the magnet, it instantly loses
Magnets magnetism when the electric current is cut off; but
v < _ / that if the armature is kept upon the poles, the soft-iron
magnet will retain its magnetism for a great length of time.
Mr Watkins made a horse-shoe bar with a piece of soft
iron 18 inches in length and 1 inch in diameter, and he
rendered it magnetic by winding round it in a single helix
20 feet of copper wire TVh of an inch thick. The ends of the
copper helix being connected with a single pair of voltaic
plates, the horse-shoe, when rendered magnetic by the
current, supported 125 lb. The voltaic action continuing,
the weight was reduced to 56 lb., and the voltaic plates
removed; the weight was also carefully removed, so as not
to displace the armature or keeper. The sustaining power
of the horse-shoe was then tried every day, and at the end
of ten days it sustained 56 lb. as firmly as it did at first. An¬
other horse-shoe bar charged with magnetism in Novem¬
ber, was as powerful, and rather more so, in April, than it
was at first. After a lapse of fifteen weeks it frequently sup¬
ported 30 lb. This soft-iron magnet was tried at the Duke
of Sussex’s house on the 27th of April, and though nearly
six months had elapsed since it received the magnetic virtue,
it supported 100 lb.; but the instant that the keeper was
separated from the poles, almost all the magnetism disap¬
peared. When the keeper was again applied, there was
not enough of magnetism even to support the keeper.
Mr Watkins made some interesting experiments on the
lifting powers of soft-iron magnets when plates of mica of
different thickness were interposed between the poles and
the keeper. The magnet was of the size and shape already
stated; but Mr Watkins has not mentioned the successive
thicknesses of the mica plates, nor does he state that they
were of equal thickness. Had he mentioned the tints
which each of them polarized, it would have been easy to
compute their exact thicknesses. The following were his
results:—
Number of Plates
of Mica inter¬
posed.
1  
2  
3  
4  
5  
6  
7   
8  
9  
10  
11  
12  
13  
14  
15  
Number of Pounds
supported besides
the Keeper.
  49
  40
  26
  17
  13
8
  4*
  2*
2
  H
1
  Of
  0*
The keeper only.
0
When a piece of common writing-paper was placed be¬
tween the poles and the keeper, 28 lb. were supported by
the magnet. Hence a piece of writing-paper was equal to
three plates of mica.
Sect. XIV.—Account of M. Aime’s method of making
Permanent Artificial Magnets.
A method of inducing magnetism, published by M.
Aime,2 is one equally simple and efficacious. It is founded
on the facts described in the preceding section, and consists
in holding a bar of red-hot steel with pincers between the
two poles N, S of a horse-shoe magnet rendered magnetic
by an electrical current. The horse-shoe and the included
bar, which should exactly fit the space between the poles,
are then plunged in cold water, and kept there for a little
time, depending on the size of the real magnet, till the bar Methods
is thoroughly cold along its axis. In order to prevent the making
brass spiral wire that is curled round the horse-shoe bar
from being wetted when the apparatus is under water, the v a^ne s,i
extremities of the wire are enveloped in a piece of linen *
covered with mastic. The ends of the conducting wire
should be soldered to the zinc and copper ends of the bat¬
tery. M. Aime employed a single wire for the spiral round
the horse-shoe ; but he observes that several may be united
in a bundle, or a copper riband may be used covered with
silk or varnish. In all the different trials that M. Aime
made of this method, he obtained satisfactory results.
Sect. XV.—Account of M. Logeman's Magnets made by
the Process of M. Elias.
The most powerful magnets which have come under our Logeman’s
notice are those of M. Logeman, optician, Haarlem, made maSnet3<
by the process of M. Elias of the same town, who, like M.
Aime, availed himself of the magnetism produced by elec¬
trical currents. In the Great Exhibition of 1851, M. Loge¬
man exhibited three magnets, which weighed respectively
43'6, 2’75, and 0"475 kilogrammes, or nearly 96, 5*75, and
1 lb. English. These magnets supported the following
weights:—
Weight of
Magnet.
96 lb..
5$ „
1
Force of Magnet or
weight supported.
... 232 1b.
.... 45£ „
According to M. Haecker,3 who made numerous experi¬
ments with various magnets, their force is proportional to the
cube root of the square of their weight; and that if W is
the weight of a magnet, and F its force, or the weight
which it will support, then
F = 10-23 Wi
will represent the force of the best magnets made in Europe.
It is obvious, however, from the above table, that the force
of M. Logeman’s magnets is nearly double of that given
by the formula of Haecker. The following are the weights,
forces, and prices of other magnets made by M. Loge¬
man :—
Weight.
1 lb.
Force.
29 lb.
150 „
430 „
Price.
L.8
20
The process of M. Elias by which these magnets were
made, consists in making the magnet, with its armature
attached, pass through a copper wire helix traversed by
a galvanic current.
This method
is shown in the
annexed figure,
where ctz is a
copper wire co¬
vered with silk
thread, coiled
round a paste¬
board tube AB,
and terminating in two wires c, z. The steel bar SN to be
magnetized is placed between two cylinders of soft iron
S, N, which fit the tube AB. The bar is then placed
within the coil, and a galvanic current is transmitted through
the latter from one or more cells of Grove’s powerful battery.
If the current flows from c to z, then the extremity N of the
bar will be a north pole.
M. Logeman has also applied the process of Elias in the
2 Ann, dc Chimie, vol. Ivii., p. 442.
3 Poggendorff’s Annalen, tom. Ivii., p, 535.
1 Phil. Trans., 1833, part ii., p. 333-343.
MAGNETISM. 77
Methods construction of compass-needles, one of which was exhi-
of making bited in 1851. In consequence of their greater magnetic
Magnets1 Power’ ^lese needles have a greater directive power, are
agne s. jess affec):e(} t]-,e motions of the ship, and are useful in
high latitudes where the ordinary compasses are of no
service.
Sect. XVI.—Account of the Experiments made by Cou¬
lomb and Kater, on the efficacy of the different methods
of making Artificial Magnets.
comparison Coulomb was the first person who examined experimen-
of different va-Ple °f the different methods of making artificial
methods, magnets. The following is a brief abstract of his results:—
1. Wires of tempered steel twelve inches long and one-twen¬
tieth of an inch in diameter.
When rubbed at right angles on the pole of a single arti¬
ficial magnet, it performed 10 oscillations in 74s.
When rubbed at right angles upon the poles of 4 united
bar-magnets, or magnetized by the methods of Duhamel
and ^Epinus, it performed the same number of oscillations
in the same time. Hence small steel wires attain their
maximum degree of magnetism equally well by all the dif¬
ferent methods.
2. A plate of annealed steel twelve inches long, one-third
wide, and one forty-second of an inch thick.
When rubbed at right angles on a single pole, it per¬
formed 10 oscillations in 77*.
When rubbed on tivo united poles, 10 oscillations in 75*.
When rubbed on ten poles, 10 oscillations in 758.
By the methods of Duhamel and iEpinus, 10 oscillations
in 75*.
The effect of the different methods is now perceptible,
the first being the worst.
3. A plate of steel six and a half inches long, nine twenty-
fifths wide, and one forty-second thick.
When rubbed on 2 poles, 10 oscillations in 51*.
Upon 5 poles, 10 oscillations in 49*.
Upon 8 and 10 poles, 10 oscillations in 47|*.
By DuhamePs and iEpinus’s methods, 10 oscillations in
47£*.
4. A plate eight inches long, fourteen twenty fifths wide, and
one twenty-fifth thick.
W7hen rubbed upon one pole, 10 oscillations in 73*.
Upon/our poles, 10 oscillations in 62*.
Upon ten poles, 10 oscillations in 59*.
At an inclination of 15° or 20°, on two poles, 10 oscilla¬
tions in 53*.
At the same inclination on four and ten poles, 10 oscil¬
lations in 49*.
By Duhamel and ASpinus’s methods, with one or more
bars on each side, 10 oscillations in 49*.
5. Bar of steel sixteen inches long, six-tenths wide, and
one-fifth thick.
By magnetizing it on Alpinus’s method, with tivo move-
able bars rubbing on its surface, it performed 10 oscilla¬
tions in 110*, and was found to be saturated. By Duhamel’s
method it required moveable bundles of 4 bars each.
6. Bar of steel sixteen inches long, one inch broad, and nine
twenty-fifths thick.
WThen magnetized by Alpinus’s method, with bundles of
4 or even 10 bars, it performed 10 oscillations in 153*.
But by Duhamel’s method, with even ten bars, it only Methods
performed 10 oscillations in 162*. of making
Hence the magnetic force communicated by the first ^rtificial
method was to that of the second as 9 to 8. ^ agnets.
Captain Kater made a series of interesting experiments
on the directive force of needles, produced by different Directive
methods of magnetizing them. The needles which he used force of
were right-angled parallelograms, 5 inches long, the one needles'
i^ths of an inch broad, and the other /^ths. The broadest
was made thinner till it had the same weight as the other,
which was 142 grains. The following table contains the
result of the experiments:—
Directive Force.
Small Large
Needle. Needle.
1. The magnetsplacedperpendicularly on the
centre of the needle, and the needle rubbed
from end to end on both sides  655 674
2. The same, but the magnets separated at top
in the same way as at bottom  595 5go
3. The same as No. 1, but the distance of
the lower end of the magnets 2 J inches.... 760 780
4. The magnets joined on the centre of the
needle, and each moved towards the near¬
est pole, then lifted up and joined again,
and so on  993 1155
5. The magnets being joined on the centre of
the needle, their lower ends were made to
move to each pole, their upper ends re¬
maining in contact  1025 1150
6. By Duhamel’s method, the magnets inclined
45° to the needle, and moved from the
centre to the poles  1070 1170
7. The same, but the inclination of the mag¬
nets 20°  1085 1195
8. The same, but the inclination onlj'2° or 3° 1160 1275
9. Magnets laid flat on the needle, and drawn
from the centre to the end  1158 1261
10. Same as No. 8, but the separated ends
of the magnets connected by an iron
wire  1145 i261
11. Wire removed, and experiment No. 8
repeated   1260 1273
12. Needles hardened at a bright red, and then
softened from the centre to within fths of
an inch of their extremities, and magnet¬
ized as No. 8  1815 1665
Captain Kater next ascertained the effect of length
on the directive power of needles. He cut two needles
of equal weight out of the same plate of steel, the one
being 5, and the other 8 inches long.
13. Magnetized to saturation as in No. 8  1893 2275
14. Hardened and tempered beyond the blue,
from the middle to within an inch of the
poles  1865 2277
Hence it follows, as Coulomb had ascertained, that the
directive force of needles whose length exceeds 5 inches
is probably as their lengths.1
CHAP. XI.—DESCRIPTION OF MAGNETICAL INSTRUMENTS.
The great importance and value of magnetical instru- Maenetical
ments, not only in the arts of navigation and surveying, instru-
but in the determination of the various and ever-changing ments.
phenomena of terrestrial magnetism, renders it necessary
that we should enter with some detail into this branch of
the subject. As a magnetic needle constitutes the prin¬
cipal, if not the essential part, of the greater number of
magnetical instruments, we shall begin our observations
with some details respecting the forms, description of steel,
temper, and construction of magnetic needles.
1 P/it7. Trans , 1821, p. 104.
78
MAGNETISM.
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
Form, &c.,
of compass
needles.
Coulomb's
experi¬
ments.
Captain
Rater’s ex^
periments.
Sect. I.—On the best Form and Construction of Compass
Needles.
i
The most valuable experiments on this subject are those
made by M. Coulomb and Captain Kater. Those of Cap¬
tain Kater are particularly important.
With regard to the material out of which the needle
should be formed, Captain Kater found that needles of
shear steel received a greater magnetic force than those of
blister steel, or spur steel, those of cast iron being much
inferior to the others.
The next object of inquiry was to ascertain the form of
the needle which is best suited for receiving the greatest
directive power. The forms which have been generally
used are, the cylindric, the prismatic, that of a rhomb or a
parallelogram, and that of a flat bar which tapers to its ex¬
tremities like an arrow. According to the experiments of
Coulomb, the form last mentioned, “ une lame taillee en
fieche” was the best, and was susceptible of a greater direct¬
ive power than those which had the form of a parallelo¬
gram. He found that any expansion of the needles
towards these poles was accompanied with a loss of power ;
and he drew the general conclusion, that in needles of the
same form, their directive forces are proportional to their
masses. Captain Kater likewise found that the directive
force was little, if at all, influenced by the extent of its
surface; but that it depended almost wholly on the mass
of the needle when it was saturated with magnetism.
Captain Kater compared needles that had the form of
a wide and a narrow rectangular parallelogram, and a
small rhombus, a large rhombus, and a pierced rhombus,
and he found that the form of the pierced rhombus is
decidedly the best. A needle of this form (the sides of the
rhombus are a little rounded in the figure), as made by
Fig. 88.
Dollond, is shown in fig. 88, the cross piece at the centre
being made of brass or copper.
With regard to the best mode of hardening and temper¬
ing needles, Captain Kater found, that when a needle is
considerably hardened throughout, its capacity for magnet¬
ism is diminished. He found that the needle was sus¬
ceptible of the greatest directive power when it was first
hardened uniformly at a red heat, and then softened from
the middle to within an inch of its extremities, by using a
degree of heat which is just capable of making the blue
colour, which is thus produced, to disappear. Captain
Kater likewise found that the polishing of the needle, pre¬
vious to its being touched, had no advantage; and that an
increase of pressure of the touching magnets on the needle
was sometimes injurious, and never useful.
When the needle is magnetized, it has a cap cc fitted
into the opening in its centre, seen in fig. 89, and about
£th of an inch in diameter. This hollow cap
is executed with great care, and is generally £
made of agate (garnet is much better). The a
interior curved surface, particularly the sum¬
mit of it, requires the best workmanship. This
summit rests on the pivot n, the point of which
is wrought to an angle of from about 15° to <
200.1 The use of the ring aa is to raise up
the cap of the needle, and take it from the pivot when it
is not in use. The rod or handle r of this ring is continued
to the outside of the compass-box, where it can be put in
Fig. 89.
motion, so as to disengage the needle from its pivot, or Desciip-
replace it at pleasure. tion of
When a compass-needle is nicely balanced on a pivot, Magneti-
previous to its being magnetized, so as to traverse freely
in a horizontal plane, it will no longer do so after it has ^ , ■ -,1;
been rendered magnetic. One of its ends will prepon¬
derate, in consequence of the tendency of the needle to
dip, or place itself in a position parallel to the magnetic
axis of the globe. In order to restore its equilibrium, there¬
fore, it is necessary to add a small weight to one side of the
needle, as shown in fig. 88. The weight requisite for this
purpose will increase with the dip, so that it may be neces¬
sary to slide the weight farther from the centre in going
towards the magnetic poles, and vice versa.
As the needle of ordinary compasses is generally placed
upon a card on which the various points of the compass are
marked, in stormy weather it is necessary to give weight
to the card, to preserve it steady during irregular motions
of the vessel. Various contrivances have been adopted to
remedy this evil. The usual method is to load the card
with sealing-wax. Some place pieces of paper, like vanes,
on the lower side of the card, to act against the air, and
check the vibrations; while others have proposed to make
the needle move in oil or other liquid, with the same view.
The consequence of these contrivances is, that while the
weight of the card, or its resistance to motion, is increased,
the directive powrer of the needle remains the same, so that
in getting rid of one evil, another of greater magnitude is
created. The mobility of the needle is diminished, and the
steersman may mistake his course by trusting to the ap¬
parent steadiness of his compass. The simplest remedy for
this evil is to use a heavier needle, with a greater directive
power, or by combining several needles together.
The latter idea was proposed by Professor Barlow, who Professor
shown in the annexed figure, Barlow's
card.
constructed the card
where NESW is the card,
and NS, N'S', N"S", ws,
ns', five parallel needles
placed at equal distances.
Professor Barlow showed
that the directive force
of this combination of
needles is nearly four
times greater than that
of a single needle; but as
the weight and friction
on the pivot is increased
nearly in the same pro¬
portion, no other advan¬
tage is gained but the
proposed one (particularly requisite in boat compasses) of
making the cards steady by their additional weight, while
the relative directive power remains the same.
Fig. 90.
Sect. II.—Description of the Common and Azimuth
Compass.
The common compass, whether it is called the mariner's Compasses.
compass or the land compass, serves only to point out the
direction of the magnetic meridian, while azimuth com¬
passes enable us to determine the angular distances of ob¬
jects from the magnetic meridian.
The common compass consists of a needle fixed to a Common,
circular card, containing upon its surface the thirty-two
points of the compass. This card , is balanced, as already-
described, upon a pivot fixed in the bottom of a circular
box, and the top of the box is a plate of glass for protect¬
ing the needle from motions of the air. This compass-box,
1 Coulomb, Mem. de VlntUtut., tom. iii., has shown that this is the best angle for pivots.
MAGNETISM.
79
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
Azimuth
compass.
shown at AB, fig. 91, is suspended within a larger box
PQ, upon two
concentric brass
circles or gim¬
bals, the outer
circles being
fixed by hori¬
zontal pivots
both to the in¬
ner circle, which
carries the com¬
pass-box, and
likewise to the
outer box, the
two axes upon
which the gim¬
bals move be¬
ing at right Fig. 91.
angles to each other. The effect of this construction is,
that the compass-box AB will retain a horizontal position
during the motions of the vessel.
The azimuth compass, shown in fig. 91, differs from the
common compass principally in its being furnished with
sights G, H, through which any object may be seen, and
its angle with the magnetic meridian increased. For this
purpose the whole box is hung in detached gimbals CD,
EF, which turn upon a stout vertical pin, seen above S.
In some instruments, the sights G, H may be turned down
by a joint over the glass when the compass is not in use, as
shown in fig. 92; and in others they are connected by a
brass bar, and may
be taken from the
compass when they
are not wanted. In
this compass, the
card is divided on its
rim into 360°; but the
divisions are more
frequently placed on
a light metallic rim
which it carries. The eye is applied to the sight H, which
is a slip of brass containing a narrow slit. The other sight
G, which is turned towards the object, contains an oblong
aperture, along the axis or middle of which is stretched a
fine horse hair or wire, which is made to coincide with or
pass over the object or point whose angular distance or
azimuth from the magnetic meridian is to be determined.
It is extremely difficult, when the ship is in motion, for
the same person to take the bearing of the object and read
off the angle; and various contrivances have been adopted
to remedy this great defect. One of these is to have on
one side of the compass-box a nut, which, when pressed by
the finger, pushes a lever against the card, and stops its
motion, so as to allow the angle to be read off at leisure;
but a false reading is often obtained with this contrivance.
Fig.92.
Kater’s
azimuth
compass.
Sect. III.—Account of Captain Kater’s Azimuth Compass.
This ingenious compass may be regarded as a universal
instrument capable of being advantageously used both at
sea and on land. It is represented in detail in figures 92,
93, and 94. In fig. 93, AB is a cylindric box made of
brass, one inch deep, and covered with glass, and contains
a card CD, 5 inches in diameter. The needle NS has an
agate cap set in brass, and fixed in its centre. The needle
is fixed to a circular piece of talc, on the circumference
of which is laid a narrow ring of card, which is graduated
to half degrees on its outer margin. On the inner side of
the box there is fixed a standing piece of ivory, which just
projects over the outer margin of the graduated circum¬
ference of the card, and an index-line is engraved on the
ivory as a point of departure for reading off the divisions Descrip-
on the card. A brass sight-frame GH is fixed by a hinge tt011 °f
at H, on the opposite side of the box. It has the form Magnetl-
rr cal Instru¬
ments.
of a parallelogram, and is 5 inches long. A frame EF,
2 inches long, slides up and down upon GH, and con¬
tains the segment of a glass cylinder, whose radius is 5
inches. When the solar rays fall upon this cylindrical bar,
they are collected into foci which form a line of light which
is thrown upon the index-line of the piece of ivory, and
which may be seen at the same time as the divisions on
the card. The frame GH, when folded down, as shown
in fig. 92, acts upon a lever L, which raises the needle NS,
and prevents it from traversing by pressing it against the
glass cover.
The sight-hole to which the eye applies itself is shown
at P, figs. 93 and 94. It is an inch from its hinge to its
summit, but may be raised higher by means of grooves,
in which a branch below the joint covers it, as seen in the
figure. The upright plane P has a slit S terminating be¬
low in a circular aperture, which receives a convex lens.
To this is fixed a horizontal plane H, having a lens in its
centre; and above this, inclined to it at an angle of 45°, is
placed a mirror M, by means of which and the lenses, an
eye looking through the lens below S sees magnified the
divisions on the card, distinct vision being produced by
sliding the sight upwards or downwards.
In order to take the sun’s azimuth, raise the object-sight
GH, and slide the cylindrical lens EF till its luminous line
or focus falls upon the index. The eye-glass sight P is
then to be moved up and down till it gives distinct vision
of the index-line on the ivory. If the line of light is not
narrow and well defined, incline the sight GH towards the
compass till it is so, care being taken that the sight is per¬
pendicular to the horizon, between the observer and the
sun. When this is effected, incline the compass to the
observer, so as to check the oscillations of the card by
bringing it in contact with the index and two pins fixed
near it for the purpose. When the card is made steady
by the repetition of this, taking care that the compass is
inclined as much from the observer as will just free the
card from the index, and that the line of light is bisected
by the index-line, this lens will indicate on the card the
azimuth of the sun required, which, when the correction
on the card is applied to it, will give the true azimuth of
the sun from the magnetic meridian ; and by means of this
element and the observed altitude, the variation of the
needle may be obtained in the usual way.
In using this compass for surveying, the cylindrical lens
is slid to the top EG, and the hair or wire GH is then seen ;
and when this hair is made to bisect any object seen by
direct vision, we have only to read off the azimuth of that
object as seen on the card viewed by reflection.
80
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
Variation
compass.
MAGNETISM.
By turning back the reflecting sight P round its hinge,
the line of light may be viewed on the index, and the angle
read off by direct vision, a mode of observation which has
its advantages.
Sect. IV.—Account of the Variation Compass.
The very complete instrument for measuring, with the
nicest accuracy, the variation of the needle, and ascertain¬
ing its diurnal changes, which we have represented in fig.
95, was constructed in Paris, we believe by M. Gambey,
and has been described by M. Pouillet. All the parts of it
which are of metal are executed in copper. A table NN
of white marble supports the pillars and case of the instru¬
ment. The columns C, D, are those by which the needle
is suspended, and E, F, G, H, those which support the
microscopes M, M'. The box of the needle is shown at
BB', and the needle itself A A' is placed in the small
copper ring op, to which is fastened a wire or a number of
silk threads without torsion, which suspend the needle, and
which may be rolled round the small cylinder seen between
c and d, and turned round by the milled head e. This
wire is kept in the centre of the little graduated circle cd,
by crossing at that centre a small triangular aperture. The
wire is inclosed in a small cage of glass, which rises be¬
tween the two columns C, D, in order that the air may
neither be agitated nor penetrate into the box. By turning
the milled head e, the needle AA' may be raised or de¬
pressed at pleasure. Two moveable panes of glass shut
up the apertures A, A' of the box, which are above the two
ends of the needle. Upon each of the extremities of the
needle there is firmly fixed a small plate of ivory mn, rriri,
bearing a very minutely divided scale, each of the divisions
having the angular value of 15r or 20’.
When the apparatus has been placed as nearly as pos¬
sible in the plane of the magnetic meridian, and carefully
levelled, we must see that the silk thread is without torsion ;
and by a few trials the microscopes M, 1VT may be directed
so as to see the zero or index of the ivory scales at the ends
of the needle. It is then easy to observe the displace¬
ments which the needle experiences, either by counting the
divisions which have passed under the wire of the micro¬
scope, or by following its motions by means of the screw
by which the microscopes are moved. Small microscopes,
one of which is shown at a, and moveable round the rods
h,f are used to read off the position and course of each
microscope M, M' along the bar which carries it, and which
regulates its lateral motion.
The telescope T is used for counting more conveniently,
and consequently more correctly, the oscillations of the needle,
when we wish to employ it for measuring the magnetic inten¬
sity. It carries before its object-glass a mirror, which re¬
flects the vertical rays along the axis of the telescope.
Sect. V.—Description of Sir William Snoio Harris's Descrip-
Compass. tion of
. „ , , Magneti-
The most valuable properties of a compass to be used caiinstru-
at sea are obviously sensibility and stability. Sir William meats.
Harris has succeeded in uniting these properties with great
simplicity of construction, in the compass made by Messrs Harris’s
Lilley and Son, West India Docks. A bar-needle, about compass.
6 inches long, and ca¬
pable of lifting at either
pole three times its own
weight of iron, is attached
to a very thin disc of
mica, with the usual gra¬
duations and points, and
is balanced on a central
point c (fig. 96) support¬
ed by a double curved
bar, anb, fixed to a dense
ring of copper acbd, so that the poles almost touch the
ring. This ring, as discovered by M. Arago, exercises
sucb an electro-magnetic action upon the needle, that it
soon brings it to rest when it has been made to vibrate by
the motion of the ship or any other cause. In heavy seas the
oscillation was found not to exceed from one-fourth to half a
point each way, and in screw propellers the compass proved
particularly steady. In some of these compasses, which are
now extensively used, defects have been found from the
abrasion of the agate centre, and in such cases the agates
were found defective. The agate is certainly the worst of
the hard minerals that are fitted for pivots of any kind, as
it actually consists of an immense number of thin strata of
different degrees of hardness, and which can often be seen
only with very powerful microscopes. The Greenland
garnet is the stone which ought to be employed in the
construction of compasses and other instruments.
When fitted up for use on ship-board, this compass is
placed on a binnacle of wood of a cylindrical form, and
about 30 inches high. A platform, about 20 inches below
the compass, carries two small spring candle lamps, which
throw their light upon the transparent card, and illuminate
it efficiently and economically at night.1
Sect. VI.—Description of Mr Sivati’s Simple Variation
Compass.
A new variation compass was constructed in 1852 by Mr Swan’s
John Adie, Edinburgh, for the purpose of measuring the variation
declination of the needle more accurately than by ordinary comPass'
compasses. It consisted of a delicately suspended compass-
needle, inclosed in a tube furnished with collars, which are
placed in the Y’s of a theodolite, after the telescope has
been removed. The ends of the needle, being made sharp
points, are brought nearly into contact with finely divided
glass diaphraghms, and by means of powerful eye-pieces,
the place of the needle is determined. Being desirous of
having a contrivance of the same kind applied to a Kater s
altitude and azimuth circle which he possessed, Mr Swan
was obliged to adopt an arrangement totally different from
Fig. 9T.
Mr Adie’s, as the telescope of his circle did not admit of
1 A fuller description of this compass will be found in Harris’s Rudimentary Magnetism, part iii., p. 148-153.
MAGNETISM.
81
Descrip- being removed. In figure 97, A is a collar fitted to slide
tion of without much friction upon the object end of the telescope of
Magneti- the theodolite with which it is to beused, B an arm projecting
c“ in front of the telescope, and having a fine steel point C, and
i ' j LF a small collimating magnet, having an agate cap, which
" v moves upon the point C. The magnet should be a hollow
cylinder, carrying at one end an achromatic lens L, and at
the other a cross of spider lines F. These lines being in
the focus of the lens L, will be seen distinctly by the tele¬
scope. The magnet is protected from currents of air by a
light tube of copper or brass, shown by dotted lines, in the
outer end of which is an aperture covered with glass,
through which a small reflector throws light upon the cross
wires. For further information consult Mr Swan’s papers
in the Transactions of the Royal Scottish Society of Arts,
vol. iv.; also Transactions of Royal Society of Edinburgh,
vol. xxi., part ii., On Errors caused by Imperfect Inversion
of the Magnet in Observations of Magnetic Declination.
Sect. VII.—Description of Colonel Beaufoy’s Variation
Transit.
Beaufoy’s This instrument, which was employed by Colonel Beau-
variation foy in the valuable series of magnetic observations which
transit. he made between the years 1813 and 1821, is represented
in perspective in fig. 98, where FF is a mahogany board,
Descrip,
tion of
which forms the support of the instrument, resting on three
screws G, H, I, by which it can be levelled. Above this
is a flat plate of brass EE, fixed to the board by a centre
pin, and resting upon three studs projecting from the
board. It has a small horizontal motion round the centre
pin, by means of the screw W and milled head X. The
plate EE carries the graduated arc m, which is subdivided
by the vernier D projecting from the box ddd, containing
the needle AA. This box moves on the common centre
pin of the plate EE. In the plate which carries the ver¬
nier D is fixed the frame aab, which is furnished with a
clamp-screw L to fasten it to the arc m, and a tangent
screw K, by which the box ddd can be moved round its
centre pin.
The centre pin of the box dd, and plate EE, terminates
in a very fine pivot, on which the needle AA is suspended
by means of an agate cap B, for diminishing the friction.
The needle AA, which is a cylinder, is 10 inches long and
y^th of an inch in diameter. It weighs sixty-five grains,
and is terminated by two conical points; and it is furnished
with the usual lever, &c., for lifting it from the pivot of
suspension and lowering it again. There are within the box
dd, and beneath the ends A, A of the needle, two segments
of brass, which have the centre lines drawn upon them;
and these lines are brought to the points of the needle
when the observation is made, by observing the coincidence
VOL. XIV.
through the double microscope M, which can be removed
to the opposite end of the box.
The transit telescope OP rests on two pillars N, N, fixed
on the brass plate EE, and having at their summits small camennstgr>u
boxes f for the reception of the Y’s, in which the pivots y, | * i
of the conical axis Q of the telescope are supported. At v
the end of one of the pivots of this axis is fixed a small
divided circle R, on an arm of which, provided with a level
S, are placed the verniers for reading off the divisions. The
eye-piece h admits a dark glass for solar observation, and
the wires of the eye-piece are adjusted by screws at g.
There is also a detached level TV, whose feet h, l are placed
in different directions upon the plate EE, for the purpose
of levelling it. The use of the telescope is for finding the
true meridian by means of the sun or stars, and the meri¬
dian should be indicated by fixed meridian marks.
When the instrument is properly levelled, and the tele¬
scope placed in the true meridian, the needle is allowed to
settle, and the box dd is turned upon its centre till its mark
comes near the point A of the needle. The clamp-screw
L is then fixed to the arc m, and the screw K is turned till
the coincidence of the index with the point of the needle is
seen through the microscope M to be perfect. The vernier
D will then show the exact angle of variation, or the decli¬
nation of the needle from the true meridian.
Sect. VIII.—Account of Dollonds Variation Transit.
This instrument is shown in fig. 99. A brass pedestal Dollond’s
CD, supported by three screws for adjusting it horizontally, variation
forms the founda- transit,
tion of the four pil¬
lars which support
the transit telescope
AB, on the axis of
which is fixed the
graduated circle E,
provided with all the
usual contrivances
for the accurate ad¬
justment of the axis
of the transit, and
with microscopes
for reading off the
degrees. A cap or
cover, seen sepa¬
rately at a, and con¬
taining a lens, is
placed before the
object-glass of the
telescope, in order
to convert it into a
transit microscope;
the focus of the lens
being suited to the
distance of the
needle, seen be¬
tween C and D, and
the divisions of the
graduated circle in Fig. 99.
the compass-box CD; the centre of the lens corresponding
accurately with that of the object-glass. By this method
the correct place of the divisions, as well as of the needle,
may be readily ascertained, and the extreme deviation, as
well as its diurnal changes, accurately determined. This
instrument may also be used as a theodolite, and employed
also for taking altitudes and equal altitudes.
Sect. IX.—Description of DollondHs Diurnal Variation
Instrument.
This instrument is shown in figs. 88, 100, 101, and 102.
L
82 MAGNETISM.
Descrip- Jt jg made of mahogany and ivory, in order to avoid the
• tion of
attraction supposed to reside in all the metals. The needle
ns is supported by the silk fibre cbd passing over a pulley
at b, and counterpoised by a ball d. The two microscopes,
• (o\
•;j Fig. 101.
seen on each side of b, have two cross wires, which, by
means of the nut, seen in fig. 101, moving the frame to which
the two verniers are attached, as well as the microscope,
I G (°) "3
Fig. 102.
‘ may be made to correspond with the index-lines on the
ends of the needle ns, each end of the needle being ob¬
served, in order to correct the error arising from eccen¬
tricity. The mean of these two observations, as read off
on the verniers, will give the angle of the diurnal variation.
The needles used with the instrument are shown in figs.
88 and 102; and there is also a piece of brass, of the same
form and weight as the needles, in order to detect any
twist in the suspending fibres of silk. This instrument
' might be used for measuring the magnetic intensity, by
applying a contrivance for discharging the needle at the
required angle. The diurnal part of this instrument was
’ constructed for Captain Foster, who has published the ob-
' servations which he made with it in the Philosophical
Transactions.
Sect. X.—Description of the Pipping Needle as con¬
structed by Messrs Gilbert.
Gilbert’s After the dip of the needle was observed, and its changes
dipping discovered, instruments of various forms were contrived
needle, an(j under the name of dipping needles, for measuring
the dip or inclination of the needle to the horizon. One
of the most complete of these instruments, as constructed
by Messrs W. & T. Gilbert, is shown in fig. 59, in
perspective. It consists of a brass plate CAB, supported
by three screws A, B, C upon a flat board or stand. In
the centre of this brass plate is another ED, concentric Descrip-
with the former, and moveable round a centre pin like the ^on 0^.
moveable plate of a theodolite. This plate ED carries two cala^°^1u.
levels at D for adjusting the plate horizontally. Four sup- ment8>
ports, shown at E and F, carry the circular box HGP, or v im_ ^ ^ >
principal case of the dipping needle NS. Two equal brass
bars, one of which is seen at KL, are firmly fixed across
the case in a horizontal direction. Other two brass pieces
m, n are fixed by screws to the centre of the bars K, L,
and carry two finely polished planes of agate, on which the
axis of the needle NS rests, and upon which it turns freely.
There is a contrivance inside the box G, and on the other
side of KL, not seen in the figure, by which the observer,
by turning the milled head P, can lift, by means of Y s,
the needle from the agate planes, or lower it upon them, at
pleasure; the Y’s being carefully adjusted, so as always to
leave the axis of the needle on the same part of the agate
planes, and in the centre of the divided circle. In this in¬
strument the ends N, S of the needle are graduated so as
to act as a vernier scale for subdividing the degrees of the
divided circle into 6’. A microscope is attached to the rim
of the glass face, so as to be easily placed on any part of it,
for the purpose of reading off the dip. In this instrument
the length of the needle NS is six inches.
In order to obtain an accurate measure of the dip, several
measures of it should be taken; first, with the face of the
instrument to the east; secondly, with the face to the west;
and the same observations repeated after the polarity of the
needle has been inverted, or the north pole converted into
a south pole, and the south into a north one. The mean
of these four sets of observations will be the true dip re¬
quired.
An account of Mitchell’s dipping needle, as constructed
by Nairne for the Board of Longitude, will be found in the
Phil. Trans, for 1772, p. 476. The needles were a foot
long, and the ends of the axes, which were made of gold
alloyed with copper, rested on friction wheels 4 inches in
diameter.
A complicated dipping needle by Dr Lorimer, for deter¬
mining the dip at sea, is described in the Phil. Trans.,
1775, p. 79.
The dipping needle used by the Royal Society, and re¬
garded as a model for instruments of this kind, is described
by Mr Cavendish in the Phil. Trans, for 1776, p. 375.
The axis of the needle rested on agate planes, and there
was a contrivance, as in Gilbert’s instrument above de¬
scribed, for raising and turning the needle upon the same
part of the planes.
In one of M. Gambey’s dipping needles, executed at
Paris, and intended to be used at St Petersburg, the axis,
instead of being cylindrical, is a knife edge, as in delicate
balances. This edge is placed exactly in the centre of
gravity of the whole compound needles, and is so fixed,
that when the needle dips 71 (as at St Petersburg),^ the
edge rests perpendicularly on two agate plates. . Such
dipping needles, made for particular values of the dip, are
admirably fitted for measuring minute variations of incli¬
nation, whether they be diurnal, menstrual, or annual.
Sect. XL—Account of Dr Scoresby’s Magnetometer for
measuring the Dip of the Needle.
This ingenious instrument consists of a hoiizontal table, Scoresbys
or leaf, a part of which, made of brass, may be set by a magneto-
screw and pinion at any angle to the horizon ; and this leafmeier-
contains near one of its edges two rings, thiough which we
can pass a bar of soft unmagnctic iron, so that its length is
perpendicular to the axis or line round which the brass leaf
moves. On the same side of the leaf, and concentric with
the above axis, is a graduated circle divided into 360°, so
that when the bar of iron is put into the rings of the brass
MAGNETISM.
83
Magneti-
caL Instru
ments.
Descrip- leaf, the bar coincides, in every position of the leaf, with a
tkm of radius of the divided circle; and it is therefore easy to
measure the angle which the bar makes with the horizon,
whatever be the position of the leaf on which it rests. A
compass is placed on the fixed leaf of the table, which by
means of levels may be adjusted to a horizontal position.
Now it was ascertained by Mr Barlow, that when a bar
of iron is in the magnetic equator, it loses all its power
of affecting the needle of a: compass placed near it. Dr
Scoresby therefore elevates the brass leaf of the table, and
consequently the bar of iron, till it ceases to act on the
needle ; and the complement of the inclination of the bar,
as measured by the graduated circle, is the dip required.
This method is of course not equal in accuracy to that de¬
scribed above, or to the methods of Mayer and Dr Lloyd,
explained in subsequent sections. It may be used, however,
most advantageously in obtaining an approximate measure
of the dip when more delicate instruments cannot be pro¬
cured. See the Edinburgh Transactions, vol. ix., p. 247;
and the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, vol. ix., p. 41.
Sect. XII.—Description of Sir William Snow Harris’s
Hydrostatic Magnetometer.
Snow
Harris's
This ingenious instrument is of such universal applica¬
tion in exhibiting the elementary phenomena of magnetism,
hydrostatic an(j jn measuring magnetic forces, that an accurate descrip-
ometers" t*on ^)0^1 as an instrument of illustration and research,
cannot fail to be acceptable to our readers. With the kind
permission of its author, we have availed ourselves of the
accurate description of it given in the 2d part of his Rudi¬
mentary Magnetism.
“ A light grooved wheel, W (fig. 103), about 2 inches in
diameter, being accurately poised on
a firm axis m n, is mounted on the
smooth circumferences of two similar
wheels mw, nw. The extremities
of the axis m n are turned down to
fine long pivots, and whilst resting
on the friction-wheels mrv, mv, pass
out at mn, between other small check-
wheels, two at each extremity of the
axis, so that the wheel W cannot fall
to either side: great freedom of mo¬
tion is thus obtained. These friction
and check wheels are set on points
or pivots in light frames of brass, and
the whole is supported on short pil¬
lars screwed to a horizontal plate or
stage AB (fig. 104). The stage is
sustained on a vertical column AE,
fixed to an elliptical base of maho¬
gany E, supported on three levelling
screws.
“ There is a short pin h, fig. 103, fixed in the circumfer¬
ence of the wheel W, to receive an index of light reed,
cut to a point, and moveable over a graduated arc MN,
placed behind the wheel, as represented in fig. 104: the
weight of this index is balanced by a small globular mass
d, moveable on a screw in the opposite point of the circum¬
ference ; so that the wheel alone with the index would rest
in any position, or nearly so. The arc MN is a quadrant
divided into 180 parts,—90 in the direction OM, and 90 in
the direction ON, the centre O being marked zero. Two
fine holes are drilled through the wheel, one on each side
of the point h, for receiving and securing two silk lines,
w, w': these lines pass over the circumference on opposite
arms of the wheel, and terminate in small hooks, t and w.
A cylinder of soft iron t, or a small magnet, rather less
than 2 inches in length and |th of an inch in diameter, is
suspended by a silk loop from one of these lines w, and a
Fig. 103.
cylindrical counterpoise of wood, au, weighted at u, and1, Descrip-
partly immersed in water, is hung in like manner from the tion
other line, w. The weights, and altitude of the water, and Ma^n®tl*
c&i instru-
v ments.
Fig. 104.
of the vessel V containing it, are so adjusted, that when the
whole system is in equilibrio, the index is at zero of the
arc MN. With a view to a perfect adjustment of the index,
the water-vessel V is supported in a ring of brass at the
extremity of a rod g, moveable in a tube k (fig. 104): this
tube is attached to a sliding piece kh, acted on by a milled
head at h and a screw within the cylinder, which is fixed
to the stage AB,—so that the water-vessel may be easily
raised or depressed by a small quantity, and thus the index
be regulated to zero of the arc with the greatest precision;
for it is evident, by the construction of the instrument, that
the position of the index will depend on the greater or less
immersion of the cylindrical counterpoise au, the weight
of which being once adjusted to a given line of immersion,
and a given position of the wheel W and index O, any ele¬
vation or depression of the water-vessel V must necessarily
move the wheel. The counterpoise au is about inch
in length and full *3 of an inch in diameter: a small ball
of lead is attached to its lowest part, in order to give it a
sufficient immersion, and at the same time balance the iron
cylinder t when the float is about half immersed in the
water. With a view to a final regulation of the weight, a
small hemispherical cup a is fixed on the head of the coun¬
terpoise for the reception of any further small weights re¬
quired. This counterpoise is accurately turned out of fine¬
grained mahogany, and is freed from grease or varnish of
84
Descrip¬
tion 6f
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
MAGNETISM.
any kind, so as to admit of its becoming easily wetted in
the water.
“ The column AE supporting the stage AB consists of
two tubes of brass, one g moveable within the other EC,
/ so that by a rack on the sliding tube g, and a pinion on the
fixed tube at C, the whole of the parts just described may
be raised or lowered through given distances, as shown by
a divided scale <7, adjustable to any point by means of a slide
and groove in the moveable tube g. The brass tubes com¬
posing the column are each ifcout a foot in length and an
inch in diameter.
“ It will be immediately perceived, from the general con¬
struction of this instrument, that if any force cause the
cylinder t to descend, then the index will move forward
in the direction ON, until such a portion of the counter¬
poise au rises out of the water as is sufficient to furnish,
in the fluid it ceases to displace, an equal and contrary
force. In like manner, if any force cause the cylinder t to
ascend, then we have the reverse of this,—the counterpoise
obtains an equivalent increased emersion, and the index
moves in the opposite direction, OM. Thus if we place a
weight of 1 grain, for example, on the iron cylinder t, the
index will indicate, in the direction ON, a given number
of degrees equal to a force of 1 grain. If we double this
weight, we obtain a force of 2 grains; and so on. The con¬
verse of this arises on placing the weights in the cup of the
counterpoise au. We may thus reduce the indications to
a known standard of weight. It is further evident, that
whether we operate on the system by gravity or by the at¬
tractive or repulsive force of a magnet, the indications of
force are equally true.
“ If the instrument be well constructed, and the counter¬
poise freely wetted in the water, the march of the index in
either of the directions ON or OM will correspond to the
added weights. Thus, if 1 grain gives 3 degrees, 2 grains
will give 6 degrees, and so on. And thus we obtain a con¬
tinual and known measure of the force we seek to examine,
within a given range of degrees of the arc, which will be
more or less extensive according to the dimensions of the
cylindrical counterpoise, the intensity of the force, and the
rate of its increase. When we require to examine very
powerful forces, or forces operating on the suspended iron
t at small distances, it is requisite to increase the size of the
counterpoise float, the indications of which we may always
find the value of in grains, as before.
“ Previously to suspending the cylindrical counterpoise
au, the iron cylinder t should be placed in equilibrio on
the wheel W, with an equal and opposite weight, as pre¬
viously determined by an accurate scale-beam, in order to
observe if, when loaded with the whole, the wheel W and
index are indifferent as to position on any part of the arc,
or nearly so. The instrument will be sufficiently delicate, if,
when loaded in this way with 350 grains, it is set in motion
by something more than half a grain added to either side.
“ 1° order to retain the wheel W (figs. 103 and 104), in its
position at the time of removing either of the suspended
bodies, a small brass prong is inserted at U into the arms of
the circular segment MN, so as to inclose the pin U carry¬
ing the index : the wheel is thus prevented from falling to
either side. 0
The forces requiring to be measured are brought to
operate on the suspended cylinder t through the medium of
induction on soft iron, or by a magnetic bar placed imme¬
diately under it, either vertically or horizontally. In the
vertical arrangement, shown in fig. 104, the magnet
or iron is fixed against a graduated scale S, by which the
distance between the attracting surfaces or bodies is esti¬
mated. This scale, together with the magnet H, is secured
by light bands of brass, united by a rod DK. The lower
band and rod D are both fixed to a stage D, moveable be¬
tween guide-pieces, and acted on through a nut at ^ by a
Descrip,
tion of
vertical screw P^, about 6 inches in length and f ths of an
inch in diameter; so that the whole may be raised or de- ^
pressed, and hence the suspended cylinder and magnet Magneti-
placed at any required distance apart.' The regulation ofcal Instru
this important element in the operation of magnetic forces ments*
is hence provided for in two ways, viz., by the rack at ^ and
the milled head at P, either of which may be employed, as
found most convenient. The scale S is of boxwood, 1 foot
in length, fths of an inch wide, and £th of an inch thick:
it is divided into inches, subdivided into tenths and twen¬
tieths of an inch. About 6 inches of the upper part is
divided in this way, viz., 3 inches on each side of a central
division, which is marked zero; the rest of the piece ex¬
tends to the stage D. The magnetic bar H is tied to the
scale by compressing screws and simple brass bands, either
fixed, as at D and K, or moveable, as at H. This adjusting
apparatus is secured to a stout brass plate R, fitted by a
dovetail into a sliding piece r, forming part of the mahogany
stand E, so that it may be removed at pleasure. The brass
bands and frames at D, H, K, are sufficiently capacious to
inclose two bars together if required, the superabundant
space being filled when only one magnet is employed,
either by a bar of wood or small wedge pieces in the brass
frames.
“ When we require to examine
the forces in different points of
a moderate-sized magnetic bar,
the bar is laid in a small frame-
piece TV (fig. 105), temporarily
fixed by a compressing screw to
the divided scale S, in the way al¬
ready described; the force on the
suspended cylinder t being caused
to operate through a small cylin¬
der of soft iron d, accurately fitted
to the surface of the bar; and
thus, by sliding the bar along in
the holding frame, we may get,
approximately, by induction on the
iron d, the force of any point in
the bar.
“ When the bar is of consider¬
able magnitude and weight, or we
require to examine inductive forces,
the magnets maybe placed on a Fig. 105.
narrow table ah (fig. 106), supported on a central square
pillar P, fitted to the frame-pieces KP of the adjusting
apparatus already described, so that the whole may be
Fig. 106.
raised or depressed through any given distance. In this
case the divided scale S (fig. 106), which measures the
distance a between the attracting or repelling surfaces,
is a detached piece fixed against one of the perpendicular
sides of a right-angled triangle, so as to be anywhere
placed upright on the bar: the table ab also has a di¬
vided scale s, moveable in a wide groove through its centre,
magnetism.
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
a
■3
by which any distance s between magnetic masses
be also shown. When the bars are very
cal Instru- Pon<^erous> two supports are required, one
ments. at each end of the table ab.
“ Inductive forces are examined verti¬
cally by fixing the masses by compressing
bands s against the scale S, as repre¬
sented in the annexed fig. 107, and of
which we may have, if requisite, two or
three in succession.
“ These arrangements put us in a posi¬
tion to note readily and simultaneously all
relative distances and forces under a great
variety of magnetic and apparently com¬
plicated conditions. In the arrangement
(fig. 107), for example, we may fix a mass
of iron S, at successive distances S, N from
a magnet H, and yet preserve the distance
ab at which the induced force operates
constant, either by the rack and pinion C,
or the milled head and screw PR (fig. 104)5
and thus arrive at a measure of the induc¬
tive force on the intermediate mass S.”
85
H
Fi*. 107.
Sect. XIIL—Account of Daniel Bernoulli!s Dipping
Needle.
“ppTng11’’ n/e<"e’ C iB axiV graduated circle
needle. . , p 1xe^. UP°!1 to have its centre coincident
with C, and a light index D is fixed to the axis C, so as to
Fig. 108.
turn tightly upon it. Let the needle be magnetized pre¬
vious to the putting on of the index D, and nicely balanced.
, e index will obviously destroy the equilibrium, and will
always point perpendicularly to the horizon, if the needle
has been properly balanced. As this degree of accuracy,
however, cannot be expected, let the index D be set to
different parts of the circle EFG, and let the inclination
taken by the needle before it is magnetized be noted down,
corresponding to the different positions of the index. When
the index points to 50°, for example, let the inclination of
the needle be 46 . If we now observe that the needle is
still inclined 46 , when the index is at 50°, after it is
magnetized, then 46° is the true magnetic dip at that place,
as the magnetism which it has received does not alter the
position which it assumes from its gravity alone.
As it is easy to obtain a rude estimate of the dip at any
place, let the index D be set accordingly, and if the needle
does not now show the estimated dip, the position of the
index must be changed, and the inclination or dip of the
needle again noted. Observe if this second position of the
index, and the second measure of the dip, form a corre¬
sponding pair of numbers, such as have been written down.
If they do, we have got the true dip; but if they do not,
another position of the index must be tried. If the coinci¬
dence of this new pair of numbers is greater or less than
that of the former pair, we shall learn whether the position
of the index is to be altered in the same direction as before,
or in an opposite one.
Dr Robison made several observations with a dipping
needle of this construction, which was executed by a per-
may son totally unacquainted with the making of such instru- Descrip-
ments. He measured the dip with it at Cronstadt, at New tion of
York, and Scarborough, and the result never deviated more MaSneti*
than 1^° from that obtained by the present dipping needles. Cal In®tru"
He tried it also in a rough sea in Leith Roads, and he v men^ ^
found it not inferior either in accuracy or despatch to the "
most elaborate instruments.
Sect. XIV.—Account of Mayer’s Dipping Needle, as con¬
structed for General Sabine.
The method of observing the dip employed by the cele- Mayer’s
brated Tobias Mayer,1 consists in separating the centres dipping
of motion and of gravity of the needle, and in deducing theneedie*
true dip from the apparent dip thus obtained.
The needle executed for General Sabine on this prin¬
ciple was a parallelepiped 11£ inches long, -j^-ths broad,
jfoth of an inch thick. The ends were rounded, and a line
drawn on the face of the needle through its centre to its
extremities, for the purpose of an index. The needle
turned upon a cylindrical axis of bell-metal, terminated by
cylinders of the smallest diameter, that could support the
needle without bending. These small cylindrical ends
rested upon agate planes. The needle was raised from or
lowered to its support by Y’s, which insured that the same
parts of the small cylinders rested on the agate planes in
each observation.
A small steel screw was inserted in a female screw, tapped
on the lower edge of the needle, in a direction perpendicular
to the index line, and a small brass sphere was made to
traverse on this screw, so that the centre of gravity of the
needle, screw, and sphere may be made to fall more or
less below the axis of motion, and thus give the needle a
momentum auxiliary to that of magnetism, in overcoming
the inequalities of workmanship in the axis, or in the agate
planes. Hence the position which the needle assumes, un¬
der these circumstances, is not that of the true dipping
needle; but, by a simple formula, the true dip may be de¬
duced from four observations, when conducted in the fol¬
lowing manner:—
1. Place the needle in the magnetic meridian, and ob¬
serve the angle which it makes with the vertical. Call this
angle M.
2. Reverse the position of the axis on its supports, so
that the edge of the needle, which was uppermost in the
preceding observation, is now lowermost, and observe again
the angle which the needle makes with the vertical, and
call this m. Let the poles of the needle be now reversed
by means of a powerful magnet, and when it is replaced,
make the same observations which have been already de¬
scribed, and call the angles thus obtained N, n. Then
calling the sum of the tangents of M and t» = A ; the dif¬
ference of the same tangents = a; the sum of the tangents
N, « = B, and their difference = b. Then the dip A may be
obtained from the following formula:—
cotan A
_ /Ax6 ax. B\
In order to insure the perfect horizontality of the agate
planes, or of the axis of the needle which rests upon them
a spirit level attached to a circular brass plate, with adjust¬
ments to bring the level parallel to the plate, was placed
upon the planes themselves. The errors of the level were
shown by placing the plate in various positions, and the
errors of the planes by turning the whole instrument on its
horizontal centre.
If we observe the inclination of the dipping needle to
the horizon in two different positions, so that the planes in
1 Gottingen Transactions, 1814.
86
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
Dr Lloyd’s
method of
observing
the dip, &c.
MAGNETISM.
which it moves are at right angles to one another, the true
dip may be obtained from the formula:—
cotang2 A = cotang21 + cotang21';
the inclination in the two rectangular azimuths being I
and I'. The dip may be thus very accurately obtained from
the mean of a number of observations in different azimuths.
Sect. XV.—Account of Dr Lloyd?s method of observing
the Dip and the Magnetic Intensity at the same time,
and with the same Instrument.
The ordinary dipping needle employed by Dr Lloyd, is
supported on an axis which is supposed to pass accurately
through its centre of gravity, and hence the position which
it takes in the magnetic meridian is the direction of the
magnetic force. If one of the arms of the needle, however,
is loaded with a weight, the needle will assume a new posi¬
tion of equilibrium under the united influence of gravity
and of terrestrial magnetism. By means of the inclination
of the needle thus obtained, and the amount of the added
weight, the dip of the needle, and the magnetic intensity,
may be obtained by the following formulae:—Let /x, v be
the statical moments of two small weights attached in suc¬
cession to the southern arm of the needle at fixed distances
from its centre, and let £ be the inclination obtained with
the weight p, and 6 that obtained with v. Then
_ cos 6 sin (8 —£)
^ cos £ sin (8 — 0) *
The magnetic intensity at different stations may be ob¬
tained from the dip by the second equation.
The quantity tr, being the statical amount of the free
magnetism of the needle, or the magnetic moment, must
vary with the temperature. If r is the temperature of ob¬
servation, r' a certain standard temperature, and or' the
corresponding value of <r, then if we suppose the changes
of <r to be proportioned to those of r, we have
o- = cr (I — a) (t — r ) ;
a being a constant to be determined by observation, and
which Dr Lloyd found to be 000016.
The quantity v is the sum (or difference) of the mo¬
ments of the weight of the needle and of the added weight,
and its value is
v—v (1 — e cos 2X)
where v is the value of v corresponding to the latitude of
45°, \ the latitude of the place, and e a constant, whose
value is 0#002588. Hence we obtain for the magnetic in¬
tensity
_ v cos 0 \ —e cos 2 X
^ <r sin (8 — 0) 1 — a (t — r )’
an expression peculiarly adapted for logarithmic computa¬
tion. (See Memoirs of the Royal Irish Academy 1835.)
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
/a cos £ = 0 <r sin (8 - £),
v cos 0 — o sin (8 — 0);
the dip being denoted by 8, and the magnetic intensity by
tp, and o- being a constant depending on the distribution of
magnetism in the needle itself. Hence from the inclinations
£ and 0 observed in the usual manner, and the ratio of the
moments p and v, the dip and the relative magnetic in¬
tensity will be obtained at the several places of observa¬
tion.
The most advantageous way of applying the preceding
method, Dr Lloyd considers to be this: He observes the
position of the needle, /?^, when unloaded ; and, secondly,
when loaded with a weight sufficient to bring it into a po¬
sition nearly perpendicular to the line of the dip.
Now if p = 0, we shall have £ = 8, or the inclination
first observed becomes equal to the dip, when there is no
weight acting with or against the directive force. This
condition, however, is never accurately fulfilled; for, from
the imperfect coincidence of the centre of gravity of the
needle with the axis, the weight of the needle itself is suf¬
ficient to deflect it from the true line of the dip. We
must therefore regard £ as the approximate value of the
dip, and compute the correction for reducing it to its
exact value.
For this purpose put p = -, and dividing the first of the above
equations by the second we have
cos £_sin (8-£)
^ cos 0 sin (8 — 0)*
Then if we make S=£ + e, the second term of the pre¬
ceding equation becomes s-^ ^ q nearly, since e is a very
small quantity, and we have
cos £..„..
S‘n'='’j5rssm({_^
Hence we may find the dip by means of these two equa¬
tions, and we may deduce the correction for an imper¬
fect balance of the needle from the two observed inclina¬
tions without reversing the poles of the needle, as in the
method of Tobias Mayer.
The value of the coefficient p in the last equation is
given in the following formula:—
Sect. XVI.—Description of Dr Lloyds Theodolite
Magnetometer.
This instrument is intended for the use of travelling Dr Lloyd’s
observers. It consists of “a divided circle, similar to that theodolite
of a theodolite, supported on a tripod base, with levelling ™^e“et0‘
screws. This circle is 9 inches in diameter; it is divided to
10', and subdivided by two verniers to 10". The upper
plate of the circle has two projecting arms, each carrying
a pair of adjustable Y supports for the reading telescope,
at a distance of 6 inches from the centre. The telescope
rests in these supports on a transit axis, which is rendered
horizontal by the help of a riding level. The aperture of
the object glass is -j^ths of an inch; a glass scale, divided
to the iJffth an inch> fixed in its focus; and the eye
tube is made to move across the scale in a dovetail slide.
“ The magnets are hollow cylinders, each furnished as a
collimator with an achromatic lens, and a fine line cut on
glass in its focus. There are four such magnets: two of
them being 3§d inches long and ^ an inch in exterior
diameter, and two 3 inches long and f ths of an inch in ex¬
terior diameter. The larger magnets are furnished with a
Y stirrup, in which they may be inverted; the small mag¬
nets have the ordinary tubular stirrup, with a suspension
pin and screw socket. A hollow brass cylinder, of the
same dimensions as the larger magnets, and carrying a
small hollow cylindrical magnet within, serves to determine
the amount of torsion of the suspension thread ; it is like¬
wise fitted up as a collimator.
“ There are two boxes, within which the magnets are to
be suspended. That belonging to the smaller magnets is
a rectangular box of copper, closed by mahogany sliding
sides, and having a circular aperture at each end filled with
parallel glass. It is 3} inches long, 1J inch wide, and 1
inch deep internally; and the thickness of the metal is Jth
of an inch, so that it may act powerfully as a damper. A
suspension tube of glass, 8 inches long, is screwed into an
aperture in the top of the box; and is furnished with a
graduated torsion cap at top, and a sliding suspension-pin.
This box is made to fit on the centre of the upper plate of
the circle, and is capable of removal at pleasure. The box
employed with the larger magnets is of wood, and of the
same form as the copper box, but somewhat larger. It is
detached from the instrument, but may rest on the same
MAGNETISM.
87
Descrip- stand. A small wooden piece with a mirror serves to illa¬
tion of minate the magnet collimator, either from above or from
Magneti- the side, according as the light of day, or that of a lamp or
“ments"11' Ca^e’isemPloyed- ,
t | j i ne measuring rod employed in deflection experiments
is a compound bar of gun-metal, formed of two bars, the
lower of which has its surface horizontal, and the upper
vertical. It is 3 feet in length, and is graduated on its
vertical surface. It is placed upon the upper plate of the
circle, beneath the box, and at right angles to its longer
sides; and it is so fixed that it may be removed with ease,
and replaced exactly in the same position. The support of
the deflecting magnet slides upon the upper bar, and is
furnished with a vernier, by means of which the distance of
the two magnets may be determined with accuracy and
ease.”
Sect. XVII.—Description of Dr Lloyds Instrument for
Measuring the Inclination and its Changes.
Dr Lloyd’s In 1842 Dr Lloyd communicated to the Royal Irish
Inclination Academy an account of a “ new magnetical instrument for
instrument. the measurement of the inclination and its changes.” In
consequence of the sources of error inherent in every direct
process of determining the third magnetic element, indi¬
rect methods of determining the inclination were proposed
in Germany—one by Professors Gauss and Weber, and
the other by Dr Sartorius von Walterhausen. Dr Lloyd’s
method bears a close analogy in principle to the former,
but it differs from it both as to the means employed, and in
the end in view,—his main object being to determine the
inclination-changes.
“ If a soft-iron bar, perfectly devoid of magnetic polarity,
be held in a vertical position, it immediately becomes a
temporary magnet under the inducing action of the earth’s
magnetic force, the lower extremity becoming a north pole,
and the upper a south pole. Accordingly, if a freely-sus¬
pended horizontal magnet, whose dimensions are small in
comparison with those of the bar, be situated near, in a
plane passing through one of these poles, it will be de¬
flected from the magnetic meridian. The deflecting force
is the induced force of the bar, which may be regarded as
proportional to the energy of the inducing cause, i. <?., to the
vertical component of the earth’s force ; while the counter¬
acting force is the horizontal component of the same force,
acting directly on the magnet itself, to bring it back to the
magnetic meridian. Thus the magnet wrill take up a po¬
sition of equilibrium, under the action of these opposing
forces; and this position will serve to determine the ratio
which subsists between them. When the right line con¬
necting the centre of the horizontal magnet and the acting
pole of the bar, is perpendicular to the magnetic meridian,
the tangent of the angle of deflection will measure the
ratio of the two forces, and will therefore be proportional
to the tangent of the magnetic inclination. Accordingly,
by observing the changes of position of the horizontal mag¬
net, so circumstanced, we can infer those of the inclination
itself.
“But the iron bar may have (and generally will have) a
certain portion of permanent magnetism, which will concur
with the induced magnetism in producing the deflection ;
and it becomes necessary to institute the observations in
such a manner, as to be able to eliminate the effects of
this extraneous cause. For this purpose we have only to
invert the bar, so that the acting pole, which was upper¬
most in one part of the observation, shall be lowermost in
the other. The induced polarity will, under these circum¬
stances, be opposite in the two cases ; and the acting force
will in one case be the sum of the induced and permanent
forces, and in the other their difference. The following is
the construction of the apparatus
“ The magnet is cylindrical; its length is 3 inches, and Descrip-
diameter ^th of an inch. A mirror is attached to the tion
stirrup by which it is suspended, by means of which the ^p^su-u*
varying position of the magnet may be observed with a tele- ^merits'1'
scope at a distance, after the method of Gauss. This i j ^ >
mirror is of course vertical; and it has a motion round a
vertical axis, by means of which it may be adjusted to any
desired position of the observing telescope. The mirror is
circular, and is fths of an inch in diameter. The move-
able part of the stirrup to which it is attached has the form
of a cross ; and it is rendered vertical by means of three
screws, near the extremities of three of the arms of the
cross, the heads of which project and hold it. The mirror
is maintained in contact with these heads by springs at the
backs.
“ The box is octagonal; the interval between the oppo¬
site sides is 4 inches, and that between the top and bot¬
tom 2 inches. The top and bottom, and the connecting
pillars, are formed of gun-metal; the eight sides are closed
by moveable pieces, three of which are of glass, and the
rest of ebony. To the top of the box is attached an
upright tube of glass, 8 inches in length, which in¬
closes the suspension thread. The suspension apparatus
at the top of the tube is of the usual construction ; the cir¬
cular piece to which it is attached has a movement of rota¬
tion, and its outer surface is graduated to 5°, for the pur¬
pose of determining the effect of torsion of the suspension
thread.
“ The base of the instrument is a circle of gun-metal, 6
inches in diameter, graduated on the edge. The box is
connected with this circle by a short conical stem, forming
the axis of a second plate, which revolves upon the fixed
one. This moveable plate carries two verniers, by which
the angle of rotation may be read off to minutes. Two
tubular arms, slightly inclined to one another, are attached
to this plate ; and their other extremities are connected by
a cross-piece, which carries a short scale at a distance of
18 inches from the mirror. This part of the apparatus is
employed in determining the total angles of deflection.
“ The soft-iron bar is a cylinder, 12 inches long and fths
of an inch in diameter. One of its extremities is inclosed
in a hollow cylinder of brass, connected with a horizontal
pivot which revolves in a fixed socket. The axis of this
pivot being in the line passing through the centre of the
suspended magnet, and perpendicular to the magnetic me¬
ridian, it is obvious that the bar has a movement of rotation
in the plane of the magnetic meridian itself. The distance
of the axis of the bar irom the centre of the magnet is
about 5 inches ; and it is so placed that the induced pole
is in the direction of the axis of the pivot, and thus re¬
mains fixed during the movement of the bar.
“ The changes of position of the suspended magnet are
observed at a distance by means of a fixed telescope and
scale. The scale, whose divisions are reflected by the
mirror, is attached above the telescope to the support near
the eye-end.”
Sect. XVIII.—Description of Mr Fox's Dipping Needle
Deflector, for measuring the Variation and Dip of the
Needle, and the Magnetic Intensity.
This ingenious instrument, for ascertaining the variation, Mr Fox’s
dip, and intensity of terrestrial magnetism, was pretty deflector,
extensively used by Mr Fox in different parts of the
United Kingdom. The results have been published both
in a table and in a chart in an extract from the Deport cf
the. Royal Cornwall Polytechnic Society for 1835.
The deflector is shown in figs. 109 and 110, where A
is a cylindrical box of brass fixed vertically in the stem B
and horizontal plate C, all of which can be turned round
on their common axis D, ground into the centre of a tripod,
88
MAGNETISM.
Descrip- two of whose legs are shown at E and F. The graduated
tion of circle in C is subdivided by a vernier and tangent screw G,
cal Instru- ^eve^s being placed at right angles to each other for adjust¬
ments.
rig. 109.
ment. The needle ns, with a small grooved wheel a fixed
on its axis, is supported by the concentric disc c, and a
bracket e attached to the disc, the axis of the needle mov¬
ing in jewelled holes. The disc c is accurately fixed into
the back of the box, and may be turned round with the
bracket on its axis by means of knobs on its back, shown
in fig. ]10. By this contrivance the bracket may be
moved round to any
convenient position, so
as not to interfere with
the dip of the needle
in any latitude.
A socket, attached to m
a brass spring, when
pressed forward by the
screw m, is intended to
confine the ends of the
needle when not in use.
There are two parallel
graduated rings, one ot
which is a little within
the outer surface of the
dipping needle, as shown
at oo fig. 109; the other
ring, supposed to be re- Fig. no.
moved in the figure, is immediately under the glass, its
object being to direct the sight, and enable the observer
to subdivide the degrees on the inner circle. A thermo¬
meter is shown at t. The back of the dipping-needle box
is shown in fig. Ill; the back of the moveable central
disc is grooved, and a brass rod is drawn over the grooved
surface in order to make the needle vibrate.
A telescope AB, having cross wires, is capable of being
moved in a vertical plane in any direction, by means of a
concentric ring c, grooved into another concentric ring at¬
tached to the back of the instrument, and furnished with
a flanch. An arm C, at right angles to the telescope, has
a vernier for subdividing the graduated circle on the back
of the box. A small tube DE for solar observations, is
fixed parallel to the telescope. This tube has a convex
glass at D, whose focal length is rather longer than the
tube, and there is a plane glass at E, with a small circu¬
lar spot on it, which forms, with the concentrated .light of
the magnifying glass, a distinct annular image on an ivory
or plaster of Paris surface at e. Magnetized steel bars are
placed in the brass tubes ns, sn. Their positition, as well
as that of the telescope, when not in use, is shown in fig.
Ill, the n and s poles of the magnet being brought near Descrip-
the s and n poles of the dip¬
ping needle in the box, in
order to induce a uniformity
in their relative states of mag¬
netic intensity. Holes l, l are
made in the tube of the te¬
lescope, to allow the magnets
to be passed through it, and
screwed into the arms which
hold the telescope. This is
shown at n and s fig. 110,
which represents a side view
of the box, and the places of
the magnet when employed
for ascertaining the intensity.
Two brass screws fix the ring
and glass cover, over the face
of the instrument, are shown at a, a. Fig. 112 represents a
grooved wheel fixed in the axis of the needle a
(fig. 109), with a fine silk thread, having hooks at
each end, passing over the wheel in the grooves.
The following rules for using the instrument are
given by Mr Fox:—
To observe the Magnetic Variation.—Ascertain
the true meridian by any of the usual methods ;
the small tube being used for solar observations, _
and the telescope for observations at night. Note Fig. 112.
the angle cut by the nonius on the circular plate C. If
the plate be turned round 90° from that point, the face of
the instrument, or rather the plane in which the needle
moves, being parallel to that of the tubes, will be at right
angles to the plane of the true meridian. The deflecting
tubes n, s having been removed from the back, turn the in¬
strument round gradually, so that the needle may become
perfectly vertical after vibration ; friction having been em¬
ployed several times at the back of the central disc.
Fig. 110.
The face of the instrument will then be at right angles
to the plane of the magnetic meridian ; and the angle
described on the circular plate will give the variation from
the true meridian. The face of the instrument, however,
should always be turned round to the opposite quarter, till
the needle again becomes vertical, which will either con¬
firm or correct the preceding experiment, by taking half
the difference between the two observations.
To ascertain the Dip.—The face of the instrument hav¬
ing been made to coincide with the plane of the magnetic
meridian, suppose it to be at first turned towards the east;
note the exact dip at both ends of the needle after vibra¬
tion, as before described (this percaution should, in every
case, be carefully attended to, and repeated several times);
then turn the face of it toward the west, placing it in the
same plane, and observe and note as before ; the mean of
these observations will give the dip.
To correct the observed Dip.—The instrument being
still in the magnetic plane, and fixed in that position by
means of the lever or clamp connected with the nonius,
screw on one of the deflectors n, s at right angles to the
tube as shown in fig. 111, so as to repel or deflect the end of
the needle which is nearest to it; then, if the observed dip
was 69° 45', move the deflector a certain number of degrees
from 69° 45', as shown by the nonius c; say 50° to the
right of the dip, when the needle will be repelled in the
opposite direction: suppose the mean angle at both poles
of the needle, after frequent vibrations, to be 54° 33
then move the tube 50 to the left of the dip,
when the needle will be repelled in the con¬
trary direction: suppose it to stand at . . 84° 4'7,
Mean, . 69° 40'
tion of
Magneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
Fig. 111.
MAGNETISM.
Descrip¬
tion of
Magneti-
•al Instru¬
ments.
If the face of the instrument, whilst making these observa¬
tions, should be towards the east; turn it round towards the
west, adjusting it in the same plane, and repeat the obser¬
vation ; if the mean result should be . . 69° 46'
the mean or corrected dip will be . . . 69° 43'
Similar observations may be multiplied at pleasure, by
varying the angles of the deflector from the observed dip;
and by thus taking the mean of many observations, the
true dip may be obtained with a great degree of pre¬
cision.
To find the relative Intensity of the Terrestrial Magnet-
isM- -The instrument being still in the plane of the mag¬
netic meridian, screw the deflectors (or one of them) into
the arms at the back of the instrument, as shown in fig.
110, and cause the latter to coincide with the direction
of the dip, when the needle will be repelled from it; mark
the angle to which the needle points at both ends (after
repeated vibrations as before described), then cause the
needle to swing back to the other side of the dip (one of
the deflectors being temporarily removed for this purpose),
and note its place as before: half the sum of the angles
to which the needle is thus deflected (or rather of their
sines) will represent the relative force of the terrestrial
magnetism, at different places, on a needle thus circum¬
stanced. It is desirable that the observations should be
made with the face of the instrument turned towards the
east as well as towards the west, and likewise only one
deflector may be used as well as both of them; in order to
vary and multiply the observations for the purpose of
correction.
If the angle of deflection at a second place of observa¬
tion should be greater or less than at the first, the force of
the earth’s magnetism will be inferior or superior to the
latter, as represented by the different angles
The amount of any such difference may, when required,
be represented by weightsFor this purpose, the glass
which protects the face of the instrument should be re¬
moved, and the silk thread placed on the grooved wheel, as
shown in fig. 112. The minute weights required to be sus¬
pended to one of the hooks, in order to bring the needle to
some given angle from the actual dip, will indicate the re¬
lative magnetic intensity at difterent stations. Suppose,
for example, that at a given place the observed dip is 70°,
and that at a second place, in a lower latitude, it is 45°;
adjust the deflector as before described, so as to coincide
with the dip of the needle at the place of observation,
whatever it may be. Assume that the needle is repelled
70° from the dip of 70° at the first station, and 80° from
the dip of 45 at the second station ; it will show that the
terrestrial magnetic intensity is greater at the former than
at the latter. The weights required to be suspended to
one of the hooks, in order to bring the needle to its origi¬
nal position of 71 from the dip (if that be taken as the
standard), will indicate the difference of intensity. Thus,
for instance, if five-tenths of a grain be required to bring
the needle from the angular distance of 80° to that of 70°
from the dip at the second station, this weight will indicate
the difference of the magnetic intensity of the earth at the
two stations, acting on the needle in question, when at an
angle of 70° from the natural dip.
The ratio of this difference to the whole force of the ter¬
restrial magnetism so acting, may be ascertained by moving
the deflectors to the angle of 70° from the dip (because the
needle is assumed to have been deflected to this angle at
the first station) ; the needle will then be repelled to the
opposite side of the dip, and the weight required to coun¬
teract the deflection sufficiently to bring it back to the dip,
will represent the whole influence of the earth’s magnetism,
at the first station on the needle, whilst at the angle of 70°
from the dip. This will be evident, when it is considered
that the angle between the needle and deflectors is in both
89
sidero-
scope.
VOL. XIV.
instances the same; it being coerced contrary to the re- Descrip-
pelling force of the deflectors, in one case by the earth’s tion of
magnetism, and in the other by the weights, to the dip or Magneti-
line of quiescence. The earth’s magnetic force acting on cal Instru*
the needle so deflected, will therefore be equal to the gravity y Inent^ /
of the weights. If 3’34 grains be the weights required, and s**v-*x
five-tenths of a grain equal to the difference between the
two stations, the terrestrial magnetic intensity will be in the
ratio of 3’34 — •5=2,84, at the second station, to 3’34 at the
first station.
From the observations which have been already made
with the dipping-needle deflector, furnished with a needle
less than six inches long, there is good reason to believe
that it will clearly indicate a difference of intensity at places
situate at less than one-half a degree of latitude from
each other.
Observations on the magnetic intensity and dip may
likewise be made without the deflectors, by means of the
weights only, suspended from the silk thread, shown in fig.
112. Ibis method is too obvious to require a minute de^
scription, the weights in this case being used to produce
deflection from the dip at any place, instead of the mag¬
netic deflectors j the weights required to cause a given
amount of deflection being taken as the relative measure
of the magnetic intensity at the place of observation. Thus,
in the case before supposed, 3'34 grains would produce a
mean deflection of 70° from the dip at the first station, and
only 2*84 grains would do so at the second station.
Sect. XIX.—Account of Lebaillifs Sideroscope.
The object of this instrument, proposed by M. Lebaillif, Lebaillif’a
is to detect minute
degrees of mag¬
netism by means
of a very deli¬
cate combination
of small magnetic
needles. This ap¬
paratus, which he
calls siSideroscope,
is shown in fig. 113,
where A BCD re¬
presents the body ^
of the instrument.
The other parts
consist of three Pte- us.
sewing needles magnetized to saturation, and a tube of
straw 12 or 15 inches long. One of these needles ab. is
slid into the tube mh, and the others all, d'l)', are placed
across the straw, so that their dissimilar poles correspond.
1 he straw thus fitted up is placed upon a small stirrup of
paper, which is suspended by a silk fibre fixed at the top C
of the vertical tube of glass or wood CD. The portion
mh of the tube of straw is the longest, and it is beneath
its extremity a that there is placed on the bottom of the
cage or box AB, an arch rrr, divided into degrees and
half degrees. The portion me has no directive force, as
the action of the earth is neutralized in the two opposed
needles ab,ab. But the portion mh has a directive
force depending on the magnetism of the needle ab, on its
length, and on its distance from the point of suspension.
1 fie cage has a small sliding door tp which shuts up the
apparatus; and when an experiment is made, the aperture
at t is brought opposite the extremity a of the needle.
M. Debaillif proved that almost all bodies exercise some
action on the needle, and that antimony and bismuth
always exert upon it a repulsive force. M. Pouillet, from
wiiose work we have taken this description of the instru¬
ment, is of opinion that the movement of the needle may
be often owing to atoms of iron; and that we must not
M
90
MAGNETISM.
Descrip- take it for granted that in these phenomena the magnetic
tion of force is the only one which is acting.
Magneti-
CBinents.U* Sect. XX—Description of the Astatic Needle.
Astatic
needle.
Pouillet’s
astatic
needles.
This instrument, described by M. Pouillet, is called the
Astatic Needle, because it is withdrawn from the action of
the earth’s magnetism, and has no longer the statical posi¬
tion in which it is in equilibrio with the influence of this
force. The construction of the astatic needle is founded
on the principle that a body which is moveable round an
axis cannot receive any motion from a force which acts
parallel to this axis.
The astatic needle is represented in fig. 114, where ns
is a magnetic needle, moveable
round the axis ab. If this axis
is placed in the direction in which
terrestrial magnetism acts, the
needle will rest in any position.
This effect is easily produced by
two motions perpendicular to each
other, one of which is obtained
by the milled head S, which, by
an endless screw on its axis, works
in the teeth of the wheel C, and
the other by the milled head S'
and the wheel D ; the graduated
circle AB showing the positions
of the needle.
Another contrivance for an as¬
tatic needle is shown in the an¬
nexed figure (115), where two nee¬
dles AB, A'B', perfectly alike in
their form and magnetic intensity,
are turned in opposite directions,
and placed upon the same axis per¬
pendicular to their length.
A more perfect compensation in the action of two
needles is shown in fig. 116, where AB, AB are the two
needles, the one horizontal and the other inclined to the
horizon. It is obvious that the directive force of the latter
will augment with its inclination, and it is therefore easy to
make the directive forces of each perfectly equal and oppo¬
site, by varying the inclination of the uppermost one.
These two contrivances we owe to M. Pouillet.
A magnetic needle may also be rendered astatic by neu¬
tralizing the action of the earth, by means of an equal and
opposite magnetic action. For this purpose we have only
to place a powerful bar-magnet at a considerable distance
from the needle, so that it may act upon it as powerfully as
the earth does. It should be placed in the magnetic meri¬
dian, parallel to the direction which the needle takes when
it is in equilibrio, the pole of the bar which repels that of
the needle being placed nearest it. When the bar is placed
near the needle, it will cause it to wheel round, in conse- Descrip-
quence of its action exceeding that of the earth. At a tion of
very great distance, on the contrary, the earth’s action will
predominate, and draw^the needle into the magnetic meri-cam^t^u
ridian ; but an intermediate distance will be found in which k ^ i
the two actions exactly balance or compensate each other,
and render the needle astatic.1
Sect. XXL—Account of Barlow's Correcting Plate or
Magnetic Compensator for neutralizing the effect of local
attraction on the Ship's Compass.
As every ship contains large fixed masses of iron, beside Barlow’s
moveable iron guns, anchors, cables, and iron utensils of correcting
various kinds, it is obvious, from the principles and experi- Plate-
ments already detailed (see Chapter V., &c.), that these
masses, rendered temporarily magnetic by the action of the
earth, must produce derangements in the magnetic needles
of the compasses on board. These derangements amount
sometimes to 15° or 20°, and have exposed navigators to
the most imminent perils. Mr Wales, the astronomer to
Captain Cook’s expedition of discovery, first discovered the
fact that such a deviation existed, but he does not seem to
have suspected its cause. Mr Downie, master of his Ma¬
jesty’s ship Glory, was the first person who pointed out the
true origin of the deviation. “ I am convinced,” says he,
“ that the quantity and vicinity of iron in most ships have
an effect in attracting the needle ; for it is found by expe¬
rience that the needle will not always point in the same
direction, when placed in different parts of the ship. Also
it is rarely found that two ships, steering in the same course
by their respective compasses, will go exactly parallel to
each other, yet these compasses, when compared on board
the same ship, will agree exactly.”2
In his survey of the coast of New Holland, in 1801 and
1802, Captain Flinders observed great differences in the
direction of the needle, which arose only from changes in
the direction of the ship’s head, the direction being westerly
when the ship’s head was to the east, and vice versa.
Hence he concludes, that the attractive powers of the dif¬
ferent bodies in the ship which are capable of affecting the
compass are collected into something like a focal point or
centre of gravity, and that this point is nearly in the centre
of the ship, where the shot are deposited, for here the
greatest quantity of iron is collected together.” 3 He like¬
wise supposes that this magnetic centre is of the same name
as the pole of the hemisphere where the ship is, and con¬
sequently, that in New South Wales the south end of the
needle would be attracted by it, and the north end repelled ;
and from this hypothesis he concludes that the phenomena
must be exactly the reverse in the northern hemisphere.
The Admiralty ordered a course of experiments to be
made on this important subject; but though they established
the truth of Captain Flinders’ views, the subject was not
farther prosecuted. The public attention, however, was
again called to it by Mr Bain, who, in an excellent treatise
on the variation of the compass, pointed out the fatal con¬
sequences which might result from this great source of un¬
certainty in the indications of the needle. I he observa¬
tions of Captains Ross, Parry, and Sabine threw additional
light upon the subject; but it is to Professor Barlow alone
that we owe a series of brilliant experiments, which termi¬
nated in his invention of the neutralizing plate, for conect-
ino- in a perfect manner this source of error in the compass.
In order to give an idea of the magnitude of this error,
Professor Barlow published the following table of devia¬
tions actually observed:
* See Pouillet’s Element de Physique,
2 Walker on Magnetism, 1794, cited by Prof. Barlow.
3 Phil. Trans., 1805, p. 186.
MAGNETISM.
91
Descrip¬
tion of
Jfagneti-
cal Instru¬
ments.
„ jjeviation in
&n,P* Place. Observers. the compass.
Conway Portsmouth...Captain Hill....  4° 32'
Ijeven  North fleet....Captain Owen  6 7
Barracoota  Do. ...Captain Cuttfield  14 30
Ilecla    Do. ...Captain Parry  7 27
Fu.ry  Do. ...Captain Hoppner  6 22
Griper Nore Captain Clavering 13 36
Adventurer  Plymouth Captain King  7 48
Gloucester Channel Captain Stuart  9 30
The instrument employed by Professor Barlow is shown
in figs. 117 and 118, where T is a rod of copper an inch
Tiff. 117. Fig. US.
and a half in diameter, and F, F' two plates of iron about
12 or 13 inches in diameter, and of such a thickness that
a square foot of it will weigh about 3 lb. avoirdupois. These
plates are separated by a circular sheet of card, and pressed
against each other at their centre by a screw on the end of
the rod T, and at their margins by three small screws of
iron. The compass C is placed on the top of a wooden box,
and the corrector T is placed in one of the holes in the
side of the box.
.The adjustment of the plate is made when the ship is
lying in a calm bay near the shore. An observer with a
needle and theodolite is placed at some distance from the
shore, from which he can perceive the ship while it is turn¬
ing its head in different directions. The compass on board
the ship is under the management of another observer with
the same apparatus. At a signal given, the observer de¬
termines the angle which his own needle makes with the
axis of the telescopes (one being directed to the other),
winch is called the central line. But as the needle on shore
experiences no disturbing action, it is evident that if the
needle on ship-board also experience none, the two needles
will be parallel, and will form the same angle with the cen¬
tral line. Hence the difference between these two angles
when they are not the same is that which is produced by
the magnetic action of the iron in the vessel from its com¬
pass-needle at the instant of observation. Let the vessel
be now made to turn round completely, and let a new ob¬
servation be made at every azimuth often or twelve degrees
we shall then have the value of the deviation produced in
all positions of the ship’s head upon the compass-needle*
When this is done, the observer on shore takes away his
compass and replaces it with that of the ship, which he sets
on the wooden cage shown in fig. 117, having different
holes for receiving the axis T of the plates, F, F'. As the
box is turned round its axis it carries along with it the
compensator FF', which will affect the needle of the com¬
pass C differently in different azimuths, and by a few trials
it may be adjusted by means of the holes of its axis T to
produce the very same deviation in the compass as was
produced upon it when in the ship by the action of its
iron. When it is done, the position of the centres of the
plates F, F^ with regard to the needle is completely marked,
and when it is taken on board the ship and placed in its
proper position, the compensator is adjusted on the stand
which carries the compass, as shown in fig. 118, so as to Theories
have exactly the same relative position as it had in theof Maf>net*
box. ism.
Now since the compensator produces the same effect as
the iron on ship-board does, the deviation will be doubled
in place of being corrected; but this furnishes the means
omaking the correction. If the variation is found to be
36 W. by the compass without the compensator, and after¬
wards 40° with the compensator, the difference: 40° — 36°
==4 shows that the compensator augments the variation
4 , and the iron on board the vessel as much. Hence the
true variation will be 36° - 4 = 32°, or 40 - 4 - 4 = 32°. If
the observations with the compensator had given a less
result than without it, this would have shown that the action
of the iron had diminished the declination, and the differ¬
ence of the two observations must have been added to the
first to have the true declination.
CHAP. XII.—THEORIES OF MAGNETISM.
The phenomena of magnetism, like those of every other Theories
branch of physics, have afforded the groundwork of many of magnet-
absurd and wild theories. The hypotheses of Descartesism-
and Euler, which created in the interior of magnetic bodies
canals and valves to admit or obstruct the subtle matter, to
the agency of which they ascribed the attractive or direc¬
tive power of magnets, are too ridiculous to deserve any
notice in the present state of the science.
M. JEpinus of St Petersburg was the first philosopher Theory
who discovered a rational hypothesis, which explained nearly of ASpinua.
all the phenomena of magnetism. This hypothesis of one
fluid, however, of which we have already given a short
account in our history of the science, was found insufficient
for explaining the phenomena which are exhibited in the
division and fracture of magnets; and although suscep¬
tible of a correction, which consisted in considering a mag¬
net as composed of small particles of iron, each of which
has individually the properties of a separate magnet, yet
it did not afford a complete explanation of all the magnetic
phenomena.
The hypothesis of two fluids, which was first proposed Theory of
by Wilcke and Brugmann, was established by M. Coulomb, Wilcke>
and was afterwards perfected by the masterly investiga- <^'c‘
tions of M. Poisson, who not only constructed mathe¬
matical formulae which enable us to calculate all the minutest
details of the phenomena, but has enabled us to compre¬
hend physically how all the phenomena have been produced.
The general equations at which he arrived have not yet,
in every case, been resolved; but the particular con¬
ditions under which the integrations are possible have
already, as we have stated, exhibited the most happy coin¬
cidence with experiment.
The hypothesis of two fluids supposes that they reside
in each particle of iron; that they are neutral, and inert
when combined as in soft iron; and that, when they are
decomposed, the particles of the austral fluid attract those
of the boreal fluid, and vice versa, while they each repel one
another. r
In order to account for the phenomena of the division
and fracture of magnets, it is necessary to suppose, that
when the united fluids are decomposed, the fluids undergo
displacement only to an insensible distance. The minute
portions of a magnetic body within which the motions and
displacements resulting from decomposition take place, or
lll1C magnetism exists, are called the magnetic elements
o at body, and the small intermediate spaces where mag¬
netism is not found, the non-magnetic elements. It is im¬
possible to determine whether the magnetic elements are
*. e mtervals which separate the ultimate atoms of mate¬
rial bodies, or if they are the atoms themselves; nor can
we ascertain whether they are the intervals between an
92
MAG
MAH
Magnus,
St.
Mahabu-
leshvra.
aggregate number of atoms, or of a secondary molecule, or
the aggregate members themselves. The theory regards
the sum of the magnetic elements and of the non-magnetic
elements as forming the apparent volume of a body. The
ratio of these two sums may change with the nature and tem¬
perature of the jmdy; and these changes exercise a powerful
influence over the distribution and intensity of magnetism.
The quantity of each fluid in every magnetic element is
unlimited in reference to our powers of separating them,
as the united fluids can never be completely decomposed.
The force which prevents this decomposition, and also the
recombination of the fluids, is called the coercive force,
and, like that of friction, it cannot be completely overcome.
In soft iron this coercive force is extremely feeble. In
the natural loadstone, and in steel, it is very powerful,
varying in intensity in different kinds of this metal.
One of the most important consequences of the theory
of Poisson is, that a magnetic needle whose size is so small
that it exerts no sensible action on an iron sphere within
which it is placed, will intercept the magnetic influence of
the earth, and of all magnetic bodies without the sphere;
and, in like manner, such a sphere will intercept the action
of a magnet within it on all bodies without it. Another
interesting consequence of the theory is, that in a hollow
iron sphere, magnetized by the influence of the earth, or of
any magnetic force the origin of which is at such a great
distance that it may be considered as acting in parallel
lines, although the magnetism is not confined to the surface
of the sphere, and though its intensity may be determined
for any particular point of the solid mass of the shell, yet
it is determined only by the radius of the external surface,
and the co-ordinates of the point upon which the forces
act. When this point is very remote from the centre of the Mahanud-
sphere compared with its diameter, each of the three forces dy
is nearly in the direct ratio of the cube of the radius, and II
in the inverse ratio of the cube of the distance. poor ^
M. Poisson likewise applied his powerful mind to the y, ,P * '
explanation of the singular phenomena of magnetism pro¬
duced by rotation. To the suppositions which his theory
makes in order to explain the phenomena of magnetism
induced by influence, he added another, namely, that all
bodies exert upon the boreal and austral fluids a species of
action analogous to the resistance of media, which action
has the effect of retarding the motion of the two fluids in
the interior of the magnetic elements; and he conceived
that it is this species of resistance, and not the coercive
force, which has an influence over the magnetic phenomena
of revolving bodies. Hence, if we bring a magnet near
any body on which the coercive force is insensible, and in
which the magnetic elements are in any proportion, the
decomposition of the neutral fluid will begin immediately,
and will continue till the action of the free fluid is in equi-
librio with the external force, which will certainly take
place if this force is constant in magnitude and direction.
But if it varies continually, or if the loadstone changes its
position, the two fluids, in place of arriving at a permanent
state, will move in each element with velocities dependent,
other things being equal, on the resistance which the sub¬
stance of the body opposes to them.
It is needless to enter into any further details respecting
this very ingenious theory, as the later discoveries of Dr
Faraday respecting electro-magnetic induction have enabled
him to give a most satisfactory explanation of the diversified
phenomena of magnetism in motion. (d. b.)
MAGNUS, St, Bat of, a large and beautiful bay on the
W. coast of the mainland of Shetland, about 8 miles wide
at its mouth, and afterwards expanding to about 11 miles,
and extending 7 miles inland. It affords excellent anchor¬
age for the largest vessels. The island of Papa-Stour is at
the S. side of its mouth.
MAGONTIACUM, or Mogontiacum, shortened into
Moguntia, a town of Gallia Belgica, now Mentz or Mayence,
situated at the confluence of the Rhine and the Maine.
MAHABALIPURAM, a town of Hindustan, in South¬
ern India, in the province of the Carnatic. It is noted for
the celebrated ruins of ancient Hindu temples in the vici¬
nity, dedicated to Vishnu, generally called the Seven Pa¬
godas, though it is not known for what reason, as no such
number exists here. There is a high rock, or rather a
hill, of stone, about a 100 yards from the sea, covered with
images, so thickly scattered as to convey the idea of a pe¬
trified town. On this hill a temple is cut out of the solid
rock, with figures of idols carved in alto-relievo on the walls,
and well finished. On an adjoining hill there is a gigantic
statue of Vishnu asleep on a bed, with a huge snake wound
round in many coils as a pillow; the whole cut out of one
solid stone. A mile and a half to the southward of the
hill are two pagodas, about 30 feet long by 20 wide. Near
to these is the figure of an elephant as large as life, and of a
lion much larger than life. There are here also other pago¬
das, and curious monuments of superstition. This town is
said to have extended many miles to the eastward, into what
is now covered by the sea; and there is every reason to
believe that it was formerly a very large city N Lat
12. 37., E. Long. 80. 15.
MAHABULESHWA, in Hindustan, a small town
within the presidency of Bombay, situate on the summit of
the range of mountains bearing the same name. In contrast
with most other hill stations in India, this is totally free from
malaria, and the place having, in many circumstances affect¬
ing health, a decided superiority over the more depressed
and sultry tracts in its vicinity, was some time since selected
as a sanatory station for troops; but after a short trial the
project was abandoned, on the ground of the climate being
unsuited to the acute diseases most common among the
soldiers. It is, however, much frequented by invalid
officers, for whose accommodation there is a sanatarium
containing eight sets of quarters, and several detached
bungalows. There are also about seventy private dwellings,
many of them built of hewn stone. The number of visi¬
tors is steadily on the increase. The station was estab¬
lished in 1828 by Sir John Malcolm, the governor of
Bombay. There is a small church, a subscription library,
and a hotel; and the bazaar is well supplied. The ele¬
vation of the station above the sea is about 4500 feet.
Lat. 17. 59., Long. 73. 41.
MAHANUDDY, a river of Hindustan, which has its
source in Nowagvidda, one of the petty native states, on the
S.W. frontier of Bengal. It proceeds with a very winding
direction towards the Bay of Bengal, receiving in its course
the contributions of the Hutsoo and several other tribu¬
taries. Near the town of Cuttack it divaricates into the
numerous branches inclosing or traversing the delta; the
total length of its course being estimated at 520 miles. Its
principal mouth is in Lat. 20. 20., Long. 86. 50.
MAHARAJPOOR, in Hindustan, a small town in the
native state of Gwalior, or possessions of Scindia’s family.
This place was the key of the position of the Mahratta army
on the 29th December 1843, when the battle took place be¬
tween them and the British army under Sir Hugh Gough.
The Mahrattas were driven from all points, lost 56 pieces of
artillery, and retreated to the fort of Gwalior. The loss
of the British was severe, amounting to 106 killed, 684
wounded, and 7 missing. No great disparity of numbers
MAH
Mahe existed between the contending parties, the British having
II a force of 13,000, and the Mahrattas numbering about
Mahmud 15^000. A monument at Calcutta, constructed from the
j cannon captured on the field, commemorates the victory.
Lat. 26. 29., Long. 78. 5.
MAHE, in Hindustan, a French settlement and seaport
on the coast of Malabar, containing an area of 2 square
miles. It is situate at a short distance from Tellicherry,
on the banks of a river, which is navigable for large boats a
considerable way up the country. Small vessels can also
cross the bar, where there is a secure harbour. The town
is neat, and contains many good houses. The principal
export is pepper, which is produced in abundance in the
surrounding country. It was taken possession of by the
French in 1722, but was retaken by the British in 1761.
It was restored at the peace of Paris in 1763, but was
again taken in 1793. The British establishment, previously
established at Tellicherry, was then removed to Mahe ; but
the place having been restored to the French at the gene¬
ral pacification of 1815, the British establishment was re¬
placed in its original station at Tellicherry. The Carmelites
have a church here. Pop. 2616. It is situate in E. Long.
75. 38. and N. Lat. 11. 42.
MAHIM, a town of Hindustan, is situate on the northern
point of the island of Bombay. It possesses a small fort,
originally intended for the defence of the channel running
between it and Salsette. The town of Mahim stands at
the point where the island of Bombay is connected with
that of Salsette by a road running partly on arches of ma¬
sonry, and partly on a causeway constructed by the
government, aided by a munificent contribution from Sir
Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, a Parsee merchant of great wealth
residing at Bombay. Here is the tomb of a Mohammedan
saint, with a mosque attached to it; also a Portuguese
church, with a college for Roman Catholic priests depend¬
ing on it. It is 7 miles N. of Bombay fort. E. Long. 72.
54., N. Lat. 19. 1.
MAHMUD I., Sultan of Turkey, the son of Musta-
pha II., was born at Constantinople in 1696, and suc¬
ceeded his uncle Ahmed III. on the Ottoman throne in
1730. He prosecuted the war which had been begun in
the former reign against Nadir Shah of Persia. In 1734 the
Russians commenced hostilities against the sultan, and in
1737 captured Oczakow and Kilburn. The Austrians
joined them; but, after invading Wallachia, they were de¬
feated at Krotska, and forced to accede to a disadvantageous
peace in 1739. Not so honourable was the treaty struck
soon afterwards between the Ottomans and Russians, by
which the latter were allowed to retain part of the posses¬
sions they had captured. Meanwhile, a peace had been con¬
cluded with Persia in 1736, but was broken in 1743, and
restored soon afterwards on terms unfavourable to the Otto¬
mans. Mahmud died in December 1754.
Mahmud II., Sultan of Turkey, the younger son of
Abdul-Hamed, was born at Constantinople on the 2d Sep¬
tember 1789, or, according to another account, on the 20th
July 1785. He passed his early years in the Seraglio, en¬
gaged in the study of Turkish and Persian literature until
1808, when his brother Mustapha IV. was deposed and im¬
prisoned, and himself raised to the throne, by Mustapha
Bai'raktar, pasha of Rusjuk. No sooner had he taken the
sceptre than he appointed Ba'iraktar grand vizier, and boldly
proclaimed his intention of prosecuting the reforms for
which his uncle Selim III. had been deprived of his crown.
He also restored the Nizam Jedid, or army organized ac¬
cording to European discipline. Startled at these proceed¬
ings, the Janissaries rushed to arms, besieged the grand
vizier in his palace, and clamoured for the head of the sul¬
tan. At this crisis, Mahmud ordered Mustapha IV. and his
infant son to be strangled, and his four pregnant sultanas to
be sewn up in sacks and thrown into the Bosphorus. By
MAH 93
thus becoming the sole male descendant of Osman, he Mahogany,
rendered his person sacred in the eyes of his subjects, and
was enabled more effectually to quiet the tumult. Then
began his unsuccessful war with Russia, wEich was termi¬
nated by the peace of Bucharest on the 28th May 1812.
Mahmud had for some time looked with a jealous eye upon
the growing dominion of Ali, the ambitious pasha of Jenina,
and he now strained all his energies to effect his over¬
throw. But no sooner had he succeeded in crushing him
in 1822, than the Greeks broke out into open rebellion.
Aided by the forces of Mehmed Ali, pasha of Egypt, the
sultan suppressed this revolt with such sanguinary cruelty
that Britain, France, and Russia interfered ; and when their
interference had been slighted, their combined armaments
attacked and routed the Turko-Egyptian fleet in the Bay
of Navarino in 1827. Meanwhile, at Constantinople, a des¬
perate rebellion of the Janissaries, in 1826, had ended in the
complete subjugation and dispersion of that order, and in the
permanent establishment of an army organized according
to the European system. Expecting that his soldiers, un¬
der their new discipline, would now be able to cope suc¬
cessfully with the armies of Europe, Mahmud declared war
against Nicholas of Russia in 1828. After his forces had
been cut to pieces, and General Diebitsch had occupied
Adrianople, and Prussia, Britain, and France had inter¬
fered to effect a reconciliation, he unwillingly signed the
treaty of Adrianople in 1829. With a determination un¬
tamed by so many reverses, the sultan now began to
muster all his strength for the purpose of curbing the rest¬
less ambition of Mehmed Ali. The refusal of that pasha
in 1832 to withdraw his troops from Syria, which his son
Ibrahim had conquered in the preceding year, furnished
Mahmud with a pretext for war. Accordingly, he com¬
menced hostilities, but, with his usual ill fortune, was de¬
feated by Ibrahim at Hems and Kouiah, and was only
saved from total humiliation by the intervention of a Rus¬
sian army. The result of this mediation was the treaty of
Unkiar Skelesi, in which it was agreed that Russia should
assist Turkey at any emergency with an armed force, and
that Turkey in return should close the Dardanelles against
all the foes of Russia. In 1834 another war between the
sultan and Mehmed Ali was prevented by the interference
of the European powers. In the midst of all these distrac¬
tions from abroad, Mahmud had completed the reorganiza¬
tion of his army, had constructed roads, and had estab¬
lished postage communication throughout the country. Am¬
bassadors were also stationed at Vienna, London, and Paris;
and women, for the first time, were allowed to appear in
public. Still intent, however, upon taking vengeance upon
Mehmed Ali, he commenced hostilities in 1839, on the
pretext of forcing that pasha to pay his arrears of tribute.
His forces were defeated by Ibrahim near Nisibis; and he
died on the 1st July 1839, before the news of the disaster
reached Constantinople. He was succeeded by his eldest
son, Abdul Mejid.
MAHOGANY, the timber of Swietenia Mahogani
(Linnaeus); Natural Order, Cedrelacece. The mahogany
tree is a native of South America, Cuba, St Domingo,
Jamaica, and especially of Honduras, and is one of the most
magnificent and valuable of tropical timber trees. It grows
rapidly, yet its timber is very hard and heavy ; its height is
from 80 to 100 feet, with usually a very straight stem of
great diameter. It is commonly imported in logs from 2 to
3 feet square, of various lengths, not often exceeding 18
feet. I hat called Spanish mahogany is usually smaller, the
logs being generally about 2 feet square by about 10 feet
in length. 1 he grain, or curl, as it is called, is sometimes
so exceedingly beautiful that it raises the value of a log to
an extraordinary price. More than L.1000 has been real¬
ized several times by the sale of a single log. Mahogany
was introduced into England in 1595. By some the dis-
ii
94
MAH
MAH
Mahomet, covery of its value is attributed to the carpenter of Sir Wal-
's—ter Raleigh’s ship; and another account states that it was
first employed for cabinet-work in England in 1720, by one
Wollaston, a cabinet-maker in London, who being acciden¬
tally requested to make some small articles from this wood
for Dr Gibbons, a physician in that city, discovered its
rare properties, which, on being made public, soon rendered
both the workman and the material highly famous. It is
chiefly imported from Honduras and Cuba. The average
imports of the last five years are 38,000 tons, worth about
L.500,000. (t. c. a.)
MAHOMET I., son of Bayazid I., was originally gover¬
nor of the town and district of Amasia, and, after the death
of his elder brothers, became Sultan of the Ottomans, a.d.
1413. He restored the Ottoman empire, extended his con¬
quests into Bosnia, Servia, and Wallachia in Europe, and,
after a reign of nine years, died a.d. 1421.
Mahomet II., Sultan of Turkey, was born at Adrianople
in 1430, and succeeded his father, Amurath II., in 1451.
Bent upon overturning the Greek empire, he broke the
truce that subsisted between the Turks and the Emperor
Constantine, and in April 1453 beleaguered Constantinople
with a large fleet and an army of 300,000 men. The
Greeks, though only 10,000 strong, barricaded the mouth
of their harbour with strong iron chains, and offered a de¬
termined resistance. The emperor himself was slain, fight¬
ing handi to hand with the besiegers. At last, however, by
conveying a part of his fleet overland into the harbour, and
by mounting a bridge of boats with cannon, Mahomet was
able, after a siege of fifty-three days, to storm the city on
the 29th May. Three days, devoted by his soldiers to
massacre and pillage, rendered Constantinople desolate,
and seemed to defeat Mahomet’s design of making it his
capital. Nevertheless, by granting to the Greeks religious
toleration and the use of one-half of the churches that had
survived the sack, he induced many of them to reinhabit
the city. He also restored its fortifications, and erected at
the mouth of the Hellespont the forts called the Darda¬
nelles. In 1456 Mahomet, advancing westward, laid siege
to Belgrade, but was defeated and forced to retreat by
John Hunniades, general to Ladislaus, King of Hungary.
More successful in his invasion of Greece, he subdued
Corinth and the Morea. In 1461 he captured Trebisonde,
and thus overthrew the dynasty of the Comneni. The
islands of the Archipelago were added to his conquests in
the following year. The Albanians, under their king Scan-
derbeg, had for some time successfully checked the advance
of the Turks; but after the death of that prince in 1466,
they too were subdued. From the republic of Venice
Mahomet wrested Negropont in 1470. After taking the
Crimea in 14/5, he invaded Italy in 1480. No sooner,
however, had he captured Otranto than he received the
news that part of his forces had been foiled in their at¬
tempt to take Rhodes, by the knights who had fled thither
after the sack of Constantinople. While he was preparing
to retrieve that defeat he died in 1481. He was buried at
Constantinople, and over his grave was written the follow-
inS epitaph: “ I would have taken Rhodes and subdued
Italy.
Mahomet HI began his reign in 1595, as the successor
of Mourad III., by putting to death all his brothers. He
gave himself up to idleness and luxury, and before he could
be roused from his sloth his troops were beaten in Hungary
and elsewhere. He set out for that country with a large
force, but after a few trifling successes, returned again to
his capital, leaving his generals to prosecute the war. He
died in 1603, while revolt raged in his Asiatic provinces
and mutiny in his capital. ’
Mahomet IV., Sultan of Turkey, was born in 1642
and succeeded his father Ibrahim I. The chief exploits
of his reign were those of the grand viziers Kuperli and his
son Achmet. The Turks were defeated by the Hungarians Mahome-
at St Gothard, in 1664, by General Montecuccoli. The tanism
war with the Venetians, begun in 1645, was ended in 1669, II
when the town of Candia, after a siege of two years, capi- Mahrattas-
tulated to Achmet Kuperli. Encouraged by the internal
discord of Poland under King Michael, the Turks success¬
fully invaded that country in 1672 ; but in 1673 were
routed by the famous John Sobieski, driven south of the
Danube, and forced to sign a disadvantageous peace. In
1683 a horde of 200,000 men, under the grand vizier Kara
Mustapha, marched westward, and encamped in front of
Vienna. After a siege of six weeks, all hope of relief
had been abandoned, when Sobieski, now King of Poland,
attacked the Turkish forces, drove them from their en¬
trenchments, and cut them to pieces. This was the first
of a series of disasters that ended, in 1687, in an insurrec¬
tion of the Janissaries, and in the deposition of Mahomet
IV. He died in prison in 1691.
MAHOMETANISM. See Mohammedanism.
MAHRA P PAS. The Mahratta state comprehended a
country in Hindustan, very extensive, and of great natural
strength, being interspersed with mountains, defiles, and
fortresses, and well adapted for defensive war. It extended
across the peninsula of India, and, generally speaking, was
in possession of the peishwa, Nagpoor Rajah, Scindia,
Holkar, Guicowar, and other inferior, chiefs. The Mah-
rattas were not originally a military tribe, like the Rajpoots ;
nor do they possess the same grace and dignity of person,
being of a diminutive stature and badly made, and having
more the character of freebooters than of soldiers. Their
original country is said to have included Khandesh Bag-
lana and part of Berar, and to have extended N.W. as far
as the Nerbuddah River. Others, again, say that they are
foreigners who came into India from the western parts of
Persia about 1200 years ago. Little is known of the his¬
tory of the Mahratta people till about the middle of the
seventeenth century, when they possessed a narrow tract of
country on the western side of the peninsula, extending
from N. Lat. 15. to 21. The founder of the Mahratta
state, or at least the first person who raised this nation
from obscurity, was Sevajee, who was born about the year
1626, and died in 1680, and who claimed a descent, but
upon very doubtful grounds, from the ranahs of Odeypoor.
The father of Sevajee, named Sahoo Bhosila, or Bhoonsla,
was an officer in the service of the last Mohammedan king
of Bejapoor or Visiapoor. The Mahratta country was
originally divided amongst a number of principalities, ruled
by independent chiefs, who at length acknowledged one
leader, Sevajee. He was succeeded by his son Sambajee,
who extended his conquests, but who was finally taken
prisoner by Aurungzebe in 1689, and put to death. His
son Saho, at the time of his father’s death, was an infant
and a captive. Saho was eventually liberated on the death
of Aurungzebe, but found the succession contested by his
cousin, as stated in the article Colapoor. His power was
usurped by the two chief officers of the state, the peishwa
or prime minister Balajee, and the paymaster-general Rago-
jee, who divided the empire between them. The former
fixed his residence at Poonah; the latter founded a new
kingdom at Nagpoor, in the province of Gundwaneh.
Bajeerow, the second peishwa, died in 1759, and was suc¬
ceeded by his son Ballajeerow. In 1760 the Mahrattas
had extended their conquests as far as the city of Delhi,
when a formidable rival appeared in Ahmed Shah Abdalli,
the sovereign of Afghanistan, to dispute with them the
empire of India. With the Afghans was fought, on the
7th of January 1761, the great battle of Paniput, in which
the Mahrattas were speedily overthrown, with the loss of a
great number of their chiefs. From this period their power
began to decline. Ballajeerow died soon after the battle
of Paniput, and was succeeded by his son Madhoorow, who
MAI
Mai. died in 1772, and was succeeded by his son Narrainrow,
^ who was murdered the following year by his uncle Ragobah,
who was opposed in his designs on the throne by a com¬
bination of twelve chiefs. At the head of these was Balla-
jee Pundit, who became dewan or prime minister to the
infant prince. Ragobah fled to Bombay, where he solicited
and obtained, by means of an advantageous treaty, the aid
of the British government. But this aid was ineffectual
in seating the murderer upon the Mahratta throne. His
crime had brought upon him the general obloquy of the
nation; and his appeal to foreign aid united against him
the whole confederate chiefs of the Mahratta empire. By
the interference of the Bengal government, a treaty was
concluded; but in 1777 the Bombay government again
espoused the cause of Ragobah, and a war ensued which
was terminated by a disgraceful convention, and Ragobah
abandoned. A general war afterwards took place between
the British and the Mahrattas, and was terminated by a
treaty in 1782, by which every conquest was restored,
except the island of Salsette. At this period the Mahrat¬
tas commenced hostile operations against all those inde¬
pendent states which lay between their territories and those
of the Company; and in the course of six or seven years
they were all subdued, by which the Mahratta frontier
bordered with the British dominions. In 1785 they carried
on an unsuccessful war with Tippoo, and were obliged to
purchase peace by the cession of several valuable provinces,
all of which they recovered by their alliance with the Bri¬
tish in 1790. The posthumous and infant son of Madhoo-
row, who succeeded to the peishwaship when he came to
maturity, died in 1795, and the two sons of Ragobah con¬
tended for the office. The cause of the eldest brother,
named Bajeerow, was espoused by Scindia, by whose aid he
was fixed on the throne; but he was permitted to enjoy
nothing of the sovereignty but the name. In the year
1802 the united armies of the peishwa and Scindia were
defeated by Holkar; and the former having taken refuge
in the territory of the British, was, by their aid, reinstated
on the throne, agreeing, in return, to a treaty offensive and
defensive, and to receive into his pay a force of 6000 in¬
fantry, with the usual proportion of artillery attached, for
the payment of which he assessed districts in the southern
quarter of the country. From this period the peishwa,
murmuring under his degradation into a state of depend¬
ence, cherished schemes of hostility against the British.
The first overt act of hostility was the murder of the Gui-
cowar s ambassador, through the agency of his ambassador
frimbuckjee. But his intrigues and schemes being dis¬
covered, he vowed the strictest fidelity in future; and in
1815 he delivered up his prime minister to the British.
He soon contrived, however, to escape to the court of
Poonah ; and the peishwa, no longer dissembling, joined
the confederacy which had at that time been formed
amongst the native princes of India, namely, Scindia,
Ameer Khan, Holkar, and the Berar Rajah, for the de¬
struction of the British power. But this confederacy was
signally overthrown; the peishwa’s armies were entirely
routed; and he, reduced to the character of a wanderino-
fugitive, at last surrendered himself a prisoner to Sir John
Malcolm, on condition of an allowance being assigned him.
It was now resolved by the Anglo-Indian government to
abolish the authority and the name of the peishwa, which
had become a rallying point for the disaffected, and to
occupy the whole of the Poonah dominions for the British
nation, with the reservation of certain territories for the
Satarah family. Thus was extinguished not only the poli¬
tical influence, but the name and authority, of the Mah¬
ratta state.
MAI, Akgelo, a cardinal of the Roman Church, was born
7th March 1782, at Schilpario, a village of the province of
Bergamo, in the Milanese territory. His parents were of
MAI
the humblest peasant class ; and he was placed, along with
the other boys of the village, at the parish school, for
the purpose of being initiated in the usual branches of
elementary education. At this time, however, in conse¬
quence of the recent suppression of the Jesuit Society, and
the dispersion of its members, a considerable number of
ex-Jesuit priests were employed in the ordinary duties of
the mission throughout Italy. One of these, Father Lewis
Mozzi dei Capitani, a Milanese, who resided near Schil¬
pario, was early struck by the remarkable abilities of An¬
gelo Mai, and himself undertook to instruct him in Latin,
Greek, and mathematics. About this time the Duke
of Parma permitted the Jesuits to re-establish themselves
at Colorno, in the duchy of Parma; and Mai, who was then
about seventeen, accompanied his patron, Father Mozzi, to
the college there opened, and with four youths of his native
village, entered the novitiate of the society in 1799. He
completed the novitiate in 1801, but remained at Colorno
until 1804, when the society was more solemnly (though
still only provisionally) re-established in the kingdom of
Naples. 1 o the college there founded Mai was sent as
professor of Greek and Latin ; but after somewhat more
than a year and a half, he was transferred to Rome, when
he completed his theological studies. Thence he was re¬
moved to Orvieto, where the bishop, M. Lambruschini,
had invited the Jesuits to open a house. At Orvieto he
was promoted to priest’s orders; and remained partly
engaged in teaching, partly in prosecuting his private
studies, till 1808, when he was recalled to Rome. In that
year, however, on the occupation of the Papal States by
the French, an order was issued by the viceroy of Italy, re¬
quiring all natives of the kingdom of Italy to return to
their respective provinces, and Mai was obliged to repair
to Milan. As the Society was still unrecognised in the
kingdom of Italy, Mai was compelled to seek for other
occupation, and assumed the functions of a secular priest.
After a time, through the influence of his first protector,
Padre Mozzi, he was named an associate of the Ambro¬
sian College, and soon afterwards a doctor of the Am¬
brosian Library. It is to his connection with this library
that he is mainly indebted for his literary reputation.
Next to the unrivalled collection of the Vatican, the
MS. treasures of the Ambrosian Library have long been
celebrated in Italy for their number and importance. En¬
riched by contributions from the libraries of Bobbio,
Lucca, Monte Cassino, and other great monasteries, the
Ambrosian collection is now the depository of a large pro¬
portion of the literary treasures of the learned Benedic¬
tines of Italy ; and although many of its MSS. had already
been published or collated by the industrious editors of the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, yet at the time
when Mai was enrolled as an associate, it still contained
enough to stimulate his curiosity and to exercise his learning.
He had early acquired a taste for this branch of study under
his first masters in the Jesuit Society, among whom were
two learned Spanish fathers of some reputation in that de¬
partment ; and he now devoted a considerable time to a
careful exploration of the Ambrosian MSS. His first pub¬
lication was a Latin translation (accompanied by a criti¬
cal commentary) of the recently discovered work of Isaais,
De Permutatione ; but he speedily relinquished the more
beaten track ot an ordinary editor or translator, and de¬
voted himself to the then almost unknown department of
palimpsest, or re-written MSS.—a class in which the Am¬
brosian Library is peculiarly rich. Up to this time but two or
three palimpsest fragments' had been deciphered and made
public. In the course of a few years Mai was enabled to
print two volumes of inedited fragments of Cicero’s Ora¬
tions, some orations of Lysimachus and Isaeus, an inter¬
esting fragment of Plautus’s lost comedy the Vidularia,
and, above all, a large collection of the letters and othef
96 MAI MAI
Mai. writings of Cornelius Fronto, the preceptor of Marcus
•v-*’'' Aurelius. The MS. from which these relics of Fronto
were recovered had formerly belonged to the monastery
of Bobbio, and was a translation of a part of the Acts of
the Council of Chalcedon, written upon a series of palimp¬
sest leaves, made up partly of an ancient MS. of Pliny the
Younger, partly of an old commentator on Cicero, partly
of some of the works of Lysimachus, and partly of letters
of Fronto addressed to Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius,
Lucius Yerus, and other friends,—all in a very disordered
and mutilated condition, but yet sufficiently perfect to ex¬
cite the curiosity of the learned throughout Europe. The
most interesting circumstance, however, of the discovery
is, that when Mai, some years later, was removed to the
Vatican Library, he had the good fortune to find the re¬
mainder of this very palimpsest translation of the Acts of
Chalcedon, the counterpart of the Ambrosian palimpsest,
containing above a hundred additional letters of the same
correspondence.
Meanwhile, the Jesuit Society had been formally revived
by Pope Pius VII. on his restoration in 1814. But the
services of Mai in his new position were so highly appre¬
ciated that, as he had never taken the solemn vows of
the Order, he was induced to remain a member of the
secular clergy. In 1819 he was invited to Rome to fill
the office of chief keeper of the Vatican Library. Soon
after his installation in this honourable and congenial office,
he discovered that a MS. of St Augustine’s Enarrationes
in Psalmo u^as a palimpsest, the original of which had
been no other than the long-sought work of Cicero De
Republica. The commentary itself, unfortunately, was im¬
perfect. It extended only from the 119th to the 140th
psalm (the commentary on the ten remaining psalms being
deficient) ; and even in the portion which remained there
were gaps to the amount of sixty-four pages. Neverthe¬
less, the skill and ingenuity of Mai recovered from these
confused and obliterated fragments about one-fourth of the
entire work, with which he interwove, in the edition which
he published (Rome 1822), all the existing fragments of
the original, collected from the numberless writers, sacred
and profane, through whose writings they are scattered.
The design of the pope, however, in appointing Mai to the
charge of the Vatican Library had been to engage him in a
formal and systematic exploration of its contents, with a view
to the publication of the most important remains of classical
literature which still remain locked up in that great treasure-
house. Mai, extending the plan, resolved to comprise in
his collections the unpublished sacred as well as profane
remains of the Vatican MSS., and, leaving to future scholars
the task of critically editing, commentating, and translating,
to secure for the world, in miscellaneous Collectanea similar
to those of Muratori, Mabillon, Montfaucon, and their fel¬
low-labourers, all that was really important among its in-
edited MSS. in every department of literature. On this plan
he commenced, in 1825, a magnificent 4to publication,—
Scriptorum Veterum Nova Collectio e Vaticanis Codicibus
Edita,—which extended to 10 volumes, and comprises a
vast number of unpublished remains of the Greek and Latin
writers, sacred and profane. Several of the volumes are
occupied with patristical remains. The second, which is
almost entirely from a palimpsest source, contains an im¬
mense number of fragments of the lost books of the his¬
torians,—Polybius, Diodorus Siculus, Dionysius of Hali¬
carnassus, Dion, Appian, and others, even so late as Dexip-
pus and Eunapius.
In 1833 M. Mai was transferred from the office of Va¬
tican librarian (in which he Mas succeeded by the celebrated
linguist Mezzofanti) to that of secretary of the Propaganda;
but he still continued his literary labours. He followed
up the Vaticana Collectio by another collection in 8vo
equally miscellaneous, and indeed entirely similar in plan, 
Classici Auctores e Codicibus Vaticanis Editi, 10 vols. 8vo Maiano
(1828-38). In the year in which this work was brought fl
to a close he was elevated to the cardinalate, and soon Maiden,
afterwards Mas named prefect of the Congregation of the
Index, and of that of the Council of Trent, and eventually
cardinal librarian of the Roman church.
The Classici Auctores was succeeded by a similar mis¬
cellany, but containing a larger amount of matter, Spici-
legium Romanum, 10 vols. 8vo (1839-44). This collec¬
tion, besides Greek and Latin writers, comprises also a few
interesting Italian works, chiefly historical and biographical.
His last publication was in 4to, Nova Patrum Bibliotheca
(6 vols. 1845-53). It is almost exclusively patristical, and
contains many highly important works, forming an indis¬
pensable supplement to almost all the existing patristical
collections. Cardinal Mai had also undertaken to edit the
celebrated Biblical Codex Vaticanus, and actually printed
the text at the Propaganda press. He delayed its publica¬
tion, however, with the intention of prefixing to the text
an elaborate critical and historical introduction ; but to the
infinite disappointment of the learned, he died, leaving this
great work incomplete, and indeed does not even appear to
have made any progress in the preparation for it. Since his
death, which occurred in his seventy-fourth year, at Albano,
September 8,1854, no trace of the expected biblical disserta¬
tions has been discovered. It is highly probable that the
anxious and unsettled condition of political affairs at Rome
during the years preceding his death, deprived him of the
leisure or the spirit necessary for so laborious an undertak¬
ing. From the very nature of Cardinal Mai’s collections
it will be understood, that in very many of the works which
he printed he contented himself with the mere rough work
of publication. But in those which he undertook to edit cri¬
tically, and especially in the De Republica, he appears as a
master in the art. Even those works the text of which alone
he printed, are accompanied by learned and judicious pre¬
faces, which exhibit an amount of erudition such as few
modern scholars can claim. His library was one of the most
complete private collections in Rome. At his death he
directed that it should be offered at half its estimated value
to the Vatican Library, and that the proceeds of the sale
should be applied to the use of the poor of his native vil¬
lage of Schilpario. (c. w. R.)
MAIANO, Benedetto da, an eminent sculptor and ar¬
chitect, was born at Florence in 1424. He first became
known as an inlayer of wood, and in this capacity he wras
employed at Naples by King Alphonso, and afterwards in
Hungary by King Matthias Corvinus. Ambitious, how¬
ever, to excel in a nobler art, he turned his attention to
sculpture, and returning shortly after to Florence, he was
employed by the magistrates of that city in the construction
of their audience chamber. While sojourning for a short
time in Naples, he executed a bas-relief in marble of the
Annunciation. On his return to Florence, Maiano com¬
menced one of his masterpieces, the marble pulpit of
Santa Croce, ornamented with sculptured representations
of the history of San Francesco. He was next employed
in constructing the plan of the Palazzo Strozzo. Turning
his attention about this time to architecture, he built, in
addition to other structures, the portico of Madonna della
Grazie, near Arezzo. After amassing a considerable for¬
tune, Maiano died in 1498, and was buried in the church of
San Lorenzo in Florence.
MAIDA, a small town of Naples, province of Calabria
Ultra II., 8 miles S. of Nicastro, and chiefly famous on
account of a victory gained here by the English over a
superior French force on 4th July 1806. Pop. about
3000.
MAIDEN, an instrument anciently used for behead¬
ing criminals, resembling the guillotine of the French.
It seems to have been first used in Britain within the
MAI
Maiden¬
head
limits of the forest of Hardwick. There is a machine of
tins kind in possession of the Society of Scottish Anti-
Maidstone. cll|aries at Edinburgh, introduced by the Regent Morton,
who took a model of it as he passed through Halifax, and
at length suffered by it himself. A machine precisely
similar was used in Genoa in the beginning of the six-
teenth century; and one is figured in the Symbolical of
Bocchi, Bologna, 1574.
MAIDENHEAD, a municipal borough and market-
town of England, county of Berks, on the S. bank of the
I hames, 14 miles N.E. by E. of Reading, 224 miles W.
of London. It consists of one street about a~ mile lon^,
wel! paved, and lighted with gas. The town has a guildhall,
which is a fine building; a chapel of ease ; places of wor¬
ship be onging to the Baptists and Wesleyan Methodists ; a
national school; and several charitable institutions. The
manufactures are unimportant; but the wealth of the sur¬
rounding country, and the position of the town on the high
load between London and Oxford, render it a place of con¬
siderable trade, the principal articles of which are meal,
malt, and timber. The market is held on Wednesday, and
there are also three annual fairs. The neighbourhood is
ighly cultivated, and is studded with gentlemen’s seats and
villas. J he high road here crosses the river by a fine stone
bndge, and the Great Western Railway by a very elegant
one of brick. The borough received its first charter from
Edward III., and it is governed by a mayor, four aider-
men, and twelve councillors. Pop. (1851) 3607.
MAIDSTONE, the county town of Kent, and a muni¬
cipal and parliamentary borough, stands on a gentle slope
on the right bank of the Medway, 34 miles E.S.E. from
London. It was anciently called Caer Meguaid, or Med-
wig (the City of the Medway); and afterwards, by the
Saxons, Medwegestan and Meddestane, whence it acquired
its present name. It was formerly in the possession of the
archbishops of Canterbury; and their Gothic palace, dating
from 1348, is still standing, though considerably altered
from its ancient form. In the civil war Maidstone was
taken by the parliamentary forces under Fairfax in 1648.
A college was founded here by Archbishop Courtenay in
the time of Richard II., but was suppressed about the time
of the Reformation. Maidstone has alwavs returned two
members to Parliament since the time of Edward VI., from
whom, and from various succeeding monarchs down to
Leorge II., it received charters. The town consists of
our main streets, meeting in the market-place, together
with several smaller ones. The sloping character of the
ground on which it is built keeps the town clean and dry,
and it is well supplied with water from the Medway. Of the
public buildings, the chief is the parish church, built in the
fourteenth century, and reckoned one of the largest edifices
of the kind in England. It has recently been restored in a
very splendid style. There are, besides, various other places
of worship for different denominations. It has also a
?°onnyJ™ an,extensive gao1, erected lately at the cost of
L.200,000, and covering 13 acres, a town-hall, a corn ex¬
change, a theatre, ball-rooms, and other buildings. There is
a school called All Saints College, founded in 1846, occupy-
ing a portion of the buildings of the college which formerly
existed here ; also a free grammar school, a Blue-coat and
a Brown-coat school for clothing and educating poor chil¬
dren, national schools, &c. The only manufacture for which
Maidstone is remarkable is that of paper, of which there are
a number of mills in the neighbourhood. The surroundino-
country is extremely beautiful, by reason of its orchards
and hop gardens; and the circumstance which has contri¬
buted most to the prosperity of the town is the fertility of
t e neighbourhood. The river is here crossed by an old
n ge o seven arches, and is navigable for vessels of sixty
ons up to the town. Maidstone is connected with London
y a branch of the South-Eastern Railwav, by which route
VOL. xiv. J
M A I
the distance is 56 miles. Market-days, Thursday and Satur¬
day. The borough is governed by a mayor, six aldermen
and eighteen councillors. Pop. (1851) 20,801.
MAILLA, Joseph-Anne-Marie de Moyriac de, a
learned Jesuit, was born in Bugey, on the borders of Savoy,
and appointed a missionary to China, whither he proceeded
1" V?3- At the age of twenty-eight he had acquired such
skill in the characters, arts, sciences, mythology, and an¬
cient books of the Chinese, as to astonish even the learned
nn'1 °f ^ ceIes,tiaI empire. Besides constructing maps of
, na, Chinese fartary, and the Chinese provinces, Mailla
i *ar±ted the Grea* Annals of China into French,
and his MS. was transmitted to France in the year 1737
1 Ins work was published in 1737 in 13 volumes quarto, and
if. t]e complete history of that extensive empire. Mailla
died at Pekin on the 28th of June 1748, in the seventy-
ninth year of his age. J
MAI-MAITCHIN. See Kiachti.
MAIMBOURG, Louis, a celebrated Jesuit, descendec
tiom a noble family, was born at Nancy in 1610. At the
age of sixteen he entered the Society of Jesus, and was sent
to Rome to study theology. On his return to France he
became a classical teacher in the college of Rouen; but after¬
wards devoted himself to preaching, and occupied in turn
the principal pulpits in the kingdom. Not until Maimbouro-
had reached the middle stage of life did he produce any of
those historical works upon which his fame rests. In 1682
he appeared as a bold defender of the liberties of the Gal¬
ilean church in his Traite Historique de VEglise de Rome
a treatise which caused the immediate expulsion of its au¬
thor from the Order of the Jesuits by the command of Pope
Innocent XL As a compensation, however, for this mis¬
fortune, Maimbourg was presented by Louis XIV. with a
pension, and with the abbey of St Victor at Paris as a place
of retirement. He died there of apoplexy on the 13th
August 1686, leaving unfinished his Histoire du Schisme
d Angleterre. A collection of Maimbourg’s histories, pub¬
lished in 14 vols, Paris, 1686-87, includes, besides the
work mentioned above—Histoire de I’Arianisme, Histoire
des Iconoclastes, Histoire du Schisme des Grecs, Histoire
des Lroisades, Histoire de la Decadence del'Empire His¬
toire du Grand Schisme d'Occident, Histoire du Lutheran-
isme, Histoire du Calvinisme, Histoire de la Ligue, Histoire
du Pontificat de Saint Gregoire le Grand, and Histoire
du Eontificat de Saint Leon. Although once in great re¬
pute, Maimbourg, as a historian, has no longer any autho-
rify» yet Voltaire, a critic by no means guilty of partiality
to churchmen, says that Maimbourg “ was formerly in too
great vogue, and has been latterly in too great neglect.”
MAIMONIDES, or Ben Maimon Moses, a celebrated
Jewish rabbi, was born at Cordova in Spain, probably about
J.13!/ Aftf receiving the elements of his education from
ns father, he studied philosophy and medicine under the
learned Arabians Thophail and Averroes. He also perused
with avidity the ancient philosophers, especially Aristotle
and thus incurred the dislike and suspicion of his Jewish
brethren. Soon after this he repaired to Egypt; and from
remaining there during the rest of his life, he acquired the
title of Moses AEgyptius. There he at first followed the
vocation of a jeweller; but resorting afterwards to the prac¬
tice of medicine, he became so eminent in this profession,
that he was appomted ch.ef physician to the Sultan Saladin.
hile holding this office, Maimonides is said to have also
taught with great success in a school which he had founded.
e died in Egypt at an advanced age. In addition to a
thorough knowledge of philosophy and medicine, Maimo-
nules possessed an acquaintance with mathematics, theo-
ogy, and the jurisprudence of the Jews. He knew several
anguagef, and wrote Arabic and Hebrew with facility. By
his Jewish admirers he was surnamed “ The Eagle of the
octois, and “ I he Lamp of Israel.” Of his numerous works
N
97
Mailla
Jvlaimon-
ides.
98 MAI
Main three are chiefly notable. His <{ il/oreAiVevocAzm (Teacher
Jl of the Perplexed”), written originally in Arabic, but after-
v Maine. ^ war[js translated into Hebrew, is an exposition of the ob-
scure words, allusions, types, and allegories in Scripture.
A translation into Latin by the younger Buxtorf, 4to, Basel,
1629, has been retranslated into English by Dr Townshend,
London, 1827. The original Arabic, accompanied with a
French translation, has been published under the title, Le
Guide des Egares, traite de Theologie publie en Arabe
avec Traduction et Notes par S. Munk, 8vo, Paris, 1856.
The Arabic text of the Moreh Nevochim exists in the Bod¬
leian Library, Oxford. In Yad Hazakah (“The Strong
Hand”), written in good Hebrew, Maimonides gives a digest
of the Talmud, stripped of all its rabbinical fables. The best
edition of this work is that in 4 vols. folio, Amsterdam, 1702.
His Perush Ha-Mishna (“Commentary on the Mishna”),
originally written in Arabic, has been often translated into
Hebrew by different rabbis, and printed along with the
Mishna. Part of this work, in the original Arabic, was pub¬
lished by Pococke, Oxford, 1655. MSS. of the works of Mai¬
monides are found in the great libraries of Paris, Berlin, &c.
MAIN, Maine, or Mayn (the ancient Manus), formed
by the union in North Bavaria, about 14 miles N.W. of
Bayreuth, of two streams, the Red and White Main,
which have their sources in the Fichtelgebirge. It has a
very irregular and winding course in a direction generally
westerly, and falls into the Rhine nearly opposite to
Mentz. It is about 280 miles in length, and is navigable
as far as its junction with the Regnitz, near Bamberg, about
240 miles from its mouth. As early as 793 Charlemagne
had projected the formation of a canal between the Alt-
miihl and the Pegnitz, an affluent of the Regnitz, and so
connecting the Main and the Danube ; but it is only very
recently that this has been effected. The chief tributa¬
ries of the Mayn are,—the Regnitz, Tauber, Miimling, and
Gersprenz from the S., and the Rodach, Saale, Kinzig and
Nidda from the N. The principal towns on or near its
banks are Bayreuth, Bamberg, Wurzburg, Aschaffenburg,
Hanau, Offenbach, and Frankfort.
MAINE, one of the United States of North America,
lying between N. Lat. 43. 5. and 47. 30., W. Long. 66. 50.
and 71., and bounded on the N. by the St John River, which
separates it from Canada; on the E. by New Brunswick; on the
S.E. and S. by the Atlantic ; and on the W. by the state ofNew
Hampshire and Canada. Length about 200 miles ; average
breadth 160; area 31,766 square miles. It is the largest
of the states of New England, of which it comprises nearly
one-half. The face of the country is covered with an un¬
dulating surface of hill and dale; and although it has no
marked mountain ridge, a succession of isolated hills, which
form the termination of the White Mountains in the
neighbouring state, extends across the country towards
the N.E., and forms the watershed between the basin of
the St John on the N., and the rivers that flow to the
Atlantic on the S. Of the mountain summits, the highest
is Katahdin Mountain, which attains the elevation of 5385
feet above the sea. The sea-coast is bold and precipitous,
frequently indented with bays and inlets, many of which
form very good harbours. The coast is also skirted with
islands, for the most part of small size, and said to amount
to the number of 36o. The fishing in these parts is
very good. I lie most marked natural feature of the state,
however, is its livers and lakes, which are calculated to
covei one-tenth ot the entire area. The largest rivers are
the Penobscot and the Kennebec, which flow from the
elevations in the centre in a S.W. direction, and dis¬
charge their waters into the Atlantic. The former, which
is the more easterly of the two, is the largest river in the
state, and has a length of 350 miles. The rivers of Maine
are remarkable for their abrupt windings and falls, which
however., do not prevent the conveyance of timber rafts
MAI
from the thick forests with which the interior is covered, and Maine,
which supply one of the principal articles of export. The
rivers are also useful as affording water-power to the many
mills on their banks. The Penobscot is navigable for the
largest vessels as far as Bangor, 60 miles from the sea; but
for several months in the winter it is blocked up with ice.
The lakes are very numerous, and remarkable for their ir¬
regular shapes, and for the wild beauty of their scenery.
The largest is Moosehead Lake, about 50 miles in length,
and varying from 5 to 15 in breadth. When the country
becomes better inhabited, these sheets of water are likely
to prove most useful as means of communication.
Geologically, the state of Maine is chiefly composed of
primary rocks, though towards the E. there is to be found
a tract of land of the secondary formation. The rocky
barrier which extends along the sea-coast is composed of
igneous formations, and granite is found in great abundance
throughout the state. Marble and limestone are also
extensively quarried in the country; indeed, it is from
Maine principally that the whole of the states are supplied
with lime. Trap dykes occur frequently ; and on many ac¬
counts this district is interesting to the geologist. Iron is
found of an excellent quality, and in considerable abun¬
dance; some traces of coal have also been observed ; and on
some of the eastern tributaries of the Penobscot gold has been
found, but not to any great amount. The soil is generally
rich and fertile, though towards the coast and among the
mountains it is sandy and barren. The best soil is found
in the country lying between the Penobscot and the Ken¬
nebec ; and the chief articles of agriculture are potatoes,
oats, and Indian corn. Of the natural products, the most
remarkable are the forests of white pine, which are so ex¬
tensive as to give to one district the name of “ White
Pine Land.” Oak, ash, and beech trees, also grow in great
quantities; and this, along with other circumstances, has
contributed to render Maine the state most remarkable for
ship-building in the Union. During the year ending 30th
June 1855, 639 vessels of various kinds, including 6
steamers, and having an aggregate burden of 215,904
tons, were built in this state; while the total number of
vessels built in all the other states of the Union during
that period was only 1385, with an aggregate burden of
367,546 tons, or less than double the amount of tonnage
built in this state alone. The climate in winter is very
severe, the frost lasting from December to April, and so
intense, that the largest rivers may be crossed on the
ice; while in summer the heat is very great. The
thermometer ranges between 100° in summer, and 28°
below zero in winter; but the country is remarkably
healthy; and towards the coast the severity of the cold
is moderated by its proximity to the gulf stream. The
inhabitants are principally the descendants of the ancient
British colonists, though there are still about 500 of the
original Indians, dwelling chiefly on the islands of the Pen¬
obscot, which belong to them, and drawing a considerable
annuity from the government. There are also many emi¬
grants from other countries, but by no means in such
large proportions as in most of the other states. This state
is not so extensively engaged in manufactures as some
others in New England. The principal branches followed
here are the iron, woollen, and cotton manufactures, be¬
sides ship-building and the tanning of leather. The pro¬
ducts of the iron forges, &c., were, in 1850, 5175 tons,
valued at L.62,837; of the cotton factories, 32,852,556
yards, valued at L.540,908; of the woollen manufactures,
1,023,020 yards, valued at L.157,139; and of the tan¬
neries, leather to the value of L.340,633. Its commerce,
however, is considerable, owing to the number and excel¬
lence of its harbours. The principal articles of export are
timber and fish. The total value of exports during the
year ending June 30, 1855, was L.937,868, comprising
MAI
Maine L-529,794 of domestic,and L.408,074of foreign produce. Of
II the imports at the same date, the total value was L.610,084,
Maine de 0f which L.287,336 were conveyed in American, and
v [ irar^ ^ L.331,748 in foreign vessels.
^V^J This state is divided into 13 counties. The capital is
Augusta, on the Kennebec, though the largest and most
commercial town is Portland, on Casco Bay. The extent
of railways in the state in January 1856 was about 480
miles, the principal lines being the Androscoggin and
Kennebec, the Atlantic and St Lawrence, the Kennebec
and Portland, and the Penobscot and Kennebec; and there
is also a canal of 50 miles in length, uniting Portland with
Sebugo, Brandy, and Long Ponds. The government of
Maine is in the hands of a governor, who is elected annually
by popular vote, and he is aided by a council of 7, chosen
by the legislature by ballot. The legislature consists of a
Senate of 31, and of a House of Representatives of 151
members, both also elected annually. The right of suffrage
is possessed by all males above twenty-one years of age,
who have been resident in the district for three months im¬
mediately before the election. The constitution of the judi¬
ciary courts has been altered in 1852. The state is
divided into three districts, and the courts are held annually
at Portland for the western, at Augusta for the middle, and
at Bangor for the eastern district. Among the public in¬
stitutions are,—the state prison at Thomastown, which is
managed on the silent system, and where the prisoners are
employed in stone-cutting and quarrying; the state reform
school, opened in 1853 at Cape Elizabeth for juvenile de¬
linquents, where they are employed in various labours ; and
the lunatic asylum at Augusta, opened in 1840. For the
„ purposes of education the state has a separate fund, col¬
lected from the various sources, of which there was ex¬
pended for the year ending April 1, 1855, L.102,304.
According to the census of 1850, there were 4042
public schools in the state, besides 131 academies and other
schools, 2 colleges, 1 theological seminary, and 1 medical
school. The whole value of property in Maine in 1850
was L.20,159,556 ; and the public debt amounted in 1856
to li.145,000. The number of churches in the state in
1850 was 851, of which there belonged to the Baptists 283,
to the Christians 9, to the Congregationalists 12, to the
Episcopalians 8, to the Free Church 19, to the Friends 4,
to the Methodists 171, to the Presbyterians 7, to the Ro¬
man Catholics 11, to the Union Church 83, to the Unita¬
rians 15, and to the Universalists 53 ; giving, on an aver¬
age, one church to every 685 persons. The total amount of
church sittings was 321,167. The first settlement effected
in Maine was at Phippsburg in 1607; but this was soon
afterwards abandoned, and the country was colonized
from the neighbouring districts. In the latter part of the
seventeenth century this state was the occasion and the
scene of many conflicts between the British and the French,
till it was finally secured to the former by the peace of
Utrecht in 1712, at which time it was attached to Massa¬
chusetts. The town of Portland was bombarded by the
British in 1775, when much property was destroyed. In
1820 this state was separated from Massachusetts, and
received as a distinct state into the Union ; and in 1842,
after much negotiation, the boundaries between it and Ca¬
nada were finally settled between Great Britain and the
United States. Pop. (1850) white, 581,763 ; coloured,
1325; total, 583,088.
Maine, an old province in the W. of France, bounded
on the N. by Normandy and Perche, on the E. by Or-
leanais, on the S. by Touraine and Anjou, and on the W.
by Bretagne. It was divided into Upper and Lower Maine,
and formed, along with Perche, the military government of
Maine. It now forms, with the addition of some parts of
Higher Anjou, the department of Sarthe and Mayenne.
MAINE DE BIRAN, Francois-Pierre-Gonthier, a
MAI 99
distinguished philosopher of France, the son of a physi- Maine-et-
cian, was born at Bergerac on the 29th November 1766. Loire.
After studying with distinction under the doctrinaires of
Perigueux, he entered the Life-Guards of Louis XVL, and
was present at Versailles on the notable 5th and 6th of
October 1789. On the breaking up of the garde du corps,
Maine de Biran retired to his patrimonial inheritance of
Grateloup, near Bergerac, where his sequestered residence
and limited income preserved him from the horrors of the
Revolution. It was at this period that, as he says himself,
he £i: passed per saltum from frivolity to philosophy.” The
forced leisure of this fearful time decided the vocation of
his life. He combined, in a more than ordinary degree,
subtle sensitiveness to external influences with singular
acuteness in surveying and analyzing internal phenomena.
The modes of the mind and their organic causes or condi¬
tions were alike submitted to his scrutiny. He began his
philosophical studies with psychology, and he made psycho¬
logy the study of his life. When the Reign of Terror was
succeeded by calmer days, Maine de Biran was called to
take part in the administrative and political affairs of his
country. After his exclusion from the Council of the Five
Hundred, on being suspected of royalism, he took part with
his friend Laine in the commission of 1813, which gave
expression for the first time to direct opposition to the will
of the emperor. Under the Restoration, Maine de Biran
held the office of treasurer to the Chamber of Deputies,
and habitually retired during the autumn recess to his native
district to pursue his favourite study. He died 16th July
1824.
Maine de Biran ranks among the earliest of the rational
psychologists of France, who, in the beginning of the pre¬
sent century, raised a protest against the exclusive sensa¬
tionalism of the school of Condillac. Maine de Biran was
originally a disciple of Cabanis and De Tracy, but after¬
wards abandoned their system to adopt an absolute spiri¬
tualism closely resembling that of Leibnitz. He rejected,
however, the pre-established harmony of the German philo¬
sopher, and endeavoured to explain the phenomena which
that celebrated theory was meant to rationalize, by resolving
mind and matter into forces identical in their nature, but
differing in the modes of their activity. All objects, exter¬
nal and internal, are recognised by consciousness only as
forces, more or less active, more or less passive. To explain
the phenomena of external perception on those principles,
is accordingly an easy matter with Maine de Biran. You
can dispense with the mediate object of the representation-
alists; you have no need of the hypothesis of occasional
causes or of pre-established harmony; you are saved the
humiliation of taking refuge in your ignorance, and bowing
down before a mystery ; your dead matter and living mind
are not two distinct substances,—the relations of body and
soul are only relations of forces of action and reaction.
The theory of causation of Maine de Biran is the portion
of his philosophy which is most generally known in this
country ; and Sir W. Hamilton, in commenting on it, terms
its author “ one of the acutest metaphysicians of France.”
The casual judgment is regarded by Maine de Biran as an
original d posteriori cognition, given through a self-con¬
sciousness of the efficiency of our own volitions. M.
Cousin, who is constant in his laudation of the originality of
his countryman, characterizes him as “the greatest meta¬
physician of France since Malebranche.” A complete
edition of the CEuvres Philosophiques de Maine de Biran
was published by M. V. Cousin, 4 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1841.
MAINE-E T-LOIRE, a department in the W. of France,
including the most part of the province of Anjou and the
W. part ol fouraine, and lying between N. Lat. 46. 59. and
47. 45., and between 0. 15. E. and 1. 18. W. Long. Its
greatest length is 77 miles, its greatest breadth 60, and its
area 2756 square miles. It is bounded on the N. by the
100 MAI
MAI
Maintenon. departments of Mayenne and Sarthe, on the E. by that of
Indre-et-Loire, on the S. by those of the Vienne, the Deux
Sevres, and La Vendee, and on the W. by that of the
Loire-Inferieure. This department receives its name from
the two rivers Maine and Loire, which unite here. There
are no mountains of any importance in the department, but
the ground consists of an undulating plain, diversified here
and there by vine-covered hills. A small portion, however,
at the N.W. extremity is occupied by the hills which sepa¬
rate the valleys of the Vilaine and the Loire, and the
southern part is covered by a continuation of the hills of
Gatine. The most important river in the department is
the Loire, which passes through it from E. to W., dividing
it into two nearly equal parts. Besides this, it is watered
by the Authion, the Maine, the Sarthe, the Mayenne with
its tributary the Oudon, the Erdre, and the Thouet in the
N.; while in the S. there may be noticed the Layon, the
Erve, the Sevre-Nantaise, and the Moine, several of which
are navigable rivers, while they all contribute to the ferti¬
lity of the neighbouring country. The department is very
productive, and the principal occupation of the inhabitants
is agriculture. The corn produced is considerably more
than sufficient to supply the wants of the inhabitants. The
principal of the other productions are,—potatoes, hemp, flax,
nuts, and fruits of various kinds. About 11,000,000 gallons
of wine are made annually, besides a considerable amount
of cider. I he forests of this department are extensive, and
consist principally of oak and beech. The pasturage is very
good, and large quantities of live stock are annually reared,
especially along the banks of the principal rivers. It has
been calculated that there are in this department 210,000
head of large cattle, 200,000 sheep, 86,000 pigs, 4300
goats, 40,000 horses, and 3600 mules and asses. The
forests abound in deer and wild boars, and there are also
found numbers of foxes and weasels. The game and fish
are very plentiful. Coal mining is carried on to a consider¬
able extent, but the quantity produced, amounting to about
200,000 cwt. annually, is entirely consumed in the depart¬
ment. There are also considerable slate mines, situated
chiefly round the town of Angers, where they give em¬
ployment to 3000 workmen, and produce annually about
80,000,000 slates. Iron is also found, though in no great
abundance; but it furnishes materials for several furnaces.
There are also quarries of granite, marble, sandstone, lime¬
stone, &c. There is not much manufacturing industry in
this department, but what there is has its chief seat about
Cholet; and its principal products are linen, cotton, and
woollen stuffs; Maine-et-Loire being especially famous for
its handkerchiefs. There are also several breweries and
distilleries, as well as tanneries and manufactories of bricks,
tiles, pottery, and other articles. The trade of the district
consists chiefly in cattle, grain, wines, linen, and dried fruit.
ihis country was anciently occupied by the Andes, or
Andecavi, from whom the name Anjou is derived; and
many Gallic monuments are still to be seen in the depart¬
ment. It was afterwards in the hands of the Romans, who
have also left traces of their occupation. During the time
of the Revolution this neighbourhood is remarkable as
having been the seat of the war of La Vendee. This de¬
partment is divided into five arrondissements as follows :—
Angers 9
Baugg  6
Segre 5
Beaupreau 7
Saumur 7
Cantons. Communes.
89
66
61
76
83
Total.
.34
375
Population.
154,945
79,713
62,080
121,375
97,339
515,452
MAINTENON, Madame de, descended from the an
cient family of D’Aubigne, was born in 1635 in the prison of
Niort in Poitou, where her profligate father was then con¬
fined. Her parents by misfortunes being unable to support Mairwarra
her, she was intrusted to the care of her mother’s relations ; ||
and, to escape this state of dependence, she was in- Maistre.
duced, in 1651, to marry the Abbe Scarron, a celebrated
burlesque writer, who was deformed, infirm, and, as she
insinuates in one of her letters, impotent, with no other
means of support than a small pension allowed him by the
court. When Scarron died in 1660, she found herself as
indigent as she had been before her marriage. But Louis
XIV. afterwards made choice of her to take charge of the
education of the young Duke of Maine, his son by Madame
de Montespan, and he was so charmed with the letters she
wrote on this occasion, that he bought her the lands of
Maintenon; and finding that she was pleased with the
acquisition, called her publicly Madame de Maintenon.
About the close of the year 1685, Louis XIV., being then
in his forty-eighth, whilst she was in her fiftieth year, raised
her from the condition of a mistress to that of a wife. By con¬
summate art and address, concealed under a mask of affected
simplicity and piety, she attained the grand object of her
ambition ; and though not publicly acknowledged, became
in reality the second person in the state, and took part in
some of the most disgraceful acts of that reign. She pre¬
vailed on Louis to found a religious community at St Cyr,
for the education of 300 young ladies of quality; and on the
death of Louis in 1715, she retired thither, where she spent
the rest of her days in acts of devotion. It appears that
her husband left no fixed provision for her, contenting him¬
self with recommending her to the Duke of Orleans. She
accepted a pension of 80,000 livres, which was punctually
paid her till her death, which took place in 1719. A col¬
lection of her letters has been published, and translated into
English.
MAIRWARRA, or Realm of the Mairs, in Hindustan,
a mountainous tract, consisting of a number of parallel
ridges extending in a direction from N.E. to S.W., and
constituting that portion of the Aravulli range which lies
between Komulmer and Ajmere, a space of about 90 miles
in length, and varying in breadth from 6 to 20. The
tract is interposed between the Rajpoot states of Oodeypore
and Joudpore. Its north-eastern extremity is in Lat. 26.
10., Long. 74. 30.; its south-western in Lat. 25.25., Long.
73. 50. Mairwarra was ceded to the British in 1818 by
Scindia, but the states of Oodeypore and Joudpore having
urged claims to a portion of the country, their validity was
hastily and unadvisedly recognised. The inconvenience
of three independent states claiming to exercise the powers
of government in a country so circumstanced was, however,
subsequently mitigated by arrangements under which the
whole was placed under British management. The principal
place in the district is the newly-established town of Nya
Nugga, which promises to be the seat of considerable trade.
British Mairwarra contains an area of 282 square miles,
with a population of 37,715. The portion allotted to Oodey¬
pore has an area of 305 square miles, and that belonging to
Joudpore a superficial extent of about 67 square miles.
MAISTRE, Louis Isaac le. (See Sacy.)
Maistre, Count Joseph Maire de, a statesman and
philosopher, was born at Chambery in Piedmont, on the
1st April 1753. His father, who held the honourable
office of president of the senate of Savoy, directed his
education with much care; and the industry and success
of the son amply rewarded the solicitude of the parent.
Having completed his education at the university of Turin
with great distinction at the age of twenty, the following
year saw him elevated to the rank of a magistrate, and in
1788 he was promoted to the dignity of a senator. On the
French invasion in 1792 he was compelled to take refuge
in Lausanne, where he remained till 1797, when he re¬
turned to Piedmont, only to leave it again for Venice.
He remained in the latter city till 1800, when a call from
•MAI
Maitland, the King of Sardinia to occupy an important political posi-
tion in connection with the government of that kingdom,
induced him to embark again in public life. Count de
Maistre was sent as an ambassador to St Petersburg in
1803, where he remained till 1817. He died on the 26th
February 1821, in his sixty-eighth year.
The writings of Count de Maistre are of a twofold cha¬
racter. The Soirees de Saint Petersbourg, and the Exa-
■men de la, Philosophic de Bacon, belong more properly to
philosophy; while the Essai sur le Principe Generatear
des Constitutions Pohtiques ; Le Pape; the Considerations
sur la France, &e., are devoted to an exposition and defence
of the political and social views of the author. The Soirees
which, by its popular form, its nervous and picturesque
style, and the vigorous talent and pleasant wit which per¬
vade it, exerted great influence—runs through a series of
subtle metaphysical questions, handled with the apparent
ease of a man of the world, and with all the grace of un¬
studied conversation. But his philosophy is more the reflex
of his social ideas and political feelings than the product of
calm leflection and steady adherence to the phenomena of
observation. The principal design of De Maistre’s philo¬
sophy is to justify or explain the temporal government of
Providence; to show that the sufferings to which mankind
are subjected are in no wise contradictory of the attributes
of the Deity. He maintains that the good and the bad
aie alike subject to calamities, but that the good have less
to suffer than the bad; that the good man suffers not as
good, but as man; that man suffers in consequence of ori¬
ginal sin ; and that our only deliverance consists in personal
prayer and the intercession and merits of the good employed
in our behalf. He sums up his scheme of moral govern¬
ment by alleging, that “ sovereignty and punishment are
the two poles upon which God has poised the world.” As
for his religious and political sentiments, he advocates the
divine right of legitimate sovereigns, passive obedience,
the authority of the church in matters of faith, the supre¬
macy of the pope, and the superiority of ecclesiastical over
temporary authority. His system “betrays two peculiar
tendencies,—the one towards asceticism, the other towards
mysticism. A complete edition of De Maistre’s works was
published at Paris 1821-36.
MAITLAND, Sir Richard, a cultivator and preserver
of Scottish poetry, was the son of William Maitland of
Lethington, and of a daughter of George Lord Seaton.
He was born in 1496, and after passing through a regular
course of study at the university of St Andrews, he repaired
to France, in accordance with the custom of that age, to
finish his education. There he devoted himself chiefly to
the study of law. On his return to Scotland, Maitland suc¬
cessively held office under James V., the Regent Arran, and
Mary of Guise. In the government of the last, according
to Sir John Scot, he was lord privy seal. Fie was appointed
an extraordinary lord of session in 1551, and was knighted
soon afterwards. In 1561 he celebrated the landing of
Queen Mary by his ode on The Quenis Arryvale in Scot¬
land, and from this poem we learn that its author had al¬
ready lost his sight. Yet this deprivation, interfering to no
great extent with his professional activity, did not retard
his promotion. In this same year he was nominated an
ordinary lord of session; and in 1562 a member of the
privy council and lord privy seal. This last office he re¬
signed in 1567 in favour of his second son, afterwards Lord
Thirlstane. The blindness, as well as the peaceful disposi¬
tion of Sir Richard Maitland, prevented him from mingling
in the civil broils that followed the death of Darnley and
the marriage of the queen with Bothwell. Yet, on ac¬
count of the conduct of his eldest son, the famous secretary
of Mary, his estate was seized by the king’s party, and not
till after the fall of the Regent Morton was it restored. In
1583 he received from the lords of session an exemption
M A I
101
from regular attendance on his judicial duties, and he re¬
tired of his own accord in 1584. He died in 1586, at the
age of ninety. Sir Richard Maitland’s claim to notice rests
on his valuable collection of Scottish poetry, still preserved
in manuscript in the Pepysian Library, Magdalene College,
Cambridge. It consists of two volumes, the one a folio,
containing 176 pieces, and the other a quarto, containing
96. An edition of Maitland’s own poems was published in
1830 by the Maitland Club, a society of literary antiquaries
who have assutned his name.
MAIZE, or Indian Corn, the Zea Mays of botanists, a
monoecious grass of the natural order Graminacece (see
Botany, p. 215), is a native of tropical America, found in
its wild state in Paraguay and Chile. Like some others of
the same order, its stamens and pistils are in different flow'ers
on the same plant; the stameniferous flowers are borne on
the top of the plant, and the pistilliferous ones proceed from
the axils of the leaves. The leaves are broad, and are sus¬
pended from large rough sheaths which surround the stem.
The ripe grains, which are regularly arranged in rows, the
one above the other, are compressed at the sides and flat¬
tened at the top. 1 heir colour is for the most part pale
yellow; some, however, are white, some blood-red, some
purple, and some party-coloured. A plant generally has
two full ears, varying greatly in the number of grains.
Some ears have been known to contain the enormous num¬
ber of 800 grains. The height of the stems varies from 2
feet to 8 or 10. The floral envelope of the pistil flower is
extensively used in Southern Europe for packing oranges
and lemons ; and the Spaniards of South America contrive,
by rolling tobacco into small squares, cut from the thin
covers of the grain, to fashion for themselves agreeable ci¬
garettes. Paper of a very excellent quality has been ma¬
nufactured from the perianths of the maize.
rlhe cultivation of maize has, within the last century,
increased to an enormous extent over the American con¬
tinent, and throughout most parts of Asia, Africa, and
Southern Europe. It requires but little labour for its cul¬
tivation, and forms an exceedingly wholesome and nutritive
diet. Although deficient in gluten, it is nevertheless made
into cakes in North America, which are very highly
esteemed. Some have advocated the introduction of maize
as one of our regular crops in this country ; but agricultu-
i ists have hitherto been of opinion, that none of its varieties
could be ripened in the ordinary seasons of these islands.
(See Agriculture, p. 313.) This supposition has recently
been proved to be without foundation, by an experiment
tried in the summer of 1850, by Mr Keene, on a crop of
forty-day maize in St James’s Park, London. The seed,
which he had introduced from the Pyrenees, was put in the
ground on the 24th May, and notwithstanding various draw¬
backs incidental to the locality, the crop was harvested on
the 10th October, “ the grain perfectly formed, full and
ripe, and the cobs much finer than those grown on the
Continent.” {Year-Book of Facts for 1850, p. 246.) The
amount of crop was at the rate of 50 bushels per acre, and
the bread formed from it could be had in England at a cost
°f a halfpenny the pound. It is calculated that 30 acres
of average sod, properly drained and sown with maize,
would be worth L.400. It is supposed, however, that in
the present state of things, maize could be purchased in the
home market at a less sum than it could be cultivated, see¬
ing that it can be raised in Ohio at 6d. the bushel of 56
lb., at a good profit. About two-thirds of the maize crop
01 the Americans are grown for exportation. The quantities
o Indian corn or maize entered for home consumption, and
chargeable with duty as a British import during the past
three years, were as follows:—In 1854, 1,358,380 qrs.; in
1855, 1,224,281 qrs.; in 1856, 1,788,212 qrs. The impor¬
tation of Indian-corn meal during the same time was as fol¬
lows : In 1854,55,963 cwts.; in 1855, 12,154 cwts.; in
Maize.
102
M A J
M A J
Majesty 1856, 7885 cwts. (See Coen Laws and Corn Trade,
'. II p. 395. See also a pamphlet entitled Facts for Farmers :
Majorca. its Culture and Uses, fyc., Longman and Co.)
MAJESTY, a title of honour derived from the Romans,
among whom majestas stood for the highest power and dig¬
nity of the people. Majesty was ascribed to the dictator,
consul, and senate, and to persons or bodies vested with
legislative power, in so far as they were the representatives
of the sovereign public. At the fall of the republic, the
name and dignity of majesty passed over to the emperors,
and the title o'i diynitas was given to the magistrates. The
attribute of majesty was not given to kings till much later.
It was used first by tbe German emperors, and was intro¬
duced into France under Henry II., and into England
under Henry VIII. The Emperor of Austria has the title
of K. K. Majestat (Kaiserlich-Konigliche-Majestat), Im¬
perial Royal Majesty. The Pope conferred the title of
Apostolical Majesty on Stephen, Duke of Hungary, and
on Maria-Theresa; of Catholic Majesty on Ferdinand and
Isabella of Spain ; of Most Christian Majesty on the kings
of France after Louis XL ; and of Most Faithful Majesty
on the kings of Portugal after John V.
Majesty is now used conventionally as the title of Euro¬
pean emperors and kings, with the exception of the Turkish
Sultan, whose title is that of Highness.
MAJOR, in military affairs, a field-officer, next in rank
above a captain, and inferior to a lieutenant-colonel. The
major of a regiment assists the lieutenant-colonel, but has
no positive duties in the presence of that officer. An officer
must be six years in the service before he can be promoted
to a majority. (See Army, and Commission.)
Major and Minor, in Music. See Music, §§ Intervals,
Scales.
MAJOR, or Mair, John, a scholastic divine and histo¬
rian, was born about 1470 at the village of Cleghorn, near
North Berwick. After attending for a short time at Christ's
College, Cambridge, he entered the university of Paris in
1493. There he studied successively at the colleges of St
Barbe and Montaigu, and graduated as A.M. in 1496.
Chosen a doctor in 1505, he lectured on philosophy in the
latter college, and numbered among his regular auditors the
principals Jacques Almain, Robert Cenalis, and Jerome de
Hangest. Soon after this, Major seems to have returned
to his native country ; and in 1518 he is found discharging
the office of principal of the university of Glasgow. In
his joint capacity of professor of theology, he became in
1522 the preceptor of John Knox. He was promoted to a
chair in the university of St Andrews in the following
year, and there, in 1525, George Buchanan was one of his
pupils. Not long after this, Major removed once more to
Paris, but returned to St Andrews in 1530, and became
principal or provost of St Salvator’s College in 1533. In
this office he died about 1550.
The following is a list of Major’s principal works:—
In LihrosSententiarum Commentarius, published in 4 vols.,
Paris, 1509, 1510, 1517, 1519; De Historia Gentis Sco-
torurn hbri sex, Paris, 1521 ; Commentarius in Physica
Aristotelis, Paris, 1526; and In Quatuor Evangelia Exposi-
tiones Luculcutce, Paris, 1529. During his residence in
France, Major had imbibed very liberal opinions on civil
and ecclesiastical government; and from him it is probable
that Knox and Buchanan first received those political prin¬
ciples, which afterwards in their separate spheres they so
ably defended. As a writer, he is characterized by small
erudition, no independence of thought, and a style bald and
inelegant.
MAJORCA, Mallorca, or Mayorca, an island be¬
longing to Spain, in the Mediterranean, the largest of the
Balearic group, lies between N. Lat. 39. 16. and 39. 57.
E. Long. 2. 20. and 3. 30. Its shape is that of a tra¬
pezoid, the vertices of the angles being directed to the
cardinal points. Its length, from Cap de Pera to Grozer, is
about 60 miles; and its breadth, from Palma to Alcudia,
about 33. The N.E. portion of the island is very moun¬
tainous, the S.W. portion more level; though there occur
in the latter isolated peaks of considerable height. The
highest peak of the island, Puig Major d’en Torrella, has
an elevation of 5120 feet above the level of the sea. The
climate of the different districts varies considerably; the
western partido, Palma, enjoying a much milder tempera¬
ture than the central and eastern partidos, Inca and Mana-
cor, as its surface is also more wooded and picturesque. It
contains the towns of Valdemoza and Sober, which attract
many strangers by the geniality of the air. The heats of
summer are tempered by the sea breezes, while the northern
coast is visited in winter by very violent gales. The coast
facing the continent is generally steep, flatter towards the
E., and indented with capacious harbours, that of Palma,
the capital, being the largest.
The rocks of this island are limestone, and the moun¬
tains present the picturesque appearances usually remarked
in that formation. There are quarries of marble, of various
grains and colours, those of Santagny, in the partido of
Manacor, being especially celebrated ; and there are some
mines of lead, iron, and cinnabar.
The inhabitants are almost wholly devoted to agriculture,
and most of the arable land in the island is under cultiva¬
tion. The mountains are terraced, and the old pine woods
are fast disappearing and giving place to the olive, the vine,
and the almond tree, fields of wheat and flax, or to orchards of
figs, oranges, &c. Much saffron is also grown. The oil harvest
is very considerable, averaging 650,000 gallons yearly. The
wines are light, but excellent, especially the Muscadel and
Montona. Mules are used in the agriculture and traffic of
the island. The oxen are small, but the sheep large and well
fleeced. There is abundance of poultry, and of small
game. There is not much industry beyond that engaged in
or immediately dependent upon agriculture. A good deal
of brandy is made and exported. Very superior woollen
and linen cloths are made. The silk-worm is reared, and
there is a considerable manufacture of silk. Their cabinet¬
work is celebrated.
In 1846 the population amounted to 179,753. There
are two cities, Palma and Alcudia; Palma is an episcopal see.
The largest remaining towns are,— Lluchmayor, Campos,
Santagny, Inca, and Pollenza, anciently a Roman colony.
The inhabitants are industrious and hospitable, and pique
themselves much on their loyalty and orthodoxy. Castilian
is spoken by the upper and commercial classes ; the lower
and agricultural employ a dialect resembling that of the
Catalans, with whom also their general appearance and
manners seem to connect them.
The early history of the Balearic Isles is obscure. The
origin of the name itself is doubtful, some deriving it from
the Phoenician god Bal (Baal), others connecting it, through
the Greek, with their celebrated skill in the use of the sling.
The Balearic slingers were useful auxiliaries to the Cartha¬
ginians, and contributed to the victories of Trebia, Thra-
symenus, and Cannae. But it was their piracies which
drew on them the Roman vengeance. About 123 B.c.
they were subjected by Q. C. Metellus, who established a
Roman colony at Pollenza, introducing Iberians, and erect¬
ing an aqueduct 6 miles in length, the remains of which
still exist. Metellus also introduced the Roman tongue,
and the cultivation of the olive. By the Romans the two
principal islands were called Major and Minor, whence their
modern names. In a.d. 423 they were taken possession of
by the Vandals, and in 798 by the Moors. The Balearic Isles
became a separate Moorish kingdom in 1009 ; which, be¬
coming extremely obnoxious for piracy, was the object of a
crusade directed against it by Pope Pascal II., in which the
Catalans took the lead. This expedition was frustrated at
Majorca.
M A K
Makallah the time, but was resumed by Don Jaime, King of Aragon,
|| . and the Moors expelled in 1232. During their occupa-
L a n' i ti°n> the island was populous and productive, and an active
commerce was carried on with Spain and Africa. Don
Jaime conferred the sovereignty of the isles on his third
son, under whom and his successors they formed an in¬
dependent kingdom up to 1349. Thenceforth their his¬
tory is that of Spain. In 1521 an insurrection of the pea¬
santry against the nobility, whom they massacred, took place
in Majorca, and was not suppressed without much blood¬
shed. In the war of the Spanish succession all the islands
declared for Charles; the Duke of Anjou had no footing
anywhere save in the citadel of Mahon. Minorca was
reduced by Count Villars in 1707; but it was not till June
1715 that Majorca was subjugated. When the French
invaded Spain in 1808, the Mallorquins did not remain
indifferent; the governor, D. Juan Miguel de Yives, an¬
nounced, amid universal acclamation, his resolution to
adhere to Ferdinand VII. At first the Junta would take
no active part in the war, retaining the corps of volun¬
teers that were formed for the defence of the island ;
but finding it quite secure, they transferred them succes¬
sively to the Peninsula to reinforce the allies. Such was
the animosity excited against the French when their ex¬
cesses were known to the Mallorquins, that some of the
French prisoners, conducted thither in 1810, had to be
transferred with all speed to the island of Cabrera, a trans¬
ference which was not effected before some of them had
been killed.
MAKALLAH or Macttllah, a town on the S. coast of
Arabia, N. Lat. 14. 31., E. Long. 49. 6., 300 miles E.N.E.
of Cape Aden, and about the same distance S. of Mareb.
The town stands on a narrow projecting ledge of rocks, in
the centre of a bay of the same name. Its appearance, as
seen from the sea, is very grand, and it is defended by six
square towers on the height above, as well as by walls.
The bay affords very good shelter for vessels, being pro¬
tected on the S.E. by a promontory bearing the same name,
at the distance of 4 miles; and towards the W. there is a
reef forming a secure harbour, much frequented by coasting
vessels. Immediately behind the town rise a series of lime¬
stone cliffs to the height of 300 feet, beyond which is a
lofty mountain called Jebel Gharrah, 1300 feet above the
sea. I he town is chiefly composed of huts, along with a
few stone houses and two mosques. A considerable traffic
is carried on here ; for, besides supplying vessels with pro¬
visions, it exports gum, hides, senna, &c.; and imports
cotton, lead, and iron from Bombay, and sheep, calves,
honey, and slaves from Kosseir and Berberah. The inha¬
bitants of this town are very varied; for besides the native
Arabs, who do not comprise more than half of the popu¬
lation, there are Banyans, in whose hands most of the trade
with India is; Karachies from the Persian Gulf; Sahawili
from the E. coast of Africa; and Somali from the coast
opposite Aden. Pop. estimated at about 4500.
MAKO, or Makovia, a market-town in East Hungary,
in the palatinate of Cnasad, on the Maros, 9 miles W. by
N. of Cnasad, and 21 miles E.S.E. of Szegedin. It is the
seat of a bishop ; and has a Roman Catholic church, a Greek
church, a Protestant church and gymnasium, and a Jewish
synagogue. The town contains a court-house and county
buildings, and a handsome barracks recently erected. The
neighbourhood is very fertile, producing corn and wine,
and affording excellent pasturage for cattle. Many of the
inhabitants subsist by river fishing. A considerable trade
is carried on in the products of the vicinity. Pop. (1851)
22,611, of whom more than half were Protestants, and a
considerable number Jews.
MAKRI, Maori, or Makry, a seaport-town on the
S.W. coast of Anatolia, Asiatic Turkey, N. Lat. 36. 37.,
E. Long. 29. 9., being 52 miles E.N.E. of Rhodes, and
M A L 103
125 S.E. of Smyrna. The modern town, which consists of a Malabar,
collection of about fifty wretched huts, is built on the site
of the ancient Telmessus, in the midst of a landscape of
unrivalled beauty, although the town and neighbourhood
are extremely unhealthy. There are still to be seen the
remains of an ancient theatre in very good preservation,
besides many tombs of various ages. The harbour, anciently
called Glaucus, is very good, being sheltered from the sea
by the island of Cavaliere, and running into the land to the
distance of 12 or 15 miles. It is at this place that travel¬
lers from Constantinople to Syria embark, and there is
generally a great number of vessels in the bay. The trade
of the town is extensive, and consists of wood, tar, honey,
cattle, salt, and nuts, with many of which articles it supplies
Rhodes. Provisions in this town are easily and cheaply
procured.
This is also the name of a seaport in Rumili, 75 miles
S.W. of Adrianople. The harbour is defended by a castle,
and the town is the residence of a Greek bishop. It is the
capital of a district, and its population is about 3000.
MALABAR. This tract of country extends along the
western coast of India, from Cape Comorin to the River
Chandragiri, in N. Lat. 12. 30. The British province of
Malabar is a particular portion of this tract, which is situate
between the 10th and 13th degrees of N. Lat. To the N.
it is bounded by the province of Canara, to the S. by the
rajah of Cochin’s territories, to the W. by the ocean, and to
the E. by the chain of the Western Ghauts, below which
the country lies, extending about 200 miles along the sea-
coast. The country may be divided into two portions, the
first of which borders the sea-coast, and consists of a poor
sandy soil, seldom above 3 miles wide, and in general not
so much. Low branches of hills extend from the Ghauts
to a considerable distance to the westward, and sometimes
even to the sea. The strip of country bordering upon the
sea is well adapted for the cultivation of rice; and it is re¬
markably intersected by inlets of the sea, which often run
for great lengths parallel to the line of coast, receiving the
various mountain streams, and communicating with the
ocean by different narrow and shallow openings. In other
places, the fresh water, as it descends from the mountains
into the low lands within the downs upon the sea-coast, in
the rainy season, totally overflows them, as the water has
no issue, and must consequently stagnate until it evaporates.
By this natural irrigation the lands are fitted for some par¬
ticular qualities of rice. There are a few mountain streams
and rivers ; and the distance of the mountains from the sea
is too inconsiderable for the formation of any large river.
By far the most extensive portion of Malabar lies in the
vicinity of the Ghaut Mountains, and consists of low hills,
separated by narrow valleys, which are in general extremely
fertile, being the receptacles of the fine particles of mould
carried down from the hills. The hills are seldom of any
considerable height, and have mostly level summits, which
are bare in many parts, especially towards the N., and ex¬
pose to the view large surfaces of naked rock, with re¬
markably steep sides. They are in general very indus¬
triously cultivated; their sides, which possess the best soil,
being formed into terraces. The valleys are in most cases
watered by rivulets which carry off the superfluous water,
and where there is no issue, it overflows the adjacent lands.
I he upland is barren, and the cultivation much neglected;
and it is in the valleys and extensive ravines, and upon the
banks of the rivers, that the inhabitants chiefly reside. Dr
Buchanan mentions in his Journey from Madras, &c., vol.
ii., that some parts of the country which he passed through
in this province were the most beautiful he had ever seen,
being equal to the finest parts of Bengal, but the trees were
loftier, and the palms more numerous. In many places the
rice grounds are interspersed with high swells that are
crowded with houses; whilst the view to the N is bounded
104 MALABAR.
Malabar, by naked rocky mountains, and to the S. by the lofty forests
of the Travancore Hills. The climate is moist; the low
country of Malabar, as well as the whole region which lies
under the Western Ghauts, becomes excessively hot in the
month of February; and the vapours and exhalations are
so thick, that it is difficult to distinguish objects at the dis¬
tance of even 5 miles. These vapours become visible around
the mountains, where the cold is very severe. The mois¬
ture collected increases with the heat; and in March and
April a prodigious quantity is accumulated, and floats in the
atmosphere, sometimes ascending nearly to the tops of the
mountains, where it is checked or condensed by the cold;
but, descending immediately after, it is again rarified by the
heat of the lower atmosphere into vapour, before it reaches
the earth. At the setting in of the western monsoon, the
whole is condensed into rain, which falls very heavily, partly
in the low country, and partly in the mountains; and a
small portion escapes and is blown across Mysore. These
heavy rains serve to bear away the soil, and leave nothing
but loose stones and sand upon the hills. The country
abounds in lofty forests, which are sometimes intermixed
with corn fields and plantations of fruit trees. The teak is
produced in great abundance, mostly about Manarghaut;
but it is too remote from any navigable river to be trans¬
ported with a profit from the place of its growth. Sandal¬
wood is also exported from Malabar, though it is not the
produce of the country ; at least such as is found within the
limits of Malabar is not of a good quality, being entirely
devoid of smell; but, growing as it does immediately to
the eastward of the Western Ghauts, all that is produced
towards the sources of the Cauvery naturally comes to Ma¬
labar, which affords the nearest ports that can be found for
its exportation. The palm is produced in the greatest
abundance about Palighaut, and, with proper care, an excel¬
lent spirit might be extracted from it. These forests, unlike
others in India, were the private property of the land-holders,
who exercised the right of selling and mortgaging the trees
to Moplay merchants. The demand for teak timber was
so great that the woods were fast becoming exhausted.
With a view to the restoration of these forests, extensive
tracts of waste land have been converted by the govern¬
ment into teak plantations. In the latter part of ] 843, and
the spring of the following year, no less than 50,000 young
trees were planted in these nurseries. Cocoa-nut trees
abound in the province. Black pepper is produced abun¬
dantly in Malabar, and forms the chief export by Europeans,
who usually purchase about five-eighths of all that is pro¬
duced, and carry it principally to Europe directly, or to
Bombay and China. The remainder is chiefly exported by
native traders to the Bay of Bengal, Surat, Cutch, Scinde,
and other countries in the N.W. of India; and a consider¬
able quantity finds its way to the Arabian ports of Muscat
and Mocha, and to the British port of Aden. They use
scarcely any horses or asses in Malabar; and such as are
required for the use of the inhabitants are imported from
the east. 1 hey have a small breed of cattle and buffaloes ;
but even these are but little used in the transportation of
goods, which are usually carried by porters. Poultry have
been introduced into the country by the Europeans; and
common fowl may be had in abundance. Until a recent
period slavery existed in Malabar; but in 1843 a legisla¬
tive enactment was passed by the government, by the pro¬
visions of which slavery has been abolished throughout the
whole extent ot oui eastern possessions. The country is
distinguished by the neatness of its villages, which are
superior to any in India, being built of mud, neatly smoothed,
and either whitewashed or painted. Their picturesque effect
is heightened by the beauty and elegant dresses of the
Brahmin girls. The villages, as well as the bazaars, are
the work of foreigners, the aboriginal natives of Malabar
living in detached houses surrounded with gardens. The
higher ranks use little clothing, but are remarkably clean in Malabar,
their persons; and all ranks are free from cutaneous dis- v,
tempers, excepting the very lowest castes.
The country being intersected by many rivers, and
bounded by a high wall of mountains, was protected by
these natural obstacles against the torrent of Mohammedan
invasion which desolated other parts of India; and it was
not till 1766, when it was invaded by Hyder Ali, that it
was subjected to a foreign yoke. Hence the original man¬
ners and peculiar customs of the Hindus have been pre¬
served here in much greater purity than in other parts of
India. Besides the Hindus, who form the great proportion
of the inhabitants, the population consists of Moplays or
Mohammedans, Christians, and Jews. The Hindus are
divided into the following castes, namely, Namburies or
Brahmins ; the Nairs of various denominations ; the Teers,
or I iars, who are cultivators of the land, and freemen ; the
Malears, who are musicians and conjurors, and also free¬
men ; and, lastly, the Patiars, who were slaves or bond-
men. Of these castes, the most remarkable are the Nairs,
the pure Sudras of Malabar, who all lay claim to be born
soldiers, though they are of various ranks and professions.
There are altogether eleven ranks of Nairs, who form the
militia of Malabar, under the Brahmins and rajahs. They
are proud and arrogant to their inferiors; and in former
times a Nair was expected instantly to cut down a culti¬
vator or fisherman who presumed to defile him by touching
his person, or a Patiar who did not turn out of his road
as a Nair passed. It is a remarkable custom amongst this
class, that a Nair never cohabits with the person whom he
calls his wife. He gives her all proper allowances of cloth¬
ing and food ; but she remains in her mother’s or brother’s
house, and cohabits with any person or persons she chooses,
of equal rank ; so that no Nair knows his own father;
and the children all belong to the mother, whose claim to
them admits of no doubt. This state of manners also pre¬
vails in the neighbouring countries of Travancore, Bednore,
and Canara.
As in Malabar the ancient Hindu state of property and
manners prevails, almost the whole land, cultivated and un¬
cultivated, belongs to individuals, and is held by a right which
conveys a full and absolute property in the soil. There are
many traditions and conjectures respecting the origin of
landed property in those countries; and upon this subject
a very full detail will be found in Mr Thackeray’s report on
the land tenures and assessments in Malabar, in the Fifth
Report of the Select Committee on India Affairs, p. 799,
in which he, along with Colonel Munro and others, strongly
contends, that in the southern parts of India, namely, in
Malabar, Tanjore, Trichinopoly, &c., the private right of
property in the soil has been established from time imme¬
morial. “ The occupants of the land,” says one of the col¬
lectors of the revenue in Southern India, “ by whatever
name distinguished, have the right of selling, bestowing,
devising, and bequeathing their lands, in the manner which
to them is most agreeable.” The succession to property,
in consequence of the extraordinary customs of the Nairs,
depends on the mother, about whom there can be no mis¬
take, though the father is frequently uncertain.
Christianity appears at a very early period to have made
considerable progress on the Malabar coast; and there is a
greater proportion of persons professing that religion in this
than in any other part of India. Three ecclesiastical chiefs—
two appointed by the Portuguese church at Goa, and one
by the see of Rome—rule over this establishment, besides
the Babylonish bishops who preside over the Nestorian com¬
munity." At the time of Buchanan’s visit 44 churches com¬
posed the Nestorian communion, which had been reduced
from 200,000 souls, its amount before the arrival of Vasco
de Gama, to about 40,000. The total number of Christians
on the Malabar coast, including the Syrians or Nestorians, is
M A L
Malabar computed to amount to 200,000, of wliom 90,000 are settled
Point; in Travancore. The Jews are estimated at 30,000.
Malacca. ^ *s suPPosed that Malabar was, at a very early period,
, conquered by a king from above the Ghauts. The Nairs
may have been established at the same time by the con¬
queror, or called in by the Brahmins, as a military body, to
support the government. In process of time they obtained
settlements in the land ; and the chiefs, taking every oppor¬
tunity to aggrandize themselves, became rajahs, and from a
remote period continued to govern Malabar like indepen¬
dent princes until Hyder’s invasion in 1760. Tradition,
and the general opinion of the inhabitants, contradict the
notion that any land-tax existed in Malabar prior to that
event. No conclusive evidence is supplied on this subject
by the doubtful analogies of the neighbouring states, in
some of which, such as Travancore, no land-tax was said
to exist, whilst in Canara a regular land-tax has been im¬
posed for centuries. Bhere does not seem to have been
any urgent necessity for the establishment of a general
land-tax, as there was no army besides the militia, nor in¬
deed any expensive establishments. Hyder subdued the
country in 1 761, and expelled all the rajahs, except such as
conciliated him by immediate submission. Disturbances
were occasioned by these proceedings ; but he succeeded
in establishing his authority, and in 1782 appointed a de¬
puty, who made still further progress in subduing and set¬
tling the country. In 1788 Tippoo, his son, proposed to
the Hindus to embrace the true faith, and began by levying
contributions on his infidel subjects, and forcibly circum¬
cising many of the Brahmins, Nairs, and others. This pro¬
duced a serious rebellion, which, however, was soon quelled
by his vigorous administration; and in the meantime the
country was laid waste by these tyrannical proceedings. On
the breaking out of the war between Tippoo and the Bri¬
tish in 1790, the refractory rajahs and Nairs, who were lead-
ing a predatory life in the jungles, were encouraged to join
the Company’s army. After the war, they were reinstated
in their authority ; but they made such large claims to in¬
dependence, whilst they failed at the same time to fulfil
their engagements for the payment of the revenue, and were
also so tyrannical in their proceedings, that they were
finally deprived of all authority, and allowed one-fifth of
their revenues for the support of their dignity. Many of
them, in consequence, had recourse to rebellion ; but they
were put down by a military force, and some of them pun¬
ished. Since this period, under the management of the
British collectors of revenue, the country exhibits compa¬
rative tranquillity, and is said to be advancing in prosperity.
The population, according to the census which was taken
in 1850, amounted to 1,514,909.
Under the name of Malabar is distinguished a large tract
of country, extending along the western coast of India
from Cape Comorin to the River Chandragiri, in N. Lat. 12.
30. ; and the term is frequently erroneously applied to the
whole country from Bombay to the southern extremity.
The above account applies chiefly to the British province of
that name. (Ej T ^
Malabar Point, a promontory of Hindustan, on the
S.W. extremity of the island of Bombay, remarkable for a
cleft rock, in great repute for its sanctity amongst the nu¬
merous Hindus who resort thither for the purpose of beino-
purified from their sins, which is effected by passing through
the aperture, which is of considerable elevation, being situated
amongst rocks of difficult access that in the stormy season
are incessantly washed by the billows. In the vicinity are
the ruins of a temple, said to have been blown up by the
Portuguese; and a beautiful Brahmin village, built round
a fine tank of considerable extent, with broad flights of
steps down to the water.
MALACCA, an extensive region, situate in Southern
India, consisting of a large peninsula, connected by the
VOL. XIV.
M A L 105
Isthmus of Kraw, about ninety-seven miles in breadth, with iWacca.
the province of Tenasserim to the N., whilst on all other
sides it is bounded by the Eastern Ocean, having on the
W. the Indian Ocean and the Straits of Malacca, which
separate it from Sumatra, and on the E. the Gulf of Siam
and the Sea of China. It extends from the 1st to the
12th degrees of N. Lat., and from the 98th to the 104th
degrees of E. Long., and is 775 miles in length by 125 in
average breadth. The country is a long, narrow strip of
land, traversed by a chain of lofty mountains, and covered
with extensive forests and marshes, so that it is very diffi¬
cult to penetrate into the interior. A range of extremely
bleak mountains, running through it from one extremity
^ Siyes rise to innumerable streams, the courses
of which, from the proximity of the mountains to the sea
are short, and they are obstructed at the mouths by bars
and sandbanks, so that they cannot be ascended by vessels
of any size. At the southern extremity of the continent are
the islands of Bintang, Batang, and Singapore, with many
others, so thickly clustered together, that they are only
separated from the continent by narrow straits, and seem to
be a prolongation of the land. On the W. coast also there
are numerous islands, amongst which may be mentioned
Pulo Pinang, or Prince of Wales Island.
The soil is not remarkable for its fertility, though, like
other Malay countries, the coast is well covered with wood,
and exhibits a great extent of verdure; but the teak tree
has never yet been discovered in these forests. The fruits
are excellent and plentiful; but grain is not produced in
sufficient quantity, and is therefore imported from Bengal
and Sumatra. 1 he jungles, from their density and great
luxuriance, are impervious to animals, and game is in con¬
sequence scarce. From the rivers, as well as the sea, the
inhabitants derive a plentiful supply of fish.
The political state of Malacca has been subject to many
revolutions, having been occasionally dependent on Siam
when that monarchy was in the height of its power, and
when its supremacy was owned by the whole peninsula.
But since the Siamese have yielded to the increasing power
of the Burmans, all the southern portion of the peninsula
has shaken off the yoke, and the northern states pay only
a moderate tribute. The whole of the sea-coast, from that
latitude to Point Romania, is still possessed by the Malays,
who are mixed in some places with the Buggesses from
Celebes, and who have still a small settlement at Salengore.
1 he northern and inland parts of the peninsula are inha¬
bited by the Patany people, who appear to be a mixture of
Siamese and Malays, and who inhabit independent villages.
The Negro race is found in the interior amongst the abo¬
riginal natives. The great majority of the inhabitants are,
however, of the Malay race, who are well known and widely
diffused amongst all the eastern islands. The origin of this
remarkable race is not very distinctly known. They are
understood, however, not to be natives of this country, but
to have come originally from the district of Palembang, in
the interior of Sumatra, situate on the banks of the River
Malaya. Having crossed over about the end of the twelfth
century to the opposite continent, they, in 1252, founded
the city of Malacca. They are of a daring, restless, and
intrepid disposition ; their character forming in this respect
a striking contrast to that of the timid inhabitants of Hin¬
dustan. They are brave in war, but ferocious and vindic¬
tive, merciless to enemies and strangers, and capricious and
passionate even to friends. They are proud and irascible,
carrying the point of honour to excess, with a quick sensi-
bihty to the slightest insult, which drives them to a degree
of fury bordermg on desperation; and it is by a series of
what they, in their overwrought fancies, consider to be in-
su ts, that they are excited to a state of frenzy which ends
in that act of wild atrocity known by the name of “ running
amok,” from the word amok, signifying kill, kill. The Malay,
o
106 M A L
Malacca. when he has resolved on this desperate step, proceeds still
Vs—farther to inflame his passions by taking a dose of opium,
when he throws loose his black hair, and drawing his deadly
crease, rushes into the streets, thirsting for vengeance, and
crying “ kill, kill,” slays every one whom he meets in this
furious mood. But it has been found that these unruly
passions, which often broke out into violent excesses under
the tyrannies of their Dutch rulers, were greatly allayed by
kind treatment; and that the Malay, in these circumstances,
was transformed into an entirely different character, dis¬
playing gratitude, affection, fidelity, and higher sentiments
of honour than are found amongst any other class of natives
in India. Those Europeans who have engaged them as ser¬
vants, and who have treated them well, inform us that they
found them faithful and attached domestics. The free
Malays are an intelligent, active, industrious body of men,
engaged, like the Chinese, in foreign trade. They have
always addicted themselves to seafaring pursuits, and to
piracy, which they follow as if it were a lawful trade ; and
hence they are the terror of the effeminate Asiatics. Their
prows are many of them fine vessels, and navigated with
skill; but the Malay, though in general a bold and hardy
mariner, is apt to sink under a continuance of cold or bad
weather, even sooner than the feeble but more docile las-
car of Bengal. Though they have been more circumscribed
in their piracies by the maritime superiority of the Euro¬
peans in the eastern seas, and no longer retain those daring
habits which rendered them the scourge of the peaceful
trader, they still carry on petty depredations ; and trading
vessels are sometimes cut off, and their crews murdered
with every circumstance of atrocity.
The government of the Malays is a rude description of
monarchy, with a turbulent aristocracy, or something like
the principles of the feudal system. The head of the govern¬
ment is a rajah or sultan, a name assumed from the Ara¬
bians ; and under him a certain number of nobles, with their
train of vassals. But in practice there is no regular system
of subordination, the sultan trampling on the chiefs and the
people, and they again rebelling against his authority ; so
that there is little else amongst them but violence and dis¬
order, which contribute to nourish their ferocious habits.
The language of the Malays has obtained very general
currency in several states upon the continent, as well as
amongst the eastern islands, though it has gained no foot¬
ing in the interior of Hindustan. On the sea-coast, and at
the mouths and on the banks of navigable rivers, it is the
medium of commercial and foreign intercourse; and the
currency which it has acquired may be ascribed partly to
the commercial and enterprising character of the people,
who, by their mercantile habits, or the power of their arms,
have established themselves in every part of the archipelago,
and also to its own valuable qualities of simplicity in the
structure, and even of pronunciation. In writing it, they
use the Arabic character, with the addition of six other
letters. The Malays have few books in their language,
and these consist chiefly of transcripts and versions of the
Koran, commentaries on the Mohammedan law, and tales
in prose and verse, many of them translations of the po¬
pular tales current in Arabia, Persia, India, and the neigh¬
bouring island of Java. They have also some historical
compositions.
The Malayans profess the Mohammedan religion. Un¬
til the year 1276 they were pagans, or followed some cor¬
rupted form of Hindu idolatry. Sultan Mahommed Shah,
who ascended the throne in the thirteenth century, was the
first prince who, by the propagation of this faith, acquired
great celebrity during his long reign of fifty-seven years.
His dominion extended over the neighbouring islands of
Lingen and Bin tang, together with Johore, Patany, Que-
dah, and Pera, on the coasts of the peninsula, besides seve*
ral districts in Sumatra, all of which acquired the appella*--:
M A L
tion of Malaya. During part of the fifteenth century* Ma- Malacca
lacca was under the Siamese sovereigns. In 1509 Sultan ||
Mahmud repelled the aggression of the King of Siam ; but Malachi.
in 1511 he was conquered by the Portuguese under Albu-
querque.
Malacca is the capital of the country of Malacca, and
is situate on the straits of the same name, near the south¬
ern extremity of the Malay Peninsula. The town is large ;
many of the houses are built of stone ; and there are seve¬
ral spacious and handsome streets. But that part of it in¬
habited by the natives consists of bamboo and mat huts.
Since the formation of the British settlement at Pulo Pi-
nang, or Prince of Wales Island, its commercial importance
has declined. The surrounding country is fertile and beau¬
tiful, being finely diversified for eight miles round with hill
and dale ; and beyond that distance it is rendered imprac¬
ticable by woods and morasses. There is a good roadstead
for large ships about a mile and a half from the place ; but
the entrance to the river is rendered intricate by a bar,
over which boats cannot pass before quarter flood, norafter
last quarter ebb, without much difficulty. Under the lee
of the island, near to the fort, there is a harbour, where, in
the south-west monsoon, vessels of light burden may be
secured. On the southern side of the river is a fort, the
walls of which are in a ruinous condition. The chief im¬
ports are grain, which is brought in considerable quantities
from Bengal, Java, and Sumatra, opium, piece-goods, silks,
and dollars. The exports are chiefly tin, pepper, sago,
canes, elephants’ teeth, biche-de-mer, and some gold dust.
Fruits and vegetables are abundant; and there is also
plenty of buffaloes, hogs, poultry, and fish, at moderate
prices, though sheep and bullocks are scarce. Malacca was
founded about the year 1252 ; and in 1508 it was first visited
by the Portuguese, who, on a quarrel which broke out,
were arrested by the king, and being thrown into prison,
several of them were put to death. Albuquerque, the re¬
nowned Portuguese commander, immediately declared war
against this eastern prince ; and, after an obstinate contest,
stormed the town of Malacca, which became one of their
principal settlements, and the key of their trade with the
seas beyond India. In 1605 it was attacked by the Dutch,
who destroyed a Portuguese fleet in the roads, but failed
to take the place. In 1640, however, they reduced it
after an obstinate resistance, and retained it till the year
1795, when it was subjected by a British force, but was re¬
stored at the peace of Amiens. It was afterwards recap¬
tured by the British, but once more restored to the Dutch
in 1818, after the general pacification. In 1824 the town,
and a district containing an area of about 1000 square miles,
were finally transferred to the British among the cessions
made by the King of the Netherlands, in exchange for the
British possessions on the island of Sumatra. E. Long. 100.,
N. Eat. 5. (e.t.)
MALACHI, the last of the minor prophets, flourished
contemporarily with Nehemiah; and from various coin¬
cidences in his prophecy with Nehemiah chap, xiii., it may
be concluded that they acted together in the work of poli¬
tical and religious restoration. His name (My Angel, or
rather Angel of Jehovah) has by some been regarded as only'
an official title, and, in absence of evidence in regard to his
personal history, Ezra, Nehemiah, Mordecai, and even an
incarnate angel, have been put forward as authors of the
book. In the same way, all Scripture history might be un¬
settled. That Malachi flourished later than Zechariah is
sufficiently evident from the fact that he is not mentioned
along with that prophet in the book of Ezra; and from in¬
ternal evidence it is plain that he lived to see a more tho¬
rough restoration.of the Jewish worship than Zechariah was
privileged to see. He even lived to see the restored wor¬
ship decline; and amid the decay of morals he prophesied
the Haciyeiit of the forerunner of the Messiah. The canoni-
M A L
Malaga, city of this book is undoubted. Special expositions of it
have been written,—among others, by Venema, Bahrdt,
Faber, and Fischer.
MALAGA, the third seaport of Spain, and capital of the
province of the same name in Granada, is situate on the
Mediterranean, in 36. 43. N. Lat, 4. 26. W. Long., 65 miles
E.N.E. of Gibraltar, and 253 S. by W. of Madrid, at the ex¬
tremity of a fine large bay, and on a plain bounded by lofty
hills on the N.E. and N.W. In the clearness of its sky,
which a cloud rarely obscures, and the beauty of its bay,
it resembles Naples, to which it has sometimes been com¬
pared. The scanty river Guadalmedina flows here into
the sea after receiving the Guadalhora; and the town lies
principally on the left bank of the former; the districts of
La Trinidad and Perchel, on the latter, being little more
than a suburb. Sheltered on the E. and W., the climate is
very salubrious. There are no endemic diseases, although,
like other Mediterranean seaports, it has suffered much at
various times from yellow fever, &c. The streets near the
sea are spacious and comparatively modern, giving the town
a fine appearance from the bay; the other streets are nar¬
row and ancient, still remaining almost as they were when
the town was taken from the Moors in 1487. There are
various plazas and paseos. In the Plaza de Riego was
erected, in 1842, a monument to the unfortunate Torrijos.
The edifices most worthy of note are,—the cathedral, the
custom-house, and the bishop’s palace. The cathedral was
commenced by Diego de Siloe, architect of that of Gra¬
nada, in 1526, in the Greco-Roman style, which he intro¬
duced, and was continued by various architects till its com¬
pletion in 1782 by Jose Bada. It exhibits, in consequence,
a singular mixture of styles; but the general effect of the
interior is pleasing, and the exterior would be imposing
were it not marred by the crowd of shabby houses about it.
The custom-house is a stately and spacious edifice, built
partly on the site of the Moorish fortress Alcazaba, to the
N.E. of the town. It was begun in 1791, but the work
being interrupted by the war, was not finished till 1829.
The bishop’s palace, which contains also the offices, archives,
and library of the see, was erected in 1772, at the expense
of the then prelate, Don Jose Franquis. Of more ancient
buildings, the two Moorish fortresses, Gibralfaro and Al¬
cazaba, on a hill to the N.E., deserve mention. The former,
which is extensive, and still in good preservation, was built
a.d. 787, by Abdelrhaman I., King of Cordova, on the site
of a more ancient tower, and offered an obstinate resistance
to the Catholic kings. Of Alcazaba the remains are trifling.
On the whole, Malaga, though not a handsome town, has
a more modern aspect than most Spanish towns. An object
of special attraction to visitors is the English burying-ground,
situate about a mile from the city, to the E. of the Alca¬
zaba, beautifully laid out, and at much expense; the soil
being terraced, irrigated, and planted with cypresses. To
complete the description of the port, it must be added, that
though there is no regular harbour, vessels receive shelter
from a mole about 884 yards in length, at the extremity of
which is a lighthouse with a rotatory light, standing about
130 feet above the sea-level. To prevent the silting up of
the harbour so formed, two smaller lateral breakwaters were
subsequently formed. The commencement of the former
work dates from 1588; but it did not reach its present
length before the end of last century. The harbour is ca¬
pable of containing several hundred merchant vessels; and
ships of the largest burden can approach the quays.
The commerce of Malaga consists chiefly in the produc¬
tions ol the province, the staple being wine and raisins.
The latter are made from the June harvest, and largely
exported. The quality has of late years much improved,
and they boast that their raisins quite equal those of Va¬
lencia. fhere is a second and third harvest, producing
wines exported chiefly to the United States and South
M A L
America. “ Formerly vast quantities of very inferior qua¬
lity were manufactured, but were found unsaleable even to
the Americans; they have therefore been obliged to change
the system, and the whole class is much improved in conse¬
quence.” (Widdrington.) The Muscatel, Lachryma Christi,
and Vino de Guindas (so called from its being flavoured
with cherries), are the best wines. The lagrimas is made
from the droppings of the large white Muscatel grapes un¬
pressed. The vineyards around Malaga are estimated to
produce annually, of all sorts—sweet, dry, and luscious—be¬
tween 30,000 and 40,000 butts, of which nearly 27,000 are
exported. Olive oil, saffron, soap, and some other articles,
are also exported. The most active period in the port is
from the 15th of August to the end of October, the expor¬
tation of the new fruits going on. This period is called the
Bendejd. The harbour is then filled with vessels of all
sizes and flags, and the streets choked with cars and wagons
bringing in the produce of the fields. Besides the vines and
cereals, the province boasts many tropical products: the
sugar-cane, called indigenous, is grown along the E. coast
from 1 orrox to Velez Malaga; the Malaga yam or batata,
oranges, lemons, figs, &c., are cultivated. Silk is reared, and
cochineal to some extent, though the exposure to the N.W.
winds is not favourable to the necessary plantation of cactus.
Were the land not so heavily burdened, and were a better
system of agriculture adopted, this province would be ren¬
dered infinitely more productive. Sheep, hogs, and goats,
are reared in the mountainous ranges. The horses are not
so good as those of Lower Andalusia. Formerly, in the oak
woods around Malaga, a vast quantity of hogs were reared,
and bacon exported ; but these woods have given place to
the vine, olive, &c., which clothe the hills to their summits.
Ihere is abundance of small game, hares, rabbits, par¬
tridges, and quails, in their season.
Ihere are in the town, manufactories of soap, leather,
and linen cloths; but by far the most important and re¬
markable are the iron foundries, particularly that called
La Constancia, which took its rise, in 1826, from the dis¬
covery of the abundant mines of Sierra Blanca, near Mar-
bella. A company was formed, and workmen brought from
Biscay, Piedmont, Belgium, and France; but after nume¬
rous and costly endeavours, it was found that the result
did not cover the outlay, and the works were on the point
of being abandoned, when one of the directors, Don Manuel
Heredia, took the whole management and burden upon him¬
self, introduced the English method of smelting the iron
with coal, and brought over a number of English workmen.
The iron is made at Marbella, and brought to Malaga to be
refined. There are two foundries in Malaga for this purpose:
the tall chimney of one is a conspicuous object from the bay.
Including the Marbella works, there are about 3000 ope¬
ratives employed in this manufacture. The mines are very
productive, and might supply all Spain with iron. There
are, besides, in the province eighteen mines of lead and
some of graphite. In Las Chapas, district of Ogen, argen¬
tiferous lead ore has been discovered, but in too small quan¬
tities. Copper and nickel are also found. There are quar¬
ries of marble and various other stones, among which the
famous stone of Mijas, a kind of opaque agate. There is
an annual fair in Malaga, commencing on the 8th of Sep¬
tember, and lasting eight days, held in the Alameda (shaded
walk) de Olletas. It is not much frequented.
Malaga is the Malaka of Strabo, a word which has been
variously derived. By some, through the Phoenician, it is re¬
ferred to the quantities of salted fish for which it was cele¬
brated. Wilh. Humboldt says it is of Basque origin, mean¬
ing the slope of a hill. At all events, the foundation of the
town is universally attributed to the Phoenicians. From the
Carthaginians, in whose hands its commerce flourished, it
was wrested by the Romans, who conferred on it the title of
Civitas Federata. The Roman remains found in the city
107
Malaga.
108
M A L
Malagrida an(i environs are innumerable. (Ponz. Viage.') It was taken
Malcolm Possess>on by the Arabs, without opposition, after the dis-
v * astrous battle of Guadalcte, and is mentioned as one of the
^ Y most important cities of Andalusia in the division made of
Spain by Jusuf, in 747. It was attached to the caliphate
of Cordoba; but on the fall of this caliphate with the dy¬
nasty of Omia in 1015, it became the seat of an indepen¬
dent kingdom, with various fortune. In 1487 it was wrested
from the Moors by Ferdinand and Isabella, after under¬
going all the horrors of a protracted siege. In 1810 the
city suffered much from the French general Sebastiani
having offered an ineffectual resistance. In 1834 it was
the theatre of a melancholy tragedy. General Torrijos and
forty-nine Liberals suffered military execution on the 11th
of December in that year. A monument has since been
erected to their memory. The population of Malaga in
1847 amounted to 68,577.
MALAGRIDA, Gabriel, an Italian Jesuit, was born
in 1689. Having entered the Order of Jesus, he was de¬
spatched by that fraternity to Lisbon. There, in process
of time, he raised himself to notoriety by his pretensions to
sanctity and supernatural intercourse with heaven. Yet
this very prominence subjected him to a greater amount of
the suspicion with which the government of Portugal at
that period regarded the Jesuits. Accordingly, in 1758,
Malagrida was apprehended on the charge of being privy
to a conspiracy against the crown. Instead of being ar¬
raigned before a civil tribunal, he was delivered into the
power of the Inquisition. Accused before that court of hav¬
ing written two books relating his interviews with the Virgin
Mary and her mother St Anne, Malagrida was condemned
as a heretic, and was burnt at the stake in September 1761.
MALAR, a lake of Sweden, stretching westward from
the Baltic, and lying between the laens of Westeras, Up-
sala, Nykbping, and Stockholm. Unlike most other lakes,
it is made up of a number of smaller lakes united by chan¬
nels, so that, although its length is about 78 miles, and its
average breadth 12, there is scarcely throughout this whole
extent a sheet of water of a mile square. It is studded
with islands to the number of about 1300 ; and it sends a
great many branches into the land, all of which are navi¬
gable. The level of the water is nearly the same as that
of the Baltic, and numerous steamers ply upon it to and
from Stockholm, which is situate at the eastern extremity
on both sides ot the lake. The convenience of such a sheet
of water for navigation is very great, and its advantages
have been further increased by the Sodertelge and Stroms-
holms canals. The former of these is about two miles
long, and opens up the communication with the Baltic ;
while the latter extends from the western end of the lake,
for 50 miles into the interior, in a northerly direction, and
terminates in the region of the mines in the Lake of Barken.
The scenery of the banks is very beautiful, and there are
many villas and country seats belonging to the inhabitants
of Stockholm.
See Malacca.
ALCOLM, Sir John, G.C.B., the son of a farmer,
was born m May 1769, in the parish of Westerkirk in
Dumfriesshire. At the age of twelve he received a cadet¬
ship in the Indian army; and in April 1783 landed at
Madras, and joined his regiment at Vellore. For some time
he ^as "0ted among his comrades for little else than a
h Sainedfor him the epi-
thet of the Boy Malcolm. But when a war with Tippoo
Saib broke out in 1790, Malcolm, ambitious of obtaining
a diplomatic office, began to improve his imperfect educa-
tion by the study of the languages, especially Persian.
Accordingly, in 1792, when stationed before Seringapatam
he was appointed to the staff in the capacity of Persian in¬
terpreter. Forced by ill health to leave for England in
1794, he employed his leisure in cultivating those literary
M A L
talents which contributed in no small degree to his subse- Malczewg.
quent eminence. On his return to India in 1796, Malcolm ki.
became secretary to Sir Alured Clarke, commander-in-
chief at Madras, and afterwards to his successor, General
Harris. In 1798 his knowledge of the languages and poli¬
tical state of India induced Lord Wellesley, the governor-
general, to appoint him assistant to the resident at Hydera¬
bad. 1 he duties of this office he was soon summoned to
discharge by the rising of a mutinous spirit among the
French troops in the pay of the Nizam. Displaying great
coolness and decision, he surrounded the malcontents with
a body of 1500 horse, and, without firing a shot, forced
them to lay down their arms and disperse. In 1799, be¬
neath the walls of Seringapatam, began his intimacy with
Arthur Wellesley, which in a short time ripened into a
lasting friendship. During the same year he acted as
secretary to the commission appointed to settle the Mysore
government. About this period Lord Wellesley held the
current opinion that Bonaparte’s movements in Egypt and
Palestine tended towards an invasion of the British posses¬
sions in India. Accordingly, he despatched Malcolm on an
embassy to Persia for the purpose of forming an alliance with
that country. Arriving at Teheran in December 1800,
Malcolm so influenced the Persian courtiers by his liber¬
ality and imposing address, that a treaty was struck, in
which Persia agreed to repel the French should they ever
attempt to enter her boundaries. At the close of the Mah-
ratta war in 1804, when General Arthur Wellesley had
succeeded, by a rapid succession of brilliant victories, in re¬
storing the peishwa to his ancient supremacy, Malcolm was
employed in negotiating with the conquered enemy. In
1807 and 1810 respectively, he was once more sent as am¬
bassador to Persia; but beyond the information which he
afterwards incorporated in his history of that country, his
missions were attended with no substantial result. Mal¬
colm sailed for England in 1811, and shortly after his ar¬
rival in 1812 he received the honour of knighthood. His
interval of leisure he devoted to the composition of the
History of Persia, a work which was published in 1815 in
2 vols. 4to. No sooner had he returned to India in 1817,
than he was nominated the governor-general’s political
agent, and brigadier-general under Sir T. Hislop. In this
latter capacity he served against the Mahrattas and the Pin-
darees, and bore so distinguished a part in the victory of
Mehidpoor, that he shared in the thanks that were awarded
to his commander by the British Parliament. With no less
success did he attempt to introduce peace and prosperity
into the district of Malwah, of which he had been appointed
governor. In 1821 Sir John Malcolm returned once more
to England; but on being appointed in 1827 governor of
Bombay, he repaired again to India. The influence of this
new office was directed to the promotion of cotton and silk
cultivation, and to the establishment of steam communica¬
tion with England. He left India for the last time in 1830 ;
and shortly alter his arrival in England became M.P. for
Launceston. He died of paralysis in May 1833. Besides
the work mentioned above, Sir John Malcolm wrote,—
Sketch of the Political History of India since the Intro¬
duction of Mr Pitt's Bill in 1784 to the present date, 8vo,
London, 1811 ; Sketch of the Sikhs, 8vo, 1812; Observa¬
tions on the Disturbances in the Madras Army, 8vo, 1812;
Persia, a Poem, 8vo, 1814; and a posthumous work, Life
of Lord Clive, 1836. The Life and Correspondence of
Major- General Sir John Malcolm, G. C.B., was published
by John W. Kaye, 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1856.
MALCZEWSKI, Antoni, an eminent Polish poet, was
born about 1792 in Volhynia. At the age of nineteen he
entered the Polish army, and was afterwards in the suite of
the Emperor Alexander I. until 1816, when, owing to a
duel which he had fought, he was forced to quit the service.
After travelling for the next five years in Switzerland, Italy,
M A L
Mai da and France, he settled in the Ukraine as a farmer, and de-
Maldive. vo^e<^ I1*8 ^sure hours to poetry. Compelled, however, by
c ^ voice of scandal to leave that district, he removed with
a diminished fortune to Moscow. He died there in great
poverty in 1826. Malczewski’s principal poem, Maria, a
Tale of the Ukraine, was published at Warsaw shortly before
his death. It was printed in the original in London in
1836.
MALI)A, a town of Hindustan, in the lieutenant-gover¬
norship of Bengal, situate on a river which communicates
with the Ganges. The manufactures which were formerly
carried on in this town have disappeared before the superior
cheapness of those brought from the United Kingdom, and
the place has in consequence greatly deteriorated. The
district to which this place gives its name is bounded on
the N. by Purneah, on the E. by Dinajepore, on the S. by
Rajeshahye, and on the W. by Moorshedabad. It has an
area of 1000 square miles, and a population of upwards of
400,000. The town of Malda is in E. Lon«-. 88 11 N
Lat. 25.3. ° ’
MALDIVE, or Malediva Islands, a remarkable group
of islands in the Indian Ocean, extending almost in a
straight line between Lat. 7. 6. N. and 0. 40. S., Lono-. 72
48. and 73. 48. E.; 466 geographical miles in length^ and
46 or 48 miles in breadth. These islands lie in circular
groups or atolls, formed by coral reefs, and divided from
each other by channels of great depth. The water inside
the atolls is generally shallow and calm, though on the
surrounding reefs the waves beat with considerable vio-
lence. The reefs are not unbroken, and there are many
openings which permit the entrance of ships; while the
depth within is in most cases sufficient to allow them to
cross from one part to another. Four safe channels through
the Maldives have been explored by European vessels, and
there are other two which are believed to be safe, but
which have not as yet been explored. The number of
the atolls is 17, and the islands, which are situate for the
most part on the coral reefs, are reckoned by the natives to
be 12,000 in number, but are believed to amount in reality
to three or four times as many. The name is believed to be
derived from two words in the Malabar language signifying
a thousand islands, from their great number. The atolls are
generally circular or oval in their shape, and their circum¬
ference is on an average 90 miles. The largest island is
Mali, N. Lat. 4. 10., E. Long. 73. 40. It is about 7 miles
in circumference, and has a population of about 1500 or
2000. The islands are all of a circular form, and are cha¬
racterized by a lagoon or lake in the centre, which is found
even in the smallest of them.
The soil is sandy, mixed with vegetable remains; and at
the depth of about 3 feet a layer of sandstone occurs. All
the islands of any size are richly clothed with palms, fig
trees, bread-fruit trees, &c., and they are all covered with
a thick jungle. On some of them there are plantations of
Indian corn and sugar-canes, and a small quantity of cotton
is grown, together with millet; but as the soil is not adapted
to the growth of rice and wheat, these grains are imported.
The food of the inhabitants consists chiefly of fish and
cocoa-nuts. A small number of cattle are kept on some of
the islands of the largest atolls; but there are no sheep or
goats. Notwithstanding their tropical situation, the climate
of these islands is not remarkable for great heat; the nights
are cool, and the plentiful dews prevent the temperature
from exceeding a moderate degree of heat. The inhabi¬
tants have attained to some degree of civilization, and carry
on a considerable amount of commerce among themselves
and with the mainland of India. The different islands have
each a peculiar trade of their own, and the communication
is kept up by means of boats. The commerce with India
is also carried on chiefly by native boats, for though Indian
vessels used formerly to frequent these islands, the navi-
M A L 109
gation was found to be so difficult and dangerous, that this Maldon
practice has been discontinued. The principal articles of II
export are cocoa-nuts and cowries, together with quanti- Male'
ties of salt fish ; while grain, cotton, silk, tobacco, and various vbranche-
other European goods are imported. The inhabitants are
quiet and inoffensive, and little accustomed to war. They
are strict Mussulmans ; but, contrary to the usual practice in
such countries, the women are not kept in seclusion. The
people are governed by a monarch, who is styled Sultan of
the Thirteen Atolls and Twelve Thousand Isles, but who
acknowledges his dependence on the British government of
Ceylon, to which he annually sends tribute. Pop. of the
whole group, from 150,000 to 200,000.
MALDON, a municipal and parliamentary borough and
market-town, county of Essex, on the right bank of the
Chelmer, about a mile from its junction with the Black-
water, 37 miles N.E. by E. of London by road, and 44 miles
by the Eastern Counties Railway. It consists of two prin-
cipal stieets, crossing each other at right angles, the largest
of which runs from E. to W., and is upwards of a mile in
length. The town is only partially paved, but is well lighted
with gas, and excellently supplied with water. The build¬
ings are mostly of ancient date, but many handsome struc¬
tures may be seen of recent erection. Among the public
buildings the chief is All Saints Church, a very ancient
edifice. I here is also an ancient town-hall, supposed to
have been built in the time of Henry VI. The town pos¬
sesses also a tree grammar school with a library, which was
founded by Alderman Breeder in 1608, besides minor edu¬
cational and several charitable institutions. The harbour,
which is formed by the River Blackwater, is accessible to
vessels of 200 tons burden, while those of a larger size are
loaded by means of lighters in the offing. The town drives
a thriving trade in salt, coal, iron, corn, &c. There is also
a good deal of fishing, and fine oysters are got in great
abundance here. There are in the town malt-houses,
bieweries, boat-building yards, sail-lofts, cooperages, soap-
works, and iron foundries. The market-day is Thursday;
and fairs are held twice a year, in May and September,
d he borough is governed by four aldermen and twelve
councillors, and sends two members to Parliament. This
town is supposed to be the ancient Camulodunum, from
which its modern name seems to have been derived. It
was the earliest colony established by the Romans in Britain,
and had formerly been the seat of some native princes.
Pop. (1851) 5888.
MALDONADO, a seaport-town of Uruguay, South
America, on the N.E. shore of the estuary of the Rio de la
Plata, 72 miles E. of Monte Video, S. Lat. 34. 53. 30., W.
Long. 54. 57. 48. The town is situate about 2 miles from
the sea, on an elevation rising to the height of 250 feet, and
consists chiefly of brick houses thatched with straw. There
is a large square in the centre, occupied by the principal
buildings, among which is a new church. A considerable
amount of trade in cattle and hides is carried on here; and
the harbour, which is separated from the town by a ridge of
sandy hillocks, is protected by the island of Gorriti. ^The
surrounding country is an open plain, slightly undulating,
and affording excellent pasturage for horses and cattle.
Pop. about 1500.
MALEBRANCHE, Nicolas, a distinguished philoso¬
pher of trance, was the son of Nicolas Malebranche, secre¬
tary to tie Fiench king, and Catherine de Lauzon, sister to
the viceroy of Canada, and was born at Paris on the 6th
August 16^8. Of an extremely feeble constitution and
deformed habit of body, he received his elementary educa-
l?n ror*la (lornestic tutor, and only left the parental roof
" len sufficiently advanced to enter upon a course of philo-
sop y at the college of La Marche, and subsequently to
study theology at the Sorbonne. He resolved to enter the
chuich; and his retiring and studious disposition having
110
Male-
sherbes.
-—,—'
M A L
induced him to decline the offer of a canonicate in Notre
Dame, he, in 1660, entered the famous Congregation of the
Oratoire. Up to the age of twenty-six, Malebranche applied
himself painfully to the study of ecclesiastical history and
biblical criticism; but as he had no taste for such investi¬
gations, his efforts met with little success. Having acci¬
dentally fallen upon the Traite de VHomme of Descartes,
Malebranche became alive to his true vocation. He was
so overpowered by the novelty and luminousness of the
ideas, and by the solidity and coherence of the principles
of that admirable work, that he was repeatedly compelled,
from violent palpitations of the heart, to desist from reading
it. Malebranche was from that hour consecrated to philo¬
sophy ; and after ten years’ profound study of the works of
Descartes, he produced his celebrated Recherche de la
Verite. This work has for its object an inquiry into the
faculties of the human understanding, thereby to determine
articulate rules for the avoidance of error and the advance¬
ment of truth. It contains the germs of all the metaphy¬
sical theories developed in Malebranche’s subsequent pub¬
lications, and especially in his Metaphysical and Christian
Meditations, and his Discourses on Metaphysics and Reli¬
gion. All his works are characterized by originality of
conception, elevation of doctrine, and beauty of style ; and
on their first appearance they met with an extraordinary
degree of success. As a writer, Malebranche is placed by
the ablest critics side by side with Fenelon ; and, singular
to say, while vehemently declaiming against the imagination
and the study of poetry, there is no writer who has employed
that noble faculty with such charming success in giving a
grandeur and a glow to the subtlest metaphysical disquisi¬
tions, and in lending an attractiveness to the coldest abstrac¬
tions of the reason. His dialogue between the creature and
the Creator, in his Meditations, reaches the highest pitch of
eloquence and inspiration. Malebranche was less success¬
ful in polemics than in pure speculation and in the free
expression of his doctrines. He liked better to dogmatize
than to discuss ; yet after the publication of the Recherche
de la Verite, he was dragged, in spite of himself, into a
perfect whirlpool of polemics. Like the majority of the
great philosophers of the seventeenth century, Malebranche
was a mathematician and a natural philosopher; and he was
in 1699 chosen an honorary member of the Academy of
Sciences. His society was universally courted, and few
foreigners of any pretensions to learning neglected, when
in Paris, to visit the eloquent philosopher, who had, by his
hypothesis of seeing all things in God, offered such an
ingenious solution of the harassing problem of external per¬
ception. His health, never robust, became daily weaker,
until he was at last reduced to a skeleton. He died on the
13th of October 1715, “a tranquil spectator,” says Fonte-
nelle, “ of this long death.” (For a full and detailed critical
exposition of the philosophy of Malebranche, see the First
Preliminary Dissertation to the present work, p. 74, et seq.)
The following is a list of Malebranche’s works:—Re¬
cherche de la Verite, 12mo, Paris, 1674. Six successive
editions of this work received the author’s corrections and
additions, and it was translated into Latin, English, and
modern Greek. Conversations Metaphysiques et Chre-
tiennes, 12mo, Paris, 1677; Traite de la Nature et de la
Grace, Amst., 12mo, 1680; Meditations Metaphysiques et
Chretiennes, 12mo, Cologne, 1683; Traite de Morale,
12mo, 1684; Entretiens sur la Metaphysique et sur la
Religion, 12mo, 1688 ; Traite sur VAmour de Dieu, 12mo,
1697; Entretiens d’un Philosophe Chretien et d!un Philo-
sophe Chinois, 1708 ; Reponses de Malehranche d Arnauld,
4 vols. 12mo, 1709 ; Reflexions sur la Premotion Physique,
12mo, 1715. (See L,Eloge de Malebranche, by Fontenelle;
Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques; and the Bio¬
graphic Universellei)
MALESHERBES,.Chretien Guillaume de Lamoig-
M A L
NON de, minister and last counsel to Louis XVL, was Male*
born at Paris on the 6th of December 1721. He was sherbes.
descended of an illustrious family, which had occupied
the highest offices in the magistracy, being son of the
chancellor of France, William de Lamoignon, and grandson
of the celebrated advocate-general Lamoignon. His early
education he received at the Jesuits’ College, and after¬
wards applied himself with great assiduity to the study of
law, history, and political economy. He was chosen a
counsellor of the parliament of Paris at the age of twenty-
four, and succeeded his father as president of the Court of
Aids in the year 1750, and received the superintendence of
the press, which, in his hands, became the means of pro¬
moting liberty to a degree beyond all former example in
that country. Through his favour, the Encyclopedic, the
works of Rousseau, and many other free speculations, issued
from the press, in defiance of the terrific anathemas of the
Sorbonne. The superintendence of the press having been
taken from him, and conferred upon Maupeou, he was only
the more intent on fulfilling the duties of his presidentship,
and opposing arbitrary power. Flaving presented a remon¬
strance to the king, containing a free protest against the
enormous abuses of lettres de cachet, he was banished to
his country seat by a lettre de cachet, and the Due de
Richelieu, at the head of an armed force, abolished the tri¬
bunal. On the accession of Louis XVI. to the throne in
1774, he was chosen minister of state. In this elevated
station he was only ambitious to extend the sphere of his
usefulness. His first care was to restore to liberty the in¬
nocent victims of the former reign, and to encourage com¬
merce and agriculture—endeavours in which he was sup¬
ported by Turgot, comptroller-general of the revenue. He
resigned his office in the month of May 1776. He then set
out upon a journey through France, Switzerland, and Hol¬
land, and after an absence of some years, he returned to
his favourite mansion, fraught with such a stock of valuable
knowledge as his age and experience qualified him to ap¬
preciate. When, by a decree of the National Convention,
Louis was to be tried for his life, Malesherbes, nobly forget¬
ting the manner in which he had been banished from his
councils, generously offered to plead his cause. He was
the person who announced to the unfortunate monarch his
cruel fate, and one of the last who took leave of him when
taken out to suffer. In the first days of December 1793,
three members of a revolutionary committee of Paris came
to his country seat to arrest his eldest daughter and his
son-in-law M. de Rosambo, and next day new emissaries
appeared, and carried him off with his children. The tri¬
bunal of blood would scarcely deign to hear him who had
been so long the oracle of justice, and by whom so many
victims had been saved from death. Malesherbes heard
his sentence without emotion, and marched to death with
ui disturbed serenity. He perished by the guillotine, with
hi whole family, at the age of seventy-two, on the 22d of
April 1794.
Grave errors may be laid to the charge of Malesherbes,
but all of these had their source in that love of good which
in him was as much a passion as a principle- Malesherbes
left a number of MSS. which were dispersed by the
vandalism of the Revolution, particularly Observations sur
le Meleze, sur le Bois de Sainte Lucie, sur les Pins, sur
les Orchis ; Memoire sur les Moyens d’Accelerer les Pro-
gres de VEconomie Rurale en France ; Idees d un Agri-
culteur, fyc.; Memoire pour Louis XVI. ; Observations
sur VHistoire Naturelle de Buffon et Daubenton ; Me¬
mories sur la Librairie et la Liberte de la Presse ; Intro¬
duction d la Botanique; three letters in the Journal des
Savants on the geological phenomena of the environs of
Malesherbes. Under the title of CEuvres Choisies have
been printed (Paris, 1809) extracts from his most cele¬
brated remonstrances; and we have also Pensees et
M A L
Malherbe Maximes de M. de Malesherbes suivies de Reflexions sur
(I les Lettres de Cachet, 1802, in 12mo.
Ma et^ MALHERBE, Francois de, a celebrated French poet,
" v^ descended of a noble and ancient family, was born at Caen
in 1555. He completed his studies at Heidelberg and
Basle; and having quitted Normandy at the age of seven¬
teen, he went into Provence, where he attached himself to
the family of Henri d’Angouleme, the natural son of
Henri II., and was in the service of that prince till he was
killed by Altoviti in 1586. After having served in the
wars of the League he returned to Paris, and wrote an ode
on the arrival of Marie de’ Medici, which established his
poetical reputation. At length, Cardinal du Perron being
informed of his merit and abilities, introduced him to
Henri IV., who took him into his service. After the death
of that monarch, his widow, Marie de’ Medici, settled a
pension of 500 crowns upon our poet, Mho died at Paris in
1628. Malherbe so far excelled all the French poets who
preceded him, that Boileau considers him as the father of
French poetry. He had a delicate ear, a very refined taste,
and was singularly scrupulous in the choice of his expres¬
sions. His poetry is remarkable for graceful and elegant
versification, but is deficient in reach of thought and power
of imagination. (See (Euvres de Malherbe, 1 vol. 4to,
Paris, 1797; also Vie de Malherbe, by Racan.)
MALLET, David, the author of the ballad of William
and Margaret, was the son of a small innkeeper at Crieff,
in Perthshire, and was born about the year 1700. His real
name was Malloch, and he is supposed to have been a de¬
scendant of the proscribed clan of Macgregor. According
to the most recent account, he studied first at Aberdeen^
and afterwards at Edinburgh, and while attending the uni¬
versity in the latter city he became tutor to the sons of
the Duke of Montrose. Accompanying his pupils to Lon¬
don, and on a tour through the Continent, and coming in
contact with persons of the highest rank, Mallet gradually
acquired that knowledge of the world, and that refinement
of manners, which were, perhaps, the chief stepping-stones
to his subsequent eminence. He fixed his residence in
London; and in-1724 published, in No. 36 of the Plain
Dealer, his ballad of William and Margaret, the work
by which he is now best remembered. The spirit of
this piece seems to have been caught from the two old bal¬
lads, William's Ghaist and Fair Margaret, yet there is
sufficient originality in its simple feeling and graceful dic¬
tion to entitle Mallet to be called its author. It was about
this time, when he was moving in the society of the chief
wits of the day, and was desirous of expunging every
trace of his humble origin, and even of his native country,
that Mallet assumed the name by which he is now known.
In 1728 appeared his Excursion, a servile imitation of
the style of Thomson, who was then becoming known to
the world. His poem on Verbal Criticism, published in
1773, was a satire on Bentley, written to please Pope.
About this period Frederick Prince of Wales, who was at
variance with his father, and was courting popularity by
patronizing literary men, appointed Mallet his under-se¬
cretary, with a salary of L.200; and in 1740 employed him,
conjointly with Thomson, to write The Masque of Alfred,
in honour of the birthday of the Princess Augusta. This
piece Mallet afterwards entirely altered, and produced,
without any great success, on the stage of Drury Lane. Jn
1742 he married his second wife, the daughter of Lord Car¬
lisle’s steward, and received L. 10,000 as her dowry. Not
content witl- the liberal fortune which he now possessed,
Mallet was yet mercenary enough to become the hired
tool of any one. He was employed by Lord Bolingbroke,
m 1749 to traduce his deceased patron Pope, in a preface
to that nobleman’s Patriot King, and received as his
paltry payment the bequest of his lordship’s works. With
equal servility did he lend himself to government for the.
M A L
purpose of directing the public vengeance against the ill-
fated Admiral Byng. The admiral was shot in 1757
and Mallet received a pension. Towards the close of his
life Mallet repaired to France for the benefit of his health,
but on feeling that his constitution was rapidly giving way*,
he returned to England, and died soon afterwards, in April
1765. The base character of the man was now revealed
in glaring distinctness. It was discovered that a Life of the
great Duke of Marlborough, which he had been hired to
write by a legacy of L.1000 from the old duchess, and. by
a pension from the second duke, and which he had pro¬
fessed during his latter years to be composing, was not
even begun.
Mallet was an avowed infidel. .<£ As a writer,” says Dr
Johnson, “ he cannot be placed in any high class. t There
is _ no species of composition in which he was eminent.
His diamas had their day—a short day—and are forgotten;
his blank verse seems to my ear the echo of Thomson.”
Besides the works already mentioned, Mallet wrote Eury-
dice, Mustapha, and Elvira, tragedies; Britannia, a
masque; Amyntor and Theodora, a poem; and a Life of
Bacon. His Ballads and Songs, ivith Notes and Illustra¬
tions, accompanied by a Memoir by Frederick Dinsdale
were published in London, 1857.
Mallet, Paul-Henri, an eminent historian, was born
at Geneva in 1130, of a family distinguished for the
great number of notable men whom it has produced. After
completing his education with marked success, he became
tutor to the Count of Calenberg, and in/1752 was ap¬
pointed regius professor of belles-lettres in the university
of Copenhagen. The duties devolving on Mallet in this
position were discharged with signal ability; but as the
French language was notmuch cultivated in Denmark at that
time, the number of his auditors was for the most part very
limited. He employed his leisure time in the study of the
old Norse language, and brought to light many important
historical facts respecting the ancient inhabitants of the
north, almost entirely unknown to their descendants of
Denmark or the Scandinavian peninsula. The reception
which his work met among the learned drew upon the pro¬
fessor the attention of the king, who appointed him instruc¬
tor in the French language and literature to the young
prince, afterwards Christian VII. In 1760 Mallet returned
to his native city ; and after having filled the chair of history
in the college of Geneva for four years with distinguished
success, he was chosen a member of the Council of the Two
Hundred. Unmistakeable marks of admiration flowed in
upon Mallet from persons of rank and distinction ; from
the landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, from the Czarina of Rus¬
sia, and from the Earl of Bute, whose son, Lord Mount-
stewart, Mallet accompanied to Italy, and afterwards to
England, where he was presented to the royal family, and
was asked by the queen to write a history of the House of
Brunswick. On returning to his native country, Mallet re¬
solved to spend the evening of his days in studious retire¬
ment and tranquillity, when, in 1792, the revolution of Ge¬
neva, in which he warmly espoused the cause of the aris¬
tocratic party, deprived him of what moderate fortune his
talents had purchased. Owing to the events of the war,
the pensions which he had received from the English queen
and from the landgrave of Hesse ceased to be forthcoming;
but the government of France, on being made aware of the
circumstance, granted Mallet an allowance, which he did
not live long to enjoy. He died at Geneva, of an attack
of paralysis, on the 8th of February 1807.
Mallet was an associate of the Academy of Inscriptions
of France, a member of the academies of Upsal, Lyons, and
Gassel,, and of the Celtic Society. His principal works arer
—Introduction d VHistoire de Danemark, ou Von Traite de
la Religion, des Mceurs, des Lois, et des Usages des Anciens
Danois, Copenhagen, 1755-56. This work, the most po-
111
Mallet.
112 M A L
Mallet- pular of Mallet’s in this country, was translated into English
Prevost an{j extended by Bishop Percy in 1770, and has recently
Malmedv ^een republished, with further additions by Blackwell, in
v / Bohn’s Antiquarian Library, under the title of Mallet's
Northern Antiquities. The Histoire de Danemark, from
A.D. 714 to 1699, Copenhagen, 1758-65-77, 3 vols.4to ; De
la Forme du Gouvernement de Suede, avec quelques Pieces
Originates, contenant les Lois Fondamentales et le Droit
Public de ce Royaume, Copenhagen, 1756, 8vo ; Histoire de
laMaison de Hesse, 1766-85, 4 vols. 8vo ; Histoire de la
Maison de Brunswick, 1767-85, 4 vols. 8vo ; Des Interets
et des Devoirs d'un Republicain, par un Citoyen de Raguse,
Inverdun, 1770, 8vo ; Histoire de la Maison et des Flats de
Mecklenbourg, Schwerin, 1796, 1 vol. 4to: it only came
down to 1503, and was never finished. Histoire des Suis-
ses ou Helvetiens, Geneva, 1803, 4 vols. 8vo; Histoire de
la Ligue Hanseatique, Geneva, 1805, 8vo ; Memoirs sur
la Literature du Nord, Copenhagen, 1759-60, 6 vols. 8vo.
Also a Traduction du Voyage de Will. Coxe en Pologne,
Russie, Suede, et Danemark, Geneva, 1786, 4 vols. 8vo,
with the Voyage en Norvege. He also published a new
and enlarged edition of the Dictionnaire de la Suisse, by
Tscharner, Geneva, 1788, 3 vols. 8vo. (See De la Vie
et des Ecrits de P. H. Mallet, by I. C. L. S. Sismondi, Ge¬
neva, 1807, 8vo.)
Mallet-Preyost, Henri, the eldest brother of the pre¬
ceding, was a geographer of some note, born at Geneva
in 1727, and died at the same place in 1811.
Mallet-Dupan, Jacques, kinsman of the former, and
a royalist writer of great power and originality during the
French revolution, was born at Geneva in 1749. He was
one of the conductors of t\\e Mercure de France, and edited
the Mercure Britannique, published in London during his
residence in that city in 1798-99. He died at Richmond
in 1800. (See Memoirs and Correspondence of Mallet-
Dupan, by Sayous, 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1852.)
MALLICOLLO, or Manicola, one of the largest of
the New Hebrides group of islands in the South Pacific,
in S. Lat. 16. 30., and E. Long. 167.57. It is about 54 miles
in length, and from 15 to 21 in breadth, while it rises to a
considerable height. A great part of the surface is covered
with forests. Mallicollo was discovered by Quiros in 1606,
and visited by Cook in 1774. The inhabitants are diminu¬
tive, ugly, and in the lowest state of barbarism.
MALLOW, a parliamentary borough and market-town,
county of Cork, Ireland, situate on the N. bank of the
Blackwater, 19 miles N.N.W. of Cork, and 145 miles S.W.
of Dublin. The high road between Cork and Limerick
crosses the river here by a bridge of three arches, at the
other end of which stands the suburb of Ballydaheen, in¬
cluded in the parliamentary borough. The town consists
of one main street nearly parallel with the river, and is well
paved, and lighted with gas. The principal buildings are,—
a parish church, a Roman Catholic chapel, two Methodist
chapels, an Independent meeting-house, an infirmary, court-
house, bridewell, workhouse, spa-house, and barrack. To
the vV .of the town are to be seen the ruins of an old castle ;
the whole of the surrounding country is rich and fer-
tde, and contains a number of gentlemen’s houses. The
town has no manufactures of importance, nor is the river na¬
vigable ; but a considerable retail trade is carried on here,
and a great number of visitors are attracted by the mineral
spring which formerly enjoyed the reputation of a holy well,
and is still highly prized in cases of dyspepsia, &c. (See
Cork County.) In the neighbourhood of the city there
are several large flour-mills, and in the town itself tan¬
neries and salt-works. I he borough sends one member to
Parliament ; and the population in 1851 was 5436. Re¬
gistered electors (1853) 243.
MALMEDY, a town of Prussia, province of Lower
Rhine, and government of Aix-la-Chapelle, stands 21 miles
M A L
S.S.W. of the town of that name, on the S. bank of the Malmes-
Warge. It has three churches, one of them very hand- bury,
some, a school, and a justice-of-peace court. The manu- William of
factures consist chiefly of cotton and woollen stuffs, leather, S
lace, paper, soap, and glue. There are here also mineral
springs, little inferior in quality to those of Spa, but not ‘ ,
much frequented. Pop. (1849) 4259.
MALMESBURY, William of, an old English histo¬
rian, descended by his father’s side from the Normans, and
by his mother’s from the Saxons, was barn in Somersetshire
about 1095 or 1096. At an early age he entered the
monastery of Malmesbury, where he subsequently became
librarian and precentor. He is also said to have declined
the abbotship. From his youth Malmesbury was an en¬
thusiastic devotee of literature. He explored the chief
monastic libraries in the kingdom, and with equal ardour
perused books of poetry, divinity, biography, and history.
His care in correcting his style is seen by the changes in
the four several editions of his De Gestis Regum that ap¬
peared during his lifetime; and no less evident in his writ¬
ings is his scrupulous regard for historic truth. His nume¬
rous and apposite quotations from Latin authors show that
he possessed an acquaintance with their works alike wide
and intimate. Malmesbury was in high repute in his own
day, and was patronized and befriended by Robert Earl of
Gloucester, natural son of Henry I. The date of his death
is generally fixed at 1143; but the fact that his Historice
Novellce, published in 1142, was afterwards subjected to a
thorough revisal and emendation, evidently from his own
hand, seems to indicate that he must have lived consider¬
ably longer.
The following is a list of his works ;—Be Gestis Regum ; Historice
Novellce; De Gestis Pontificum ; Be Vita Aldhelmi; Be Vita S. Bun-
stani ; Vita S. Patricii ; Miraeula S. Benigni ; Passio S. Indracti;
Be Antiquitate Glastoniensis Ecclesice; Vita S. Wulstani Episcopi
Wigorniensis ; Chronica ; Miraeula S. Elfgifce ; Itinerarium Joannis
Abbatis Meldunensis versus Romam; Expositio Threnorum Hieremice ;
Be Miraculis Bivce Marice; De Serie Evangelistarum, in verse; Be
Miraculis B. Andrece ; Abbrevatio Amalarii de Ecclesiasticis OJiciis,
and Epitome Historice Aimonis Eioriacensis. Malmesbury's Be Gestis
Regum, Historice Novellce, and De Gestis Pontificum, were published
by Savile in his Scriptores post Bedam, 1596 and 1601. The Be
Vita Aldhelmi and the De Antiquitate Ecclesice Glastoniensis ap¬
peared in Gale’s Scriptores XV., Oxford, 1691. The former of
these works and the Vita S. Wulstani are printed in the second
volume of Wharton’s Anglia Sacra. In 1815 was published The
History of the Kings of England, and the Modern History of William
Malmesbury, translated by the Rev. John Sharpe, 4to, London. This
translation has been reprinted in Bohn’s Antiquarian Library, 1847.
MALMESBURY, a parliamentary borough and market-
town of England, county of Wiltshire, situate on a hill
near the Avon, which winds almost round it, and is spanned
by several bridges, 17|- miles N.N.W. of Bath, and 86
miles W. of London. The town consists of three main
streets not very regularly laid out. The houses are for the
most part built of stone ; and in the market-place stands
an ancient octagonal cross, richly ornamented with carved
work, supposed to be as early as the reign of Henry VIII.
The town was formerly defended by walls and a castle of
some strength, and it possessed a very large abbey, cover¬
ing 45 acres of ground, of which little now remains except
the church, an excellent specimen of early English archi¬
tecture. Besides this, there is the church of St Mary’s;
and of a third, St Paul’s, little more than the tower now
remains. There are also places of worship belonging to
the Independents, Baptists, and Moravians, two schools, a
savings-bank, and a market-house recently erected. A
considerable amount of wool manufacture was formerly car¬
ried on here, but now the manufactures are unimportant.
There is a silk mill; and tanning, brewing, and lace-making
are carried on to a small extent. The place, however, is on
the decline, and the inhabitants are mainly engaged in agri¬
cultural pursuits. Cattle markets are held here monthly,
M A L
Malmo and three great horse and cattle fairs in the year. The
II market-day is Saturday. The chief importance of Malmes-
a °’ \ bui'Y is derived from its antiquity and historical interest.
According to the ancient chronicles, a monastery was
founded here in the seventh century, which, after being
twice burnt by the Danes in the ninth and tenth centuries^
finally rose to be one of the principal establishments of the
kind in the W. of England, and in the reign of Edward
III. was raised to the dignity of a mitred abbey. In the
time of Stephen the town, which had then been newly for¬
tified, was an object of some contention, and in the civil
war of Charles I. it was taken from the royalists by Sir
William Waller in 1643, but it was soon recovered, and
again taken a short time after. At this time, too, the church
received great injury, and was reduced to its present ruined
state. rI his borough has returned members to Parliament
since the time of Edward I. Previous to the Reform Act
it had two representatives, but the number has now been
reduced to one. 1 he town is famous for its connection
with several writers of eminence. St Aldhelm, a Saxon
writer of the seventh century, and Thomas Hobbes, some¬
times called the u Philosopher of Malmesbury,” were born
here ; and William of Malmesbury, one of the best of me¬
diaeval historians, was, during the greater part of his life, a
monk of the abbey. Pop. (1851) 6998.
MALMO, a seaport-town of Sweden, capital of the laen
or province of the same name, stands on the E. shore of the
Sound, nearly opposite Copenhagen, from which it is 16
miles distant; N. Lat. 55. 40., E. Long. 13. The town,
which stands on a level plain, is well laid out with regular
and well built streets, and has a fine square in the centre.
Malmo was formerly very strongly fortified, being sur¬
rounded by walls and ditches, and protected by a castle;
but the walls have been demolished, and only the castle
now remains, which is used as a prison and barracks. The
square is adorned by a handsome avenue of limes and other
trees ; and the principal buildings in the town are two
churches, one of which has a fine interior and a large organ.
The harbour, which consists of a roadstead and an artificial
inner basin, is only accessible to small vessels. Being, how¬
ever, the principal commercial town in the fertile province
to which it belongs, it carries on an extensive trade, parti¬
cularly in grain and brandy. The manufactures are con¬
siderable, consisting of woollen cloth, starch, gloves, stock-
ings, hats, carpets, tobacco, soap, &c. Steamers ply regu¬
larly between this and Copenhagen, accomplishing the dis¬
tance in two hours. Pop. 10,203. The laen or province
of the same name, of which Malmo is the capital, is one of
the richest in Sweden, and comprises an area of 1774 square
miles. It is bounded by Christianstad on the N. and E.,
by the Baltic on the S., and by the Sound on the W. The
surface is for the most part level, though occasionally
diversified with hills. It includes several lakes. The pro¬
duce of this district consists of corn, potatoes, hemp, hops,
tobacco, and fruits; and the horses and cattle reared here
are said to be the finest in Sweden. Corn and cattle are
the chief articles of export. Pop. of laen (1850) 253,084.
MALO, St, a seaport of France, capital of an arron-
dissement of the same name in the department of Ille-et-
Vilaine, is situated on the island of Aron, which is joined to
the land by a narrow causeway called the Sillon, about three-
quarters of a mile in length, 45 miles N. by W. of Rennes;
Lat. 48. 39. N., Long. 2. 1. W. The harbour is secure,
being sheltered from the sea by the island and the Sillon;
but the great number of rocks render the approach both
difficult and dangerous. To the W. of the town there is a
roadstead, which is separated from the harbour by a chain
of rocks, and defended by seven forts. The harbour is
dry at low water, but has recently been improved by the
formation of a large wet dock. The harbour is much fre¬
quented : vessels are fitted out here for India and for the
VOL. xiv.
M A L
113
whale fisheries, and a good deal of ship-building is carried Malone
on. The chief articles of export are the products of the H
surrounding country, together with straw hats, woollen M<dpigM
and linen fabrics; and it imports sugar, indigo, spices, and v-—
other Indian and Chinese wares. The town is strongly
fortified, the defences being constructed by Vauban. At
the entrance of the town from the Sillon there is an ancient
castle of an imposing appearance, built of granite, and hav¬
ing a strong tower at each corner. The fortifications rise
abruptly from the water’s edge, and the whole surface of
the island is covered by the town. The houses are lofty
and built of stone; and there is a square in the centre, in
which stands the cathedral, the Hotel de Ville, and the
episcopal palace. Not far from the town is St Servan,
which is sometimes considered as a suburb of St Malo.
The manufactures of St Malo consist mainly of sail-cloth,
coidage, fish-hooks, hosiery, and soap. This town seems
to have been founded in the tenth century; but the island
on which it stands was the seat of a monastery as early as the
sixth century. Before the rise of Brest, this town was the
first seaport in France on the ocean ; and Cartier, one of its
seamen, was the discoverer of Canada. During the wars
with Great Britain the privateers of St Malo did so much
injury to their enemies, that the town was three times bom¬
barded by the British, in 1693, 1695, and 1758, but always
without success. Pop. (1851) 9383.
MALONE, Edmund, the well-known editor of Shake-
spere, was the son of an Irish judge, and was born at Dublin
in 1741. After graduating at Trinity College in his native
city, he studied at the Inner Temple, London, and was cal¬
led to the bar in 1 767. Inheriting, however, a competent
fortune, he soon exchanged his professional labours for the
more congenial pursuits of literature. In 1780 Malone
published two supplementary volumes to Stevens’ edition
of Shakespere; and his own edition of the great dramatist,
in 11 volumes 8vo, appeared in 1790. He also, in 1796,
defended the fame of Shakespere by exposing the spurious¬
ness of the MSS. attributed to the poet by the Irelands.
Malone was one of the executors of Sir Joshua Reynolds,
and in 1797 published the works and a memoir of that
great painter. He died in 1812. An edition of his Shake¬
spere, which he had greatly improved during the latter
part of his life, was published in 21 volumes, in 1821, by his
friend Mr James Boswell. His other works are,—Cur¬
sory Observations on the Poems attributed to Thomas
Itowley, 8vo, London, 1782; The Prose Works of John
Dry den, accompanied with a Memoir, 1800; and The
Works of William Gerald Hamilton, with a Sketch of his
Life.
MALPAS, a market-town of England, Cheshire, situate
on an eminence overlooking the Dee, 13 miles S.S.E. from
Chester. It has a fine old parish church, a grammar-
school, and several charitable institutions. The Marquis
of Cholmondeley, whose castle is in the vicinity, takes
the title of viscount from this place. Pop. of parish
(1851) 5710. 1
MALPIGHI, Marcello, an eminent physician and
anatomist, was born near Bologna in 1628. He studied
medicine in that city, and graduated as doctor in 1653.
In 1656 he became professor of medicine in the university
of Bologna, but was promoted during the same year by
Frederick II. of Tuscany to the medical chair at Pisa.
Iheie his intercourse with Borelli, the mathematician,
tended greatly to convince Malpighi of the propriety of
apifiying experimental researches to the study of medicine.
He was soon forced, however, by declining health, to re-
turn to his former situation at Bologna; but in 1666 was
called to the office of principal professor at Messina. The
opposition, however, with which he was assailed by the
advocates of the old school of medicine in that city, in¬
duced Malpighi to resign his chair after an incumbency of
114 M A L
M A L
Malt four years. From Bologna he was summoned in 1691 to
II Rome, to occupy the position of principal physician to
Malta. p0pe jnnocent xil. The discharge of his new duties
was rendered burdensome by attacks of gout, palpitation,
and other diseases, and he died of apoplexy in 1694.
Malpighi’s discoveries relate chiefly to the structure of the
skin and of the secreting glands. He also devoted much
attention to the organization of plants and the lower animals.
His chief works are,— Observationes Anatomicce de Pul-
monibus, Bologna, 1661; Epistolm Anatomicce de Lingua,
de Cerebro, de Externo Tactus Organo, de Omento, de Pin-
guedine et adiposis Ductibus, 12mo, Bologna, 1661-65 ;
De Viscerum Structurd, 4to, Bologna, 1666; Dissertatio
Epistolica de Formatione Pulli in Ovo, 4to, London,
1666-73 ; Dissertatio Epistolica de Eombyce, 4to, London,
1669; and Epistola de Glandulis Conglobatis, 4to, London,
1689. His grand work De Anatome Plantarum appeared
in 1669. A selection of his works, under the title of Opera
Omnia, was published in 2 vols., London, 1686. His Opera
Posthuma, edited by P. Regis, professor at Montpellier,
was published at London in 1697.
MALT. See Brewing, and Distillation.
MALTA (anciently Melita), an island in the Mediter¬
ranean, between Sicily and Africa, 52 miles S.S.W. of Cape
Passaro in Sicily. Length 17 miles, breadth 9 miles, area
98 square miles; N. Lat. (of Valetta) 35. 53., E. Long. 14.
31. It has been supposed by some that this island corre¬
sponds to one or other of those mentioned by Homer in the
Odyssey, but this is exceedingly doubtful. The earliest
historical information we have respecting Malta is, that it
was colonized by the Phoenicians, and used by them as a
station in their long trading voyages to the pillars of Her¬
cules and the Atlantic. At a later period we find the island
mentioned as a Carthaginian colony; and although there
are some traces of a connection between Malta and the
Sicilian Greeks, the particulars of this are not known, nor
is there any reason to believe that it was ever in other hands
than those of the Phoenicians and Carthaginians. In the
first Punic war, Malta was laid waste by the Romans in the
year 257 b.c. ; but it does not seem to have surrendered
finally to that power till the beginning of the second Punic
war, when it was taken by Tiberius Sempronius. It then
became a part of the province of Sicily, and was raised to the
dignity of a municipium. Under the Roman commonwealth
it seems to have been in a flourishing condition. It is now
established beyond all reasonable doubt, that this island was
the scene of the shipwreck of the Apostle Paul. During
the period of the Roman empire little is heard of Malta,
but on the partition of the empire it formed part of the
eastern portion, until it was conquered by the Vandals in
the fifth century. The Romans, however, regained it under
Belisarius in 533 A.D., and kept possession of it till it was
conquered by the Arabs in 870. The Arabs engaged to a
considerable extent in piratical expeditions, by which means
they acquired great wealth, and they retained possession
of the island till they were dispossessed by Count Roger
the Norman in 1090. The government was then put into
the hands of the nobles, clergy, and representatives of the
people, popularly elected. The fortunes of Malta were
now united to those of Sicily, which belonged to the Nor¬
mans from 1090 to 1189, to the German emperors from
1189 to 1258, to trance from 1258 to 1282, and to the
House of Aragon from 1282 till the time of Charles V.,
who inherited it as King of Aragon. That monarch, in
order to secure the island, which was now chiefly important
as a military station, without the expense of maintaining a
garrison, made a grant of Malta and Gozo, along with Tri¬
poli, to the Knights of St John, who had shortly before
been expelled by the Saracens from their former station at
Rhodes. When once firmly established here, it was not
long before the knights were able to render good service
by frequent expeditions against the pirates from Africa
which then infested the Mediterranean. This, however,
did not fail to draw upon them the vengeance of the Turks,
who made an unsuccessful attempt on Malta. This taught
the knights the necessity of securing their position, and
they accordingly constructed the extensive and strong de¬
fences which still remain. The prizes taken by the cruisers
in the expeditions against pirates supplied in a great mea¬
sure the funds required, and the fortifications were con¬
structed by the joint labour of knights, citizens, and pea¬
sants. In the year 1565, while La Valette was grand
master, Solyman sent against Malta a fleet of 159 vessels,
with 30,000 troops, besides a great number of other ships
with provisions, ammunition, &c. The whole number that
could be opposed to these was 700 knights and 8500 Mal¬
tese soldiers. The attack on the castle of St Elmo, which
was defended by 300 knights and 1300 Maltese, commenced
on the 24th of May. The besieged defended themselves
with great courage and vigour, their most formidable wea¬
pons being large hoops covered with inflammable materials,
which were set on fire, and then hurled blazing from the
walls among the assailants. In the first attack the Turks
lost 3000 men, and the Christians only 20 knights and 100
Maltese; but the losses of the besieged were supplied by
La Valette with others from the burgh and St Angelo, as
long as the communication was left open. At length the
furious and incessant cannonade of the Turks had levelled
the walls of the castle to the rock on which they stood.
On this a general assault was again made with the utmost
fury; but it was withstood by the knights with equal cou¬
rage and determination, and although the loss of the knights
was great, they were again strengthened by reinforcements
the next day. The Turks now completely isolated the
castle by drawing an intrenchment between it and the other
forts, and soon afterwards renewed the attack. The de¬
fence was now desperate, and a fearful contest ensued,
which was only terminated by the approach of night; and
after La Valette had in vain attempted to send assistance,
the knights determined to die at their posts, and during the
night they received the sacrament. The next day saw the
end of this heroic defence: no quarter was asked or given ;
the knights all perished at their posts, and the Turks en¬
tered the desolated fortress over the dead bodies of its
defenders. Notwithstanding the urgent necessity and the
repeated request of the grand master, no assistance was sent
from Sicily ; yet no thought of surrender was for a moment
entertained. The siege of the remaining forts was still
carried on, and in order to prevent the approach of the
Turkish vessels, the Maltese erected stockades, and where
the water was too deep, placed booms across the harbour.
The Turks sent swimmers with hatchets to cut away these
obstructions; but they were met and discomfited by Maltese
sailors, who swam from the forts, until, perceiving that no
advantage was gained by such contests, the assailants at
length desisted from this mode of warfare. The besiegers
being now reinforced by a body of Algerians, under the
command of the son of Barbarossa, made an attack on the
forts with 4000 men, who, though they succeeded in plant¬
ing their standards for a moment on the battlements, were
hurled back by the knights, and all their entreaties for
mercy being answered by shouts of “ St Elmo,” they were
massacred till only 500 remained, most of whom were des¬
perately wounded. The assaults, however, still continued,
and although always unsuccessful, the numbers of the brave
defenders were gradually but surely diminishing. On one
occasion, when the Turks deceived their adversaries by a
false attack, even the women and children shared in the
defence, bringing food to the knights, and stones to repair
the walls. But in spite of all, the Turks were on the very
point of victory when a sally from a different part of the
defences caused a panic among the assailants by the appre-
Malta.
Malta, hension that the Sicilians had come to the rescue. Till
the end of August the attacks were carried on with the
utmost fury, and repulsed with incredible courage; but when
preparations were being made for the final attempt, the
long-expected aid at last arrived, and the Turks not daring
to abide more than one encounter with the Sicilians, raised
the siege, and took refuge in their ships. During the sieo-e
the Christians lost 260 knights and more than 7000 sel¬
lers, and the lurks 25,000. After the departure of the
enemy, the handful of knights who remained commenced
to rebuild their city, in which they were aided by pecuniary
contributions from most of the sovereigns of Europe, and
from the distant knights of the Order. The new city was
begun in 1566 and finished in 1571, and was called La Va-
letta, after the brave defender of the island—a name which
it still bears. After this time the knights distinguished
themselves greatly in the battle of Lepanto in 1571. They
also employed themselves in defending the coasts of the
Mediterranean; and although the Turks once again (in
J601) threatened Malta, they were immediately repulsed.
The knights still preserved in their original strictness the
rules of the Order, and strengthened the island by new forti-
fications, besides building an aqueduct for supplying Valetta
with water, and a lazaretto for the sufferers from the plague,
which visited Ma ta in 1669. Great assistance was ?en-
dered by the knights of Malta to the European states against
the lurks and Africans, in protecting and securing the
commerce of the Mediterranean. The earthquake in Cala-
bna and Sicily, in 1783, gave them one of the last oppor¬
tunities for displaying that chivalrous humanity and bene¬
ficence which were the ancient characteristics of their Order.
1 hey set out in their ships by night, and did great service
to the wretched sufferers at Messina and Reggio. But the
rench revolution came on, and proclaimed in word and
(feed that the age of chivalry was gone. The property of
the Order in France, Spain, and Italy was confiscated ; and
finally, m 1798, the island surrendered to the fleet of Bona¬
parte on its way to Egypt. A garrison of 4000 men was
£ft Si116, F^e(lch.t0 defend Malta; but after the battle of
the Nile the inhabitants rose against the French, who were
besieged in the city of Valetta. A small body of British
troops subsequently arrived to the aid of the Maltese, and
the French surrendered after a blockade of two years,
provision was made in the treaty of Amiens that Malta
s muld be restored to the knights, on condition that the
Maltese should be admitted to the Order; but this was
strongly opposed by the Maltese themselves, and the island
remained in the possession of Britain till it was finally
secured to her at the general peace. Since then, Malta,
with the adjoining island of Gozo, has been a part of the
British empire.
c w16 iC°aSt is steep and rocky, especially on the
S.W where there is no harbour between Marsa Scirocco on
the b.E, and Antifaga on the W. On the W. coast there
is the harbour of Magiarro; but on the N.E. coast are the
harbours of St Paul, St George, St Julian, and the two har¬
bours of Valetta, which are the largest in the island, and are
separated from each other by a projecting tongue of land
on which the city is built; that to the N.W. is called Marsa
Musceit, in which there is a small island, used as a quaran¬
tine station ; while the other, lying to the S.E., is called the
Great Harbour. The surface of the island for the most
part slopes from the S.W. to the N.E.; and there is a ridge
of hills running across the island to the N.W. of Valetta,
mown by the name of Bengemma, from which numerous
smaller ridges run off in various directions. Mount Ben¬
gemma, which is the highest point in Malta, reaches the
.° feet above the sea. On the western side the
c fits rise perpendicularly from the sea to a height of 300 or
eet, while on the E. the coast gradually slopes down
o ie water a edge. The central ridge divides the island
MALTA.
115
into two parts, in the more easterly of which all the towns
are situate; and besides being strong by nature, this bar¬
rier has been additionally secured by an intrenchment,
known by the name of the Nasciaro Lines. There are
neither rivers nor lakes in Malta, and the only places where
any swamps occur are St Paul’s Bay and the Great Har¬
bour at Valetta, where the sea has retired and left a marshy
tiact of ground, from which unhealthy vapours are believed
to arise. The geological character of the island is chiefly
calcareous: there are strata of limestone of various kinds
jung on calcareous freestone, and beneath the latter is
ound a layer of marl. Many petrified animal remains and
an abundance of sharks’ teeth are to be found here. The
rocks of Malta belong to the tertiary formation, and to the
older or newer pliocene. The rock is covered in most parts
by sand and a rich red clay; but here and there the bare
lock projects through the soil; and the country has in gene¬
ral a very dry and barren appearance, except after it has
been lefreshed by a fall of rain. The vegetation is scanty,
and very few trees are to be seen. There are two kinds of
stone found here, which are much used for building pur¬
poses,—the one is hard and the other soft, though there are
many intermediate kinds. The hardest is a coarse sort of
marble, remarkable for strength. The other is a soft kind
of calcareous sandstone, which is found in much greater
quantities, and is used for the ordinary purposes of building.
It is very light, absorbent, and easily cut, but when exposed
to the air it is apt to crumble away. Alabaster is found in
considerable abundance in Malta, but especially in Gozo.
In the steep cliffs on the sea-coast there are a great num¬
ber of remarkable caves and grottos, some of them very
large. Many of them are situate at the level of the sea,
so that the waves dash in with great noise, while others are
higher up the rocks. One of the largest of these is near
the promontory called Benghisa, to the W. of the Marsa
^ ciiocco Bay, and extends more than 200 paces into the
lock. The soil of Malta is, like its rocks, calcareous, and
owes much of its fertility to the porous character of the soft
sandstone, which is broken up by the natives, and mixed
with soil. Where the rock is too hard for this, they bring
soil fiom other lands, and form it into terraces, using the
large stones to form walls, in order to prevent the soil from
being washed away. T he soil, however, is very fertile, fre¬
quently yielding two crops a-year, and never requiring to
lie fallow. Cotton is the principal produce of the Maltese
islands. Corn is grown in sufficient quantities to supply the
inhabitants. Vines are cultivated, but the wine is of in¬
ferior quality; figs and oranges are very abundant, the
latter especially being of excellent quality. Of animals
fbund in the island, the Maltese dog and hawk were for¬
merly much sought after, but the former of these species is
now believed to be extinct. Many of the domestic ani¬
mals in this island are remarkable for their breed, especially
mules and asses. Snakes are found in Malta, but they are
harmless,—a fact which the inhabitants ascribe to the mira¬
culous influence of the apostle Paul. The bees are famous
foi the excellence of their honey, and some have supposed
that the island was on this account called Melite by the
Greeks. Fish is got here in great abundance, and many of
the kinds are excellent, especially the dory, rock cod, and a
species of whiting called lupo. A remarkable shell-fish,
ca ed the Pholas dactylus, is found at Malta, which bores
oi itself a hole in the soft rock, so as to give to many parts
° tee shore a very remarkable appearance.
The climate of Malta is very warm, and in summer the
qa^ becomes oppressive. The greatest heat is between
80 and 90 , while the thermometer never falls below 46°.
I he radiation of the sun’s rays from the rocks tends to in¬
crease the heat, and the stones and walls get sometimes so
heated during the long days as to retain a high temperature
during the night, and render the nights in summer exces-
Malta.
116 MALTA.
Malta, sively hot and oppressive. The winter at Malta, which ex-
tends from October to May, is very pleasant and salubrious.
There are no regular land and sea breezes, owing probably
to the fact that the temperature of the land remains so high
during the night. The most frequent winds are those
which flow from the S.E. and N.W.; but the former, the
siroccos, are very hot and unhealthy, and generally pre¬
vail between August and October. Sudden gusts of heated
air occasionally blow across from tbe coast of Africa, which
would be exceedingly dangerous and destructive were they
not very limited in duration, in most cases not exceed¬
ing half a minute. Snow is unknown in Malta, but hail
frequently falls during the winter months. Between the
months of December and February rain falls frequently,
and often in violent storms; in March the weather is more
’ dry and settled. In April and May the island is refreshed
by occasional showers; while during the summer there is
not a cloud to darken the clear sky, or mitigate the fierce¬
ness of the sun’s rays. September and October are the
most agreeable months; the temperature is then cool, and
the air calm and bracing. This period is called by the
Maltese the little summer, or St Martin’s summer. Thun¬
der-storms are not frequent, and occur chiefly in spring.
The sky is generally clear, sometimes so much so that the
summit of Etna, at a distance of 128 miles, is distinctly
seen.
The capital of the island is Valetta, situate between the
two harbours of Marsa Musceit and the Great Port, on
the E. coast of the island. The promontory on which it
stands, which was anciently called Mount Sceberras, is
nearly 2 miles long, and about three-quarters of a mile broad,
and forms a sort of ridge, like the back of an animal, sloping
down to the sea on either side, and at the further ex¬
tremity. At its point stands the fort of St Elmo, with one
of the best lighthouses in the Mediterranean. The prin¬
cipal streets run along the ridge, and others, shorter, branch
off at right angles; while a carriage drive runs round the
whole city between the houses and the fortifications. The
ground on which the city is built is so steep that the prin¬
cipal streets in Valetta consist of flights of stairs; but this
contributes greatly to facilitate the cleaning of the thorough¬
fares. The houses are built of stone, with flat roofs, after
the eastern fashion. Wood is little used in the houses of
Valetta. The streets are well lighted, and paved with the
hard stones of the island and lava from Mount Etna.
Water is supplied by the aqueduct built by the knights;
but every house has a tank for collecting the rain water,
and there are numerous wells. The fortifications are ex¬
ceedingly strong, and almost impregnable; so that at the
last siege it could only be reduced by famine. The land
side of the town is defended by five lines of fortifications,
mounted with 1000 pieces of ordnance; and it is calcu¬
lated that it would require 25,000 soldiers to man the en¬
tire defences in their whole extent. Of the public build¬
ings of Valetta, one of the most remarkable is the cathedral
or collegiate church of St John, which contains the tombs
of some of the grand masters, as well as the chapels of the
knights of the different nations. The pavement of this
church is inlaid in marble with the arms of the grand
masters; and there is a remarkable silver railing, which
owes its preservation, during the French possession of
Malta, to its having been disguised by paint. The church
is also remarkable for a series of paintings representing the
chief events in the life of St John the Baptist, one of which
is by Caravaggio, but is not in good preservation. Another
remarkable building is the church of San Pubblio, which
contains under it a large catacomb, in which are to be seen
many skeletons and bones of the ancient friars. Besides
these, the other public buildings are,—the palace, which con¬
tains several fine pictures and an armoury; the lodges or
auberges of the knights; the government library ; the uni¬
versity, treasury, palace of justice, &c.; all of which, and Malta,
especially the library and the lodges of Castile and Pro- i
vence, are well built, and distinguished by great taste and
simplicity in architecture. The library consists of about
100,000 volumes; and adjoining it there is a museum,
which contains many remains of antiquity. The harbours
of Valetta are very good. That called Marsa Musceit is
now used as a quarantine harbour. The Great Harbour is
very much frequented, and is so strongly fortified that no
ship could force a passage in past the batteries which
stand on each side of the entrance. A large dry dock
has recently been added at an expense of L. 100,000,
which is capable of receiving the largest ships and
steamers.
The only other town of importance in the island is
Citta Vecchia, or Citta Notabile, anciently called Medina,
which was formerly the capital, and stands near the centre
of the island about 6 miles W. of Valetta, on a high
ground overlooking nearly the whole of the island. It is
the seat of a bishop, and contains a handsome modem
cathedral; but the chief interest of the place is derived
from the catacombs, which are of considerable extent, about
15 feet below the surface. There are some remarkable
ancient remains at a place called Casal Crendi, near the
S. coast, but little or nothing is known of their origin. The
island of Gozo is situate about 4 miles to the N.W. of
Malta. Its form is oval, its greatest length is 10 miles,
greatest breadth 5 miles; area 16 square miles. It was
originally called Gaulos by the Greeks, and Gaulum by the
Romans ; but the Arabs corrupted this name to Gaudese,
from which has come its modern appellation. The coasts,
especially to the S., are steep and rugged. The geolo¬
gical structure of the island is the same as that of Malta,
but the soil is better and it is more highly cultivated. The
surface is undulating, with several conical hills, apparently
of a volcanic nature. In the N.W. some of the hills
attain a considerable elevation. Gozo contains no town,
but the inhabitants dwell in six small villages. There are
two principal forts,—Rabato in the centre, and Chambray
in the S., near to the latter of which is the best landing-
place and anchorage. Sailing and rowing boats ply daily
between Valetta and Gozo, the passage being only 8 miles
in length. Between the two larger islands lies Comino,
abounding in rabbits, and several other islets and rocks,
all of which belong to Malta and Gozo.
The Maltese are of middle stature, strong, and dark in
complexion, and the women are remarkable for their oriental
style of beauty. The character of the country people re¬
sembles that of the Spanish ; but in the towns a union of
the qualities of the French and Greek nations may be ob¬
served. The men are active and industrious, being chiefly
employed in agriculture and stone-cutting. They also make
the best sailors of any in the Mediterranean. The dress of
the lower orders consists of a loose shirt, above which they
wear a jacket adorned with silver or gold buttons, and a
long scarf wound round their waist. They have also short
drawers reaching to the knee, and shoes somewhat re¬
sembling the sandals of the ancients. In winter they wear
woollen caps, with hoods falling down behind, and in sum¬
mer large straw hats. The dress of the women is extremely
picturesque, consisting of a cotton under-garment, a blue
petticoat, a corset with sleeves, and an upper garment which
opens at the side. Their usual head-dress consists of a
black silk veil, c&Wedfaldetta ; but many of the higher classes,
both of men and women, have adopted the English and
French fashions of dress. The manners of the Maltese are
not refined, but they are in many respects superior in their
moral character to the other inhabitants of southern Europe.
Drunkenness is almost unknown; and the favourite beverages
of all classes are coffee and iced water. Tobacco is smoked
to a considerable extent. Music and dancing, along with
Malte-
Brun
II
Malthus.
M A L
horse and boat races, are the principal amusements in the
island.
The government of Malta is exercised by a governor
appointed by the crown, with a salary of L.4800 per an¬
num, along with a council of eighteen members, eight of
which are elected by the Maltese. The governor presides
in the council, in which he has two votes, and a veto on all
its proceedings. This constitution was first established in
1849. The total number of acres under cultivation in the
three islands in 1854 was, 45,182, of which 7545 w^ere
wheat, 6753 meschiato, and 7873 cotton. The quantity
of uncultivated ground was 14,274 acres. In the same
year there were in the islands 3748 horses, 4396 head of
cattle, 9489 sheep, and 3323 goats. The number of ships
that entered the port in 1854 was 4783, with a tonnage of
886,790; and of those that cleared in the same year, 4551,
with a tonnage of 844,242. There are no returns of the
value of the imports and exports of Malta.
The amount of public revenue and expenditure since the
year 1850 is as follows :—
M A L
117
Years. Revenue. Expenditure.
1850  L.129,293 L.125,362
1851   133,080 119,307
1852   127,729 123,068
1853   123,305 138,034
1854   123,772 141,304
Of the total revenue for 1854, L.76,493 was derived from
customs, and L.17,311 from rents, exclusive of land. Of the
expenditure in the same year, L.47,927 was employed
on the fixed establishment; L.l 3,744 on pensions, retiring
allowances, &c.; L.l6,297 on hospitals and charitable allow¬
ances ; L.694 on education; L.28,429 on public works,
buildings, roads, &c.; and L.6200 on military expenses.
The number of schools in the islands in 1854 was 32, con¬
taining a total of 4969 scholars. The number of births in
the year 1854 was 4698; of deaths, 3981 ; of marriages,
711. Pop. (1854) 131,401.
MALTE-BRUN. See Brun.
■: MALTHUS, Thomas Robert, was born in 1766, at
the Rookery, in the county of Surrey. His father, Daniel
Malthus, a gentleman of good family and independent
fortune, much occupied in classical and philosophical pur¬
suits, was the friend and correspondent of Rousseau, and
ultimately one of his executors. From the age of nine or
I ten, until the time of his admission at Cambridge, young
Malthus remained under private tuition, and was sometimes
a solitary pupil in the house of his tutor. He had for his
instructors Richard Graves, author of the Spiritual Quix¬
ote, and Gilbert Wakefield, the editor of Lucretius and
other classics, and the correspondent of Mr Fox.
In 1784 young Malthus was removed from Mr Wake¬
fields house to Jesus College, Cambridge, where he ob¬
tained prizes for declamations both in Latin and in English,
and on taking his degree in 1788, his name appeared in
the Tripos as the ninth wrangler. He also found time for
the cultivation of history, literature, and poetry; and in
1797 he was made fellow of his college. Having about
the same time entered into holy orders, he undertook the
cure of a small parish in Surrey, but he occasionally re¬
sided in Cambridge on his fellowship, for the purpose of
pursuing with more advantage the course of study to which
he was attached. In 1798 appeared the first edition of his
great work, an Essay on the Principle of Population as it
affects the Future Improvement of Society, with Remarks
on the Speculations of Mr Godwin, M. Condorcet, and
other writers, in 1 volume octavo. In this production the
general principle of population which Wallace, Hume, and
others, had very distinctly enunciated before him, though
without foreseeing the consequences which might be de¬
duced from it, was clearly expounded, and some of the
important conclusions to which it leads, in regard to the
probable improvement of society, were likewise stated Malthus.
and explained; but his proofs and illustrations were still ^ r-
imperfect, and he himself was yet scai'cely aware of the
whole extent and bearings of the subject. The book
however, was received with some surprise, and excited
considerable attention, as an attempt to overturn the theory
of political optimism, and to refute, upon philosophical prin¬
ciples, the speculations, then so much in vogue, of Godwin
and others, as to the indefinite perfectibility of human insti¬
tutions. (With respect to Malthus’s views, see the articles
Colony and Population.) In 1799 Malthus sailed for
Hamburg in search of materials for the exposition of his
grand principle, along with Dr Ed. Daniel Clarke and
others. He visited Sweden, Norway, Finland, and part
of Russia, the only countries at that time open to English
travellers. Of this tour he has left other memorials be¬
sides those embodied in his own work, and amongst these
may be mentioned the valuable notes which have since
served to enrich the last volume of Dr Clarke’s Travels.
During the short peace of Amiens, he visited France and
Switzerland ; exploring all that wTas most interesting in
these countries, and continuing, wherever he went, to
collect facts and documents for the illustration of the prin¬
ciple he had announced, and the completion of his work.
In 1805 he was appointed professor of modern history and
political economy at Haileybury, a situation in which he
remained until his death. It has sometimes been in¬
sinuated that Malthus was indebted to his father for those
new views of population which first appeared in the essay
already noticed, and which subsequently attracted so much
attention. For this surmise, however, there appears to
have been no foundation whatever. That the mind of
Mr Malthus was set to work upon the subject of popu¬
lation in consequence of frequent discussions between his
father and himself, he has fully admitted; but no two in¬
dividuals ever entertained opinions more opposite, or dif¬
fered more completely respecting the very principle which
the one is alleged to have suggested to the other.
Exclusive of the Essay on Population, the principal pro¬
ductions of Mr Malthus were,—An Inquiry into the Nature
and Progress of Rent, 1815; The Principles of Political
Economy, 1820; and Definitions in Political Economy,
1827. But none of these made any permanent addition to
his fame. The Inquiry in regard to Bent is an ingenious,
and probably also an original speculation; but it has
since been ascertained that the theory explained by Malthus
in his tract, had been discovered and set in a very clear
light by Dr Anderson in an Essay on the Corn Laws,
published in 1776. The treatise on Political Economy is
very ill arranged, and is in no respect either a practical or
a scientific exposition of the subject. It is in great part
occupied with an examination of parts of Mr Ricardo’s
peculiar doctrines, and with an inquiry into the nature and
causes of value. Nothing, however, can be more unsatis¬
factory than these discussions. In truth, Mr Malthus never
had any clear or accurate perception of Mr Ricardo’s the¬
ories, or of the principles which determine the value in ex¬
change of different articles. His Definitions have all the
faults of his Political Economy, and never exercised any
influence. J
The latter years of Mr Malthus’s life were passed in the
society of his family, in the exercise of his ministerial and
official duties at the college, and in the cultivation of the
studies more immediately connected with nem. Most of
the statesmen of his time, and all the eminent political
economists, embraced his opinions in regard to population,
and, in their several departments, paved the way for that
piactical application of his principles, in regard to the poor
laws, which has since taken place. He was honoured with
distinctions from several sovereigns of Europe, and elected
a member of the most eminent literary and scientific socie-
118
M A L
M A L
Malton ties, particular!}' the National Institute of France and the
II Royal Academy of Sciences at Berlin. He was one of the
Malus. foun(Jers of the Political Economy Club, and of the Statis-
tical Society. He died at Bath of an affection of the heart,
on the 29th of December 1834.
MALTON, New, a municipal and parliamentary bo¬
rough and market-town of England, in the North Riding of
Yorkshire, is situate on a hill on the right bank of the River
Derwent, which forms the boundary between the North
and East Ridings, 18 miles N.E. by N. of York, and 217
N. by W. of London. The town is clean and well built,
and the principal streets meet in a central market-place,
in which the town-hall stands. There are two ancient
churches, one of which exhibits a fine specimen of Norman
architecture; and places of worship for Baptists, Metho¬
dists, Independents, Wesleyans, and Unitarians. Malton
possesses national, British, and infant schools ; and there
is also a public grammar-school in the suburb of Norton,
which stands on the other side of the Derwent, and is
joined to Malton by a handsome stone bridge. There are
also in the town a theatre, public rooms, a literary institute,
a dispensary, and a savings-bank.
The town has several breweries and tanneries, but its
prosperity is principally derived from its trade, which is
considerable, the river being navigable to a short distance
above the town. Agricultural produce, such as flour, corn,
bacon, butter, &c., are sent to Hull, Leeds, &c. The
market-day is Saturday, and fairs take place three times
a-year. The quarter sessions for the^North Riding, to¬
gether with a county court, are also held here. Malton
stands on the York and Scarborough Railway, and it re¬
turns two members to Parliamant. Pop. (1851) 7661.
Old Malton, which is included in the parliamentary
borough, is situate about a mile N.E. of the new town, on
the same side of the river. Some Roman remains have
been found here, and it is by some believed to occupy the
site of the ancient Camulodunum. In the year 1150 a
priory was founded here, the remains of which, as well as
an ancient church, are still to be seen. Shortly after¬
wards the Norman family of De Yesci, or Vesey, built a
castle here, which was demolished by Henry II. The
town was afterwards rebuilt in the reign of Stephen. Old
Malton contains a Wesleyan chapel and several schools,
and is remarkable for its lime quarries, and also for the
ancient Roman remains that have been found in the neigh¬
bourhood.
MALUS, Etienne Louis, the discoverer of the laws of
the polarization of light by reflection, born at Paris on the
23d of June 1775, was the son of Anne Louis Malus du
Mitry, and of Louisa Charlotte Desboves, his wife.
His father had a place in the Treasury of France, and
gave him at home an excellent education in mathematics
and in the fine arts, as well as in classical literature, with
which he rendered himself so familiar as to retain many
passages of the Iliad in his memory throughout life. At
seventeen he was admitted, after a severe examination, as
a pupil of the School of Military Engineers ; and about the
same time he amused himself with writing a regular tra¬
gedy in verse on the death of Cato. Fie soon distinguished
himself in his military studies, and he was about to obtain
a commission as an officer, when an order of the minister
Bouchotte imputed to him the offence of being a suspected
person, probably on account of the situation held by his
father, and he was dismissed from the school. He* was
then obliged to enter the army as a private soldier in the
fifth battalion of Paris, and he was employed in this capa¬
city upon the fortifications of Dunkirk. Here he was soon
distinguished by M. Lepere, the director of the works, as
superior to his accidental situation ; and he was selected as
one of the young men who were to constitute the members
of the Ecole Poly technique, then to be established upon
the recommendation and under the direction of Monge,
who immediately chose him, from a previous knowledge of
his merit, as one of the twenty who were to be made in¬
structors of the rest. This body constituted at that mo¬
ment the only refuge of the sciences in France, and the
enthusiasm of its members was proportionate to the advan¬
tages which they enjoyed, and to the importance of the
trust committed to them. In the three years which he
passed in this institution he was much employed, amongst
other applications of the higher geometry, in pursuing the
mathematical theory of optics, a department of science in
which he was afterwards so eminently to distinguish him¬
self by experimental discoveries. He was then, however,
obliged to abandon for a time the pursuit of scientific in¬
vestigations, and he was admitted into the corps of engi¬
neers ; with the seniority of his former rank in the school.
He served in the army of the Sambre and Meuse; he was
present at the passage of the Rhine in 1797, and at the
affairs of Ukratz and Altenkirch. Whilst he was in Ger¬
many, he formed an attachment with Miss Koch, the
daughter of the chancellor of the university of Giessen;
and he was on the point of marrying her, when he was
obliged to join the Egyptian expedition. He was present
in that campaign at the battles of Chebreis and of the Pyra¬
mids ; he was also present at the affair of Sabish, at the
siege of El Arish, and at that of Jaffa. After the surrender
of that place, he was employed in the repairs of the fortifi¬
cations, and in the establishment of military hospitals.
Here he was attacked by the plague, and fortunately re¬
covered from it without any medical assistance. He was
then sent to fortify Damietta; he was afterwards at the
battle of Heliopolis, at the affair of Ceraim, and at the siege
of Cairo. After the capitulation with the English, he
embarked on board the transport “ Castor,” and arrived in
France on the 26th of October 1801. His health was ex¬
hausted, and his spirits were broken by fatigue and anxiety ;
but his attachment to his betrothed bride was undimin¬
ished, and he hastened to Germany to fulfil his engage¬
ment. His fidelity was rewarded, during the eleven years
that he survived, by the most constant and affectionate at¬
tention on the part of his wife ; and she died a year or two
after him, a victim to the same disease which had been
fatal to her husband.
He had, however, enough of strength and vigour of con¬
stitution remaining to enable him, besides the official super¬
intendence of the works carrying on at Antwerp and at
Strasbourg, to pursue the study of his favourite sciences;
and upon occasion of a prize question proposed by the In¬
stitute, he undertook the investigation of the extraordinary
refraction of Iceland crystal, which the experiments of Dr
Wollaston had previously shown to agree very accurately
with the laws laid down by Huygens; and besides com¬
pletely confirming all Dr Wollaston’s results, he had the
good fortune greatly to extend the Huygenian discovery of
the peculiar modification of light produced by the action of
such crystals, which Newton had distinguished by the name
“ Polarity,” and which Malus now found to be produced in
a variety of circumstances, independently of the action of
crystallized bodies. It seems natural to suppose that the
investigation of the laws of the internal reflection of light
at the second surface of the crystals, must have led him to
the discovery of the effects of oblique reflection in other
circumstances; but according to Biot, there was more of
accident in his actual progress; for he informs us that Malus
had been looking through a piece of crystal at the image
of the sun, reflected from the windows of the Luxembourg,
to the house in the Rue dTnfer, where he lived, and that
lie was much surprised to find one of the double images
disappear in a certain position of the crystal, although the
next day, at a different hour, he could no longer observe the
phenomenon, from the alteration of the angle of incidence.
Malus.
M A L
. The merit of his discovery was soon acknowledged by
his election as a member of the Institute, as well as^by the
adjudication of a biennial medal from the Royal Society of
London, on the foundation of Count Rumford. It has
been thought creditable to the Royal Society to have con¬
ferred this distinction in the time of a war between the two
countries ; but it any credit were due for only doing justice
conscientiously, it would attach, on this occasion, to those
members of the council who saw their own optical specu¬
lations in great danger from the new mass of evidence
which appeared likely to overthrow them, at least in the
public opinion, and who were still the most active in offer¬
ing this tribute of applause to the more fortunate labours
of a rival.
Nor was the remuneration of Malus confined to empty
honours only; fiom the liberality of the French govern¬
ment, he obtained promotion in his own profession as a
military man ; and this not for services performed in the
field, not even in a difficult and dangerous expedition to
unknown regions, but for experiments made with safety and
tranquillity in his own closet. That government had not
carried the refined principle of the division of labour so far
as to resolve that all public encouragement should be limited
to the precise department in which a public service had
been performed; and hence a mark of distinction, which
a gentleman could accept without degradation, was not
deemed an incommensurate remuneration for a discovery
in abstract science. Such a refinement, which has been
practically introduced into our own country, might appear,
to a man who had a heart, something worse than sordid;
he might fancy that a great nation, as well as a great indi¬
vidual, should treat its dependents, “not according to their
deserts, but after its own honour and dignity.” If, however,
a person in office happened to have anything like a heart
about him, the outcry of an indiscriminating opposition
would soon teach him to silence its dictates.
1. M. Malus’s first publication appears to have been a
paper “ On an Unknown Branch of the Nile,” in the first
volume of the Decade Egyptienne. 2. He presented to
the Institute a mathematical “Traite d’Optique,” before the
completion of his experiments on double refraction; it was
published in the Memoires presentes d VInstitut, vol. ii.,
Paris, 1810. 3. His more important discoveries were first
made known in the second volume of the Memoires d’Ar-
cueil, Paris, 1809, 8vo; and again, 4, in the “Theory of
Double Refraction,” Mem. Pres, d VInst., vol. ii., a paper
which obtained a prize on the 2d of January 1810. 5. In
a short “Essay on the Measurement of the Refractive Force
of Opaque Bodies,” contained in the same volume, he em¬
ploys the method, before made known by Dr Wollaston,
for conducting the experiment, and computes the forces
concerned upon the Newtonian hypothesis, applied, how¬
ever, in a manner somewhat arbitrary to the circumstances
of the problem. 6. Remarks on some “New Optical. Phe¬
nomena,” Mem. Inst. Sc., 1810, p. 105, Paris, 1814, read
11th March 1811. I his paper is principally intended to
prove that two portions of light are always polarized together
in opposite directions, and that no part of the light con¬
cerned is destroyed, “as Dr Young had been inclined to
suspect.” The author found that light transmitted obliquely
through a number of parallel glasses at a proper angle, be¬
comes at last completely polarized. M. Arago had dis¬
covered a case which appeared to be an exception to the
general law of the polarization of transmitted light; but it
was afterwards readily explained from the theory of the
production of colours by interference, as applied to trans¬
mitted light. A letter containing the substance of this
paper was published in Thomson’s Annals, iii. 257, April
1814, on occasion of some discoveries of Sir David Brew¬
ster, which had been supposed to be wholly new. 7. “ On
Phenomena accompanying Refraction and Reflection,” p.
M A L
112, read 27th May, showing the universality of polarization
at a proper angle, and examining the effect of a metallic
surface. 8. “ On the Axis of Refraction of Crystals,” p.
142; describing an apparatus for finding the properties of
bodies with respect to polarized light, applied to the deter¬
mination of the axis of crystals, and to the examination of
the stiucture of organized bodies, which appear in general
to have certain axes of polarization, as well as those which
are manifestly crystallized.
I he zeal and energy of Malus supported him to the last,
not only in the. continuance of these interesting investiga-
tions, but also in his duties as an examiner at the Ecole
Polytechnique. He died on the 24th of February 1812
universally regretted by the lovers of ‘science in all coun-
tnes, and deeply lamented by his colleagues, who said of
him, as Newton did of Cotes, that if his life had been pro¬
longed, we should at last “ have known something ” of the
aws of nature. (For a full account of Malus’s discoveries
see the Sixth Preliminary Dissertation, chap, v., § 2. See
also Delambre, M. Inst. 1816, p. xxvii.; Biot, in Bio¬
graphic Universelle, xxvi., Paris, 1820.)
MALVERN, Great, a watering-place of England,
county of Worcestershire, 8 miles S.W. by S. of Wor-
cester, and 119 N.W. by W. of London, occupies a beau¬
tiful site on the eastern side of the Malvern Hills. There
is an ancient church at Malvern, which formerly belonged
to a monastery founded by Edward the Confessor, and was
purchased by the inhabitants on the dissolution of the
monastery. 1 his church is one of the finest specimens of
Gothic architecture in the kingdom. The town is irregu¬
larly built, but there are many fine villas and houses in the
neighbourhood. It has a chapel of the Countess of Hun¬
tingdon’s Connection, a handsome library, national and
endowed schools, a dispensary, &c. Malvern is chiefly
noted as a fashionable watering-place, and it is much fre¬
quented on account of its medicinal waters and its general
salubrity. Baths and hotels have been built, and gardens
and walks laid out, for the accommodation of the visitors.
Pop. of parish (1851) 3763.
Malvern, Little, is a village about 3 miles to the S. of the
foimer. ,lhe Malvern Hills extend N. and S. for nearly 9
miles, with a breadth of 1 or 2 miles, and separate Worces¬
tershire from Hereford and Monmouth. They rise with
a gentle slope, and the three greatest elevations are the
North Hill, Worcestershire Beacon, and Herefordshire
Beacon, the last of which is 1444 feet above the level of
the sea.
MALVOISIN, or Mawmoisine, William de, some
time chancellor of Scotland, was bred in France, and has
been thought by some to have been a native of France.
Soon after his coming to this country, he was made one of
the clerici regis, and archdeacon of St Andrews, in which
latter capacity we find him present at the christening of the
young prince, afterwards King Alexander II. He was
constituted chancellor of Scotland on the death of HuMi,
Bishop of Glasgow, 6th September 1199, about which time’
also he was elected into the see of Glasgow, and was con¬
secrated the following year by a special precept from Pope
Innocent III. In 1202 he was translated to St Andrews,
when he seems to have resigned the chancellorship. In
September 1208 he dedicated the new cemetery at the
monastery of Dryburgh. (Chalmer’s Caledonia, ii. 339.) In
^.11 w'e find him, and Walter, Bishop of Glasgow, possessed
of legatine powers from Rome, and assembling at Perth a
great council of the clergy and people, to press upon them
the pope’s will and command that an expedition be under¬
taken to the Holy Land. In 1214 he attended the coro¬
nation of King Alexander II., and is said to have set the
crown on the head of that monarch. The following year
he went with the Bishops of Glasgow and Moray, and
Henry, Abbot of Kelso, to the fourth Lateran council,
119
Malvern
II
Malvoisin.
120 M A L
Malwah. where he remained till 1218; and in the ninth year of
King Alexander II. he made a mortification for the soul
of King William. He brought into this country from the
Continent some Orders of monks and mendicants, till then
unknown here, and had convents of Dominican friars
erected at Aberdeen, Ayr, Berwick, Edinburgh, Elgin, In¬
verness, Montrose, Perth, and Stirling, and monasteries for
the monks of Valliscaulium at Pluscardine in Moray, Beau¬
lieu in Ross, and Ardchattan in Argyll. He wrote lives of
the popish saints Ninian and Kentigern ; and it was to him
and in his time that Pope Innocent III. sent the decretal
letters which appear in the Corpus Juris Canonici {Decret.
Greg., b. iii., tit. 49, c. 6) to the King of Scots ; and (b. hi.,
tit. 24, c. 9; b. iv., tit. 20, c. 6; and b. v., tit. 39, c. 28) to
the Bishop, Archdeacon, and Abbot of St Andrews respec¬
tively. The zeal of this bishop for holy church is evident;
but it was not his only passion, for on one occasion we find
that he deprived the abbey of Dunfermline of the presen¬
tation to two churches, because the monks had failed to
provide him wine for supper. Fordun says the monks had
indeed supplied wine, but the bishop’s attendants had drunk
it all up. In a composition regarding tithes, anno 1277
(Connel, Tith. ii. 413), there is reference to an ordinance,
“ Willielmi dicti Mawvoisin, Episcopi Sancti Andreae.” Mal-
voisin continued Bishop of St Andrews till his death, which
happened on the 9th of July 1238. (Fordun; Keith’s
Bishops ; Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. iii., p. 616.)
MALWAH, an extensive province of Hindustan, situ¬
ate principally between the 22d and 23d degrees of N.
Lat. On the N. it is bounded by the provinces of Ajmeer
and Agra, on the E. by Allahabad and Gundwaneh, on
the S. by Khandesh and Berar, and on the W. by Ajmeer
and Gujerat, being in length about 220 miles, and in ave¬
rage breadth 150. Malwah is a central and mountainous
region, but with a regular descent from the Vindhya
Mountains, which extend along the north side of the Ner-
buddah. From these mountains numerous streams descend
in every direction, whence they flow N. and S., joining
in the former case the Chumbul, and in the' latter the
Nerbudda. The principal of these are,—the Parbutty, the
Chumbul, Betwa, Sinde, Sopra, and Cane; the Mahy, which
has its source in the Vindhyan Hills, and also the Ner-
buddah, flow in the opposite direction from the above-
mentioned rivers, and lose themselves in the Gulf of Cam-
bay. The land, notwithstanding its elevation, is extremely
fertile, the soil being in general a fine black mould, which
produces cotton, opium, sugar, indigo, tobacco, and grain,
in large quantities, beside furnishing pasture for numerous
herds of cattle. The tobacco, particularly that of the dis¬
trict of Bilsah, is highly esteemed, and carried to all parts
of the country. The opium is also much esteemed, and
is cultivated to a great extent. Barley is not cultivated,
owing to the unfavourable soil; and rice only in a few de¬
tached spots, which lie convenient for water. The chief
towns are,—Oojain, Indore, Bopal, Bilsah, Seronge, Mun-
dessor, Burseah, and Mundoo. The rivers are not navi¬
gable ; and being an inland province, the commerce is
carried on by means of land carriage. The chief articles
of export are cottons, coarse-stained and printed cloths,
which are sent in large quantities to Gujerat and to Mirza-
poor, on the Ganges, and thence forwarded to Calcutta;
the root of the Morinda citrifolia, and opium, which last
drug is exported to the adjacent provinces, especially to
Gujerat and Cattywar, whence it is smuggled eastward.
The province of Malwah was rendered tributary to the
Patan sovereigns of Delhi in the thirteenth century. Dur¬
ing the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it was governed
MAM
by independent sovereigns of the Patan or Afghan race. Mamers.
Malwah was subdued, and continued to form a province
of the Mogul empire until the death of Aurungzebe in
1707, when it was invaded and overrun by the Mahrattas,
and separated from the Mogul dominions, about the year
1732. The ancient land-holders, however, still retained
some forts, which they resolutely defended, until their
invaders conceded to them a portion of the rents of the
neighbouring villages. These people are called Grassias;
and one of them retained a mud fort within 10 miles
of Oojain in 1790. There were other petty chiefs who
held hereditary possession of certain parts of the country,
and who possessed each one or more strongholds, which
were frequently defended with obstinacy against the rulers
of the province. In the southern division of Malwah the
Bheels or savage tribe are found in considerable numbers,
especially among the mountains contiguous to the Ner-
buddah and Taptee rivers. Malwah was the seat of the
Pindarrie power, whence they issued in predatory bands to
pillage and destroy the country. In 1818, after the war
against them had been brought to a successful conclusion,
they took refuge in Malwah, their ancient haunt, and still
meditated new insurrections. But they were pursued with
such activity by the British troops under the orders of Sir
John Malcolm, that they were driven to the hills; and be¬
ing pursued to their fortresses, they were in the end en¬
tirely routed and dispersed. The great object of the British
in penetrating into these remote parts was to put down
entirely the spirit of disorder and rapine by which all ranks
appeared to be animated, having been long inured to the
most unbounded license, and to restore peace in those
regions of Central India which had long been the scene of
anarchy. For this purpose, having subdued the leaders of
the Patan mercenaries and the Pindarries, Sir John Mal¬
colm distributed his troops in such convenient positions as
to awe the disturbers of the public peace into submission,
and to preclude all attempts at violence by the disorderly
bands who were still lingering in the country, and ready
for any violence. By a judicious combination of conciliation
with firmness, Sir John Malcolm succeeded in restoring
order in the distracted country. The result of his arrange¬
ments was the expulsion of the disorderly bands by which
the public peace was disturbed, the restoration to power
and security of the rulers of the different petty states,
and the return to their homes of peaceable and industrious
classes, who, during the reign of terror and anarchy, were
forced to hide their heads in obscurity. The same talents
and statesman-like policy were displayed by Sir John
Malcolm in his transactions with the Grassia, Rajpoot, and
Bheel freebooters, who were reclaimed from their wild
habits, and converted into trustworthy soldiers and indus¬
trious cultivators. (e. t.)
MAMERS, a town in the department of Sarthe, in
France, capital of an arrondissement of the same name, is
situate near the source of the Orne, in a hilly and barren
country, 27 miles N.N.E. of Le Mans. The town con¬
tains two squares, but the streets are few and unpaved.
The principal buildings are,—the government offices, a col¬
lege, a theatre, and a prison ; and there are manufactories of
linen, calicoes, hosiery, &c., besides tanneries and breweries.
There is also a considerable trade in grain, wine, brandy,
wax, cattle, and sheep. The town is supposed to have
derived its name from a temple of Mars erected in this
district by the Romans; and was anciently a place of con¬
siderable strength. After being for some time in the pos¬
session of the English, the fortifications were destroyed by
them in 1428. Pop. (1851) 5960.
i
n
121
MAMMALIA.
History. Mammalia (from Mamma, breast) is a term in natural
history applied to those animals which give suck to their
young ; and it consequently includes not only all quadru¬
peds, commonly so called, but also the cetaceous tribes, or
whales. The Mammalia form the first class of the Animal
Kingdom, and may be defined as follows : They produce
their young alive, and nourish them by means of milk;
they possess a heart with two ventricles,—lungs,—warm
blood,—a voluminous brain, with a corpus callosum, com-
plete senses,—a muscular diaphragm between the chest and
abdomen, and seven cervical vertebrae.1
The natural history of quadrupeds certainly forms one of
the most interesting and important departments of zoology.
The class itself exhibiting a vast range in size and struc¬
ture, from the delicate harvest mouse to the enormous whale,
presents us with so many species of the highest economical
value to the human race, that selfishness alone, or at least
the desire of immediate personal advantage, would suffice to
induce their attentive study, independent of any more phi¬
losophical consideration. The study of the organization of
quadrupeds has also been of great advantage in throwing
a clear and steady light on several points which would other¬
wise have long continued extremely obscure in the physio¬
logy of man. We need scarcely say to any one who has
witnessed even their external aspect, that the quadrumanous
tribes, or monkeys, are nearly allied in conformation to the
human race; and that the lord of the creation, in spite of
his spiritual attributes, his intellectual nature, and immor¬
tal destiny, holds many things in common with the brutes
that perish. He is himself a mammiferous animal, and
closely allied, in organization and many physical qualities,
to the other orders of his class ; nor can it be expected that
experience, derived from the practical observation of the
other three great classes of the vertebrated animals, to wit,
birds, reptiles, and fishes, will ever avail to the physiologist
in a way so full and satisfactory as that deduced from the
careful study and observance of the mammiferous tribes.
At least the latter furnish by far the most immediate and
logical affinities to the human race. In regard to the eco¬
nomical uses of quadrupeds, it is scarcely necessary to say,
that they supply us with the most truly precious of our
earthly gifts. What in themselves are the ingots of pure
gold, or the most dazzling lustre of barbaric gems, compared
in value with the ample covering of our fleecy flocks ? With¬
out the horse, the ox, the sheep, and the dog, how different
would be the social, commercial, and political conditions of
the most civilized tribes of the human race! Without his
rein-deer how would the forlorn Laplander support either
his “ sleepless summer of long light,” or the desolate gloom
of a snow-enshrouded winter ? Without the enduring camel
the desert sands of Africa, if not lifeless solitudes, would at History,
east be nearly impassable to the human race, and as useless—y—-
tor all commercial purposes as an ocean without ships.
It is true, indeed, that every being in nature, the most appa¬
rently insignificant production of a Divine Creator, is neces¬
sarily deserving of the most studious attention, on the part not
only ot the philosophical naturalist, but of every intelligent
and instructed mind ; yet it must be readily admitted, that
the creatures with which the great mass of mankind have the
most immediate connection, and in the history of which we
are most interested, either from the advantages they yield, or
the injuries they inflict, are those which may naturally claim
our chief attention. Indeed all branches of natural history
are in themselves so interesting, independent of any econo¬
mical result, that each m its turn, when steadily regarded,
seems to claim the precedence ; and we fear that certain of
the treatises on the subject which have already appeared in
this work, may have been deemed as somewhat too extended
by those who had not previously considered the beauty and
excellence of such topics. Indeed we doubt not that many
may still regard an insect chiefly as a thing to be trampled on,
an uVi0^16 ,aS 0ne t0 ke more carefully avoided ; and it
probably results from this wide spread persuasion, that even
modern authors not seldom commence their entomological
or other expositions of the so-called inferior tribes, with
something like an apology for discussing the attributes of
such lowly creatures. To us it seems to be enough to
know that they have been created—that they consequent¬
ly form parts of that magnificent circle of organic life of
those wonders “ manifold” which we are desired to magnify,
and the least obtrusive of which are well worthy of the
most deliberate study by the deepest mind. We scarcely
t ink, then, that an “ apology” is necessary between man
and man for any degree of devotion to the works of God;
and this, so far as concerns the mammiferous tribes with
winch we are now about to be engaged, will probably, from
the undeniable importance of the subject, be at once ad¬
mitted. b ew are so sceptical as to doubt the merits of beef
and mutton, and every one may feel kindly disposed to¬
wards a study which numbers, in its subject-matter, so many
-tends that feed, clothe, and enrich the human race.
W e do not propose to enter into any lengthened historical
exposition of this branch of science from remote periods to
the present times. Such investigations may be met with in
many accessible works, and would here occupy too much
of that space within which we must endeavour to illustrate
the more important features of the actual subject. A few
brief notices, however, may not be misbestowed on the
principal epochs which characterize the investigations of
the human mind in this important department.
An inconvenient animal the Ai, or Bradypus tridactylus, Linn., is the only known ouadriinprl hittiovir. a
exception to the character last above named ; and it appears from recent investitrations that even m supposed to present an
parent than real. “ An isolated exception to a rule so geneml" SainiSof sul dive^^ e“eP“»" “ ■»<>« "P-
have alluded, presents itself to the mind of every one accustomed to look at the general harmony of ihe^stoblXdY.w,* off1Ch ‘
tion, as a violation of that unity of design which constitutes one of the most interest ino- nhWtc • ef.tabl.lslled Lws of forma-
exception itself is abrupt and sudden, and without any of those intermediate gradatiorfs of structure^v whic^the’ e.SpfC.ially as th,e
as it were, for considerable diversities of form, and which so generally soften the transitions which the dife H ^ mind prepared,
organ in different groups may render necessary. It was from this consideration rather than as merely correfw!, °ffiCeS if 116 Sam!
error, that I found, with feelings of no ordinary satisfaction, that in truth this numerical law is not denarterf fr°r generally received
stance, and that the animal in question forms no such exception to the general rule as had been f1 m the Presen*; .in*
have hitherto been considered as the eighth and ninth cervical, being in fact the first and second dorsal each tvvo ver!ebrse wblch
rudimentary ribs, moveably articulated to their transverse processes by a true articular surface This fac^T bea!'11?S a Pair,of
examination of two skeletons in my possession, one of which is an adult, and is artificially articulated the nt hfr^6 ascertained ^ the
served as anatura! skeleton in spirit.”_See Observations on the Neck of the Three-tvd Sloth very young, and pre-
Bell, F.R.S., in Transactions of the Zoological Society of London, vol. i. p. 113. ’ ^ iidactylus, Linn., by Thomas
VOL. XIV.
Q
MAMMALIA.
122
History. Although among very ancient authors some valuable dis-
y—■ tinctive principles were pointed out which remained long
unattended to, and have been recognised and acknowledg¬
ed in their due importance only in comparatively recent
times ; and although the fact of our thus, with all our ad¬
ditional appliances and stores of knowledge, merely as it
were retracing what had been ascertained and recorded by
those whose mortal remains have now for so many ages
mouldered in the dust, cannot but prove the value of an¬
cient discoveries and observation ; yet, upon the whole, it
cannot be said that any work of a remote antiquity presents
an accurate picture of the truth of nature. Fact and fable are
in most instances so intermingled, and a distinct apprecia¬
tion and lucid description of individual features so frequent¬
ly blended with unreal or fantastic characteristics, that to
derive advantage from such lucubrations, the reader would
require to be as learned as his author. At least a constant
watchfulness must be kept up, lest the fictions of imagina¬
tion be received as the records of truth.
Although in Herodotus, the “ Father of History,” we find
a few casual indications regarding quadrupeds, and a greater
number in the later labours of Columella, Yarro, Seneca,
Athenaeus, and Oppian, yet the ancient authors who have
treated most amply of their history and attributes, are
Aristotle, Pliny, and Allian. If the ancient annalist first
named deserved the title above alluded to, so with equal
propriety has Aristotle been named “ the Father of Na¬
tural History.” His descriptions, though often incomplete,
are almost always exact. The general results with which
we are now familiar in the works of our great physiological
naturalists must not indeed be looked for; nor can it be
denied that the merest tyro in anatomy would now be asto¬
nished at his doctrines relating to the structure and functions
of the brain, which he regarded as a cold spongy mass,
adapted for collecting and exhaling the superfluous mois¬
ture, and intended for aiding the lungs and trachea in re¬
gulating the heat of the body. He looked upon the heart
as the seat of vital fire, and not only the fountain of the
blood, but the organ of motion, sensation, nutrition, the
seat of the passions, and the origin of the veins and nerves.
He deemed that the blood was confined to the veins, while
the arteries contained an aerial spirit; and by nerves he
signified not only what are now so called, but also tendons
and arteries, that is, any extended string-Wke portion which
the name of vst^ov literally implies. The heart, he alleged,
had three cavities, and that in the larger animals it either
communicated with the windpipe, or the ramifications of
the pulmonary artery received the breath in the lungs and
carried it to the heart, while respiration was effected by
the expansion of air in the lungs, by means of internal fire,
and the consequent irruption of the external air to prevent
a vacuum. Digestion is a species of concoction or boiling,
performed in the stomach, aided by the warmth of the
neighbouring viscera! “ It is perhaps impossible at the
present day, when the investigation of Nature is so much
facilitated by the accumulated knowledge of ages in every
department of physical science, by the commercial rela¬
tions existing between countries in all parts of the globe,
by a tried method of observation, experiment and induc¬
tion, and finally, by the possession of the most ingenious
instruments, to form any adequate idea of the numerous
difficulties under which the ancient naturalist laboured.
On the other hand, he had this great advantage, that al¬
most every thing was new; that the most simple observa¬
tions correctly recorded, the most trivial phenomenon truly
interpreted, became as it were his inalienable property, and
was handed down to succeeding ages as a proof of his ta¬
lents, a circumstance which must have supplied a great mo¬
tive to exertion. The History of Animals is undoubtedly Historv.
one of the most remarkable performances of wffiich physical ^
science can boast. It must not, however, be imagined,
that it is a work which, replete with truth, and exhibiting
the well-arranged results of accurate observation and la¬
borious investigation, is calculated to afford material aid to
the modern student. To him more recent productions are
the only safe guides ; nor is it until he has studied them,
and interrogated nature for himself, that he can derive be¬
nefit from the perusal of the treatise which we now pro¬
ceed to explain.”1 We shall here avail ourselves in part
of the brief abstract of the writer just quoted.
The first book of Aristotle’s History of Animals contains
a short description of the parts of which their bodies are
composed, and of the differences in the mode of life of
living creatures. He asserts that man alone is capable of
design, for although many other animals are endowed with
memory and docility, none possesses the faculty of reflec¬
tion but the human race. The sense of touch, he states,
is common to all animals, and every living creature has a
humour, blood, or sanies, the loss of which produces death.
Every species that has wings has also two feet, and we know
of no animal which flies only, as fishes swim, for such as
have membranous wings likewise walk, and bats have feet,
as have seals, although of an imperfect structure. In this
chapter he divides animals into such as have blood, and
such as have it not. Of the former (that is, the red-blood¬
ed), some want feet, others have two of these organs, others
four. Of the latter (the white-blooded), many have more
than four feet. Of the swimming animals, which are des¬
titute of feet, some have fins, which are two or four, others
none. Of the cartilaginous class, those which are flat have
no fins, as the skate. Some of them have feet as the mol-
lusca. Those that have a hard leathery covering swim with
their tail. In regard to the mode of production, some ani¬
mals are viviparous, others produce eggs, some worms.
Man, the horse, the seal, and other land animals, bring
forth their young entire; as do likewise cetacea and sharks.
Those which have blow-holes have no gills, as the dolphin
and whale. Of the flying animals, some, as the eagle and
hawk, have wings; others, in place of wings, have mem¬
branes, as the bee and the beetle; while others are fur¬
nished with a leathery expansion, as the bat. Such as
have feathered or leathery wings have blood (that is, red
blood); but those provided with membranous wings, as in¬
sects are without blood (i. e. are white -blooded). Although
he had previously stated that every winged species has also
feet, he now propones that such as fly with wings or leathery
expansions, either have two feet or none; for, says he, it
is reported that there are serpents of this kind in Ethiopia.
Of flying bloodless animals, some have their wings covered
by a sheath, as beetles, while others have no covering, and
ot these some have two, others four wings. Those which
are of large size, or bear a sting behind, have four, but the
smaller or stingless have two wings only. Those which
have sheaths to their wings, have no sting ; but those which
have two wings are furnished with a sting in their forepart,
as the gnat. Animals are also distinguished from each
other, so as to form kinds or families. These, according
to Aristotle, are quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and cetacea—all
of which have (red) blood. Then there is another kind,
covered with a shell, such as the oyster; and another, pro¬
tected by a softer shell, such as the crab. Another kind is
that of the mollusca, such as the cuttle-fish; and finally,
the family of insects. All these latter kinds are destitute
of (red) blood. Here, then, we have a general classifica¬
tion of animals, which it is important should be borne in
mind by whoever follows historically the stream of zoology
1 Macgillivray s Lives of .Zoologists, in Edinburgh Cabinet Library, vol. xvi. p. 57-
MAMMALIA.
History, to later times, a stream which, resembling that of certain
' actual waters, will be found in its downward course not
only occasionally to diminish, but sometimes altogether to
disappear.
It has been well observed that these, and numerous other
general aphorisms which we have omitted, are by no means
so simple or so easily attained, as one might imagine after
cursory perusal; and this will be the most readily admit¬
ted by him who possesses the most comprehensive view of
the great series of animated life. This system of Aristotle,
then, may be exhibited in its general features by the fol¬
lowing form:—
Red-Blooded Animals.
Quadrupeds, Serpents, Birds, Fishes, Cetacea.
White-Blooded Animals.
Testacea, Crustacea, Mollusca, Insects.
It must not, however, be understood that Aristotle pro¬
poses any formal distribution of animals, for his ideas re¬
specting families, groups, and genera, wrere extremely vague,
and bear little or no relation to the views entertained in
modern times. His Quadrupeds (and it is with them that
we are at present mainly concerned), include both the mo¬
dern Mammalia and the quadrupedal Reptiles. He divides
them into those which are viviparous, and those which are
oviparous; the former covered with hair, the latter with
scales. Serpents are also scaly, and, excepting the viper,
oviparous. Yet all viviparous animals arc not hairy, for,
he observes, some fishes likewise bring forth their young
alive. In the great family of viviparous quadrupeds there
are also many species (or genera), such as man, the lion,
the stag, and the dog, and he mentions as an example of
a natural genus those animals which possess a mane, as the
horse, the ass, the mule, and the wild ass of Syria, which
are several distinct species, but together constitute a genus
or family.1
In his second book Aristotle enters more into minute de¬
tails, many of which are curiously accurate, while others are
as singularly erroneous. An instance of the latter we meet
with at the commencement, when he asserts that the neck
of the lion has no vertebrae, but consists of a single bone.
In speaking of members, he takes occasion to describe the
proboscis of the elephant, and to enter generally into the
history of that gigantic quadruped. He describes the buf¬
falo and the camel, and in regard to the latter, he mentions
both the Arabian and the Bactrian kinds. He next dis¬
cusses the subject of claws, hoofs, and horns, and states
that some quadrupeds have many toes, as the lion, while
others have the foot divided into two, as the sheep, or com¬
posed of a single toe or hoof, as the horse. His general
aphorisms on the subject of horns are wonderfully accurate.
He states that most (he might have said all) animals fur¬
nished with them have cloven hoofs, and that no single-
hoofed animal has two horns. He might have added, “ nor
even one.” He next treats of teeth, which, he says, are
possessed by all viviparous quadrupeds. Some have them
in both jaws, others not; for horned animals have teeth in
the lower jaw only, the front ones being wanting in the up¬
per. Yet all animals which have no teeth above are not
horned—the camel, for example. Some have projecting
teeth, as the boar; others not. In some the teeth are
jagged, as in the lion, panther, dog; in others even, as in
the horse and cow. No animal has horns and protruded
teeth ; nor is there any having jagged teeth that has either
123
horns or projecting teeth; but the seal has them all jagged, History
because it partakes of the nature of fishes, which possess
that peculiarity. His remarks on the shedding of teeth
are, however, erroneous, and his account of the hippopota¬
mus is inaccurate in almost every particular. But in treat¬
ing of monkeys he notices their great resemblance to the
human race, the peculiar formation of their hind feet,
and their perfect fitness to be used as hands. He then
gives a general account of oviparous quadrupeds, and next
proceeds to that of birds and fishes; but with none of these
departments are we at present concerned.
Aristotle’s third book is chiefly what may be called phy¬
siological. His fourth treats of those animals which he re¬
gards as destitute of blood; but even here we find inter¬
spersed various interesting and accurate observations on
the higher classes. Thus he enumerates the organs of
sensation, stating that man, and all the red-blooded and vi¬
viparous animals, possess five senses, although in the mole
vision is defective. Yet he pretty correctly describes the
eye of that subterranean dweller, shewing that although it
is covered by a thickish skin (it is not of course so covered,
though the aperture is small), it presents a conformation si¬
milar to that of other animals, and is furnished with a nerve
from the brain. He says that all viviparous quadrupeds
not only sleep but dream ; but that it is uncertain whether
the oviparous ones indulge in dreams, although they sleep,
d he fifth, sixth, and seventh books are occupied by the
subjects of generation and parturition, and the eighth re¬
lates to the food, actions, migrations, and other circum¬
stances in the history of animals. The ninth contains a
multitude of topics not apparently at all related to each
other, but which have in some way successively suggested
themselves to the mind of the author. It is indeed be¬
lieved that whatever remains to us of Aristotle’s History ot
Animals may be looked upon as fragmentary; but in what¬
ever light it may be viewed, it cannot be otherwise regard¬
ed than as entirely deficient in method. We continually
meet with the most abrupt transitions, the subject more
immediately at first in view being seemingly lost sight of
for the sake of indulging in digressions foreign to its nature,
and we frequently find a circumstance repeated. “ This
work resembles the rude notes which an author makes
previous to the final arrangement of his book ; and such it
may possibly have been. Of descriptions properly so called
there are few, those of the elephant, camel, bonasus, cro¬
codile, chameleon, cuckoo, cuttle-fish, and a few others, be¬
ing all that we find.”2 It cannot, however, be denied, that
notwithstanding his numerous imperfections, he did much
both for anatomy and natural history, “ and more, per¬
haps,” says Dr Barclay, “ than any other of the human
species, excepting such as a Haller or Linnaeus, could have
accomplished in similar circumstances.”3 The great import¬
ance justly attached to his writings as the founder of na¬
tural history, has induced us to present a more extended
sketch of his views and doctrines than we can afford to other
ancients. In our remaining notices we shall therefore be
extremely brief.
Nearly three centuries and a half elapsed between the
death of Aristotle and the birth of Pliny, who came into
the world during the reign of Tiberius, and in the twentieth
year of the Christian era. He was a voluminous compiler
of all that was known during his own time, and although of
less accurate observation, and of more defective judgment
than his great predecessor, his works are extremely curi¬
ous, and of considerable value in their way. His Natural
History was his latest work, and unfortunately it is the only
1 Wid. pp. 58-62. 2 Loc. cit. p. 72.
'On Life and Organization. The best edition of the m?l 'is^/* is that of Schneider, himself a great Grecian, and an accom-
pushed naturalist. 4 vols. 8vo, Leipsic, 1811
124 MAMMALIA.
History, one which has descended to the present times. It was
——composed, according to his own statement, of extracts from
more than 2000 volumes, written by authors of all kinds,
and is in truth not so much a treatise on what we now term
Natural History, as a relation of all that was known (and of
not a little that was imagined) concerning animals, vege¬
tables, the mineral kingdom, the “great globe itself,”agricul¬
ture, commerce, medicine, and the arts. It is divided into
thirty-seven books, the eighth of which consists of notices
not only regarding our mammalia proper, such as elephants,
lions, tigers, panthers, camels, cameleopards, rhinoceroses,
and others, but also touches on the history of dragons, ser¬
pents, and reptiles. As an exposition of natural history,
strictly so called, the work is in truth of little real interest,
and of no utility, and we need scarcely say that every prin¬
ciple of natural arrangement is utterly unknown, or disre¬
garded.
The only other ancient naturalists whom we shall here
name are JElian and Oppian. The former, surnamed by
reason of the sweetness of his style the Honey-tongued,
flourished in the latter part of the second century, and
wrote a history of animals in Greek, which abounds in
foolish fables; the latter was a poet, of the early part of
the third century, who is said to have received from
Caracalla a golden crown for every line. Besides his works
on fishing and falconry (the latter lost), he composed cer¬
tain books on hunting (Cynogeticon), which, with the
others, are probably still consulted by the curious, although
we cannot pledge ourselves to their in any way advancing
the student’s knowledge of the mammiferous tribes.
When the darkest ages began to pass away, that is, when
a lengthened period was concluding, during which, so far
as can now be ascertained, the European mind does not
seem to have been successfully exercised either in science
or literature (excepting chiefly what was gained in the one
from the Arabian writers, in the other from the legends
of the Provencal Troubadours), we begin again to perceive
the emanation of a feeble light. The expression, perhaps,
should be qualified by considering the disadvantages of
early writers,—their ignorance of anatomy,—and, for aught
we know, the non-existence of museums. Albertus Mag¬
nus flourished during the greater period of the thirteenth
century, and composed, among innumerable other works, a
History of Animals. It is a remarkable production for its
time. The author lived long at Cologne, where he is said
to have miraculously raised flowers in winter, to please
William Count of Holland. Another of his wonderful feats
was the construction of a speaking automaton, which, how¬
ever, was one day knocked on the head by Thomas Aqui¬
nas, the angelical doctor, who deemed it an agent of the
devil. From these facts we ought probably to infer, that
he possessed no mean skill in horticulture, and was an
adept in mechanical philosophy. He is said, by some, to
have derived his latinized name of Magnus, not so much
from the greatness of his learning and celebrity, as because
his family name in Dutch was Groot. Yet none of the
Counts of Bollstadt, to whom he was akin, seem ever to
have borne such name. In the greater proportion of his
works, he appears either as a commentator on Aristotle
(he is alleged to have been no great Grecian, and to have
studied the Stagyrite chiefly through the medium of a Latin
translation), or as a compiler from the Arabian writers.
HisHistoryof Animals is mainly composed from Aristotle,
1 liny, and Ailian. “ He was a man,” says Sir Thomas
Browne, “ who much advanced their opinions by the au-
thoritie of his name, and delivered most conceits, with
strickt enquirie into few.”
Passing over about two hundred years, we have next to
name some celebrated writers of the sixteenth century.
Old Conrad Gesner, as we are accustomed to call him, died
in the prime of life of a pestilential disease, in the year
1565. He was a native of Zurich, in Switzerland, and a History,
very voluminous author. His only work which falls within'——
our present cognisance is his History of Animals, which
consists of five books, forming several folio volumes, the
last of which was published posthumously, more than twen¬
ty years after his decease. They are adorned with nume¬
rous wooden cuts, which, as may be supposed, are more
curious than accurate. This extraordinary compilation
contains a critical review of whatever had been previously
effected in zoology, but is itself principally composed of
extracts from ancient writers. A portion of it was trans¬
lated into English by Topsell, under the title of a “ His¬
tory of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents.” Gesner’s writ¬
ings were long held in the highest estimation. Haller
called him Mo7istrum Eruditionis, and his works on Natural
History certainly contain a sufficiency of learning, and not
a few monstrosities. He is said to have been the earliest
individual who, being short-sighted, used the artificial ad¬
vantage of concave glasses.
During the same century flourished (to use an accus¬
tomed term, although we regret to say, that, in regard to
naturalists, it admits of a varied, and sometimes very doubt¬
ful interpretation) four other naturalists, all, in their way,
entitled to the name of great; we allude to Pierre Belon,
Hippolito Salviani, Guillaume Itondelet, and Ulysses Al-
drovandi. The first three devoted themselves chiefly to
fishes, and were, in fact, the founders of modern Ichthyo¬
logy ; the last named was more excursive and extended in
his range. Bayle indeed has remarked, that antiquity does
not furnish us with an instance of a design so extensive, and
requiring such an amount of labour, as that of Aldrovandus.
He truly far surpasses Pliny, both in length and verbosity.
His works amount to thirteen volumes folio, only four of
which (those on birds and insects) seem to have been pub¬
lished during his own life. The volume on “ Quadrupeds
which divide the hoof,” was first digested by Cornelius
Uterverius, and afterwards by Thomas Dempster, a Scotch¬
man, professor at Bologna, and published in 1621. That
on “ Quadrupeds which do not divide the hoof,” was like¬
wise digested by Uterverius, and made its appearance in
1613. The volume on “ Quadrupeds with toes or claws,”
as well as that on Monsters, was compiled from the manu¬
scripts by Ambrosinus. The whole were afterwards re¬
printed at Frankfort, although it is now difficult to obtain
a uniform edition. “ Aldrovandus,” says the Abbe Gallois,
“ is not the author of several books published under his
name ; but it has happened to the collection of natural his¬
tory, of which those books are part, as it does to those •
great rivers which retain, during their whole course, the
name they bore at their first rise, though, in the end, the
greatest part of the water which they carry into the sea
does not belong to them, but to other rivers which they re¬
ceive ; for, as the first six volumes of this great work were
by Aldrovandus, although the others were composed since
his death by different authors, they have still been attri¬
buted to him, either because they were a continuance of
his design, or because the writers of them used his me¬
moirs, or because his method was followed, or, perhaps,
that these last volumes might be the better received under
so celebrated a name.” Aldrovandus is usually regarded as
an enormous and insatiable compiler, without much taste
or genius (the latter attribute, fortunately for encyclopae¬
dists, being not altogether essential to such an occupation),
and seems to have borrowed largely, both as regards plan
and materials, from his predecessor Gesner. Buffon says
with great truth, that, if all that is useless or unnecessary
were expunged from his works, they might be reduced to
a tenth of their bulk ; but we fear it may be added, with
equal truth, that, if the same operation were performed on
every author, not a few would be found to yield not even
that priestly proportion. It is certain, however, that when
#
History. Aldrovandus treats of cocks or oxen, he does in no measure
v —" resti ain himself to their natural history properly so called,
but he tells us of all that the ancients have thought of
tnem, of all that has been imagined of their virtues or
MAMMALIA.
T. . .    ~&***V.V* W* VLX^Ll VllLUCa U1
tneir vices, their courage or character, all the miracles
with which they have been connected, all the supersti¬
tions of which they have been the subject, all the com¬
parisons which they have furnished to poets, all the attri¬
butes with which various nations have endowed them, as
well as the hieroglyphics, or armorial bearings, in which
they are represented; in short, of every thing that can be
ound or fancied in the history of cocks or oxen. It must
be added, however, that, notwithstanding (possibly in con¬
sequence of) his endless redundancy, he is often extreme¬
ly exact in many important particulars; and, although
Uaion Cuvier calls his compilation a troublesome and indi¬
gested mass, yet we know of more than one who has found
it both curious and instructive. Aldrovandus, although of
noble birth, and originally of prosperous fortunes, is said
to have died blind in an hospital in Bologna. It was this
melancholy recollection which, coming across our mind at
the commencement of the present paragraph, induced us
to qualify the meaning of the term flourished.
. -Notwithstanding the voluminous labours of the authors
hitherto alluded to, little or no advance had been made in
systematic zoology. It is indeed surprising, that, endowed
with so much learning, and of course with energy and per¬
severance as its sources, none of these observers should
have seen natural objects in the light in which they at pre¬
sent appear, even to the uninstructed; for the most igno¬
rant amongst us would scarcely now arrange all mammi-
ferous land animals and lizards in the same natural group,
simply because they are characterized in common by the
possession of four legs. But great advances were made in
the course of the ensuing or seventeenth century. One
of the earliest, and, we fear, also one of the least success¬
ful zoologists of this period, was John Johnston, descended
no doubt originally from a Scottish family, but born near
Lissa, a city of the district of Posen in Poland, in the year
1603. That portion of his “ Historia Animalium” which
treats of quadrupeds, was published at Frankfort-on-the-
Maine in 1652. The plates, engraved by Matthew Me-
rian, exhibit some improvement on those of Gesner and
Aldrovandus, but the letter-press must share with theirs in
the character of being in a great manner an uncritical com¬
pilation. We here pass unwillingly the great names of
Iledi and Swammerdam, neither of whom wrote on qua-
drupeds, although the physiological observations of the one,
and the surprising and hitherto unrivalled researches in in¬
sect anatomy of the other, have rendered their names im¬
mortal, and, by the philosophical and inductive spirit by
which they were respectively conducted, no doubt mate-
lially contributed to inspire a better and more original ha¬
bit of observation than had hitherto prevailed.
The British naturalist justly regards with pride the high
station occupied, towards the conclusion of the century, by
the illustrious John Ray. His “ Synopsis Methodica Ani¬
malium Quadrupedum, et Serpentini Generis,” was pub¬
lished in 1693, and besides containing a systematic classi¬
fication of these creatures, it describes their external forms
and internal structure, and illustrates their instinctive ha¬
bits by many important and interesting observations. In¬
deed, there are few departments of natural history which
did not receive improvements from his pen. He is termed
by Baron Cuvier “ le premier veritable methodiste pour le
regne animal, guide principal de Linnaeus dans cette par-
tie.” The great Swedish naturalist was indeed deeply in¬
debted to Ray, and a careful and comparative perusal of
the Synopsis Quadrupedum and of the early editions of the
Systema Naturcc, certainly inspires a wish that the obliga¬
tion had been more warmly acknowledged. The era in
which Ray flourished has been justly described as the dawn¬
ing of our golden age in natural history. “ The peculiar
character of his works,” says Cuvier, “ consists in clearer
and stricter methods than those employed by any of his
predecessors, and applied with more constancy and preci-
sion. The divisions which he has introduced into the classes
of quadrupeds and birds have been followed by the English
naturalists almost to our own day; and we find very evi¬
dent traces of his system of birds in Linnaeus, Brisson, Buf-
fon, and m all the authors who have treated of that class of
animals. We have already alluded, in our brief notice of
preceding writers, to the singular absence of all effort to
illustrate even the most familiar phenomena by any ap¬
proach to actual observation; and this, we think, consti¬
tutes one of the great merits of Ray, that, with sufficient
learning to appreciate and report the recorded studies of his
predecessors, he yet looked abroad on nature with an eye of
admiration and of love, from whence resulted a freshness and
originality, for which we look in vain in many bulkier vo¬
lumes, both of prior and of later times. “ His varied and
useful labours,” observes the author of a recent memoir,
“ have justly caused him to be regarded as the father of
natural history in this country; and his character is, in
every respect, sucluas we should wish to belong to the in¬
dividual enjoying that high distinction. His claims to the
regard of posterity are not more founded on his intellectual
capacity, than on his moral excellence. He maintained a
steady and uncompromising adherence to his principles, at
a time when vacillation and change were so common as al¬
most to escape unnoticed and uncensured. From some
conscientious scruples, which he shared in common with
many of the wisest and most pious men of his time, he did
not hesitate to sacrifice his views of preferment in the church,
although his talents and learning, joined to the powerful
influence of his numerous friends, might have justified him
in aspiring to a considerable station. The benevolence of
his disposition continually appears in the generosity of his
praise, the tenderness of his censure, and solicitude to pro¬
mote the welfare of others. His modesty and self-abase¬
ment were so great, that they transpire insensibly on all
occasions; and his affectionate and grateful feelings led
him, as has been remarked, to fulfil the sacred duties of
friendship even to his own prejudice, and to adorn the bust
of his friend with wreathes which he himself might have
justly assumed. All these qualities were refined and exalt-
ed by the purest Christian feeling, and the union of the
whole constitutes a character which procured the admira¬
tion of contemporaries, and well deserves to be recommend¬
ed to the imitation of posterity.”1 Ray was born at Black
Notley, in Essex, in 1628, and died at the same place in
1705. r
The greatest naturalist who was, as it were, intermediate
between Ray and Linnaeus, or at least whose life embraced
the death and old age of the one, and the birth and man¬
hood of the other, was the celebrated French entomologist
Reaumur. He was born at Rochelle in 1683, and died in
1757. His well-known Memoires on insects, are among
the most valuable contributions which have ever been made
to that department of science; but, as he did not write on
mammiferous animals, we should not have introduced his
name in this place, had he not been among the first in
r ranee to form an extensive museum, containing both qua¬
drupeds and birds, and which is known to have afforded
materials for the formation of M. Brisson’s works.
W e now arrive at the memorable epoch of Linnaeus, that
125
History.
1 Memoir of Ray, in Xaturalist's Library, Entomology, vol. ii. p. C9.
MAMMALIA.
126
History, immortal and unrivalled naturalist, whose life and labours
v—' are now so well known, and so universally appreciated, that
we deem it needless to indulge in any observations on the
subject. He was born at Rashult, in the province of Sma-
land, in Sweden, on the 23d of May 1707, and, after re¬
constructing the whole arrangement of nature, inventing an
unthought-of nomenclature, and bestowing upon both the
organic kingdoms a lucid order which, but for him, they cer¬
tainly would not have yet possessed, he died at Upsal on
the 10th of January 1778. We shall merely add his cu¬
rious and characteristic description of himself, substituting
the pronoun “ I” for the “ He” of the original. “ My
head was prominent behind, and transversely depressed at
the lambdoid suture. My hair was white in infancy, then
brown, in old age somewhat grey. My eyes were of a ha¬
zel hue, vivacious and penetrating, with a remarkable power
of vision. My forehead became wrinkled in after life. I
had an obliterated wart on my right cheek, and another on
the same side of my nose. My teeth were inelfective, hav¬
ing become unsound in early life from hereditary toothach.
My mind was quick, easily moved to anger, joy, or sadness,
quickly appeased; in youth hilarious, not torpid in age;
in business extremely prompt. My gait was light and ac¬
tive. I committed all household cares to my wife, being
myself concerned solely with the productions of nature. I
brought to a conclusion whatever I commenced, and during
a journey I never looked backwards.” The writings of
Linnaeus were extremely numerous, but we have here to
do only with his arrangement of the mammiferous tribes,
which introduced so many clear and precise elements into
what had before been little else than a chaos of darkness
and uncertainty, that but few and trifling amendments have
since been effected in that branch of zoology up to the pre¬
sent day. The first edition of his great work the “ Syste-
ma Naturae,” was printed at Leyden in 1735, and consisted
of only a few folio pages. Numerous editions were called
for during the lifetime of the author. That usually called
the twelfth (it is believed to be in reality the fifteenth) is
the best, and the last which received Linnaeus’s own im¬
provements. It was published at Stockholm in 1766, and
from it we have made up the following abstract of his ar¬
rangement of the class Mammalia.1
Order I.—Primates.
Homo, Man : two species!
Simla, Baboons and monkeys : thirty-three species
Lemur, Macauco : five species.
Vespertilio, Bats : six species.
Order II.—Bruta.
Elephus, Elephant: one species.
Trichechus, Walrus : two species.
Eradypus, Sloth: two species.
Myrmecophaga, Ant-eater : four species.
Manis, Manis : two species.
Dasypus, Armadillo : six species.
Order III—Fer;e.
Phoca, Seal: three species.
Cams, Dog, wolf, fox, &c.: nine species.
Lelis, Lion, tiger, cat, &c.: seven species.
Viverra, Civet: seven species.
Mustela, Marten, polecat, &c.: eleven species.
Ursus, Bear : four species.
Didelphis, Opossum : five species.
Talpa, Mole : tw t species.
Sorex, Shrew: five species.
Erinaceus, Hedgehog : three species.
Order IV.—Glires.
Hystrix, Porcupine : four species.
Lepus, Hare : four species.
Castor, Beaver : three species.
Mus, Rats and mice: twenty-one species.
Sciurus, Squirrel: eleven species.
Noctilio, A kind of bat: one species.
Order Y Pecora.
Camelus, Camel, dromedary, &c.: four species.
Moschus, Musk deer : three species.
Cervus, Deer: seven species.
Capra, Goat: twelve species.
Ovis, Sheep : three species.
Bos, Oxen : six species.
Order VI—Bellu^e.
Equus, Horse, ass, zebra : three species.
Hippopotamus: one species.
Sus, Hog: five species.
Rhinoceros: one species.
Order VII.—Cete.
Monodon, Narwhal: one species.
Balcena, Whale : four species.
Physeter, Cachalot: four species.
Helphinus, Dolphin : three species.
The principal objection which has been found to the
preceding system is derived from the alleged unnatural se¬
paration of the Orders Bruta, Pecora, and Bello.®,
which are chiefly detached portions of the great Order
Ungulata of Ray, and which even Aristotle had placed
in juxtaposition. They have, therefore, after the ejection
of certain genera into other orders, been again brought
together by Baron Cuvier, in his sixth and seventh pri¬
mary divisions. Yet we cannot but wonder, that with a
knowledge of the nature or existence of not more than
about 230 mammiferous animals (probably about a fifth
part of those with which we have now some acquaintance)
Linnaeus should have been able to construct such a system;
for it is admitted that his genera are for the most part na¬
tural, in as far as they contain assemblages of species
which in the majority of cases have been preserved in more
recent systems, although under higher denominations, and
split into minor divisions. It is also admitted that, with
certain exceptions (which chiefly concern the Order Bru¬
ta), the internal contents of the orders themselves are na¬
tural groups.2 At all events, the influence exercised by the
Linnaean system was immense and immediate, and has
proved continuous and abiding. Indeed, we have already
had occasion elsewhere to remark,3 that, with the excep¬
tion of the purely artificial classification of Klein, and the
multiplied orders of Brisson and Vicq-d’Azyr, all the sys¬
tems which have appeared since the middle of the last cen¬
tury are indebted more or less to the labours of the immor¬
tal Swede, and may be valued almost exactly in proportion
to their share in the lucidus or do of the Linnaean System.
Of this no one need doubt who inclines to compare with
History.
1 A greatly enlarged but inaccurate edition, known as the thirteenth, was compiled bv Gmelin, and published
Dr 'I nrton s English edition, London 1806, is a translation of that of Leipsic.
2 Swainson On the Geography and Classification of Animals, p. 145.
3 See Animal Kingdom of this Work, vol. iii. p. 182.
at Leipsic in 1788.
History, the Systema Naturce of 1766, the Systema Regni Anima-
s—'y'—'''' 'js of Erxleben (1777), the Prodromus Methodi Anima-
lium of Storr (1780), or the Elenchus Animalium of Bo-
daert (1787). Nor can it have escaped the notice of the
MAMMALIA.
127
thor, yet his writings have exercised so strong and benefi- History,
cial an influence on natural history, that we cannot pass'-—
his name unnoticed in our cursory sketch. “II restera
toujours,” says Baron Cuvier, “ I’auteur fondimental pour
iz &rrief„?rtheund anj11 ire’de/
1”““eir-s £sn>siss:±
wSSSSSB Sf.-SHaSSTr™
many iiprovcme\te in the ’ .* by en;bodyinS his in language as attractive as had
tosTS T 70Sefdivu,«ed “d esteblished byLi“ himself toTe ^r Jof Lbg u Lt dt^rdenhe
mUted opinim‘of maVvTr6-- ^ ^ " the ^ neCeSsity’ in 50 ““P1- “d mulfiWoufa IS;
coupes on! elles SlnLlemeTd^t' AuS%t0utes ses ^ss dangerous and deceptive that ihev bear the impress of
mrrnJ\ NUrl t' A r^1 § en- raj?ai*’ ceux de Qnadru- nied, however, that many of his general observations are
T7’ de Rmni- eXtremely rP0rtant’ and he ™ the fesuo can”!
genres fthose of T inn^,i<A ^ * ? fin ^mi, ,?e® tentlon to the interesting subject of zoological geography,
E cXr • f L nnaeus) ceux meme flu on a ete oblige by his comparative remarks on the quadrupeds of the old
de subdiviser, se retrouvent encore conserves dans les clas- world and those of America. quadruPetIS ^ old
toSnSC’S,tP US r-eCenteS’ fesfor™es?es families na- As it is not our intention to exhibit in detail the features
nd dear “edT'7 ’“f, ‘ “f %deS Quad'i11- ^ but the more imPOT‘aat “d influenS systems ^
T emnrlpnfp • d d g? dcs familles, les Singes et les shall here briefly illustrate the progress of the science bv
LgenTzirTlXstreTp^ri6^ enumerating the amount of species described by certain
We have entered into thll'd^T ^ v ^0oIogie- well-known authors, who were either contemporaneous with,
deem.unn^ intn^ncfo^t ZJtS ^75^
chTter 333 aB„ddt%te i
Hvif noc gf; ph naturalist. Delighting as we do to of La Cepede) ;6 Gmelin, 440 ? and Vicq d’Azvr 363 *
in the dlvefopmenJ olThe^o cITn7^ ^ Arng these authors, as M. Desmarest has observed^ such
^ L 0t .the^so-called Natural System (and as have indicated the highest amount of species, have been
tbat every age will furnish fresh materials towards the more
satisfactory solution of that great and mysterious problem we
cannot doubt), we yet desire it should be borne in mind
how vast are the benefits which Linnaeus has conferred on
natural history, and how, but for him, we should, in all
the least critical and distinctive in their enunciation of their
characters. The observation applies particularly to Pen¬
nant, Gmelin, Boddaert, and Vicq. d’Azyr, who, whatever
may have been their other merits (and those of our coun¬
tryman were of the highest order), were in no way distin-
imi-v. , , ouuuiu, in an tryman wen
truth,00 5 aVe eenstl Graying infinitely farther from the guished for a severe revisal of the facts on which they
founded. It has been calculated, that, notwithstanding the
“ And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.’’ additional zeal with which the natural history of quadrupeds
All wbp o,.Q . ... ^as keen of late pursued, about an eighth part of the soe-
how admirable was\satarTTnTrV11 ^ SC1fen£e’ know cies described by these authors remain undetermined even
now aamirable was his tact in the discovery of the minor at the present day.
their co^SuI lut wEve^ewT^S ot *«t of
“ a"d,?y--> f «*? -ce,y he doubted tht £ %
one has contributed such valuable materials for the various
and not seldom discordant theorists to work upon. Let
those who find these materials in any great measure in¬
tractable, bethink themselves occasionally of a homely
Scotch proverb, that “ a bad reaper never had a good
hook.”
not unjustly, for a needless disregard of the nomenclature
of his predecessors and contemporaries, and for a love of
change, which induced a French critic to accuse him, 
d avoir invente beaucoup plus de mots qu’il n’a fait de
travaux utiles.” Nevertheless, his system, which contain-
Although Buffon cannot be regarded as a systematic au- of’scleral or^uSTg^Vtoteen^SSy
i 1®ld°re peoffroy St Hilaire, in Dictionnaire Classique d'Histoire Naturelle, t. x n
* Regne Ammal, !756. 3 Sysiema Mammalium, 1777. > P' 4 o . ^ , _
Elenchus Animalium, 1785. 6 Histoire Generals ct PartLliere des Animaur 1763 ’ 77L
128
mammalia.
History, influential to induce us to present it to our readers. He
^ v ' divides the entire mammiferous class into fourteen orders,
containing thirty-nine families, and a hundred and twenty-
five genera, as follows. We add the name of a well-known
species of each genus, with a view to illustrate the nature
of the group.
Illiger defines Mammalia as vertebrated animals, breath¬
ing by means of lungs, with warm red blood, a heart with
two ventricles and two auricles, a diaphragm, mammce, a
skin either hairy or bald, viviparous, giving milk.
Synopsis of Illiger’s Orders, Families, and Genera.
20. Genus Phalangista. . . . Didelphis petaurus. History.
27. Phascolomys. . . . Phase, fusca.
Order III. Salientia.
Family 7. Salientia.
28. Hypsiprymnus
voi, parte postica ele-
vata). Potoroo. . . Did. potoru.
29* Halmaturus sal-
tus, ȣ>], cauda). Kan-
garoo Didelphis gigantea, L.
Order I. Erecta.
Family 1. Erecia.
1. Genus Homo H. sapiens, L.
Order II. Pollicata.
Family 2. Quadruma.
2. Simla, Cuv. Orang. . S. Troglodytes.
3. Hylobates {yXo/ix-fn?, per
sylvas gradiens). Gib¬
bon S. Ear, L.
4. Lasiopyga villo-
sus, wvy», anus). . S. nemea, L.
5. Cercopithecus. Guenon
or Monkey. . . . S. nasica.
6. Cynorephalus. Ape, ba¬
boon S. silenus, L.
7. Colobus (x.oXoQt>s, muti-
latusj S. ferruginea.
8. Ateles S. paniscus, L.
9. Mycetes mu-
giens) S. Beelzebub, L.
10. Pithecia S. pithecia, L.
11. Aotus S. trivirgata.
12. Callithrix S. capucina, L.
13. Hapale (uTvccXog, mollis). S. rosalia, L.
Family 3. Prosimii.
14. Lichanotus (x.t^xvog, digi¬
tus, index). Indri. . Lemur indri, L.
15. Lemur . Maki. . . L. mongoz, L.
16. Stenops (a-rtvog, angustus,
oculus). Lori. . L. tardigradus, L.
Family 4. Macrotarsi.
17- Tarsius. Tarsier. . . Didelphis macrotar-
sius, L.
18. Otolicnus (aroXtr.vog, au-
riculis magnis). Ga¬
lago Lemur Galago.
Family 5. Leptodactyla.
19. Chiromys. Aye aye. . Sciurus madagasca-
riensis, L.
Family 6. Marsupialia.
20. Didelphis. Opossum. Didelphis marsupia-
™ • ^s> L.
21. Chironectes manus,
vriKTvg, natator). . . Lutra minima.
22. Thylacis (3-va*!, saccus,
marsupium). Perameles. Didelphis obesula.
23» Dasyurus J)# viverrina.
24. Amblotis abor¬
tus).. Wombat. . . Wombatus fossor.
25. Balantia (/SasA^vr/av, mar¬
supium). Phalangista. C. Didelphis orientalis,L.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.
41.
42.
43.
44.
45.
46.
47.
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
53.
54.
55.
56.
Order IY. Prensiculentia.
Family 8. Macropoda.
Dipus. Gerboa. . . Dipus sagitta, L.
Pedetes (wn^riKjSaltator). D. cafer, L>
Meriones {pi^og, femur). D. tamaricinus, L.
Family 9. Agilia.
Myoxus. Dormouse. Myoxus glis, L.
Tamias {ja.yict.g, promu?,
condus) Sciurus striatus, L.
Sciurus. Squirrel. . . Sc. vulgaris.
Pteromys. Flying squirrel. Sc. volans.
Family 10. Murina.
Arctomys. Marmot. . Arct. marmota, L.
Cricetus. Hamster. . Mus cricetus, L.
Mus. Rat, mouse. . M. decumanus, L.
Spalax M. typhlus, L.
Bathyergus (/ZctSv^yw,
terram profunde labo-
rare) M. maritimus, L.
Family 11. Cunicularia.
Georichus {yia^vx-og, qui
terram fodit). Mole rat. M. capensis, L.
Hypudseus (ymdxicg, sub-
terraneus). Field-mouse. M. arvalis, L.
Fiber. Musk beaver. . M. zibethicus, L.
Family 12. Palmipeda.
Hydromys M. coypus, L.
Castor. Beaver. . . Castor fiber, L.
Family 13. Aculeata.
Hystrix. Porcupine. . Hystrix cristata, L.
Loncheres qui
lanceam fert). . . Lonch. paleacea.
Family 14. Duplicidentata.
Lepus. Hare. . . . Lepus timidus, L.
Lagomys. Pica. . . L. pusilla, L.
Family 15. Subungulata.
Coelogenys Cavia paca.
Dasyprocta (fatrvg, hirsu-
tus, rr^uKrag, anus).
Agouti C. agouti, L.
Cavia. Guinea-pig, or
Cavy C. aperea, L.
Hydrochaerus. Capybara. C. capibara.
Order V. Multungula.
Family 16. Lamnunguia.
Lipura(A£<5rovga?, cui cau¬
da deest) Hyrax Hudsoniu&
Hyrax. Daman. . . H. capensis.
MAMMALIA.
History.
Family 17. Proboscidea.
57. Genus Elephas. Elephant. . E. indicus.
53.
59.
60.
61.
62.
63.
64.
65.
66.
67.
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
81.
VPL.
Family 18. Nasicornia.
Rhinoceros. . . . Rh. bicornis.
Family 19. Obesa.
Hippopotamus. . . Hip. amphibius, L.
Family 20. Nasuta.
lapirus. Tapir. . . T. Americanus.
Family 21. Setigera.
Sus. Hog Sus scrofa, L.
Order VI. Solidungula.
Family 22. Solidungula.
Equus. Horse, &c. . E. caballus, L.
Order VII. Bisulca.
Family 23. Tylopoda.
Camelus. Camel. . . C. dromedarius, L.
Auchenia («!;£>]v, collum), C. llacma, L.
Family 24. Devexa.
Camelopardalis. Giraffe. C. giraffa.
Family 25. Capreolu
Cervus. Deer. . . C. alces, L.
Moschus. Musk. . . M. moschiferus, L.
Family 26. Cavicornia.
Antilope Antilope gnu, L.
Capra. Goat, sheep. . C. ibex, L.
Bos. Ox B. urus, L.
Order VIII. Tardigrada.
Family 21. Tardigrada.
Bradypus. Sloth. . . B. tridactylus, L.
Chaelepus pe-
de claudus). . . . B. torquatus.
Prochilus la-
brosus). . . . . B. ursinus.
Order IX. Effodentia.
Family 28. Cingulata.
a olypeutes (VeAinrsvs<y,
conglomerare). . . Dasypus tricinctus, L.
Dasypus. Armadillo. . D. sexcinctus, L.
Family 29. Vermilinguia.
Orycteropus. . . . Myrmecophaga capen-
sis, L.
Myrmecophaga. Ant-
eater M. jubata, L.
... Manis. Pangolin. . . M. tetradactyla, L.
Order X. Reptantia.
Family 30. Reptantia.
Tachyglossus ve-
lox, yXua-a-ec, lingua). E-
chidna. .... Myrm. aculeata, Shaw
Echidna setosa, Cuv.
Ornithorhynchus. . Orn. paradoxus.
Order XI. Volitantia.
Family 31. Dermoptera.
Galeopithecus. Colugo. Lem. volans. L.
XIV.
129
Family 32. Chiroptera. History.
82. Genus Pteropus. Ternate bat. Vesp. vampyrus, L.
83. Harpyia(avis foeda vultu
humano mythologise). Vesp. cephalotes, L.
84. Vespertilio. Bat. . . Vesp. murinus, L.
85. Nycteris Vesp. hispidus, L.
86. Rhinolophus, . . . Vesp.ferrumequum, L.
87. Phyllostomus, . . . Vesp. spasma, L.
88. Noctilio, .... Vesp. leporinus, L.
89. Saccopteryx((r*xxa5, sac-
cus, 9tt£?w|, ala). . Vesp. lepturus, L.
90. Dysopes QvruTnv, horri-
bili specie perterreo). Vesp. molossus, L.
Order XII. Falculata.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
97.
98.
99.
100.
101.
101.
103.
104.
105.
106.
107.
108.
109.
110.
111.
112.
113.
114.
Family 33. Subterranea.
Erinaceus. Hedgehog. E. europaeus, L.
Centetes (xivnu, pungo).
Tenrec E. ecaudatus, L.
Sorex. Shrew. . . . S. araneus> L.
Mygale. Desman. . S. moschatus, L.
Condylura no¬
dus, «£»), cauda). . S. cristatus, L.
Chrysochloris, . . . S. auratus, L.
Scalops S. aquaticus, L.
Talpa. Mole. . . . T. europaeus, L.
Family 24. Plantigrada.
Cercoleptes (xsgxoj, cau¬
da, XriTTYis, capiens).
Petos Viverra caudivolva, L.
Nasica. Coati. . . V. narica, L.
Procyon. Racoon. . Ursus lotor, L.
Gulo. Glutton. . . U. gulo, L.
Meles. Badger. . . U. meles, L.
Ursus. Bear. . . . U. arctos, L.
Family 35. Sanguinaria.
Megalotis mag-
nus, ovf, auris). Fen-
nec Canis cerda, L.
Canis. Dog, Wolf. . C. lupus, L.
Hyaena C. hyaena, L.
Felis. Cat. . . . F. leo, L.
Viverra. Civet. . . V. zibetha, L.
Ryzaena hirrire
ut canis). ... V. tetradactyla, L.
Family 36. Gracilia.
Herpestes (s^jjcrnK, rep-
tans). Ichneumon. V. ichneumon, L.
Mephitis V. putorius, L.
Mustela. Weasel, Mar¬
tin. . . , . . Mustela martes, L.
Lutra. Otter. . • L. vulgaris, L.
115.
116.
117.
118
119.
Order XIII. Pinnipedia.
Family 37. Pinnipedia.
Phoca. Seal. . . . Ph. jubata, L.
Trichechus. Morse. Tr. rosmarus, L.
Order XIV. Natantia.
Family 38. Sirenia.
Manatus Trich. manatus aus-
Halicore (x\k>$, marinus,'
puella). Dugong. Trich. dugong, L.
Rytina (gtmf, ruga). Trich. manatus borea¬
lis, L.
k
130
History.
MAMMALIA.
Family 39* Cete.
120. Genus Balasna. Whale.
121.
122.
B. mysticetus, L.
Ceratodon. Narwhal Monodonmonoceros,L.
Ancylodon (asy^u^a?, in-
curvus, dens).
Anarnak, . . . Mon. spurius.
123. Physeter. Cachalot. Ph. macrocephalus, L.
124. Delphinus. Dolphin. D. albicans, L.
125. Uranodon (ov^avn, pal-
matum, dens). D. butzkopf, L.
The student will not fail to perceive that many of these
generic groups, indicated for the first time by Illiger, now
form component parts of all our recent arrangements of the
animal kingdom.
Although M. Desmarest’s work on the Mammalia is
one of great value to the student, his system of arrange¬
ment so closely resembles that of Baron Cuvier (which,
with some modifications, we intend to follow in the present
treatise), that its detailed exhibition would be here unne¬
cessary. It bears the date of 1820—22, and certainly presents
the most complete and accurate summary of the mammife-
rous tribes up to that period.1 It may therefore be assumed
as marking an epoch in the science, and as affording a use¬
ful point of comparison with preceding times. We have
already mentioned that Linnaeus was acquainted with not
more than about 230 mammiferous animals, and have like¬
wise exhibited the totals of his immediate successors. The
entire number described by Desmarest is 849, partitioned
as follows: Bimana, 1 ; Quadrumana, 141 ; Carnivora, 320
(subdivided into Cheiroptera, 97, Insectivora, 29, the true
Carnivora, 147, and Marsupialia, 47); Giires, 149; Eden¬
tata, 24; Pachyderma, 55; Ruminantia, 97; Cete, 62.
But of these 849 species, he marks about 145 with an aste¬
risk, as being too obscurely known to be admitted with cer¬
tainty to a distinct specific rank. There is also to be de¬
ducted 42 fossil species, which leaves 662 as the totality of
living mammiferous animals of which we have a distinct
knowledge, according to M. Desmarest. In regard to the
general distribution of animals over the earth, our author
gives the following numerical summary. South America,
181 species; North America, 54; common to Asia and
America, 10 ; Northern Asia, 41; Europe, 88; Africa, 107;
Madagascar and Mascareigne, 29 ; Southern Asia and Cey¬
lon, 78; Indian Archipelago, 51 ; New Holland and Van
Diemen’s Land, 33. About 30 cetacea and seals inhabit
the northern seas, 14 those of the south, and about 28 the
waters of the intermediate regions. The number of ter¬
restrial species subjected to the service of the human race
is 13, and out of that limited amount above 112 varieties
have been produced by the effects of domestication. We
may here remark, that from the time of Daubenton (1782)2
to that of Desmarest (1822), exactly forty years elapsed,
and that during that period the amount of known mammi¬
ferous animals was more than doubled. During the sub¬
sequent fourteen years, we doubt not that the zeal of our
^ living naturalists has effected a proportional increase.
. Temminck is chiefly known as a distinguished orni-
t o 0g’st* To an excellent work on certain mammiferous
tribes,- he has, however, prefixed a “ Tableau Methodique”
o le orders, genera, and sectional divisions, of the class
Mammalia, with an (approximate) enumeration of the spe¬
cies contained in each. He asserts with confidence that
these (in ^moiir>t to 860 distinct and clearly ascer¬
tained kinds. We think it due to a naturalist to whom or¬
nithology, especially that of Europe, stands so hidilv in-
debted, to present a view of the system of arrangement in
accordance with which he has classed the quadrupeds in History
the National Museum of the Low Countries (Leyden).
Order I. Bimana.
1. Genus Homo, Linn.
Order II. Quadrumana.
First Tribe. Ancient Continent.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
Simia, Linn. Two species, and a third doubtful.
Hylobates, Illig. Four species distinctly known,
and a fifth doubtful.
Colobas, Geoff. Two species.
Semnopithecus, F. Cuvier. Twelve species.
Cercopithecus, Briss. Composed of two sec¬
tions, Cercopithecus proper (of which about
20 species), and Macacus (of which 10 spe¬
cies).
Innuus, Geoff. One species.
Cynocephalus, Briss. Nine species.
Second Tribe. New Continent.
Mycetes, IHig. Six distinct species, and one
doubtful.
Ateles, Geoff.
Cebus, Erxleb. Amount difficult to determine,
from confusion in synonymes, and variation
in age and sex.
Pkhecia, Geoff. Six or seven species.
Lagothrix, Geoff'. Two species.
Callithmx, Cuv. Eight species.
Hapale, Illig. Fifteen or sixteen species.
Nocthora, F. Cuv. Three species.
Third Tribe. Lemuridm.
Otohcnus, Illig. Three species ascertained.
Tarsius, Storr. One species.
Stenops, Illig. Five species.
Lichanotes, Illig. One species.
Lemur. Twelve species.
Galeopithecus. Two species.
Order III. Cheiroptera.
Dysopes, Illig. Eleven species known, and eight
others indicated, besides a European species
still obscure.
Pteropus, Briss. Seventeen species, of which
one is probably nominal.
Cephalotes, Geoff. Two species.
Stenoderma, Geoff. One species.
Mormoops, Leach. One species.
Noctilio, Geoff One species.
Phyllostoma, Geoff Eleven or twelve species.
Vampirus, Geoff. Two or three species, of
which only one is well determined.
Glossophaga, Geoff. Six species.
Megaderma, Geoff. Three species.
Rhinolophus, Geoff. Fourteen known and two
doubtful species.
Nycteris, Geoff. Three species, of which one
is rather doubtful.
Rhinopoma, Geoff. One species.
Taphozous, Geoff. Seven species.
Emballonura, Kuhl. Two species, and a third
doubtful.
Nycticejus, Rafinesque. Eight species.
Vespertilio, Linn. Probably forty species, or
upwards.
’ Mammalogie, ou description des especes de Mammiferes
8 Monographies de Mammalogie.
* Dictionnaire des Quadrupedes de VEncyclopedic.
TIistorv.
Order IV. Carnivora.
l irst Tribe. Insectivora.
MAMMALIA.
3. Genus Hijpudceus, Illig.
131
10.
n.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
1.
2.
Genus Erinaceus, Linn. Two well known species
and a third doubtful. ’
Sorex, Linn. Fourteen or fifteen species.
Thylogale, i emm. Three species.
Mygale, Cuv. Two species, and a third doubt
ml.
Scalops, Cuv. One or two species.
Chrysochloris, Cuv. One well known species.
Condylura, Illig. One or two species.
lalpa, Linn. Three species.
Centetcs, Illig. Three species.
Second Inbe. Carnivora proper.
Ursus, Linn. Ten or eleven probably distinct
species.
Procyon, Storr. Two species.
Nasua, Storr. Two species.
Cercoleptes, Illig. One species.
laxus, Linn. Twro species.
Mydaus, F. Cuv. Two species.
rulo, Iletsi. Five or more species, some of
which but ill determined.
Arctictis, Temm. One species.
Paradoxunis, F. Cuv. Six species.
Mustela, Linn. Twenty species ascertained,
and others indicated.
Lutra, Briss. Six species.
Mephitis, Linn. Two’species.
Herpestes, Illig. Eleven species.
Pyzcma, Illig. One species.
Viverra, Linn. Nine species known, and two
more indicated.
Canis, Linn. Thirty species known, and seve¬
ral others indicated.
Proteles, J. Geoff. One species.
Hyama, Briss. Two well known species, and
^ a third indicated.
Felts, Linn. About thirty species known, be¬
sides several others not yet distinctly com
stituted.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29-
30.
Third Tribe. Amphibia.
Phoca, Linn. Fourteen or fifteen species
known, besides a few which are doubtful.
doubter00* SiX Species’ onP of which is
Trichechus, Linn. One specie-^
Order V. Marsupiaua.
Didelphis, Linn. Twelve well known species
and three doubtful. species,
Cheironectes, Illig. One species.
Pfiascogale, Temm. Two species.
1 hylacinus, Temm. One species.
Dasyurus, Geoff. Four species.
Pcrameles, Geoff, f wo species.
Phalangista, Geoff Eight species.
Petaurus, Shaw. Five species.
Hypsiprymnus, Illig. Two or three species.
Halmaturus, Illig. Eight species.
1 hascolarctos, Blainv. One species.
Phascolomys, Geoff. One species.
Order VI. Glires.
Castor, Linn. Two species.
Tibet, Cuv. One species.
lr
2.
?.
a.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
. —Amount doubtful.
Lemmus, Cuv. Probably eight species, three vHistory-
doubtful. v'—“v'*-
Spalax, Gulden. Probably three species.
Tchimys, Geoff Eight species.
Myoxus, Gmel. Six species.
Myopotamus, Commers. One species.
Pydromys, Geoff Two species.
Capromys, Desmar. One species ascertained,
another doubtful.
Mm, Linn. A numerous, badly arranged, and
obscurely determined genus, of which the
amount may be stated approximately at
about forty species.
Ascomys, Lichten. One species.
Pathiergus, Illig. Two species.
Pedetes, Illig. One species.
Dipiis, Gmel. Seven species, of which proba¬
bly a few are merely nominal.
Meriones, Ilhg. Five or six species, besides
those indicated by M. Bafinesque.
Aulacodus, Swind. One species
Arctomys, Linn. Four well known species,
and a like number doubtful.
Spermophilm, F. Cuv. Five species.
Scmrm, Linn. About thirty established spe¬
cies, and from eight to ten of doubtful indi¬
cation.
Pteromys, Cuv. Eight well known species.
Cheiromys, Cuv. One species.
Hystmx, Briss. Four established species, and
one doubtful.
Sincetherus, F. Cuv. Two well determined
species, and a third probable.
Lepus, Linn. Twelve species.
Lagomys, Geoff Three species.
Ilydrocharus, Briss. One species.
Cavia, Erxleb. Three species.
Dasyprocta, Illig. Four or five species.
Ccdogenus, F. Cuv. Two species.
Order VII.
Bradypus, Linn.
Edentata.
   Three species.
JJasypus, Linn. Eight species, of which two
are more or less doubtful.
Orycteropus, Geoff One species.
Myrmecophaga, Linn. Four species, and two
others of which the existence is probable.
Mams, Linn. Three species.
Order VIII. Pachydermata.
Plephas, Linn. Two species.
Hippopotamus, Linn. One species.
Phascocheeres, F. Cuy. Probably two species.
bus, Linn. About six species.
Dicotyles, Cuv. Two species.
Bhinoceros, Linn. Four or five species
Hyrax, Herman. One species.
Tapyrus, Briss. Two species, and a third ob¬
scurely known.
Equus, Linn. Seven species.
Order IX.
First Tribe.
Camelus, Linn.
Auchenia, Illig.
Moschus, Linn,
doubtful.
Buminantia.
Without Horns.
Two species.
Three species.
Five species, one of which is
MAMMALIA.
Second Tribe. The Males Horned.
4. Genus Cervus, Linn. About twenty-four species
known, besides a few others which are doubt¬
ful.
Third Tribe. Horns encased.
5. Camelopardalis. One species.
6. Antilope, Pallas. Between forty and fifty spe¬
cies are distinctly known, and there are
indications of five or six other species.
7. Catoblepas, iElien. Two species.
8. Capra, Linn. Five or six typical species, with
numerous varieties.
9. Ovis, Linn. Six or seven distinct species, with
numerous domestic races.
10. Bos, Linn. Nine distinct species, and many
domestic varieties.
Order X. Cetacea.
First Tribe. Herbivora.
1. Manatus, Linn. Two species, and a third
doubtful.
2. Halicore, Illig. One species.
3. Stellerus, Cuv. One species.
Second Tribe. Piscivora.
4. Delphinus, Linn. Fifteen or sixteen species
are pretty accurately known, and about four¬
teen others are indicated, many of which are
no doubt purely nominal.
5. Monodon, Linn. One well known species,
and two or three others obscurely, and pro¬
bably inaccurately indicated.
6. Physeter, Linn. Two species, better known
than five or six others of which we have only
vague indications.
7. Balama, Linn. Only four or five species have
been tolerably described, and even of these
some are doubtful. Many others have been
named, of the majority of which, however,
the existence is as yet conjectural.
Order XL Monotrema.
1. .Echidna, Cuv. One species.
2. Ornithorhynchus, Blumenb. Two species.
The student will bear in mind that the preceding me¬
thodical abstract bears the date of 1827, and that several
important additions, and a few corrections, have been made
by various naturalists since that period. It presents, how¬
ever, upon the whole, an accurate and ample view.1
In the article Animal Kingdom of the present work,2 3
we have endeavoured to sketch the general attributes and Geneial
co-relations of the great primary divisions of the subjects character,
of zoological science, and we shall not here repeat our state- v ^ftcs-
ments. The class Mammalia on which we are now about '“■"■v-—'
to enter, stands at the head of that first great division of the
animal kingdom, which, by reason of the brain and conti¬
nuous lengthened mass of the nervous system being con¬
tained within the bony envelope of the cranium and verte-
brce, is named the vertebrated division, and of course com¬
prises all the higher classes, or animalia vertebrata. These
are,—Mammalia, birds, reptiles, and fishes, the last of which
alone, under the term Ichthyology, have as yet been il¬
lustrated in our present work.
The Mammalia in the system of Baron Cuvier, and in¬
deed of all the other systematic writers (although Lamarck,
guided by peculiar views regarding the progressive develop¬
ment of species, follows an inverse order), are placed at the
head of the animal kingdom,—not only because they form
the class to which we ourselves belong, but because they
are endowed with the highest combination of faculties, the
most delicate sensations, and the most varied movements.
There certainly results from the totality of their physical
qualities, an intelligence more perfect, and fertile in re¬
sources, less enslaved to the blind impulses of instinct, and
consequently more capable of amelioration and improve¬
ment, than that of the other vertebrated tribes.
As their power or amount of respiration is moderate
compared to that of birds, the great majority are formed
for walking on the surface of the earth, or for certain mo¬
tions dependent for support on bodies connected with that
surface. The articulations of their bones have consequent¬
ly precise forms which determine their movements, and
even circumscribe them with rigour. Certain species, how¬
ever, possess the power of raising themselves into the air
by means of prolonged and extended membranes, with
which their limbs are furnished; while others have those
limbs so shortened and concealed beneath the teguments,
as to render them incapable of progressive movement ex¬
cept in water; but, nevertheless, though fish-like in their
forms, they in no way lose the characteristics of their class,
and the unwieldy whale is as truly a warm-blooded mam-
miferous animal as the most active of monkeys.
In all Mammalia the upper jaw is fixed to the cranium,
and the under one, composed of only two portions, articu¬
lates by means of a projecting condyle to a fixed temporal
bone. The cervical vertebras, as already mentioned, are
seven in number. The anterior ribs are attached forwards
by cartilaginous pieces to a sternum, formed of a certain
number of vertical portions. The anterior extremities com¬
mence from a shoulder-blade, not articulated, but merely
suspended in the flesh, and often supported on the sternum
by an intermediate bone, named the clavicle. These ex¬
tremities are further composed of an arm {humerus), a fore¬
arm {radius and cubitus*), and a hand,—the last named
1 "We do not here enter into the vexed question of the quinary or other circular systems of arrangement, as these are as yet some¬
what too much connected with critical asperities, and have scarcely in themselves subsided into a lucid or tranquil element of science.
We do not think our readers would have benefited by our adopting any of the so-called natural systems as the basis of the present
article. We should not, however, hold ourselves excused were we not to advert with respect and* gratitude to those who have)
with various degrees of success, endeavoured to establish that system. In relation more particularly to our present subject, we had
with some care prepared an abstract of Mr Swainson’s views of the natural classification of Mammalia, but we now think that more
justice will be done the enlightened author (and assuredly more advantage will accrue to the attentive reader) by his arrangement
being taken rather in connection with the many interesting and valuable observations by which it is explained and supported, than
in such disjoined and compendious form as would suit our present limits. It is indeed one of the disadvantages of such systems, that
their merits cannot oe fairly exhibited linearly, nor done justice to in any ordinary form of tabular exposition. We therefore earnest¬
ly advise the student to a very careful perusal of Mr Swaiiison’s Zoological Illustrations, and of his papers, which he will find published
in Dr Iiardner’s Cyclopedia. They ought to be in the hands (and heads) of every naturalist, and their unassuming form and moderate
price fortunately render them accessible to all classes of the community.
2 Yol. iii., p. 168. J
3 These two bones of the fore-arm are sometimes distinct, and capable of a certain oblique rotation on each other (as in man and
monkeys); or they are fixed by their extremities (as among the majority of the Ferae and Rodentia). Sometimes the radius becomes the
principal bone, and the cubitus, reduced to a rudimentary state, forms only a simple apophysis. This is the case among ruminating ani¬
mals, and the genus Equus or horse tribe.
MAMMALIA.
these last bear the nails or hoofs. With the excention of vo^'^T /"T" u> L“c A«e organ ot the
the Cetacea, all the species have the first norfm?of thf J ^ at ^ Upper extreraity the tracheal ar-
posterior extremities attached to the spine, and forming a L/^/^^OT soft’nT & ^1? prolonfation called the ve-
girdle or pelvis, which in early age, is divisible into thfee between tl° 1? P at .i (Jfta )llsPe* a direct communication
pairs of bones, the ilium, whi4 Ps attached to the spine Dweflif/haStuX on *e s ,
the pubis, which forms the anterior girdle; and the ischium ferons . i Y S,urffce of the earth> mammi-
which forms the posterior. At the point s the union of to ex ™ S + S eXA°Sed than ^^ain other classes
these three bones is the cavity which^contains the articu- hair is of .n qernftl°”? ®f heat and cold, their covering or
lation of the thigh (or femur\ to which is attached the lee texture ; ?derate .thlckness, and is usually of a slighter
itself composed of wo bones the S or hln bone and nah we nf 1 SpeaeS 1°fJWarmer dimes- Un™™’ the
the fibula} The leg is terminated bv the foot a com- menTef T °f g/^US.led him to seek for ^ establish-
pound organ, composed of parts analogous to those of the of animafs maintained100^6 0p?°Sltl0n in *he, characters
hand, and named the tarsus the metatarsus and the tnea M r ’ ^ ntained, among other generalised dicta, that
The head in the Ma^iil is X“’cid lyTo a“^^rh xtst It? birdS "“f
condyles on the atlas or first vertebra1 ioint The brain i« thn n-h fi tn scales* I his is true in a general sense, al-
always composed of two hemispheres unitedby a medullary d^stute^faZ’hlbvcote6 eXclu,siv]ely in thf water>
lamina called the corpus callosum containing two ventri ‘ y l y covering, and the pangolins and
cles, and inclosing four paT/Xubereles c Jed ZVoZra ts of So? S f'h.scaI“- Blaiiviire, indeed,
striata, the optic thalami, the nates and testes Between under P ih that the USUu hairy coatmS exists, though
the optic thalami there is a tLd ventricle which elm?," Jd * “Pfct, equally among whales as in ordimPy
nicates with a fourth placed beneath the cerebellum The eVa f1]6 and t^6 distmctl0n presented by the scaly spe-
crura of the cerebellL aIwa?lol beShle meduU? ll V"? “""f 'S ™r,1 !‘1>parent than real- Yet as
oblongata a transverse prominence called the vmis Varalii e« 1° l"1’11”5’ ,cl,vere(l by "hat does not
^dclte.ciliaryi>~’a"d ^
In the ear of the Mammalia there alwavs exists a cavitv w "v n kmds °f c?vering intermingled,—the
called the drurn (cav2to5 whiclmunmunicates^ivith tu^i^
the pharynx, by means of a canal called the eustachian greater length is thl more annarlm ^ ^ [tS
tube, and is closed externally by the membrana tympani. woolly, which is extremely S ind eXt,ernaI>—and the
This cavity contains four small bones known as the incus cealed beneath the other The d 18 lf!allycon'
or anvil, the malleus or hammer the stones nr stirrnn nnd v neneatn tne other. Ihe domestic races of the sheep,
the or orbicularc or sphS Lne. Tire ear PTtW ^wetv«;forma ^markable and highly beneficial exce?
composed of the vestibule, at the entrance of which is olaced th? "if coa.trary’ '!' tle Sreat length and abundance of
^alJanYo"/^ SkeTor Sy^Ttee k
tibule^ i13 SCal8e tbe tymPanum, by tlie^thJ^nJe Sves? thos*" of troptcafregions^he^Iky coaf becomes^imtch ?le-
Ini ttsptaoM, ami ‘"ertr b^ S? occipital T? T|,e ^ ^““p
tween tbeXcipM bones, X pJeSs and th^henjd; fiXaPd tH^dlhT^fXhe I?,1116 T" °f ‘he
are inserted the temporal bones, a nortion of which hclnno- Tv,/i- u /rr’ 7 7 • t i f 1 atter» and a species
properly speaking, to the face. In the fetal condition the£ f ^ b(T. (^rsm hiatus) is remarkable for the length
bones exhibit various subdivisions,Sll mte num^ ofetshmr, which measures from seven to nine inches over
the embryo state, and become more and more compact and Ion/ ^ ^ °n partlCuIar Spots 18 nearly a foot
simple in the adult animal. f' . , . .
The face is formed essentially of the two maxillarv bone* nn H nPCC:ieS the. coyenng 18 partially or even entirely
fw00r. „„„„„„ .i  y, ^e two maxillary bones, composed of spiny projections, varying in form and aspect-
cnr»T^ oo> f7^0/-v K ^,7 1 j. _ -i . a ^
133
General
istics.
between which passes the nasal canal; these bones have
in front the two intermaxillaries (which bear the incisive
teeth), and behind them the two palatines, while between
them descends the single lamina of the ethmoid named
the vomer. On the openings of the nasal canal are the
proper bones of the nose. The jugal or cheek bone unites
on each side the maxillary to the temporal, and often to
the frontal bone; and finally, the lachrymal occupies the
internal angle of the orbit, and sometimes a part of the
cheek.
The tongue is always fleshy, and attached to a bone call¬
ed the hyoid, suspended by ligaments to the cranium.
The lungs, two in number, are subdivided into lobes
composed of an infinity of little cells, and are always in-
such as those of the hedgehog, tanrec, echimys, porcupine,
and others. All these spines are usually pointed and cylin¬
drical, and bear the form of a gigantic hair. But in the
common porcupine (Hystrix cristata) the tail is garnished
with cylindrical tunnels, which are open transversely at
their extremity, thus resembling quills which have been cut
across at the commencement of their opaque portion. In
all the spiny species naturalists have remarked that there
is a great development of those muscles which act upon the
skin, a condition, in truth, indispensable in rendering the
spines effective as weapons of defence.
Ihe colours of mammiferous animals are in general
much less brilliant than those of several other classes, and
are almost entirely destitute of that metallic splendour
S 6 ‘Y0 last-named bones offer the same variations in their relation to earh ntW _ j ..
^yne *• i’> PP- 6°-63- For details of internal structure the /npSl ’ S,d° *hos® of the fore'arm just noted.
j ■ °f thlS ®ncycloPffidia, vol. iii., p. 74 ; to the writings of Camner • of tn th 18 referred to the article Comparative
pie. The professional student will seek the more laboured syftems of Cuvier Meet 1* ®ke*ch.Prefixed by M. Desmarest to his Mamma-
Dr Grant, and the admirable Dissertations of Professor Owem ’ eCke1’ De B]ainville' CaruS; or the excellent Outlines by
MAMMALIA.
134
General which so enriches the livery of the feathered tribes. In
character- this particular the Chrysochlore, a small insectivorous ani-
istics. mai from Africa, allied to the mole, forms almost the sole
exception. Another general characteristic of the coat of
the Mammalia consists in the colours being much paler over
the lower surface than on the flanks or dorsal regions.
This observation applies not only to the ordinary quadru¬
pedal form, in which the under surface is less exposed to
view, but to the kangaroos and other leaping kinds, in which
from the almost vertical position of the body, the abdomen
and the back are equally open to the influence of light and
air. The exceptions are of two kinds, 1 st, of animals like
the polar bear, which are of one uniform colour through¬
out; and, 2dly, of certain other species like the glutton,
ratel, and badger, which are lighter above than below. Of
this one of the most remarkable examples is furnished by
an Indian animal called Panda {Ailurus refulgens), which
is of a beautiful cinnamon red colour above, with the ab¬
domen of the deepest black.
The colours of quadrupeds are sometimes mottled or
closely intermingled,—an effect produced by each hair
being composed of rings of different hues, as in most of the
squirrels ; sometimes these colours are more broadly varied,
or in stronger contrast, as among the larger spotted cats or
feline animals ; but in the majority of quadrupeds the co¬
lours of each species are rather uniform than varied, al¬
though the Makis and others exhibit some strongly con¬
trasted markings. The sexual distinctions, as derived from
the external covering, are much less remarkable than among
the feathered tribes, the female being for the most part
only somewhat less vivid than the male. Neither does the
progressive advancement to age from adolescence manifest
changes so singular and extensive as those of birds, although
among several species, such as stags, lions, and others, the
colours in early life are differently disposed from what they
are in the adult condition. The young fawn is spotted
with white, an aspect which is permanent in that species of
deer called axis, while young lions are variously marked
with dark brown or black, thus resembling the matured
condition of many of their congeners. This remarkable
relation between the colouring of young individuals of one
species, and that of other species of the same genus in the
adult state, is likewise observable in birds, but with this
difference, that the early plumage, usually resembling that
of the female, is always more dingy and obscure than that
of the adult, whereas, as already hinted, the covering of the
young Mammalia is frequently more elegantly varied than
that of their parents. The varieties of colour among do¬
mesticated animals are too numerous to be here detailed,
and indeed too familiar to require illustration. Even among
unreclaimed species frequent varieties occur, and moles and
many other animals are found of a white or cream-colour.
These changes have been observed to be extremely un¬
common among the cheiropterous species, or bats. The
term albinism is applied to the condition of the white va¬
rieties, that of melanism to that of the black ones; the for¬
mer being more frequent in cold countries, the latter in
warm ones. But melanism is much rarer than albinism, and
has hitherto been observed chiefly among feline animals,
deer, and rats. The water-rat, commonly so called {Ar-
vicola amphibia), frequently occurs exclusively of a black
colour, over a whole district of country. It has not yet
been demonstrated as a distinct species, though by some
regarded as such.
Besides the diseased or accidental condition of albinism,
several species, such as hares, ermines, and foxes, become
annually white in northern countries, during the winter
season. Black seems the colour most persistent in these
animals throughout the year ; thus the ermine always pre¬
serves the black extremity of the tail, and the points of the
ears are at all times of that colour in the Alpine hare. The
same fact is exemplified among birds of the ptarmigan General
tribe. It is difficult, however, to determine distinctly character-
whether these and other analogous changes are the direct is''!es*
result of cold, as the immediate cause, or belong to some Y
other chain of providential facts by which the well-being of
these creatures is sedulously guarded amid those inclement
countries in which they have been doomed to dwell. At
least we know that among birds we have numerous species
with plumage of the purest white inhabiting the most sul¬
try of the tropical regions, while the ominous raven, with
a covering as usual of the deepest black, is one of the few
species which braves the intensity of a polar winter, and is
seen, or rather heard, throughout that long-enduring night,
croaking among the desolate cliffs, or gliding like the spirit
of evil along the barren ice-bound shores.
Although the subject has not been investigated in de¬
tail, we know in a general way that albinism is produced
by debilitating causes, and results from the absence of the
colouring matter of the skin ; and if, on the other hand, it
could be demonstrated that melanism is rather the result of
fortifying causes, and of a superabundance of the colouring
material, we should then more clearly perceive how it hap¬
pens that all species, whatever may be their natural hue,
are liable to exhibit one or other of the phenomena in ques¬
tion. Vi
Prehension, or the seizing and handling of their food, or
other substances, is executed among carnivorous and gnaw¬
ing animals (Ferae and Rodentia) by means of the toes, which
are usually very distinct, and terminated by nails or claws
more or less pointed. In some species, such as the squirrels
among the Rodentia, and the racoons among the carnivor¬
ous kinds, the food is held by a kind of pressure between
the two anterior paws, and carried upwards to the mouth.
The hand of man is a much admired instrument, and more
perfect in its way, although of the same general structure,
than that of monkeys and other quadrumana ; which, how¬
ever (witn the exception of the genus Ateles), possess an
advantage over us in the opposable nature of the great toe,
by which they are rendered equally expert with either ex¬
tremity. They are, in truth, as the name imports, four-
handed, and are consequently the most accomplished of
climbers, as we may easily conceive, by imagining with
what activity, in spite of his comparatively heavy form, a
sailor would ascend the shrouds, or reef the sails, if his feet
were so constructed as to grasp as firmly as his hands.
The toes in quadrupeds never exceed five in number,
and have never more than three articulations: there are
sometimes only two articulations, and the number of toes
frequently differs on the anterior and posterior extremities.
These parts have furnished excellent characters for classi¬
fication, when not assumed as the sole and exclusive basis
of arrangement. Thus Klein, the Konigsberg naturalist,
divided animals into orders and sections according to the
form and number of the toes, thereby bringing into juxta¬
position many species entirely dissimilar to each other, and
at the same time separating others between which there
existed the strongest natural alliance ; while Linnaeus, with
his wonted sagacity, deduced from the toes only generic
characters, subordinate to the more important parts of the
organization, and thereby rendered them available in syste¬
matic arrangement. In many species, especially the feline,
the toes are furnished with sharp, curved, retractile talons,
which become very formidable weapons of defence or at¬
tack. In man, and the different species of monkeys, they
are possessed of great discrimination in the sense of touch,
and a false or at least exaggerated view of the subject has
led Helvetius and others to attach an extraordinary degree
of importance to the hand, as the medium of intellectual
superiority in the human race. In bats the anterior toes as¬
sume a singular form, become greatly extended, and having
their interstices filled up by membranes, act in the capacity
character 5 ":h[]c'm seals’ walruses, and cetaceous animals,
S £ ^f^les’ they Pass by different gradations into the
The prehensde power of the Mammalia is not, however
confined to their feet and hands. Many of the American
monkeys make use of their tails, both in locomotion and for
the seizure of their food ; and the kinkajou is said to insert
the tip of that portion of its body into holes in which crus-
cea he concealed, and which seizing upon and pertina¬
ciously adhering to the intruding organ, are speedily drag¬
ged from their concealment and devoured. But the pro¬
boscis of the elephant, terminated by a strong opposable
appendage, is one of the most perfect prehensile instru-
ents to be found within the range of the animal kingdom.
The same mode of seizure, but with a more restricted ac¬
tion, is practised by the great tribes of ruminating quadru¬
peds, which, using their limbs only as organs of support and
l~r C° eCut th?r f00d by means of tbe mouth alone,
that is, by a combined action of the lips, teeth, and tongue.
. W.e .need scarcely observe, that all mammiferous animals
MAMMALIA.
135
Trhi° the0tner fi"«erS’ 80 to Character,
nrf J 1 hand fitted for the secure and delicate seiz- of the
ot the smallest objects. These various combinations, Orders.
wnch in truth determine with great rigour the nature of' —'
the mamrmferous tribes, have occasioned the establishment
ot tne tollowmg orders: 
A™ng ^e unguiculated animals, commonly so called,
ie first is man, a privileged being, who enjoys a multipli¬
city of advantages over all other sublunary creatures, but
who, in the technical language of zoology, is characteriz¬
ed by his erect position, and the possession of hands to
his anterior extremities only. These, of course, are the
accidents, not the essentials of his nature, and are inade¬
quate to the description of a being who bears within him
the germ of an immortal life. It is indeed the usual prac-
t ce of naturalists to begin their systematic exposition of
the annual kingdom with a “ Nosce teipsum,” followed by
a sketch of the physical attributes of the human race, as if
that race were undistinguished by a lofty and spiritual ex-
are viviparous, that is, produce their young alive and con lv different ' in,depend an<? suPeri°r perception, entire-
sequently, as their name implies, nourish them bv means of the^vtlr 1 esS,eJ!ce1 and action fr°m the nature of
the secretion named milk. This brings us TounHo ho ^ * have Previ^y reclaimed against
definition with which we started, and w^ shall now proceed c^d ^Tttl" f Man’ °f him was
to a short exposition of the orders of the class Mammalh that nPrUh l 6 !°uer thT the angels>” with the brutes
as established and defined by Baron Cuvier. ' a, at perish, and we shall not here depart from our accus-
. Th? variable characters which establish the most essen- svsterr/h™ tha^ t0 mention that in Baron Cuvier’s
tial differences among mammiferous animals are derived ed the’t.^ ^ch in other points we shall be mainly guid-
from the organs of touch, on which depenT^eir greater ^ T" 1S^arded as the ^st order, and is
less degree of ability and address, and from the organs of The ^ J fr°m 7 pec”liarity above alluded to.
manducation, which determine the nature of their alfments menee n ^ °r,( er ^nd ^ 1S.tbatxwlth which we shall com-
and regulate not only all that relates to the die-pctive f ’ OU1r systematlc exposition), is distinguished by what
tions, but also a cloud of ote ^ ** ^ °V 7th the fore and hind exlremi-
connected with their habitrml inctin/^fo nru^  ' rpi n 113.1116(1 Q,UADRUMANA.
connected with their habitual instincts. The perfection of
the organs oi touch may usually be estimated accordirm to
the number and mobility of the toes (using the word in
its more enlarged acceptation as including the terminal
portions of both the fore and hind extremities), and the
mode and degree in which these parts are enveloped within
the claws or hoofs. A hoof which entirely encompasses
nil tit of nro-fir.™ fi, * t • i , uieiy encompasses rous animals is rather to cm
~o.roX teeth.
A v l i —. „ ^Lillies uie grouna, ot
course not only blunts its feeling, but renders it incapable
ol ^grasping. The opposite extreme consists in a simple
flattened nail, which covers only a limited terminal portion
ot the toes, and leaves the remainder in a state of delicate
perception.
The habit of life in regard to food or regimen may be
accurately inferred from the cheek-teeth, with the form of
which the articulation of the jaws is always found to cor-
resnond. Fnr . .
Ihen follows a great group which possess no free or op¬
posable thumb on either the fore or hind extremities:
these are the carnivorous animals, or order Fer;e.
In all the preceding orders we find three different kinds
ot teeth, viz. the molar or grinding-teeth, which are better
named cheek-teeth, seeing that their function in carnivo¬
rous animals is rather to cut than to grind; the canine
respond. For the purpose of cutt na fl.X LU, CT* following these we have certain kinds of which the toes
tee h (commonly I XS" ^
!— SV v ^utuxjg nesn, rnese cneek
teeth (commonly called grinders in the herbivorous ani¬
mals) are in the carnivorous kinds trenchant like a saw or
scissars, and the jaws are so restricted in their movements
as to be incapable of lateral or horizontal motion, and meet
each other vertically, with a firm but circumscribed action.
On the other hand, animals destined to live by the masti¬
cation of gram or herbs have flat-crowned cheek-teeth,
placed in jaws capable of horizontal motion ; and as it is de¬
sirable that the upper surface of such teeth should preserve
a certain inequality, like that of a mill-stone, they are found
to be composed of portions of unequal hardness, one of
which wears quicker than the other. All hoofed animals
are of necessity herbivorous, and provided with flat-crown¬
ed grinders, because their feet are incapable of seizing a
living prey. But unguiculated animals exhibit a greater
variety of form and diet, and differ greatly among them-
Belves, not only in the structure of their teeth, but also in
tne mobility and perceptive powers of their toes. One
.special character in this respect, which has prodigious in¬
fluence on the general address of animals, by multiplying
their means of prehensile action, is the faculty before allu-
The groups which compose Cuvier’s fourth order do not
ditter essentially in the nature of their extremities from the
ferine order, but they Want the canine teeth, and have in-
cisives in front of the mouth, so disposed as to fit them ad¬
mirably for that kind of manducation called gnawing.
Hence they constitute the Rongeurs of the French natu¬
ralists—the order Glires or Rodentia.
Following these we have certain kinds of which the toes
e straitened and sunk within m-pat pIqwc  i
and which moreover want the incisive teeth. In some even
the canine teeth are absent, while a few are entirely de¬
prived of those organs. They are all comprehended under
the order Edentata.
The preceding orders are all unguiculated, that is, pro¬
vided with nailed toes, capable of distinct and articulate
movement. These, though still existent, become con¬
strained and encrusted within a callous skin in the ensmmr
0rder, decrease in number till in the solipedal family
corresponding to the genus Rguus of Linnr (the horse
tnbe), there is only one apparent toe, covered by a single
undivided hoof, on each foot. These groups constitute the
theierrskhisHYDERMA’ S° named from the usual thickness of
°t1he^ boofed genera compose a very distinct group,
distinguished by their cloven feet, the absence of true in-
FrZS UpP?r jaW’ and their quadruple stomachs,
from certain peculiar functions of the last named organs
they are named ruminating animals—order Peccaa.
-finally, there are several aquatic Mammalia, of which
e posterior extremities assume the form and functions of
136 MAMMALIA.
Quadru- a tail, while the anterior members act as fins. These are
•liana, the gigantic whales and rolling porpoises, which, w ith others
not necessary to be here named, constitute the great con¬
cluding order called Cetacea.
Probably the most objectionable part of the preceding
system consists in placing all the pouched or marsupial
animals (kangaroos, &c.) as the terminal portion of the car¬
nivorous order. These creatures consist, in truth, of vari¬
ous groups, possessed of few characters in common, and
ought no doubt to be distributed through several different
orders, instead of being brought together (merely in conse¬
quence of each being characterized by the possession of a
marsupium or pouch) as a ferine family, under the name
of Marsupialia. Their creation into a distinct order, as by
some proposed, is for the same reasons equally objection¬
able.
Although in the present treatise we follow the system of
Baron Cuvier’s “ Regne Animal,” rather than that of any
more modern, or, it may be, amended classification, we
shall yet be careful to introduce from time to time such
observations of contemporary naturalists as may seem to us
to be in any way truly corrective of that system. W e think,
indeed, that there may possibly be some misconception on
the part of many modern writers, who, deriving almost all
of what they essentially know from the labours of the great
French anatomist, and obviously and almost confessedly
hanging their own restricted and superficial observations on
the gigantic trunk which he had already raised (and which
centuries will fail to undermine), suppose that because a
few glittering leaves or even “ bright consummate flowers”
of their own imagining may sometimes meet the view, that
they have created a system ! Now, the actual truth may
rather be, that had not the system itself been previously
prepared for them, and so much transparent light called
forth from such a depth of darkness, they might as easily
have found their way in absence of the sun through tangled
woods or pathless deserts, as have by actual observation
or any intellectual effort of their own, ascertained the ex¬
istence of a single great principle in natural history. But
be this as it may; we have already presented the reader
with tabular views of the prevailing modern systems, and
these he may study and compare together, and with that
which follows, and draw his own conclusions. This pro¬
cess will assuredly be to his, if not to their advantage.
Order I.—QUADRUMANA.
QUADRUMANOUS, OR FOUR-HANDED ANIMALS.
Teeth of three sorts—incisive, canine, and molar. Each
of the four extremities furnished with a thumb, free in its
movements, and capable of being opposed to the other
fingers or toes, which are long and flexible, and bear a
strong resemblance to the fingers of the human hand. The
eyes are directed forwards. The mammae, which are pec¬
toral, vary in number from two to four. A bony partition
separates the temporal cavities from the orbits; but the
nasal bone does not exhibit the suture observable in that
of man. The stomach is simple and membranous, and the
intestines are short, and greatly resemble those of the hu¬
man race.
The animals of this varied and extensive order, familiar¬
ly known under the names of orang, ape, monkey, &c. in¬
habit the warmer regions of Asia, Africa, and America. A
single species remains as a European representative on the
rock of Gibraltar, either by descent as an indigenous ani¬
mal, or by accidental importation from the opposing coast
of Barbary, where it is extremely frequent. The quadru-
manous order dwells almost exclusively in woods, feeding Quadra,
in general on fruits, roots, grain, and other vegetable pro- mana.
duce. A passage, however, occurs in Ogilby’s Translation ■“v™*-
of Niewhoff’s China, which, probably more remarkable for
graphic effect than accuracy, assigns a very different dis¬
position to some large species of the order. “ The pro¬
vince of Fokien hath an animal perfectly resembling man,
but longer armed, and hairy all over, called Fese, most
swift and greedy after human flesh; which, that he may
the better take his prey, he feigneth a laughter, and sud¬
denly, while the person stands listening, seizeth upon
him.”1 The propensity of several of the smaller species to
feed on eggs and insects is better ascertained.
The most remarkable characteristic of their external
form is the extraordinary resemblance which many of them
bear to the human race ; and their internal structure offers
equally striking analogies. Their distinctive character, how¬
ever, is by no means difficult to seize ;—their posterior ex¬
tremities, naturally unfit for the assumption of an erect po¬
sition, are admirably adapted for prehension, and the spe¬
cies are consequently the most active in their arboreal
habits of all the larger animals. The opposable thumb on
all the four extremities, although a leading character in the
great majority of the order, and the one from which the
ordinal name is itself derived, cannot strictly be said to
occur in all the genera. In truth, it is ever thus with any
single character, however influential, which naturalists may
choose to select as the basis of any great natural group. A
combination with other features is usually required, other¬
wise the organ selected will be found to undergo so many
modifications, as not seldom to evade or contradict the de¬
finition. Thus in the monkey tribe the genera Ateles and
Colobus want the thumb to the anterior hands, and in se¬
veral of the Semnopitheci it is merely rudimentary. These
therefore can scarcely be called quadrumanous, if we take
the. term in its strictest etymological acceptation. It has
been remarked as a fact worthy of attention, that the ano¬
malies by which many quadrumanous animals depart, as it
were, from their characteristic type of form, affect the an¬
terior rather than the posterior members. In man, the an¬
terior extremities alone have a free and opposable thumb.
Among the Quadrumana, on the contrary, the so called
thumb exists constantly on the posterior members, in a well
developed state, but is frequently absent or rudimentary on
the anterior extremities. Even among marsupial species
we frequently find a free thumb on the hind feet, but never
on the anterior, and the like structure is observable in a
peculiar animal, usually ranged near the squirrels, the
Cheiromys Madagascariensis. Thus it appears that vari¬
ous animals possess a true, that is, opposable thumb, on the
hind feet, which do not possess it on the fore ones, and
that the inverse character occurs only in a single creature,
of which the reader and writer of the present article afford
examples.
The quadrumanous order of animals certainly holds a
high rank in the animal kingdom; but, though apes and
monkeys often astonish us by their apparent power of imi¬
tating the actions of men, we agree with Buflbn in think¬
ing that they are not in a corresponding degree superior
to other brute animals which do not possess that power.
The talent, in fact, does exist in many species, but is ne¬
cessarily (from their structure) confined to the imitation of
their own kind ; but the ape, though he does not belong to
the human race, copies many of our actions (and unavoid¬
ably) through the resemblance of his organization. Thus
what most have ascribed to superior intelligence, is nothing
but the result of a gross affinity of form and figure.
In accordance with the modern arrangements, our pre-
1 Second edition, p. 413.
MAMMALIA.
Quadru- sent order is divisible into two extensive families, the Si-
^mana. miadje and Lemurid^e, groups corresponding in a great
measur e to the old genera Simia and Lemur of Linn.
137
FAMILY I.—SIMIAD/E, Apes IN GENERAL.
These, in their ordinary form and aspect, more or less
resemble man. They have four straight incisive teeth in
each jaw, and all their nails are flat. Their molar or cheek
teeth, like those of man, are bluntly tuberculated, and in
their habits of life they are essentially frugivorous, although
their appetites, like our own, seem very accommodating.
Their canine teeth, however, exceed the others in length,
and often require for their points a corresponding lodgement
in the opposing jaw. The family is further divisible into
two minor groups.
1st Sub-Family.—Simile Catarrhini, or Apes of the
Old World.
Of these the cutting or incisive teeth are 1, the canine
t^ie c^eek teeth or grinders ~ 5; total 32. The
nostrils, as the name implies, are separated only by a nar¬
row membrane. The tail, frequently wanting, is never
prehensile.
Genus Troglodytes, Geoffroy. Pithecus, Cuv. Ca¬
nine teeth very slightly elongated, and placed close to the
incisors and molars, as in man ; head rounded; muzzle
short; facial angle, 50° superciliary ridges strongly mark¬
ed ; no cheek pouches, tail, or callosities; no apparent in¬
termaxillary bone ; ears resembling those of man, but large
and projecting; arms of moderate length.
The only known species of this genus is the Chimpanzee,
or black orang of Africa {Simia troglodytes, Linn.), the
Troglodytes niger of the modern system.2 (See Plate I.
of this vol figure 2.) The colour of the fur is brownish
black. I he form of the body and limbs more nearly ap¬
proaches the human than that of any other animal. The
head is middle-sized, somewhat flattened in the crown, and
scarcely rising above the level of the superciliary ridges,
dhe chest is broad, the arms robust, and the anterior
thumb is placed lower on the wrist, and seems more ser¬
viceable than that of the Asiatic species.
Although we feel desirous to render the present treatise
not only useful to the scientific student, but in some mea¬
sure interesting to the general reader, by the occasional
introduction of what is called popular matter, we would
rather at present hold ourselves excused from the repetition
of the various anecdotes which might be brought forward
without much effort, to illustrate the history of this and the
other orang.3 Many of these are apocryphal, and, though
amusing, tend to mislead rather than instruct. Two species
of African orang-outang seem to have been described by
ancient writers, but as from all later researches we cannot
infer the existence of more than the one above indicated,
it is probable that the mistake originated from the young
and old of the same species having been seen apart at dif-
ferent times. “ The greatest of these two monsters,” says
Battell, “is called Pongo, and the less Engeco. This
Pongo is exactly proportioned like a man; but he is more
1 In accordance with the usual custom of naturalists, we here occasionally indirilp ^ ^ ^
that that character admits of too wide a range of variation to he relied upon as^a specific indication^ aA8le’ altllou^.h we„ are satisfied
series of skulls in the Museum of the College of Surgeons (Edinburgh), had long ago comnnnrJ °H, exa"11Jlatlon of an extensive
m the form and proportions of the cranium in the same species, according to the ale of different ^nd^tka^e changes take place
dog, badger, common pig, and especially in the Sm Babyroussa, these differences ail very remarLhll dU3 ^ 1 exanTle> in the
Harm sylvestris, Tyson ; Man of the Woods, Edwards; Great Ave. PennanI • mur ,!
p ement to Buff. tom. 7 ; but quite distinct from the Pongo of Wurmb. ’ This animal was disi^tpr) l Auf1rf1,e.rt-and of the Sup-
ln it a motor muscle of the thigh that had escaped the notice of Tyson/campe/ and CuTier l^ Professor Traill, who discoyered
”We bTeSt? refer the curious to a yery accessible little work, - TheSuralHisto^vof mIT f0
William Jardine s interesting and economical Naturalist’s Library. A book entTtfed inSi«, f M whlch.forra3 a volume of Sir
VOL. XIY. « y. ^ uuok enutied Anecdote* of Monkeys was previously before the public.
S
like a giant in stature, for he is very tall, and hath a man’s Quadru-
taee, hollow-eyed, with long hair upon his brows. His face mana.
and ears are without hair, and his hands also. His body is' >r~*~
fall of hair, but not very thick, and it is of a dunnish colour.
He differeth not from a man but in his legs, for they have
no calf. He goeth alway upon his legs, and carrieth his
hands clasped on the nape of his neck when he goeth upon
the ground. They sleep in the trees, and build shelters
from the rain. 1 hey feed upon fruits that they find in the
woods, and upon nuts; for they eat no kind of flesh. They
cannot speak, and appear to have no more understanding
than a beast. The people in the country, when they travel
in the woods, make fires where they sleep in the night;
and in the morning, when they are gone, the pongos will
come and sit about the fire till it goeth out; for they have
no understanding to lay the wood together, or any means
to light it. They go many together, and often kill the
negroes that travel in the woods. Many times they fall
upon the elephants which come to feed where they be, and
so beat them with their clubbed fists, and with pieces of
wood, that they will run roaring away from them. Those
pongos are seldom or never taken alive, because they are
so strong that ten men cannot hold one of them; but yet
they take many of their young ones with poisoned arrows.
Ihe young pongo hangeth on his mother’s belly, with his
hands fast clasped about her, so that when the country peo¬
ple kill any of the females, they take the one which hang¬
eth fast upon its mother, and, being thus domesticated and
trained up from their infant state, become extremely fa¬
miliar and tame, and are found useful in many employments
about the house.” J
. Purchas states, on the authority of a personal conversa¬
tion with Battell, that an African orang once carried off
a young negro, who lived during an entire season in the
society of these animals, and on his return reported that
they had never injured him, but, on the contrary, seemed
greatly delighted with his company; and that the females
especially (this was natural) shewed a great predilection
for him, and not only brought him great abundance of nuts
and wild fruits, but carefully and courageously defended
nm fiom the attacks of serpents and beasts of prey. Ac¬
cording to Pyrard the great Ape of Sierra Leone called
Parris (undoubtedly the adult black orang) is so remark¬
able both for strength and industry, that when properly fed
and instructed, it serves as a very useful domestic. It
usually walks upright (so it is alleged, we doubt not most
erroneously), will pound any thing in a mortar, or fetch
water from the river in a little pitcher, which, however,
must be immediately taken from it on its return, else it
will allow it to tumble to the ground. Passing by the im¬
postures of Gamelli Careri, it may be asserted that the
equally amusing, and scarcely more authentic, narrations
which Buffon and others have compiled from the writings of
Father Jarrie, Guat, and Froger must be consulted with cri¬
tical caution by whoever seeks to ascertain the actual history
of this extraordinary creature. With the exception of such
information as has been drawn from the observance of one
or two young individuals sent alive to Europe, our know¬
ledge of its nature has in no way increased. Naturalists
have become aware of the inaccuracy and exaggeration of
previous portraitures, but have not themselves succeeded
MAMMALIA.
138
Quadru- in the completion of the picture. It is indeed most singu-
mana. ]ar wlien t,]ie history of animals inhabiting New Hol-
yJland, or the most distant islands of the Indian Ocean, are
annually receiving some new or corrected illustration, the
most remarkable species of the brute creation, inhabiting
a comparatively neighbouring country, should have re¬
mained for about two thousand years under the uncertain
shadow of an almost fabulous name. The African orang
appears to be a gregarious animal, an inhabitant of the
forests, of an intelligent disposition, and capable of a con¬
siderable degree of education, though probably fierce and
irreclaimable in the adult state. It is believed that the full
grown animal has never yet been examined by any natu¬
ralist. In that uncouth condition it is probably the “great
wild man of the woods,” of whose existence we do not
doubt, but of which (setting aside the obviously fabulous
narrations) only vague indications have been given by some
African travellers.
Of the natural dimensions of the black orang, we can say
nothing. The young brought to Europe have seldom much
exceeded two feet in height. It is native to no other country
than Africa, but we are as yet unacquainted with the ex¬
tent of territory which it occupies in that continent. An¬
gola, the banks of the river Congo, and all the districts
which border the gulf of Guinea, are the localities in which
it has as yet most frequently occurred.
Genus Pithecus, Cuv. Geoff. Canine teeth somewhat
exceeding the others in length, but not separated from
them by any interspace, and slightly crossing each other at
their points; molar teeth more square than those of man,
and more strongly tuberculated ; head rounded ; facial an¬
gle 65 degrees; no superciliary ridges no cheek pouches,
tail, or callosities ; sutures of the intermaxillary bone ap¬
parent ; ears rounded, resembling those of man, and appli¬
ed close to the sides of the head; arms very long.
This genus likewise consists of only one clearly ascer¬
tained species, commonly called the red or Asiatic orang¬
outang (Simia satyrus, Linn.), the Pithecus satyrus of the
modern systems.2 (See Plate I., figure 1.) Like the pre¬
ceding it is not distinctly known in the adult state. The spe¬
cimen described by Dr Clarke Abel,3 was brought from Ban-
jarmassing on the south coast of Borneo. Its height, or
rather length, from the heel to the crown of the head was
two feet seven inches. The hair was of a brownish red
colour, and covered the back, arms, legs, and outside of the
hands and feet. On the back it was in some places six
inches long, and five upon the arms, but very short and
thinly scattered on the back of the hands and feet. It was
directed downwards on the back, upper arms and legs, but
upwards on the fore-arms. The face had no hair except on
the sides, somewhat in the manner of whiskers, and a very
thin beard. The palms of the hands and feet were quite
naked. The arms were long in proportion to the height
of the animal, their span measuring full four feet seven
inches and a half. The legs were short compared with
the arms. The hands were long compared with their
width, and with the human hand. The fingers were small
and tapering, the thumb very short, scarcely reaching to the
first joint of the fore-finger. All the fingers had perfect
nails of a blackish colour, and oval form, and terminating
exactly with the extremities of the fingers. The feet were
long, and as usual resembled hands in the palms and finger-
formed toes, but they were likewise provided with good
heels. The great toes were very short, attached at right
angles to the feet close to the heel, and were entirely with¬
out nails.
This animal was utterly incapable of walking in a per- Quadru.
fectly erect position, and never wilfully attempted so to do. mana.
His progressive motion on a flat surface was accomplished ~y'~—
by placing his bent fists upon the ground, and drawing his
body between his arms, moving in the manner of a decre¬
pit person supported on stilts. It is thus probable that in
a state of nature he scarcely travels on the ground at all,
his whole external form and structure proving his fitness
for climbing trees and clinging to their branches. While
in Java, he lodged in a large tamarind tree near Dr Abel’s
dwelling, and formed a bed by intertwining the smaller
branches and covering them with leaves. He exhibited
few of the grimaces of the monkey tribe, and was in no way
prone to mischief. His aspect was grave, mild, almost
melancholy. His chief amusement consisted in swinging
himself from bough to bough; and, when on board of ship,
he made use of the various tackling for the same purpose.
On only two occasions was he seen violently agitated.
When the vessel in which he sailed was off the island of
Ascension, eight large turtle were brought on board, when
he instantly mounted to a higher part of the ship than he
had ever reached before, and, looking down upon the rep¬
tiles, projected his long lips into the form of a hog’s snout,
uttering at the same time a most peculiar cry. He enact¬
ed the same part on another occasion, on seeing some men
in a state of nature splashing in the sea. Perhaps he took
them for Mr Swainson’s desired natatorial type of the qua-
drumanous order. We regret to add, that he died in the
course of his second year’s residence in this country. Our
climate, in spite of coal fires and pipes of steam, is too cold,
moist, and variable for these dwellers in the tropic woods,
and a complaint analogous to consumption speedily puts a
period to their shivering existence.
It is the opinion of Baron Cuvier,4 that an obscurely
known and almost gigantic animal, described by Wurmb5
under the name of the Pongo of Borneo, ought to be re¬
garded as the adult condition of the Asiatic orang-outang.
The reasons assigned for this alleged identity, so far as we
can collect them, from a notice on the subject by M. de
Blainville,6 are chiefly these:—As no orang-outang has
ever been seen in Europe, or described by any European
naturalist which exceeded the age of two or at most three
years, it has consequently never been observed at all in the
adult state. Observation has demonstrated, that the muz«
zles of apes in the menagerie of the Jardin du Roi prolong
considerably with age ; and it is known that the facial angle,
both in men and monkeys, decreases as the individuals ad¬
vance in years. The compression of the cranium has also
been observed to take place from natural causes in after
life. In the year 1818, Baron Cuvier received from India
the head of an orang-outang, which resembled the ordinary
species (the red orang) in most respects, but was remark¬
able for the prolongation of the muzzle, and the develop¬
ment of the superciliary ridges. Its characters were, in
short, intermediate between those of the Asiatic orang¬
outang and the pongo of Borneo, from which it is conclud¬
ed, that the former, in the state in which we have hitherto
known it, is the young of the latter, the specimen adduced
by Cuvier being regarded as an adult example of the same
species, which had not, however, attained the maximum of
its development. That the skeleton of the pongo in the
Paris Museum was of great age, is proved by the general
condition of its ossification, the state of its teeth, and the
great development of the osseous crests of the cranium ;
the same characters being observed in old baboons, the
young of which, without exhibiting so marked a disparity
* This character, we doubt not, applies only to the young animal. The ridges will probably be found strongly developed in
the adult.
2 Homo sylvestris, Edwards ; Jocko of Audebert and of Buff. Supplem. t. 7, fig-1.
3 Narrative of a Journey into the Interior of China, p. 319. 4 Regne Animal, t. 1.
4 Mem. de la Soc. de Batav., t. 2, p. 245. e Xote Sur !Orang-outang, Jour, de Phys. t. 1, p. 311.
MAMMALIA.
Quadru- as tLat which exists between the red orang-outang and the
mana. ^ p0ngo, nevertheless differ greatly from their parents. Last¬
ly, the relative dimensions of the red orang-outang, of the
intermediate specimen described by Cuvier, and of the
adult pongo, are graduated in exact proportion to the de¬
velopment of the characters drawn from the crests of the
cranium, and the prolongation of the facial bones.
The preceding observations, if not conclusive, are at least
logical. But we cannot help bearing in mind that Sir
Stamford Raffles,1 in mentioning the occurrence of the
orang-outang in Sumatra, states that it is there called by
the natives orang Pandak, or the pigmy. Now, vernacu¬
lar names are generally bestowed with some perception of
natural character and attributes, and it is by no means usual
for a people, however unobservant, to bestow, as the gene¬
ral appellation of a species, a title which applies to it only
in a state of youthful imbecility; and if the creature in
question attained in its adult state to the enormous stature
of the pongo or great orang, we conceive it could scarcely
do so without being occasionally observed of such a size as
to render the name of pandak inapplicable. Nor do we see
for what reason the great pongo, an animal of the most
wary disposition, and of such extreme rarity, that not more
than two or three examples of its occurrence are yet known
to naturalists, should bring up its offspring so frequently
within the range of human visitation. That it should be
itself all the while unknown and invisible within the circle
of its own domestic haunts (admitting it to be the parent
of the red orang), is a circumstance still more difficult of
explanation.
Whether these species, then, are identical or otherwise,
is certainly still an undecided point. Another of equal in¬
terest and importance regards the specific nature of that
gigantic animal killed some years ago on the north coast of
Sumatra by Captain Cornfoot or his crew, and likewise de¬
scribed by Dr Clarke Abel.2 It was upwards of seven feet
in height when placed in a standing posture, and measured
eight feet when suspended by the neck for the purpose of
being skinned. On the spot where he was killed there
were several tall trees, which greatly prolonged the attack;
for such was his strength and agility, that his pursuers were
unable to take a determinate aim, until they had felled all
the trees but one. He received numerous balls before he
was brought down, and then he lay upon the ground, as
dead, exhausted by many wounds, with his head resting on
his folded arm. It was at this time that an officer attempt¬
ed to give him the coup de grace, by thrusting a spear
through his body, but he instantly sprang upon his feet,
wrested the weapon from his antagonist, and shivered it in
pieces. This was his last effort, yet he lived some time
afterwards, and drank, it is said, great quantities of water.
He appeared to have travelled from some distance to the
place of this “ untoward event,” for his legs were caked with
mud up to the knees. On the reception of each deadly
wound, he placed his hand over the injured portion, and
distressed even his relentless pursuers by the human-like
agony of his countenance. Indeed, his piteous actions, and
great tenacity of life, are said to have rendered the scene
altogether highly affecting. At the same time, it seems
odd that so much sentimental perception should have been
vouchsafed to those who committed the onslaught, and who
were under no absolute necessity of bringing the business
to so tragical a close.3
139
Genus Hylobates, Illiger. Muzzle short. Canine Quadm-
teeth lengthened. Facial angle 60 degrees. No tail nor mana.
cheek pouches. The posteriors furnished with callosities,   
Arms extremely long.
This genus contains the species commonly called Gib¬
bons or long-armed apes, none of which are as yet knowm
to attain the formidable dimensions of the great orangs. In
their habits they are gregarious, and extremely shy in a
state of nature, although their haunts are often betrayed by
their singular bowlings. In aid of these peculiar cries some
of the species possess guttural sacks, resembling those of
the howling monkeys of South America. Their distribu¬
tion is confined to India and the Asiatic islands, where, like
all their congeners, they inhabit forests, from which they
seldom stray, and out of which they are easily captured,
from the extreme awkwardness and difficulty with which
they advance on terra firma, owing to the disproportionate
length of their fore-arms.
Of the species, which are numerous, the most ancient,
if not the best known, is the common gibbon, Hylobates
Lar {Simla Lar, Linn.). The fur is entirely black, the
face surrounded by grey hairs, the nose flat, and the ears
not unlike the human. The disposition of this animal is
mild and gentle. In a state of domestication, it receives
its food without manifesting any greedy impatience, and
exhibits a strong attachment to those with whom it has be¬
come acquainted. It is a native of the coast of Coroman¬
del, and occurs also in the Peninsula of Malacca and the
Molucca islands. It was probably one of this species which
Father le Compte had an opportunity of examining, and
which he says walked on two feet, and had “ a face like a
Hottentot.” The white-handed gibbon from Sumatra, for¬
merly regarded as a variety of the preceding, is now de¬
scribed as distinct, under the specific name of albimana.^
We have, moreover, the little gibbon, H. variegatm, from
Malacca, the active gibbon, II. agilis, from Sumatra, Har¬
lan’s gibbon, H. Hoolock, from the Garrow Hills, the Mo¬
loch gibbon, H. leuciscus,5 from Malacca and the isles of
Sunda, and the Siamang, II. syndactyla, from Sumatra.
1 he last named, which we owe to the valuable researches
of Sir T. S. Raffles, is distinguished by this peculiarity
(from which it derives its specific name), that the first
and second fingers of the hinder hands are united together
as far as the middle of the second phalanx. It is entirely
black, the face without hair, and the canine teeth long. It
usually occurs in large troops, conducted, it is said, by a
chief, whom the Malays believe to be invulnerable. Let
them try a rifle. These assemblages remain quiet during
the day, but at sunrise and in the evening twilight, they
cause the forests to resound with the most dreadful cries,
sufficient to deprive an unaccustomed traveller of his senses.
Genus Cercopithecus, Erxleben. Cuv. Desm. Ca¬
nine teeth projecting, with interdentary spaces for their re¬
ception when the jaws are closed. Posterior molars with
only four tubercles. Head rounded. Muzzle moderately
projecting. Facial angle various. Ears of medium size,
sometimes rounded, sometimes slightly angular above and
posteriorly. Hinder limbs greatly developed. Cheek
pouches and callosities. A long tail, not prehensile.
This great generic group is composed of animals named
Guenons by the French naturalists, and is by far the most
numerous and varied of the monkey tribes. It is almost
exclusively African in the localities of the species. These
1 Linn. Trans., vol. xiii, p. 241. 2 Asiatic Researches, vol. xv
3 We have figured the hands and feet of this extraordinary orang, of the size of life (from beautiful models transmitted to the
1 y Edin,n,reh from Caicutta’ b-v Ge°rge swin,o“' s“ wiws"/ zz'zrx': 33,
4 Zoological Jour., No. xiii. p. 107-
5 This is the Wou-wou of Camper, but not the species so named by Fred. Cuvier, which is the true
to be a native name of some extent of application, and therefore not specifically distinctive.
//. agilis.
Wou-wou seems
140
MAMMALIA.
Quadra- live in troops, and commit great devastation in gardens and
u‘ana* cultivated fields. They are easily tamed. The genus has
,r~*^/been greatly subdivided in recent times, but we cannot here
enter into any detailed exposition of the minor groups. We
shall briefly describe and characterise a few of the principal
species.
The golden guenon ( Cere, auratus, Geoff. Ann. Mus.,
t. 19, 93) has the fur of a golden-yellow colour, and of con¬
siderable length upon the ears, cheeks, and forehead. There
is a black spot upon the knee. Native of the Moluccas.
The Talapoin monkey of Shaw and Pennant {Cere, ta-
lapoin, Geoff, ibid.), is a doubtful species, by some regard¬
ed as the young of the Malbrouk. Its locality is uncertain.
The varied monkey of English authors ( Cere, mona, Geof.
ibid. p. 95) is distinguished by its flesh-coloured lips and
nose. The upper part of the head is a brilliant golden-
green ; the back and sides of a lively chesnut colour, speck¬
led with black; the upper parts of the legs, thighs, and
tail are of deep slaty grey, passing into black; and there
are two white spots on each buttock. This is an African
species, regarded by Buffon as the Kebos of the ancients.
It is remarkable for its graceful motion, its elegance of
form, and gentle docility of disposition.
The red monkey {Cere, ruber, Geoff, ibid. p. 96), has
the face flesh-coloured, the ears black; a black band passing
over the eyebrows, and two black lines above the lips, give
the appearance of moustachios. The upper parts of the
face are of a bright reddish fawn colour, passing beneath
into ash colour. From Senegal.
The Palatine monkey ( Cere. Diana, Geoff, ibid.), is of a
deep chesnut colour on the back, with grey flanks, a pale
oblique line upon the thighs, the chin and throat white, and
a white crescent on the forehead,—from whence the my¬
thological specific name. Congo and the coast of Guinea.
Genus Cercocebus, Geoff. Teeth as in preceding ge¬
nus. Muzzle rather long. Head triangular. Facial angle
about 45 degrees. Superior margin of the orbits paired,
and notched interiorly. Nose flat and high. Anterior
hands with slender thumbs, approximate to the fingers;
posterior hands with broader thumbs, placed more apart.
Callosities strongly developed. Tail longer than the body.
Here we place the Callithrix or green monkey (Cere,
sabceus), a well-known species from the African coasts and
the Cape de Verd Islands, frequently imported alive in¬
to this country. Its colour is greenish-yellow above, some¬
what grizzled on the sides of the body and outsides of the
limbs, which become gradually darker towards the hands.
The face, cars, and hairless portions of the hands are quite
black. The neck and chest are white; the under parts
have a tinge of yellow, and the insides of the limbs are
grey. An account of the shooting of this species is given
by M. Adanson. “ But what struck me most, was the
shooting of monkeys, which I enjoyed within six leagues
this side of Podor, on the lands to the south of Donai, other¬
wise called Coq ; and I do not think there ever was better
sport. The vessel being obliged to stay there one morn¬
ing, I went on shore, to divert myself with my gun. The
place was very woody, and full of green monkeys, which I
did not perceive but by their breaking the boughs on the
tops of the trees, from whence they tumbled down upon
me; for in other respects they were so silent and nimble
in their tricks, that it would have been difficult to hear
them. Here I stopped, and killed two or three of them,
before the others seemed to be much frightened; how¬
ever, when they found themselves wounded, they began to
look foi shelter, some by hiding themselves among the
large boughs, otheis by coming down upon the ground;
others, in fine, and these were the greatest number, by
jumping from one tree to another. Nothing could be more Quadra,
entertaining, when several of them jumped together on the mana.
same bough, than to see it bend under them, and the hither- '"“■'"v—■
most to drop down to the ground, while the rest got further
on, and others were still suspended in the air. As this
game was going on, I continued still to shoot at them ; and
though I killed no less than three-and-twenty in less than
an hour, and within the space of twenty fathoms, yet not
one of them screeched the whole time, notwithstanding
that they united in companies, knit their brows, gnashed
their teeth, and seemed as if they intended to attack me."1
Another well-known species is the Malbrouc of Buffon,
the dog-tailed baboon of Shaw {Cere, cynosurus, Geoff.).
It is of an olive-brown above, whitish beneath, with a pale
band above the eyes. This species is one of the largest
of the guenon group, measuring about a foot and a half
from muzzle to tail. It possesses remarkable dexterity
in the use of its hands, and although when aloft it is one
of the most agile of all the wood-haunting animals, its
motions on the ground are extremely awkward from the
disproportionate length of the hinder limbs. We find, ac¬
cordingly, that the malbroucs rarely descend to the earth.
“ Assembled in troops, they dwell for the most part in
those capacious canopies of verdant foliage which cover the
rich forests of Southern Asia, fellow-citizens with the birds,
exposed to no danger but from the larger of the serpent
tribe, or the more insatiable rapacity of man. In these
lofty retreats they are found in such numbers, as to annoy
the traveller, as well by the petulance of their motions, as
the incessant iteration of their cries.”2 The Malbrouc in
confinement is an unsociable creature, being either petu¬
lant and irritable, or morose and melancholy. He is mis¬
chievous when indulged, and sulky when kept in order. He
inhabits Bengal. Numerous other species pertain to the
generic group named Cercocebus.
Genus Semnopithecus, F. Cuv. Canine teeth much
longer than the incisors. The posterior molars of the
lower jaw with a fifth tubercle. Tail and members long in
proportion to the size of the body. Anterior thumb very
short. Muzzle not greatly projecting. Cheek pouches
and callosities.
The negro monkey of Pennant {Sem. Maurus, Geoff.)
is entirely of a black colour, with the exception of a white
spot beneath, at the base of the tail. It is said to be of a
fawn colour when growing, and inhabits the island of Java.
The only other species we shall mention of our present sub¬
division, is the Entellus Monkey of M. Dufresne {Sem. En-
tellus, Cuv.), which is of a pale yellowish-grey colour, with
black hair on the eyebrows and sides of the head, directed
forwards. Although systematically described only during
recent years, it has long been well known in Bengal, and
is one of the species venerated in the religion of the Brah¬
mins. Its motions are slower than those of most monkeys,
and the expression of its countenance betokens unalterable
apathy. The height of the specimen in the Fondon Zoolo¬
gical gardens exceeded two feet when in a sitting posture.
The tail, which was rarely unfurled, measured nearly three
feet. According to Mr Bennet, it is identical with the
Ceylonese species described by Thunberg and Wolf. It
is said to be frequently found in a domestic state in Ceylon,
and is held in such respect by the natives, that whatever
ravages it may commit, the latter dare not venture to destroy
it, but merely frighten it away by cries, if possible, more dis¬
cordant than its own. “ Emboldened by this impunity, these
monkeys come down from the woods in large herds, and
take possession of the produce of the husbandman’s toil with
as little ceremony as though it had been collected for their
use.”3
1 Voyage to Senegal. ? Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. i. p. 2G7»
* The Gardens and Menageries of the Zoological Society delineated, vul. L p. 80.
Quadru-
mana.
MAMMALIA.
141
as ^EtheSpreced^S'HdHiCflPfifl-LPt0SKen0ir fl1.rn?she(i» are not carnivorous, otherwise the most dreadful of the Quadru-
SronortLallv , nSJ 1 f > ^ h1n?bs are feline races P™e less formidable foes. In the vvdd ^
shorter^,1 and th^supercfh^y8ridges'are^disti^nct " ^ subsist FincipaHy on roots and fruits, although
AiirrAz ss srjii"
ruff, of a dingy white, or pale-grey colour. The tail is ter¬
minated by a tuft of hair, on which account it appears to
have been named by some the lion-tailed monkey. “ The
princes and great lords,” says Father Vincent Marie, “ hold
other with gravity, capacity, and the appearance of wisdom
rleis easily trained to the performance of a variety of cere¬
monies, grimaces, and affected courtesies, all which he ac¬
complishes m so serious a manner, and to such perfection,
that it is a most wonderful thing to see them acted with so
much exactness by an irrational animal.” We were never
acquainted with more than one living individual of this ui ma
species, and the only piece of “ affected courtesy” it ever Hope,
exhibited, consisted in nearly biting off the calf of a negro’s
leg. Ihe Wanderou is a native of Ceylon.
Genus Innuus, Cuv. Characters similar to those of the
preceding genus, except that the tail is so short as to seem
tubercular.
a. Tail Long. Baboons.
The Guinea baboon (Cyn. Papio, Desm.), has the fur
of a yellowish-brown colour; the face entirely black. The
mity. The upper eyelids are white. It occurs on the
coast of Guinea.
The pig-faced baboon (Cyn. porcarius, Desm.), has the
fur of a greenish-black above ; the face of a violet black,
paler around the eyes; the upper eyelids white. The tail
is long and tufted, and, in the adult state, there is a kind
of mane upon the neck. It inhabits the Cape of Good
(See Plate I., figures 3 and 3 a.)
b. Tail Short.
Mandrills.
The variegated or ribbed-nosed baboon of English wri¬
ters {Cyn. mormon, Desm., Simia maimon and mormon,
branches of trees are their fa vnnrltp nlanoa Their
2d Sub-Family—Simile platyrrhini, or Apes of the
, ii*ii J a.Ngw Continent.
?1,ke the !>’% serPenf nor posterior callosities. Head Jually of a roundish forS
i o--- i  * aaat-.riiicu duu ueusciy mien
branches of trees are their favourite places of resort, a. 1JC11
feet in climbing being equally useful as their hands, great
additional power and activity are thus derived. Amono-
clunng the day, and the panther which prowls by night.
The species in question, which also inhabits Egypt, is sup¬
posed to be the Pithecus of ancient writers.
Genus Cynocephalus, Cuv. Canine teeth very strong.
Superciliary and occipital ridges very distinct. Head and
muzzle lengthened, the latter truncated at the point; nos
trils terminal. Face furrowed by longitudinal striae. Cheek
pouches and callosities.
1st Division. Tail long and prehensile. The Sapajous.
Genus Ateles, Geoff. Molar teeth 24 in all, with blunt
crowns. Facial angle about 60 degrees. Head round;
members slender; thumb wanting, or nearly so, on the an-
s- terior hands. Tail extremely long and very prehensile,
with a bare space beneath at the extremity.
The spades which compose this genus, notwithstanding melthTy^LrLter.^d more Mofenfi^ £
their resemblance in some respects to the human face and ments than most of the monkey tribe A beholder Tim
fee’iT r0"^6 m°St, d‘s?ust‘.nS “d degraded of the to believe them sick, or in a state of sufferfnce It is kn„wf
brute creation. Their colouring is occasionally brilliant, however that, when necessary for tlleh owm safetv Te ’
and their fur long and ornamental; yet there is an expres- can exhibit great alacrity. They dwell in teooS amid he
xT “f “r1 deformity in their aspect, at which we cannot lofty branches of forest trees, Zl feed chTefly on fruits°
Thar habits in a state of nature are said but they are alleged to eat also insects and small fishes, and
help revolting.
to be extremely ferocious, and in confinement their pro- to hav^been seed nicking H ^ and
pensities seem all of the most odious kind. Tbpir ctreno-fl. wvaii,,,.™ „,i—ao-E, ^ y ers and other testaceous
pensities seem all of the most odious kind. Their strength
in comparison with their apparent size, is enormous. By
muscular energy alone, and without the assistance of their
huge tusks, they wall in a few minutes tear the strongest
dog to pieces. Fortunately with all their fierceness, they
mollusca when the tide was low, and bruizing them between
two stones. So at least says Dampier. D’Acosta adds as
another trait of their great natural intelligence, that when
they wish to pass from one tree to another without descend¬
ing, they form a lengthened chain by hanging to each
1 Edinburgh Cabinet Library, vol ii. p. 444, 2d edition. 2 None nf Hip i , V i —
except the Quistitis {Hapale, liliger), in which the amount is the same as in the specits 0fX ^ 24
other’s tails, and swing with a pendulous motion, till one of
them catches hold of an opposing branch. The genus is
spread over a great extent of South America, and contains
a considerable amount of species, some of which (formino-
the genus Eriodes of Is. St Hilaire), in the thin partition
of the nostrils, and their downward instead of lateral open¬
ing, seem intermediate between the monkeys of the old
■world, and those of the new.
MAMMALIA.
a. A very small, or rudimentary anterior thumb.
The Miriki monkey (Ateles hypoxanthus, Kuhl) is a
species discovered in Brazil by Prince Maximilian of Neu-
wied. The fur is of a yellowish-grey colour, the face flesh
colour, with grey spots. In some specimens the anal re¬
gion and origin of the tail are rusty red. The miriki great¬
ly resembles the spider monkey (A. arachnoides, Geoff.),
but the latter wants the rudimentary thumb. The only
other species of this subdivision is the Ateles subpenta-
dactylus of Desm., the Chamek of Buffon.1 It has no nail
upon the rudimentary thumb.
b. No rudimentary anterior thumb.
The Marimonda monkey of Humboldt {Ateles Beelzebub,
Geoff.) is one of the most noted species of this subdivision.
T. he fur is brownish-black above, of a dingy or yellowish-
vvhite on the abdomen. It is one of the most common spe¬
cies in Spanish Guiana, and occurs in immense numbers
along the wooded banks of the Oronooko, where they are
seen hanging as it were in festoons, suspended from the
branches, and holding by each other’s hands or tails. They
are also sometimes observed for hours at a time, sitting
with heads upraised, and folded arms, exposing themselves
to the scorching rays of the noon-day sun. The prehen¬
sile power of the tail is remarkable in this species, and pro¬
bably makes amends (in accordance with that providential
arrangement which the French naturalists designate as la
loi du balancement des organes) for the somewhat defective
structure of the anterior hands. The marimonda is fre¬
quently used as food in South America, and would be
speedily relished even by strangers, but for the child-like
aspect of the heads, which, when turning round in a tureen
of soup, give rise to most extraordinary and unpleasant
associations. There are about ten species of Ateles de¬
scribed by naturalists, including those which constitute the
genus Eriodes of M. Isid. St Hilaire.
Genus Lagothrix, Geoff, Humb. Amount of molar
teeth as in Ateles. Facial angle about 50 degrees. Muz¬
zle projecting, head round. Thumbs on all the extremi¬
ties. Hair soft and frizzly.
Of this genus there are not more than three species
known, and one of these is doubtful. Little has been as¬
certained of their natural economy. They are gentle in
their dispositions, of gregarious habits, and are usually
seen sitting on their hind legs.
Genus Mycetes, Illiger. Teeth the same in number
as in the preceding genera, but the canines are more deve¬
loped. Facial angle scarcely more than 30 degrees. Head
pyramidal, visage oblique. Hyoid bone much enlarged,
cavernous, and producing externally an inflation of the
throat. Nails short and convex.
The species of this genus known under the name of
Alouattes, or howling monkeys, are the largest and fiercest
of the quadrumanous tribes of South America. Their pow¬
ers of voice are extraordinary, and result, we doubt not
(though no detailed demonstration of the fact has yet been
afforded) from the peculiar construction of the hyoid bone,
and the panetes of the larynx.* « Though the animals of
the American continent differ in many material points from
those of the old world, yet is there almost always a general Quadra-
analogy between them, an analogy sometimes also observable rnana.
even between the minor subdivisions. We might be justified,
for example, in calling the Alouattes, or howling monkeys,
the baboons of the new world. They approximate to them
in size and fierceness, and are perhaps still less susceptible
of culture, and still less amenable to the discipline of man.
They are in truth distinguished for wildness and ferocity*
and the bony structure in their throats, which gives to the
voice such tremendous force and volume, adds in no small
degree to the terror which they are otherwise calculated to
inspire. They wander in large troops, chiefly in the night,
and make the vast forests resound with their dreadful yell-
ings. What heightens the effect is, that they howl in con¬
ceit; the entire herd joining in one deafening cry the in¬
stant they discover the approach of an intruder.”3
Some of the species of our present genus are so nume¬
rous, that Humboldt has counted forty on a single tree, and
his calculation is, that in certain districts more than 2000
exist in one square league. We receive various and some¬
what contradictory statements of their history and habits
from different travellers. All agree that a practised marks¬
man is required, whether with bow and arrow or les armes
a feu, to bring them to the ground, because, unless shot at
once through the brain, their prehensile tail immediately
entwines itself around a branch, and keeps its owner sus¬
pended even after death, unless that event is almost instan¬
taneous. The females appear to produce only a single
young one at a time. According to Azzara, the mother
when alarmed is apt to abandon her offspring, and various
other voyagers report that the instinct of maternal love is
less pervading in our present tribe than among the majori¬
ty of monkeys. The traveller Spix, however, relates that
he mortally wounded a female, who continued to carry her
offspring on her back, till she was about to expire from loss
of blood, when, by a last effort, she threw her precious bur¬
then among the neighbouring branches, and fell exhausted
to the ground. Oexmelin, the author of “ 1’Histoire des
Aventuriers, also alleges that the female howlers are re¬
markable for their attachment to their young; that they
succour and assist each other under various difficulties; and
that when one is wounded, the rest assemble around him
full of compassionate sympathy, and even attempt to stop
the flowing of the life-blood from the perforation of the
deadly bullet. “ I have witnessed this,” says the author,
many times with admiration.” It is certainly one of the
advantages of travelling into “ far countries,” that one is
thereby enabled to see many wonderful sights, of a nature
seldom seen at home. Spix states that the howlers are
monogamous. Azzara is of a contrary opinion. It is ad¬
mitted that they spring with great agility from branch to
branch, confiding in the powers of their prehensile tail,
should their quadrumanal efforts prove fallacious. They
live on fruits and insects, and seem to delight more than
others of their kind in the vicinity of streams and marshes.
Flence they roam either along the banks of rivers, or among
those wooded islands of the moist savannahs, which are sub¬
ject to frequent inundations. They even inhabit, accord¬
ing to Legentil, the marine He Saint George, two leagues
from the main land. The howlers are rarely reared in
captivity, their dispositions being unamiable, their voices
unendurable, and their natural instinct little susceptible of
amelioration by the human race. It is probably for these
reasons that we scarcely ever find them brought alive to
Europe, notwithstanding our constant commercial inter¬
course with the countries which they inhabit. Naturalists
do not seem to be well acquainted with more than seven
i ^",he righ‘!ide
/
MAMMALIA.
Quadru. species of howlers. For their detailed descriptions we must
refer the reader to the writings of Marcgraaff, Azzara,
Lreoirroy, Humboldt, Kulil, Desmarest, and Spix.1
Genus Cebus, Erxleben. Teeth the same in number
as in the preceding genera, but the upper incisors are
broader than the under. The head is round, the muzzle
short, the forehead slightly prominent, the occiput project¬
ing backwards. Facial angle about 60 degrees. Ears
rounded. Hyoid bone not inflated. Anterior thumb elon¬
gated. Tail prehensile, but furred throughout its entire
extent.
In this genus, which includes the Sapajous properly so
143
Humboldt at Maypures, seemed to liave acquired indolence Quadru.
by domestication. It was in the habit of catching a pio-
every morning, and continued sitting on its back through¬
out the day, while it fed in the neighbouring savannahs.
2d Division.
Tail long, but not prehensile. The
Sagouins.
The Sagouins, in general, are distinguished from all the
preceding genera of American monkeys, by their tails be-
ing destitute of the prehensile or grasping power; and
ns deficiency, trifling though it seems, brings with it a
considerable ch^ge of character. Being unable to sus-
petulant than that of the guenons of fte Old World T1S r! SeemS "f adaPted for nocturnal vision,
eranial development is lafge and their intelfencenrono CaSne f StA,ol"fN,,S’,Lar«r- “W*,* Geoff. Cuv. Desm.
tional. They are easily tamed, and very tractablp6 OnJwf," tee‘h nlc'I"uri size, lower incisors vertical, and
ledge of their natural history is very slieht most of the fa t 111 l^un"s V 1.e canine. Head small and rounded; muz-
by which we could illustrated^ JbSd'- ang'e ffh' Par'-iti0n °f *e Msttils -o.
from the observance of their captive Sate The youn^ We ^ the ^ °f the SU‘>en0r mdsOTS- Ears ^ery
hit.?™frL“f°r“!.U,S.that .thfy indu!se> abstract We have acquired as yet a very limited knowledge of
P natural LaVv^r. ^   r. • . . , . ® _
----- e.* eita.L Lucy uiuuige in aostract ideas,
his proof being that he once observed a Sapajou, which had
met with a nut somewhat harder than usual, descend from
the top of a wooden cage, and crack the said nut by bruis¬
ing it against an iron bar. “ Cette observation,” he re¬
marks, “ nous parait digne d’etre citee; car elle prouve d’une
maniere incontestableque notresajou abandonne h lui-meme
et sans avoir jamais re^u aucune education, avait su re-
connaltre que la durete du fer 1’emporte sur celle du bois,
et par consequent, s’etait eleve a un rapport, d une idee ab-
straite: It is delightful to find metaphysics thus combined
with natural history. The Sapajous are rather omnivorous
in their propensities, for although they feed chiefly on fruits,
they are also avidous of insects, worms, and mollusca. The
species occur principally in Brazil and Guiana, and are
sometimes known under the name of musk-apes, from a pe¬
culiar odour which they emit during the rutting season.
I hey have also been denominated weepers, from their occa¬
sional utterance of a certain plaintive and disconsolate cry.
The sapajous of our present genus, as M. Desmarest has
well observed, are extremely difficult to characterize.
Their size and general form and aspect exhibit a great
similarity, and authors differ considerably as to the amount
of species. Brisson describes three, Linnaeus four, Gmelin
six, Buffon two, and recent authors (Kuhl, Humboldt, Des¬
marest) above a dozen. We must here, however, con¬
tent ourselves with the preceding generalities, and a slight
indication of one or two species.
The most familiarly known in this country in the living
state, is that called the weeper monkey {Cebus apella,
Desm.) (Plate L, figure 6.) The fur of this species is of l
the natural habits of this genus. It is ascertained that the
species exhibit great intelligence (which might almost be
inferred from the large development of the cranium), feed
on fruits and insects, and dwell gregariously among the equa¬
torial forests of the New World. ^
The type of this genus is the beautiful Saimiri of Buffon,
the squirrel monkey of our English authors {Saguinus sci-
ureus). It is a small and elegant species, of an olive-gray
colour, the muzzle black, the legs and arms bright red. It
is remarkable for its rounded head, and the flatness of its
visage. Its physiognomy is extremely like that of a hu¬
man infant, but much more pleasing than that of many.
It has the same expression of innocence, mingled occa¬
sionally with something more malign, and in its expression
there is the same frequent and rapid alternation from joy
to sorrow. When chagrined, its little eyes are seen to fill
with tears. It inhabits Brazil and Cayenne, and is common
to the south of the cataracts of the Oronooko, and alonq-
the wooded shores of the Rio-Guaviare. The natives hold
it in great request, on account of its beauty, its docile man¬
ners, and the general sweetness of its disposition. It is
among the most restless of living creatures, but its every
movement is full of grace. It is extremely fond of spiders
and other insects, and Humboldt observed it exhibit an
amusing though mistaken sagacity, in singling out some
engravings of these tribes, and endeavouring to pick them
off the paper with its paws.3 It exhibits remarkable adroit¬
ness in the capture of living insects, and, under proper cul¬
ture and control, might possibly be made a very useful aide-
du-camp to an entomological collector. The young re-
tfettbs
tail, and feet are blackish-brown. This species inhabits that thp y iroug e s rength of this beautiful instinct
disposi- ^
pavi of Humboldt, is found in troops near the cataracts of soft and lustroir the rh ^ °i t^is creature 13 very
the Oronooko. It is a great favourite among the natives, lUary It dwefis n the T ^ C-’ the habit S°-
on account of its gentle docility, and the pleasing and ele- Rio-Guaviare and is al n th ^ Si° 116 (-'assiclulare ancl the
gant akcrity of itS movement A tame le observed by tSZZZ
^ See also the article Sapajous, in Diction. Class. d’Hist. Nat. t. xv. p. 131.
_ We adopt the generic title of Saguinus long since proposed by M. Lacenede WU
less CaUUhrix (ap ancient Honmio appellation) for an American group”1”11 Pn0r Claim, ana itS being fl
MAMMALIA
144
Quadm- of Santa Barbata. Several other species are well known
mana. to naturalists.
^ Passing over the genus Nocihores of F. Cuvier {Aotus1
of Illiger), which contains the curious nocturnal monkey
called Douroucouli by the natives of the Oronooko, we
come to the more extensive
Genus Pithecia, Desm. Incisive teeth approached,
the superior oblique and broad, the inferior long and nar¬
row, converging towards their points, and separate from
the canines. Canines strong. Partition of the nostrils
broad. Head round, muzzle short. Facial angle about
60 degrees. Ears of medium size, margined, and in form
resembling those of the human race. Tail clothed with
long hair. Nails short and curved.
The species of this genus are known under the various
names of Sakis, fox-tailed monkeys, night-monkeys, &c.
They are not strictly nocturnal, but move about chiefly
during the evening twilight and the early morn. They
inhabit the forests of’Brazil, Guiana, and Cayenne, and live
on fruits and insects. Their habits are but slightly known,
probably in consequence of their seldom stirring much
abroad throughout the day. They are said to dwell in
small groups of seven or eight individuals, and search with
avidity for the nests of wild bees. (See Plate II., figure 1.)
Naturalists are acquainted with eight or nine species of
Saki. The only one we shall here allude to is the hand¬
drinking saki (Pithecia chiropotes, Humb.), so called from
its peculiar mode of imbibition. It lifts the water in the
hollow of its hand, and, leaning its head to one side, con¬
veys the liquor to its mouth. It becomes almost furious
when its beard is wetted, an aversion which has probably
induced it to adopt the peculiar habit just mentioned, but
from what principle this aversion springs, we are not pre¬
pared to say. The fur of this singular creature is of a
chesnut-red colour. It has a long tufted beard, and a
thick bush of hair, separated in the middle, and hanging
down on each side of the head. In Humboldt’s opinion,
it more nearly resembles the human race than any other
monkey of America. Its eyes, according to that author,
have an expression of melancholy mixed with ferocity. It
is, moreover, robust, active, untameable, and, when irrita¬
ted, will raise itself upon its hinder extremities, grind its
teeth, stroke down its beard as if it were a Turk, and fly
at the offending person with a fury quite unbecoming the
semblance of South American humanity. Yet it is habi¬
tually melancholy, and, in the captive state, is never excited
to gaiety, unless it may be for a few brief and hungry mo¬
ments at the sight of some favourite food. Why, indeed,
should it be gay, pent up in some wretched crib, a collared
slave, far from its “ friends and brothers,” and destined
never more to swing from lofty and umbrageous boughs,
nor listen from the depths of darkened forests to the roar¬
ing cataracts of the Oronooko, where all its “ young barba¬
rians are at play ?”
4
Genus Jacchus, Geoff. Desm. Incisive teeth -, ca-
\   \ g   P*
nines   -, molars    (sharply tuberculated) ; = 32.
1 —— 1 5 — 5 x 1 J
Thumb of the anterior hands not opposable to the fingers.
Nails long, compressed, and pointed, except upon the hin¬
der thumbs.
The beautiful and graceful creatures which constitute our
present genus (of which the striated monkey of Pennant,
Jacchus vulgaris, Geoff, (see Plate II., figure 2), may serve
as a familiar example), differ in the number of their molar
teeth from all the preceding genera of American Quadruma- Quadru.
na.2 Their habits are equally arboreal, although in climbing mana.
trees, they are supposed to make use of their pointed nails,
somewhat after the manner of squirrels, a tribe of animals
to which, in several other respects, they bear resemblance.
Their natural history, properly so called, is little known, most
of the facts narrated in books being drawn from the obser¬
vation of individuals in the domestic state, to which they
are frequently reduced, on account of their small size and
great beauty. M. Audouin of Paris had a pair of ouistitis
(for so these creatures are often called) for some time in
his possession, and made several curious observations on
their faculties and dispositions. They not only recognised
themselves and each other in a glass (a perception denied
to the sagacious dog), but even detected the nature of
various animals as represented in paintings. Thus, the re¬
presentation of a cat alarmed them exceedingly; and al¬
though they were so exceedingly fond of insects as to dart
greedily at crickets and cock-chafers, yet the likeness of a
wasp made them suddenly withdraw their little paws. On
one occasion while sucking some grapes, one of them hap¬
pened to squirt a little of the juice into its eye, since which
occurrence it never tasted of that fruit without carefully
closing the organs of vision, thereby exemplifying the asso¬
ciation of ideas. These ouistitis captured and devoured all
kinds of flies with the most inconceivable dexterity, but
exhibited a strong instinctive fear of wasps,—the French
species being at the same time quite different from any they
could have ever seen among the foliage of their native
forests. They were extremely fond of sugar, eggs, and
roasted apples ; but they refused all kinds of almonds, aci¬
dulated fruits, and such kinds of leaves as are usually eaten
as salads. Neither were they fond of flesh ; yet if a small
living bird was placed within their reach, they immediately
captured it, put it to death, and scooped out its brains.
The species are numerous, and are usually divided into
two groups,—the Ouistitis properly so called (Jacchus,
Geoff.), and the Tamarins (genus Midas of the French
author). To the former belongs the species above alluded
to,—to the latter (besides the silky monkey of Shaw), the
small and beautiful leonine monkey described by Hum¬
boldt.3 We deem the line of demarcation somewhat doubt¬
ful. The distinctive characters are taken chiefly from the
incisive teeth. Good figures of the Quadrumana occur in
Audebert’s great work Singes et Maids, fob, Paris, an. viii.
Family II—LEMUMDiE.
The second family of the Quadrumanous Order exhibits
a nearer approach to the ordinary quadrupedal form than
the preceding. Their incisive teeth (never more than
eight in the Simiada:), vary in number in different ge¬
nera. The nostrils are situate at the extremity of the
muzzle. The posterior extremities exceed the anterior
in length. All the thumbs are well developed, and capable
of being opposed in seizure to the fingers, and the fore
finger of the hinder hands is furnished with a lengthened
claw-like nail. All the other nails all flat. The mammte,
which are pectoral, range from two to four. Tail never
prehensile—sometimes wanting. This family is composed
chiefly of the genus Lemur of Linnaeus, and may be said
to bear the same relation to that genus, as Simia of the
same author does to the preceding family,—thus affording
another of the numerous proofs which might be adduced of
his surprising tact in the formation of natural groups, and
1 The name of Aotus was bestowed in consequence of the erroneous supposition that the animal in question had no external
ears.
2 This highly important distinctive character seems to have been entirely overlooked by the majority of systematic writers.
* Tlecueil d'Observ. Zool. p. 14. pi. 5. See also, in addition to the different authors named above, Mikan’s Delectus Fierce et
Faunae Braziliensis, and the Diction. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. xii. p. 512.
mammalia.
Quadru- of the manner (not seldom unacknowledged') ’ h‘ L L 145
has prepared the great landmarks for posterity. 6 therTfo^nfr T" happened ^ mak in France, had lived Quadra
v Ge^s Indris, Lacep. Lichanotm, Illiger. Incisive fire fn °L ^ ?earS*. rt, sometimes sat so near the mana.
' - - g i t(\smge !ts whiskers. The white-fronted
teeth
4’
canine
] — 1
molar
5 — 5
/r 77 vnuoiicis. Ane wnite-rronted
= 32. Two pectoral \L. albifrom\ has been known to breed in Europe.
1 he ruffed lemur (Z. macaco, Linn.), is another well known
pecies, remarkable for the extraordinary strength of its
these* WLhlCLh 18 Sa? tG Strike with fear and astonishment
those who hear it for the first time. It may be likened to
1 — 1’ 5 — 5’
mammae. Head long, and triangular. Fur woolly.
I bis genus consists of only two species, both natives of
laaagascar, where they were discovered by M. Sonnerat these •* r to ~~k—   “I1U asLumsnmen
The best known is the Indris brevicaudatus (Lemur Indri that ef th a ^ 1 °r tlrne• may likened ti
Linn.), so called on account of the shortness of its tail, rim wl • l fin a^i?atf’ 006 tke kowpnS monkeys of Ame-
(See Pate II, figures 3 and 3 a.) This spedest an Si S’drJ'df f the lo,n,fTe woods of Guiana with its wild
mal of about three feet long, the general colour of the fui (See^W^lV*!?8' ^ hfe fisured L' ,uier of Peron-
blackish, the face and abdomen grey, the tail and a sno at hs ( We h c’ %UreS ^and 6 “•>
base, dingy white. Its natural habits are little known al- tribe for^pv^hgen^ra ities to state regarding the Lemur
though in a state of captivity it is gentle and intelligent native haunt/ Tlf ber" V6ry sParinS1y observed in their
and, when taken young, susceptible of being trained to semhln / * i T ey1 lve on trees» feed on fruits, and re-
vanous useful purposes. If Sonnerat is correct if statin? that thf/lrp 9 T S m,their attltudes. In a domestic state
it is used by the natives of Madagascar instead of /dno- th ^ • ^cnde’ and attached to their friends, but shy of
in the sports of the field, it cerST’XdT one oVtlfe gZusIob? ofo? ^ ^
most remarkable examples of the subduing influence of the preceding hT L ™ T' StenoPs> ™'ger. Teeth as in the
human race. It is itself a frugivorous creature an inhahi! Fvpc l/l?’ a h ^ are Provided with sharper points,
tant of the forest, and a habitual dweller in the tops of furred Tv/ aPproximate- Tongue rough. Ears short and
trees,-yet under the guidance of man it is induced to as- This ZnL g’ ^ Very.shori- Four Pectoral mammae,
sume the nature and propensities of a carnivorous species cies JL ’ as now const]tuted. contains only two spe-
and to pursue and capture other living animals. However* of the^st ZT™ ^ t(fdl3rad^ Linn.), both natives
we rather doubt the fact. Its voice is saifl tn * v?i ’ • the L^t Indies.2 In these animals we perceive an ob-
that of a weeping infant. The other species distinmik/ I ),10us tendency towards carnivorous habits, and a departure
by its lengthened tail, and the yelLS of t °f ^ tribes- They said
the floeW lemm. 7afi r r r...... . ’ pi, y very much on insects and birds, and even on the
smaller minflruraQAc  .• ’ _ 1 uie
a i , • * ’ jcuuw cuiuur or
the flocky lemur of Shaw (Z. laniger, Gmelin ).
Genus Lemur, Lin. Cuv. Incisive
molar
4
teeth
= 36.1
smaller quadrupeds. Their motions are extremely slmZ
canine ta,nd their ™ode of 'f nocturnal. We have represented
the species last named on Plate II., figure 4. ^
Genus Galago,
,4 or 2
teetb „ . canines and molars as in the preceding.
Geoff. Otohcnus, Illiger. Incisive
Ear?
Tail also
! —i'   5 — 5
certain P*cu‘iarities Observable in the dentition of this and
,‘:,n allied genera, may, in the opinion of some natural-
• ’ be Jlus explained. The six incisor teeth of the lower large» and naked. Hind legs extremplv Inno-
on earh G.n,g’s ?nder’ and almost horizontal, the outer one long* Two pectoral mammae. g
a snmPwWeAffing’ k°wever’ i?r&er than the others, and of , The galagos inhabit Africa and Madagascar Wp L™
repr/spnt th tf0rmV These ™ay therefore possibly Httle of their natural habits. T^yffin trees anS arl
represent the canine teeth,-the more especially as the said to feed on insects. The Senefll ?akl Q
pair usually so considered do not meet those of the upper 9a^nsis, Plate II., figure 7) is called^tl/ J
of mlrs W a"d bear 'illCh °f the Char= tb? ^ » on accintS- its o^rS Tfe
false molars. If ^ were to be so regarded, then quendy m the forests of gum trees which bordeTtlle Sa-
the dentition of the lemuls would resembLErfthe g^-
tinnnl ^ °i ^™erican Q-uadrumana, which possess an addi-
onal molar, but the same number of incisors with those of
the ancient continent.
inhabit- aninJa^kfown under the name of Lemurs,
p.mv tL l1Sland °f /adagascar’ wllere they seem to oc¬
cupy the place of monkeys, the latter being there unknown
They likewise occur in the not distant island of Anfouln
one of the group of the Comora Archipelago. TheJ ring-
tailed species (Z. catta, Linn.), is one of the most elegant
ot the ?enns its .... &
hara. It is alleged, however, to eat the gum freely al¬
though there is no doubt of its insectivorous propensities.
It is a small animal of the dimensions of a rat, with a very
long tail. The species are as yet but ill defined, and Geoff 1
thS galagos^ Y m placing the Fennec °f Bruce among
Genus Tarsius. Storr. Cuv.
1 —1 , 6 — 6
—,molar-__._34>
Incisive teeth canine
Head round, almost spheroidal.
less*
" fnel and fe tail, which is about twice th/tength
f A TO T marked by numerous alternate rings of white
and black. It is gregarious in the wild state, travelling in
small troops of thirty or forty. It is easily tamed when
taken young, delights in sunshine, but within doors prefers
a good place at the fireside to any other quarter. It is fre-
nf thp tr ' • . v’ oi me most elegant 1 P g 6’ — ° ' -neau rouna
^esexcessively large, and contiguous. Ears long, naked,
less. In size it equals a large cat- thp k y harr"* membranous. Tarsus three times the length of the meta-
id fine, and9thp toil. JLl L’    ..L GXt?mely Nails subulate on both the second and third fingers
ot the hind feet. &
the dnee sPecies which compose this genus, two
(Tarsius Bancanus, Horsfield, and V. spectrum, Geoff)
aspectand teeth ™
»M“:rreh;ra, "’»■»>- dech,^.
have statTlteT’ P‘ r>esmarest assigns five on each side for the upne/jaw but/i Tv f^ eaCh Sldt ° j the lower Jaw—&ens
have^stated the number which most coincides with our own observations PP J ’ b 7 f0Ur 0n each Slde for the under. We
in his <■“ ^ ^ f the slow .emur „,E„gUsh author, (7. above named),
ho;ten1oX<iw„tdS Shfrinithe Genss
^ol xiv b3equent l)art of thls article, as a member of the Order IIodentia. eath JaW ’ and We tlierefore prefer treat.
T
Order IL—FERiE.
146
MAMMALIA.
Ferae.
This order, as now constituted (and corresponding to the
Carnassiers of Baron Cuvier), contains all the Fera:,
and several of the Primates, of the Linnaean system. The
species of which it is composed are cl^racterized by pos¬
sessing, in common with the Quadrumanous Order, three
kinds of teeth, viz. incisors or cutting teeth, canine teeth
or tusks, and molar teeth or grinders; but they are distin¬
guished from that order by the different form of their
claws, and by never having a flexible thumb opposable to the
fingers or toes of either extremity.
The most general attributes of the organic form of the
ferine animals are the following: \st, The shortening of
the intestinal canal; 2c?, The increased size and sharpness
of the canine teeth, and the cutting or frequently pointed
form of the molars; 3d, The shortness of the lower jaw,
and its peculiar articulation, which (combined w~‘'h the
locking of the teeth when closed), is such as to admit only
of vertical motion. The term molar or grinding, there¬
fore, cannot with accuracy be applied to the lateral or
posterior teeth of strictly carnivorous animals, which mas¬
ticate their food by biting it in pieces, but cannot triturate
or grind it like the purely herbivorous kinds.1 * * * * Ath, The
double convexity of the zygomatic arch of the temporal
bone, and the depression of the parietal towards the axis
of the head, to afford space for the insertion of the tempo¬
ral-maxillary muscles, of which the bulk increases with
what may be called the carnivority. Characters deduced
from the size or even form of the claws are of less avail,—
seeing that both the power and dimensions of these parts
are increased in most of the Edentata, among which the
organization of the teeth and jaws follows an inverse pro¬
portion. In the cat-kind, however, the shape of the claws
is extremely characteristic.
The degree of each of the four anatomical characters
above alluded to, and their combination, more or less com ¬
plete, determine the degree of carnivority,—with which
that of ferocity usually corresponds. We must not, how¬
ever, attach to the word ferocity the idea of any fatal or
irresistible necessity to murder,—for the instinct to de¬
stroy is only the sensation of hunger in animals having a
propensity to flesh, and provided with the means of obtain¬
ing it. It requires, indeed, a little more determination and
activity, with, it may be, more malignity of movement, for
one animal to seize upon and devour its neighbour, than
for another animal to masticate a turnip,—but each is act¬
ing in obedience to its natural instincts, and neither is fol¬
lowing the dictates of a depraved appetite.
As in all other great groups, we have here various mo¬
difications of the typical character. Several bats are fru-
givorous, though in their general structure too closely al¬
lied to their congeners to be removed from the ferine or¬
der ; while various bears and badgers are extremely ac¬
commodating in their dispositions, and will eat freely
enough of vegetable substances rather than starve. The
general form and aspect of this order are also highly va- Ferae
ried. Some are organised for flight, as the Cheiroptera; Cheirop-
others for swimming and diving, as the seals and morses ; tera*
while several are subterranean, as the moles. We do not '
find such a diversity in the sphere of existence among the
pachydermatous and ruminating tribes. The geographical
distribution of the order is unlimited, so that we cannot con¬
nect flesh-eating propensities in any way with climate. If
the lion and the tiger haunt habitually the torrid zone, the
polar bear,
“ With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn’'
along the frost-bound shores of Greenland. Thus heat
and cold have no more influence over the nutritive appe¬
tite, than over the warmth of the instinct of love,—which
rules supreme alike amid perennial snows, and beneath the
unmitigated glare of equatorial suns.
We arrange the genera of the Ferine Order under four
principal divisions, viz. Cheiroptera, Insectivora, Car¬
nivora, and Marsupialia.
DIVISION I.—CHEIROPTERA.
The most remarkable and striking peculiarity of this
group consists in the membranous expansion which pervades
the sides of the body, connecting the anterior and posterior
extremities, and, in many cases, the latter, with the tail.
This structure enables almost all the species to fly like
birds, although with less activity and power; and the ex¬
ercise of such a function of course requires a modification
of other parts, such as great strength of clavicle and breadth
of shoulder-blade, for the production of the requisite soli¬
dity. It is, however, incompatible with the rotation of the
fore-arm, which would have enfeebled the force of the fly¬
ing action.
The Cheiropterous division is composed of two families,
the Vespertilionida and the Galeopithecida.
Family 1st—VESPERTILIONID^, or BATS.
In this family the fore-arms and fingers are excessively
elongated, and the interstices of the latter being filled up
by the membrane already alluded to, which also extends
backwards to the hind feet, genuine wings are thus pro¬
vided, more expansive even than those of birds. The pec¬
toral muscles are extremely thick, and the sternum has a
central ridge for their attachment, resembling that of birds.
The thumb is short, and armed with a hooked nail, by
means of which the species climb or suspend themselves.
Their hind feet are rather feeble, furnished with five toes, al¬
most always of nearly equal size, and armed with pointed and
sharp-edged nails. The eyes are proportionally very small,
but the external ear is usually very large, partaking, as
it were, of the expansive nature of the lateral membrane,
and in common with it is naked, or nearly hairless. This
membrane, whether in the form of auricle or wing, is sup-
1 There seems to be no very satisfactory or explicit nomenclature of the teeth of ferine animals. False mo ars, ca
cheek-teeth, and tubercular grinders, are probably the most precise and applicable terms which can be employed to <ISC^1
different kinds of molar teeth, commonly so called, which distinguish the family Carnivora; and these terms have e a < -
vantage of corresponding closely with the nomenclature proposed by M. Fred. Cuvier, and adopted by ms illustnous
Riigne Animal. In the Genus Fells, for example, there are four molar teeth in the upper, and three in the un er jaw.
two anterior, both above and below, are the most cutting, and are called the false molars (fausses molaires or Cuvierj. i y a -
lowed by a very large tooth, which, in the upper jaw, is furnished with three points or lobes, in the under wi on y wo.
is the carnivorous cheek-tooth (carnassiere). Behind it, in the upper jaw, is a small flattish tooth (la tubercv use), w uc may e
named the tubercular grinder. In animals of the cat kind there is no corresponding separate tooth or t e as escnp ion in
lower jaw; but its function is performed by the inner projecting lobe of the under carnivorous cheek- oot , m roun e P0111 0
which, when the jaws are closed, is applied to the flat surface of the upper tubercular grinder. In the ^nm6 race, However, ler
are two tubercular teeth on both sides of either jaw, and it is with these that they chew the grass whuh they so retiuen y swa -
low. In the tribe of bears the false molars, instead of being more or less compressed and cutting, are entirely tubercu a e ; an , i
perfect accordance with this structure, they are known to be the least carnivorous of the family to which they belong : mdee ,
disposition and habits of an animal may be correctly deduced from the greater or less prevalence of the cutting or tuberculate c
racter of the molar teeth.
MAMA
Ferae, posed to be endowed with a very exquisite perceptive
tera°P" Pov^er—sufficient to guide the flying creature through la-
-y . byrinths of subterranean darkness, and even, according to
Spallanzani, to wing its intervening way through various ob¬
stacles, after it has been totally deprived of sight. This
power is presumed to result from the perception, by the
nerves of the cutaneous system, of the refluxes of air from
near opposing bodies.
Bats are nocturnal, or at least twilight loving animals,
which in northern countries pass the winter in a state of
lethargic repose. From this state of hybernation, however,
they are easily roused, and it is no uncommon thing to see
our smaller species flitting about in a winter afternoon,
during the occurrence of a milder day than usual. How¬
ever, the then almost total absence of moths and flies must
render such occasional excursions on the whole enfeebling,
by exciting the digestive and other functions (previously
at rest), without, at the same time, affording the means of
sustentation. During the day they hang suspended from
the roofs of barns and other buildings, or in crevices of
ruined castles, or find shelter beneath the murky canopy of
caves, or the overhanging gloom of shaded rocks. Neither
do they despise the secure concealment afforded by the
hollow chambers of ancient forest trees, whether rent by
the “ red lightning’s glare,” or yielding imperceptibly to
slow decay. They usually produce two young at a birth,
which adhere tenaciously to their mother, and are fre¬
quently borne about by her during her twilight flights.
The species (including the various genera, of which our
narrow limits will enable us to give but a brief account),
are extremely numerous,—above 130 different kinds being
known to naturalists. The majority inhabit the regions
within the tropics, and none occur in the countries of the
extreme north; neither are we aware that any have yet
been observed in New Holland. When the “ knell of
parting day” announces the approach of the long continuing
twilight of our temperate regions, we see our own diminu¬
tive species flitting about on leathern wings, or dimpling
the surface of the still waters, in search of insects or other
natural prey; but these give us but a feeble idea of the
monstrous forms Avhich inhabit equatorial countries. Many
of the genera are extremely circumscribed in their geogra¬
phical distribution, either owing to their nocturnal habits,
or their powers of flight being unequal to a long sustained
migration. We may add, that all bats possess four well de¬
veloped canine teeth, but that the incisors differ in number
in the various genera. Of a few of these we shall endea¬
vour to exhibit the principal characteristics,1
Genus Pteropus, Brisson, Cuv. Incisive teeth ca-
1 _ l   5
n>ne j p molar 6= 36. Form of the incisors coni¬
cal ; canines rather large ; molars with the crown obliquely
truncated, and marked by a longitudinal groove. Head long
and conical. Ears short, simple, and without any tragus.2
No peculiar appendages upon the nose. Tail short or
wanting. Interfemoral membrane deeply incised. The in¬
dex finger, with three phalanges and a rudimentary nail. The
tongue papillose. (See Plate HI., figures 4 and 6.)
The species of this genus, called Roussettes by the French,
are of a frugivorous regimen, feeding on pulpy fruits, espe¬
cially bananas. They are confined to the ancient world,—
occurring chiefly in the islands of the Indian Archipelago,
Bengal, Madagascar, the Isle of France, and several parts
of Africa. They are the largest of all the bat tribe, and con-
[ALIA. 147’
tain species measuring between five and six feet from tip Fer®.
to tip of the extended wings. Cheirop-
The eatable roussette {Pt. edulis) is of a blackish co- tera-
lour, deeper on the breast than back. It is a large spe-
cies, measuring about five feet in extent;—the body six¬
teen inches long. Its flesh is white and delicate, and is
held in great esteem as an article of food by the natives of
the Island of Timor. It seems to vary in its external cha¬
racter with age, and has been accordingly described under
different names. Ihus the Kalong of the Javanese (Pt,
Javanicus, Horsfield) is regarded as identical. It is a gre¬
garious species, very abundant in the lower parts of Java.
“ Numerous individuals,” says Dr Horsfield, “ select a large
tree for their resort, and suspending themselves with the
claws of their posterior extremities to the naked branches,
often in companies of several hundreds, afford to the stranger
a very singular spectacle. A species of ficus, in habit re¬
sembling the Ficus religiosa of India, which is often found
near the villages of the natives, affords them a very favou¬
rite retreat, and the extended branches of one of these are
sometimes covered by them. They pass the greater por¬
tion of the day in sleep, hanging motionless: ranged in suc¬
cession, with the head downwards, the membrane contract¬
ed about the body, and often in close contact, they have
little resemblance to living beings, and by a person not
accustomed to their economy, are readily mistaken for a
part of the tree, or for a fruit of uncommon size suspended
from its branches. In general these societies preserve a
perfect silence through the day ; but if they are disturbed,
or if a contention arises among them, they emit shrrp
piercing shrieks, and their awkward attempts to extricate
themselves, when oppressed by the light of the sun, exhi¬
bit a ludicrous spectacle. In consequence of the sharpness
of their claws, their attachment is so strong that they can¬
not readily leave their hold, without the assistance of the
expanded membrane ; and if suddenly killed in the natural
attitude during the day, they continue suspended after
death. It is necessary, therefore, to oblige them to take
wing by alarming them, if it be desired to obtain them
during the day. Soon after sunset they gradually quit
their hold, and pursue their nocturnal flights in quest of
food. They direct their course, by an unerring instinct,
to the forests, villages, and plantations, occasioning incal¬
culable mischief, attacking and devouring indiscriminately
every kind of fruit, from the abundant and useful cocoa-
nut, which surrounds every dwelling of the meanest pea¬
santry, to the rare and most delicate productions, which are
cultivated with care by princes and chiefs of distinction.
By the latter, as well as by the European colonists, various
methods are employed to protect the orchards and gardens.
Delicate fruits, such as mangos, jambus, lansas, &c„ as
they approach to maturity, are ingeniously secured by
means of a loose net or basket, skilfully constructed of
split bamboo. Without this precaution, little valuable fruit
would escape the ravages of the kalong.
“ There are few situations in the lower parts of Java in
which this night wanderer is not constantly observed. As
soon as the light of the sun has retired, one animal is
seen to follow the other at a small but irregular distance,
and this succession continues uninterrupted till darkness
obstructs the view. The flight of the kalong is slow and
steady, pursued in a straight line, and capable of long con-
tinuance. The chase of the kalong forms occasionally an
amusement to the colonists and inhabitants during the
moonlight nights, which, in the latitude of Java, are un*
t 1 The student who desires a detailed acquaintance with the Cheiropterous tribes, will study with advantage the systematic ex¬
position given by M. Desmarest, in his Mammalogie, and M. Geoffroy St Hilaire’s papers in the Annales du Mus The English
reader is referred to Mr Griffith’s Translation of the “ Animal Kingdom,” (particularly the Supplementary Essay, vol ii. p. 84, and
Synopsis, vol. v. p. 54). 1
2 We apply the term tragus to that secondary leaf-like expansion, which in manv bats covers or protects the auricular opening.
It is the part named oreillon by the French writers. . ’ r °
148
MAMMALIA.
0
Ferae, commonly serene. He is watched in his descent to the
Cheirop- fruit-trees, and a discharge of small shot brings him readily
e*~al ^, to the ground. By this means I frequently obtained four
or five individuals in the course of an hour, and by my ob¬
servations I am led to believe that there are two varieties
which belong to one species, as they appear all to live in
one society, and are obtained promiscuously.” 1
A roussette (we know not the exact species) brought
alive to France about the beginning of the present century,
was observed to remain constantly calm and motionless
throughout the day, suspended by one of its hind feet.
Yet Quoy and Gaimard report that they saw these great
bats flying during the day in the Carolina Islands, and
Messrs Lesson and Garnot have made the same remark as
to their diurnal powers. These notices are the more in¬
teresting, as they confirm the statements of the earlier
voyagers.
The vampire bat, commonly so called, ( Vespertilio vam-
pyrus, Linn.,) belongs to the genus Pteropus. Having al¬
ready alluded to the frugivorous habits of the species, we
need scarcely add, that the specific name is greatly misap¬
plied. A vampire is an imaginary monster, the chief
amusement of which was supposed to consist in sucking
the blood of sleeping persons, and the superstition, however
absurd, must have been sufficiently fearful to those who
gave it credit, as many did in Poland and Hungary about
a hundred years ago. Some vague allegations having been
made regarding the blood-sucking propensities of certain
bats, Linnaeus bestowed the name of vampyrus on a large
species found in Madagascar. This was unfortunate, as the
actual blood-sucking bats inhabit South America, and be¬
long to another group, which now forms the genus Phyllos-
toma.
The other frugivorous genera allied to Pteropus in their
habits are Pachysoma, Macroglossus, Cephalotes, and
Hypoderma.
Genus Molossus, Geoff., Cuv., Desm. Incisive teeth
2 . 4 4
2* canine as usual, molar     ; = 26. The upper in-
cisives are of medium size, bifid, convergent, and slightly
separate from the canine; the lower very small, as if press¬
ed together in advance of the canines, and each ter¬
minated by two minute points. The upper canines are
large ; the under touch each other at the base, their points
projecting outwards. The molars are large, and their
crowns furnished with several sharp points. The head is
large, the muzzle broad, the nostrils slightly projecting,
opening forward, and provided with a little pad. The ears
are large and united, and provided with a small tragus.
No appendages to the nose. Tongue smooth. Interfemo-
ral membrane narrow, and terminating rectangularly. Tail
long, usually half enveloped at the base, the point free.
The species of this genus, of which about a dozen are
Imown to naturalists, occur both in the Old World and the
• eW’ Jhe majority> however, are natives of South Ame-
rica. We have no detailed information regarding their
habits of hfe. In these, however, they are supposed to
comcicie with the bats of Europe. We suspect that even
the characters of the teeth are imperfectly described. A
pair o incisors in each jaw is rather an anomalous cha-
*1 l°r Knr1Tut‘eating genus’ and M- Temminck has
stated his belief that several species have at first six in the
Jower jaw, of winch four are successively dropped.
ere y ? ‘n8?1 acf name the S™™ Nyctono-
mus of Geoffrey, of which, though one occurs in Brazil,2
the species are characteristic of the Old World, and Dyn-
ops of Signor Savi, of which the typical species was some
years ago discovered m the neighbourhood of Pisa.3
Genus Noctilio, Linn., Cuv.
Incisives -,
canines chFe^^
as usual, molars -— 26. The central upper inci-v
sives are the largest; the inferior are placed in advance of
the canines; the canines are very strong. The crowns of the
molars are furnished with sharp tubercles. See Plate
IIL, figure 3. The muzzle is short, inflated, cleft, and
covered with warts or fleshy prominences. The nose is con¬
founded with the lips. The ears are small, lateral, isolated;
the tragus internal. The interfemoral membrane is very large
and salient. The tail is of medium size, or rather short, and
partly enveloped, partly free, and placed above the membrane.
The claws of the hinder extremities are extremely strong.
The species are but few in number, and, as far as yet
known, are natives of South America. They are some¬
times denominated hare-lipped bats. The Peruvian bat of
Pennant (A. leporinm) may be named as an example. See
its cranium as above referred to.
Genus Phyllostoma, Cuv., Geoff. Incisive teeth —,
j 1 4
canine T=-f, molar 0r = 32 or 34. The in¬
cisors have often the appearance of being closely pressed
between the canine, the lateral being very small; the ca¬
nines are frequently very large at their base. The head is
large, and somewhat uniformly conic; the gape deeply cleft.
The nose supports two membranous crests, the one leaf-
hke, the other in the form of a horse-shoe. The ears are
large, naked, disunited. The tragus is internal, dentated,
and growing from the margin of the auricular cavity. The
eyes are very small and lateral. The tongue, capable of
considerable extension, is beset at its extremity by cor¬
neous papillae. The middle anterior toe has an additional
phalanx. I he tail varies in size, and is wanting in certain
species. The interfemoral membrane likewise varies in its
degree of development.
The singular creatures which constitute our present ge¬
nus are believed to be peculiar to South America, where,
however, they are distributed over a considerable extent of
territory, from the Isthmus of Darien to Paraguay. The
incisive teeth vary in number even in the same' species,
some of those in the lower jaw being frequently pushed out
by the growth of the canines, and in different species the
amount of molar teeth is dissimilar. The papillae of the
tongue above alluded to, in connection with tubercles sym¬
metrically arranged around the mouth, bestow on several
species a strong power of suction, which they frequently
exercise to the disadvantage of their neighbours, by with¬
drawing the life-blood from man and beast. These are
the famous vampires^ of which various voyagers have given
us such redoubtable accounts, and which are known to have
almost entirely destroyed the first establishment of Euro¬
peans in the New World. Although they extirpated the
cattle at Borgia, and elsewhere, they also feed on insects,
after the manner of other bats, and according to Azzara do
not venture to attack the cattle, unless when driven to ex¬
treme hunger by a deficiency of other food. The structure
of the tongue is remarkable. It is about six times longer
than broad, flattish above, rounded beneath, the surface
slightly shagreened, and close to the extremity there is a
peculiar cavity, the centre of which is marked by a raised
point, and the circumference by eight warts.
The molar teeth of the spectre bat, or true vampire
(Vesp. spectrum, Linn.), are of the most carnivorous cha¬
racter, the first being short and almost plain, the others
sharp and cutting, and terminating in three or four points
but it does not appear that it makes use of them while at-
tera.
1 Zoological llesearchet.
* Annales lies Sciences Nat., Avril 1824.
* Giomale dex Letterati, No. 21, p. 230.
MAMMALIA.
149
tera.
Ghe rop. and ; id| to for bP other roear^couldit perfo- Su3ed • S , 1' T “ Smal'’ Feral
the skin of a sleeping /nimal, without cau“nj so mnrh SUSje“ded “ the cartilage, than entirely wanting. , cSp
pain as to speedily arousS i, from TB dumber”8 Now we 0S Eh'to“p™s. Geoff. Cue. Incisivf teeth ? ' P
rnnlTfliL Sleep °f the victim is scarcely ever inter- canines as usual, molars  -; = 30. The upper inct
effLted>tUst™old™Uvh„yIge«ea,leget WtheL" “t8 are Tery enmll, separate,'ind frequently fall out; the
ning motion of the wings of the & pToducing JMicZ ^wns^ ,£bed-, ^ ““j"68 "e »f “cdi™ ^,1^
coolness, which renders repose the deeper, “"till the suf- The carfare of mn? With ex1tremely sharP Points.
ferer awakens m eternity.” There is no doubt, however exnansTon rfllflTf S-Ze’ later^’ and isolated- ThG
that the accounts given bv Pietro Martvro TTIlnn nnr\ p ? i ^ i i ‘ ecl the tragus is non-existent, or rather is re-
damine, though perhaps sttith^rAcuSstoiSoi Sran^” i°be °f ,the -^1-,
-^rauon, are substantially correct. They have been is long ge’ and e"tlre y enveloPes tlle tod. which
XTm^Tme^Tr specTes ^sSiiTse"™' d' ^ 'guT LnC,udeS S°me E”<>P^ ^es which we
alluding to the Phyllostomata, “ with a leaf upon the nose the fbrmof the T "‘^T' °f ho,J’e-shoe iats, in reference to
differ from the other bats, in bein<r able to i,1 ,, ...i!" e’ .IT, .1 npi’cndage on the muzzle. Theyhanesus-
the ground, nearly as fast as a rat and in iheir fondness ahn^ ‘If'”* the day from the roof of caverns, and fly
for sucking the blood of animals. Sometimes they wifl bite teS" We'IhTh tWilight’ F,;ying on moths and «the?
the crests and beards of the fowls while asleep and suck Sh s™ ■ p c here name only the »f the Bri-
the blood. The fowls generally die in consequence of thj soutKFnof'vhich is weI1 known in the
as a gangrene is engendered in the wounT They bite a nje rf.fnuf b ^ ni- ««ure '•) It is of
buttockrshoTiH? aSSeS’ 8 td hTed cattk> ’tstttdy on the teenlnches °™ °Ur’ and ,tS WingS eXtend nearly fif-
arrive at’these parte fronfthe tocilities^fforded by fhe^^ne NyCTEE,s- Cnv1 Geoff. Incisive teeth | ca-
^inuXTllTn'telra^hMtS « ^ ^ = ^ ^ ^ i"CU
S,emLS™tim“while11 ^i^ ^^ '-—Sow'dot ^mu^
%rd’byaf",doPt~’ * ““ ^
pSLi atrLtryt^elrf ntiancd„^ S if Elf
also, on examination, to perceive that these wounds wpS Lp n ! • habltualIy.clo?edJ and require an act of volition to
made by suction, and not by puncture 1 mTX be Z Z? t C0mmuaicatl0a with external air, and the spe-
posed. The blood that is drawn, in cases of his descr n' ,n !’ 18 SUPP0sed’ arfthus enabled to establish themselves
tion, does not come from the veins? or from the arter S' Subterra"fnK ch^vS or other places, where their con-
because the wound does not extend so far but from tb* d/16]? would.be destroyed by pestilential vapours. The
capillary vessels of the skin Sracted thence wWmnt t V ^ !SuSaCk ar0und the body" with which
doubt, by these bats, by the action of sucking or licking it where there «y a"y adh're|nce. e*cept at certain points,
secTional^gritups'^or^ubgmmra^y some recent^writers”^
diiefly in accordance with the presence or absence of ihe the latter Kledtf^^^^ “
We must here pass over, without any special notice the m?fff nf d^n-Jair’r^)r surrounded as it were by a
genus Glossophaga, Geoff, which conE suedes Sm th?t(.elaSt'? fluld' The tod is terminated by a car-
in their habits to those last named, but distinguished by a Passing unSnglvE'"'’^1’8 ‘he ‘'“'’"i', °f the ktter T'1
longer, more extensile tongue, and other characters Y eHo^nr,^ j ™ g y over/.tbe genera Rhinopoma, Ta-
Genus Megaderma, Geoff. Cuv. Incisive teeth 0 r ’^?d MYOPTERIS ofGeoff-St Hilaire, we reach the
4_4 -incisive teeth -, Genus Vespertilio of modern authors. Incisive teeth
4 1—1 .4—4 5—5
= 26.
canine as usual, molar
5 — 5
Tragus also much developed.
united.
Ears very large and
Nose furnished
canine
molar
or
= 32 or 36.
ceous, and a third like a horse-shoe. Tail wanting,
terfemoral membrane square. Third finger without
nrst phahmx. longue smooth and short.
with three appendages,—one erect one horizontal1 or^fbh^ ^ ^ .uPPer incis°rs> pointed and cylindrical, are disposed
ceous, and a Led fike a h„mc-s«Twan„t°: ^ ” projecting
In- forwards, their edges bilohed? The canines are'ofmode-
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ tRe rate ®1Z6j and do not touch each other at their base. The
The species of this genus, thouglTfew in number are ^own?^^ 81 wIy 5 the P°Sterior have broad
spread over a considerable extent of territory,—beinir found their ^ P°mtS 5 °Wer ones are gro°ved on
in Java, the island of Temate, and along the coast of Sene tZ the R.PPer’whlch are twice a* broad, have
gal. We are not aware that naturalists^a?e aSulred any ous ann^ “ -T6 edf * The nose has no niembran-
precise knowledge of their habits, except by induction from the nSfaffi 1.t.,1S+neitber gloved nor furrowed, and
those of their congeners. They dwell in forest andT nle the te of °Percles- The under lip is sim-
remarkable for the great extent of their mlbrano^s e?! o kss e W^H Sm°0th’ ProtractiIe‘ The eats, more
pansions. One of fheir most singular organic cwSs prepTrdonal Snt°SS Th? fT*'* ^ °f great
consists in the absence, or at least rudimentary state of the lanx the middip p lndex dnger bas only one pha-
mtermaxillary bone, which of course entails with it the two ’ Tim • f eei annu^ar and little finger only
non-existence of ,he incisive teeth. It may be inferred! '"torfemoral memb..„. A, J
two The in terfemoral membrane is very “r^ SE
tirely includes the tail. The fur is soff and thick.
1 Essai sur I'Hist. Nat. du Paraguay, T. ii. p. 273
Uuu XaU, t. il M,m. m u,
«
150 MAMMALIA.
Fer«e. This extensive genus includes between thirty and forty
Cheirop. species, some of which occur in every quarter of the globe,
tera. although they may be stated as rather characteristic of tern-
perate regions. Most of the European Cheiroptera pertain
to the restricted genus Vespertilio, such as the V. murinus
of naturalists, recognisable by its oblong ears equalling the
head in length, with their tragus semicordate. The great
bat or noctule ( V. noctula), of which the ears are shorter
than the head, and triangular, and the nostrils bilobate, in¬
habits England (see Plate III., figure 2), as do like¬
wise the pipistrelle and several others not yet discovered in
the northern quarters of the island. The eared bat (V.
auritus, Linn.), is a much more common species. It be¬
longs to the genus Plecotus, Geoff, distinguished by the
large ears which unite with each other at the base, above
the cranium. (See Plate III., figure 7.) Altogether we
have about thirteen different kinds of bat in Britain. We
shall here terminate our brief view of the Vespertilionidae ;
—“ Et nous devons faire observer id,” we may add, in the
words of Baron Cuvier, “ qu’il n’est point de famille qui
ait besoin plus que celle des chauves-souris d’une revue faite
sur nature et non par voie de compilation.” 1
Family 2d,—GALEOPITHECIDjF.
Fore arms and fingers not attenuated and extended as
in bats, but furnished with curved claws. Lateral mem¬
brane not bare, as in the animals last named, but covered
on both surfaces by close-set hair.
4
Genus Galeopithecus, Pallas. Incisive teeth ca¬
nine molar ; ; = 36. Upper incisives very
small, the lateral lengthened, compressed, cutting, with a
small tubercle on each side at the base. Lower incisives
inclined, and divided like the teeth of a comb ; the inter¬
mediate being composed of eight laminae, the second on
each side of nine, the outermost of three or four (see
Plate III., figure 8). The upper canines are very small,
compressed, sharp-pointed, broad at the base ; the lower
are of larger size. The upper anterior molars resemble
the canines, the posterior have their crowns beset with
points. The muzzle is pointed. The ears are small and
rounded; the fingers short, with a broad palm, and fur¬
nished with strong curved claws.
The animal known under the name of flying lemur (Ze-
mur volans, Linn.), may be named as an example of our
present genus. It is the Galeopithecus rufus of modern
systems. (See Plate III., figure 5.) This species mea¬
sures about a foot in length, and is of a greyish-red colour, va¬
rying with age. It inhabits the Moluccas and the isles of Sun-
da, and seems to be the only species distinctly known, though
two others are named in systematic works. These animals
are nocturnal, living on fruits and insects, and suspending
themselves by their hind legs, after the manner of bats. Yet
they differ greatly from all the latter in the form of the
fore paws, and the presence of claws on all the fingers.
Although an ample membrane extends from the sides of
the neck to those of the tail, it is useful rather as a para¬
chute, by enabling them to spring or descend from branch
to branch, than for the purposes of a sustained or continu¬
ous flight. The hind feet are equally palmated with the
anterior, and in each the claws alone are free. The mem¬
brane, moreover, differs from that of bats, in being clothed
on both sides with short dense hair. The species above
named is called olek by the natives of the Pellew islands,
who hold it in great esteem as food, notwithstanding that
it smells extremely like a fox. It is capable of running
on the ground, and is said to climb trees like a cat.
The position of the genus Galeopithecus is, in truth, as Ferre,
yet but ill determined in our systems. It seems, however, Insecti-
improper to remove it far from the vicinity of the bats and vora.
lemurs. Some authors, indeed, combine it with the latter, ^ y~"“
as a family of the quadrumanous order ; while others ex¬
tend that order, so as to include within its range the whole
of the cheiropterous tribes.
DIVISION IL—INSECTIVORA.
The animals comprising this division, though dissimilar
to the preceding in their general form and aspect, resem¬
ble them in several particulars, especially in the conical
points of the molar teeth. They are also for the most part
nocturnal, and of darkling habits, and exhibit an additional
analogy in their tendency to hybernation during the colder
months. They are furnished with clavicles, but do not
possess the extended lateral membrane of the cheiropter¬
ous genera. Their legs may be characterized as short, and
their locomotive powers as somewhat defective. The mam¬
mae, instead of being pectoral, as in the preceding tribes,
are placed beneath the abdomen. The teeth vary so
greatly in the different groups, that no generalities can be
deduced regarding them.
Tribe 1st.
Two long incisives in front, followed by other incisives,
and small canines, shorter than the molar teeth.
Genus Erinaceus, Linn. Incisive teeth -, canine
6
  -, molar     ; = 34. Upper intermediate inci¬
sives very long, separate, cylindrical, directed forwards;
the inferior inclined. Canines smaller than the molars.
Body covered laterally and above with prickles, beneath
with stiffish hairs.
The species of this genus commonly called hedgehogs,
are few in number, and confined to the ancient continent.
We need not describe the well known British species {E.
europceus, see Plate III., figure 9), a timid nocturnal
creature, which feeds on snails, earth-worms, and insects.
It has also been accused of injuring eggs and poultry. It is
easily tamed, and is nearly omnivorous in confinement.
According to Pallas, it devours the cantharis or blistering
beetle with impunity. It has also been said to resist
large doses of prussic acid. The female, about the begin¬
ning of summer, brings forth from three to five young,
which are at first blind, almost white, and nearly naked,
although the germs of the prickles are observable. Both
young and old pass the winter in a state of profound le¬
thargy. The hedgehog occurs over the whole of Europe,
except the extreme north.
2
Genus Sorex, Linn. Central incisive teeth false
canines or lateral incisives or ^ ~A, true molars
^; 28 or 30. The central upper incisives are hooked
and dentated at the base ; the lower are elongated and pro¬
jecting. The false canines, especially the upper, are much
less than the central incisives. The molars have broad
crowns beset with points, the upper being the largest, their
cutting edge oblique. The head is very long, the nose
lengthened and moveable. The ears are short and round¬
ed. The eyes small but perceptible. The body is cover¬
ed by fine short hair.
This genus consists of the small subterranean creatures
called Shrews. The nomenclature of their teeth is a dis¬
puted point among naturalists. They are remarkable for
1 Regne Animal, t. i. p. 122.
certain odoriferous glands along their flanks, and, accord¬
ing to GeofFroy St Hilaire, for the non-existence of the
optic nerve; yet nobody doubts that they can see. Shrews
viewed generically, may be said to be cosmopolites, in so
tar as they are distributed over almost all the earth; and it
is even said, that certain species occur both in Europe and
America. They vary in their habits of life, some attaching
themselves to dry situations, while others prefer moist mea¬
dows, and the margins of springs and quiet streams. They
prey chiefly on insects, and are themselves often killed, but
seldom eaten, by cats. However, owls make amends for
tins omission by swallowing them greedily. It is believed
that even the European species are still but incompletely
known, their extremely minute size enabling them to avoid
the notice of naturalists. They are probably the smallest
ot all quadrupeds, at least we are inclined to presume so
from the recorded dimensions of some of those recently de¬
scribed by Lichtenstein and Savi.
The most abundant species with us is the Sorex araneus,
or common shrew. It measures about inches in length,
without the tail, which is a third shorter than the body,
and of a square form. The teeth are white, the ears naked
and exposed. It is subject to a frequent epidemic in the
autumn season, and presents one of the few instances we
meet with, of an animal in a state of nature being found
dead, without any apparent injury. The water shrew (Sorex
jo^em) is somewhat larger than the preceding. It is of a
blackish colour above, whitish beneath, the tail about a
tourth less than the body in length, and compressed towards
the end. I he incisive teeth are red at the base, and the
ears are in great measure concealed within the fur. There
are many foreign species not, however, as yet distinctly
characterised ; and the learned antiquary Passalacqua in-
orms us that he met with more than one species embalmed
m a tomb of the Necropolis of Thebes. One of these was
evidently, from its great size, and other characters, identi¬
cal with Sorex giganteus, a species which, in the living
state, occurs only in India. This is a fact interesting alike
to the archaeologist and the natural historian, as it leads to
the belief, either that certain species of animals native to
Egypt in ancient times, no longer occur in that country, or
that the Egyptians derived from India some of the objects
of their religious worship.
We may here name the Tupaia of Raffles and Horsfield
(Sorex ghs, Diard., Cladobates, F. Cuvier), a new generic
group from the Indian archipelago, of which the teeth
agree with those of the Insectivora, although the habits of
the species differ in this respect, that they prey like the
Uuadrumana among the branches of trees.1 Their exact
location in the system is therefore still somewhat doubtful.
Genus Mygale, Cuv. Differs from Sorex in having two
very small teeth between the larger of the lower incisives,
and m the upper incisives being triangular and flattened.
Rehind these incisives are six or seven small teeth, and
four jagged molars.
Pallas and Geoffroy St Hilaire differ in their descriptions
of the dentition of the species they have respectively de-
scribed. These animals are of aquatic habits, dwelling in
holes to which they enter under water, and then proceed
upwards to dry and comfortable quarters. They feed on
larvae and worms, and, according to some authors, on the
roots of the nymphaea. The fur of the Russian species
(M. Moscovita, Geoff., Castor moschatus, Linn.) is much
esteemed, on account of its being composed, like that of
mammalia.
the beaver, of long silky hair, and of a softer felt beneath.
It exhales a strong musky odour, which imbues the flesh
of pike and other voracious fish which prey upon it. We
are acquainted with only two species, that of Russia just
named (extremely abundant in the environs of Woronech,
where it is often entangled in the nets of the fishermen)’
and the Desman of the Pyrenees (M. pyrenaica). It is
said that these creatures, not being torpid in winter, suffer
dreadfully during that inclement season, from the freezing
of the waters. Many perish from suffocation in their sub¬
terranean abodes,—these having no communication with
the external air. The species last named has as yet been
found only in the neighbourhood of Tarbes at the foot of
the Pyrenees.
Gends Scamps, Cuv. The teeth of this genus resent-
We those of the preceding, but their false molars are less
numerous.
The only known species is the shrew mole (S. cana¬
densis), a North American animal, nearly eight inches in
length, with a thick cylindrical body, no apparent neck,
short concealed limbs, and broad strongly nailed hands.
It resembles the European mole in its habits, leading a sub¬
terranean life, forming galleries, and feeding principally on
earthT°rmS- Accordillg to Dr Godman, they
exhibit the singular custom of coming to the surface daily
exactly at the hour of noon, and may then be taken alive
by thrusting a spade beneath them, and throwing them out
of their burrows. A tame one in the possession of Mr
Peale was very lively and playful, would follow the hand
of its keeper by the scent (the eyes are very inefficient),
and fed freely on fresh meat, whether cooked or raw It
would burrow for amusement in loose earth, and after mak-
mg a small circle, would return spontaneously to its keeper.
Although widely spread over North America, Dr Richard¬
son does not think its existence probable beyond the 50th
egree of latitude, at least to the eastward of the Rocky
Mountains, because the earth-worm, its favourite food is
unknown in the countries of Hudson’s Bay.2
Genus Chrysochloris, Cuv.
151
cal teeth
3 — 3
molar
6 — 6
Incisive teeth coni-
4
= 40.
^ 3 — 3’ 5 — 5
The only species distinctly ascertained to belong to our
present genus, is the C. capensis(Talpa asiatica, Gmelin),
commonly called the Cape Mole, an animal somewhat less
than the mole of Europe, of a brownish colour, but remark-
able for exhibiting (especially when moistened) beautiful
metallic reflections of a green and copper colour. This
burnished aspect is extremely rare among the mammiferous
tribes. 1 he species in question inhabits the Cape of Good
Hope (not Siberia, as erroneously indicated by Seba), where
it is found to be troublesome in gardens. It is subterranean
and insectivorous, and differs from the true talpm in having
on y three claws to the fore-feet.3 Its eyes are almost 6b-
solete We have represented this singular animal on Plate
J V., figure 2.
Tribe 2d.
Two large upper ineieors in front, followed by two others on
each side, of which the first has the form of a canine ■
canines, properly so called, small, and not distinct from
allt^stped!0*' fiords.
Ferae.
Insecti¬
vora.
2 Trans, vol. xiiL p. 257 ; and Horsfield's Zoological Researches, fascic. 3.
a u T"ta B,nrefi~Arnerica™ (the Quadrupeds, by Dr Richardson), Part I. p 11
DcsnuS* de Bra“deUr °rdi'mir&'' CU™r’ ^ *• !• P- 129.
“ Pieds de derriere h quatre doigts."
152 MAMMALIA.
r crae. 6
Insecti- Genus Condylura, Illiger. Incisives ^, conical teeth,
vora‘ 3 3 4 4
—'-/-'-■''or false molars true molars  : = 40.1
5 — 5 3—3
The snout in this genus is greatly prolonged, and is ge¬
nerally terminated by a radiated expansion, from which the
name of star-nose has been applied to it. The species, of
which only two or three are known to naturalists, greatly
resemble moles in their manners and aspect. They have
hitherto been found only in North America. We have
figured the Cond. cristata of Desm. or “ radiated mole” of
Pennant. (See Plate IV., figures 1 and 1 a.)
Tribe 3d.
Four canines, apart,—between them small incisives.
Genus Talpa, Linn. Incisives canine | ~ ?, molar
O 1   1
We need scarcely describe the external aspect of an
animal so well known as the common mole (Z1. europoed),
almost the only species of which the restricted genus Talpa
is now composed.2 There are few species, however, of
greater interest to the naturalist, whether he regards their
singular economy and instinctive habits, or their very pe¬
culiar organic structure. Moles present as it were the
type or perfect form of a subterranean dweller. The snout
is pointed, yet strong and flexible, the head somewhat de¬
pressed, the eyes inconspicuous, the external ears wanting,
the cervical ligament unusually strong, the bones of the
anterior extremity angular, and so extremely thick as to
be almost as broad as they are long. The two bones of
the fore-arm are fastened together, the paws are broad and
shovel-shaped, with strong claws, and an elongated bone of
the carpus communicates great solidity to their under edges.
The clavicles are very powerful, and the motive muscles of
the anterior extremity, especially the pectorals, are enor¬
mous. Although the organs of sight are feebly developed
(they suffice, however, for whatever visual perceptions may
be necessary to an almost constant dweller in subterranean
darkness), the senses of hearing, touch, and smell, are
acute.
The galleries of the mole are constructed with admirable
sagacity and art, and the female brings forth in a dry and
sheltered chamber, well furnished with grass and leaves.
The exact period of gestation is unknown, but as young
are found in spring and autumn, it is obvious that she pro¬
duces twice a-year. She is careful of, and much attached
to, her young; but, except in relation to these, and during
the pairing season, moles lead a solitary and an isolated
life. They are extremely voracious,—their appetite for
food, according to Geoffroy St Hilaire, amounting to an
actual phrenzy. When kept for a time in a state of absti¬
nence they become outrageous, and will dart with violence
upon whatever prey is then presented,—plunging their
heads into the abdomen of birds and other animals, and
satiating themselves with blood. They have been observed
to refuse toads, but to seize upon frogs with avidity. With
such violent propensities it may be easily conceived that
they soon die of famine when debarred from food. At the Ferae,
same time their appetites are not so entirely carnivorous; Insecti.
at least several authors allege that they occasionally eat v vora*
various tender and succulent roots, and the bulbs of the ^ Y'""“
colchicum. Though deemed very injurious in gardens, and
persecuted by farmers even in the open grounds, they do
not want advocates who espouse their cause as useful agents
in thb general economy of nature; and their undoubted
destruction of grubs and mole-crickets must prove bene¬
ficial to agriculture. The female, indeed, while furnishing
her nursery, is a somewhat too active reaper,—402 young
stalks of corn, with the leaves entire, have been counted in
her nuptial chamber.
The existence of the optic nerve in moles is a great¬
ly contested point among physiological naturalists. Du-
randeau and Dr Gall, conceiving vision to be impossible
in the absence of that nerve, presumed it to exist in those
animals in a complete and normal condition. Cams, Bailly,
and Treviranus, have sought to establish its existence in a
rudimentary state; while its total absence is maintained
by Serres and Desmoulins. Geoffroy St Hilaire presumes
himself to have reconciled these various opinions with the
truth of nature, by shewing that, although the optic nerve
does not occur under the same conditions as it exhibits
among the normal quadrupeds, its analogue is found in a
branch which proceeds from the eye to the fifth pair. An¬
cient writers have been accused of inaccuracy, in describ¬
ing the mole as blind ; and this would certainly have been
a gross error in relation to an animal, of which the eyes,
though small, are so distinctly perceptible. It is true that
Aristotle twice repeats the assertion that the mole has no
eyes; but we must remember that the true mole is ex¬
tremely rare in Greece, and that the curnuXctZ of the an¬
cients (translated mole) is another animal (Aspalax ty-
phlus), of which the eyes are in truth entirely covered by
the skin. It is only in comparatively recent times that na¬
turalists have become acquainted with a species, the re¬
markable conformation of which thus excuses, if it does
not verify, the statement of the Stagyrite.
The only other mole found in Europe is one dis¬
covered among the Apennines by Signor Savi. It is said
to be entirely blind, and has, in that belief, been named
Talpa cceca by the Italian naturalist.3 It is somewhat less
than the common species, and one of our correspondents
states his belief that it occurs in France.
Genus Centenes, Illiger. Incisives ~ or canines
o 6
1—1 , 6—6
1_ ^ molars 40 or 38.
The species of this genus resemble hedgehogs in the
prickles which are intermingled with their hair, but their
teeth are very different. They are nocturnal animals, and
inhabitants of the torrid zone (occurring in Madagascar and
the Isle of France), and are said to pass several months of
the year in a lethargic state. This is a singular circum¬
stance in the history of any intertropical species ; and the
term hybernation, usually bestowed upon the torpid condi¬
tion (in consequence of its constant connection with the
cold of winter), cannot be used in the present instance, be-
Tbe student who finds a discrepancy in our statement of the above dentition (or in that of other insectivorous groups), when
compared with the descriptions of other authors, will bear in mind that this arises chiefly from a difference in nomenclature. In the
present instance we tollow M. Desmarest. Baron Cuvier seems to think that in Condylura there are only two pair of incisive teeth in
the upper jaw ; what we have considered as the third pair, being regarded by him as the canines. We presume the place of their
ofThegenus1^ atl°n t0 maxi^ary bone would determine the point; but we have ourselves no access to a cranium of any species
2 Bartram and other writers who have asserted the existence of moles in America, are supposed by later writers to have mistaken
e s rew mo e(aea ops). ir.J.Richardson, however, informs us that there are several true moles in the Museum of the Zoological
Society, w uc were brought trom America. They differ from the common European species in being smaller in size, with a thicker
and shorter snout. T e fur is brownish-black. Dr Harlan supposes the mole of the United States synonymous with T. eurotxm of
Xjnn. It was named T. amencana in Dr Bartram’s MS.
* Memoire Soienttfc/ie, decade prima. Consult also C. L. Bonaparte’s Iconografia della Fauna Italica.
FeRE cause, according to the relation of Bruguiere, it most fre-
Carnivora, quently occurs during the greatest heats. About three
species ot the genus are known to naturalists. As an ex¬
ample, we have figured the radiated Tanrec (Centenes se-
mi_spinosm), winch is no larger than a mole (See Plate
HI., figure 10.) The tanrecs are known to Eurone-
ans under the title of pig-porcupines. They utter a grunt-
ing cry, are generally very fat, and are used as food by the
natives of Madagascar.
mammalia.
153
DIVISION III.—CARNIVORA.
The genera of this division are characterized by possess¬
ing six incisors in each jaw. Their molars are usually of a
trenchant or cutting character, sometimes tuberculous, but
never beset with the jagged points which we so often
extremely strong? FeCedi”g divUi0n- Their «s ™
r.^!S"jgh 'l'6 eP'.thet carnivorous, as Baron Cuvier has
remarked, applies, in a considerable degree, to all ungui-
cu ated quadrupeds which possess the three different kinds
of teeth, since the whole are more or less dependent on
CToun! nf f°r tbe,r™pp°rt> yet it is among the various
groups of our present division that we meet with the really
sanguinary kinds. They are more or less exclusively car¬
nivorous, according as their teeth are more or less of a cut¬
ting character, and their regimen might almost be calcu¬
lated fiom the relative proportion between the tubercular
and the cutting surface of their grinders. The bear tribe,
which is the best adapted (of carnivorous creatures) for
subsisting on a vegetable diet, has almost all the teeth tu-
berries* HenCe the accordance of its love for fruits and
The anterior molars of this division are usually the sharp¬
est on their edges; then follows a molar larger than the
others, and usually furnished with a tubercular heel. Behind
that molar we find one or two small teeth nearly flat, upon
the crown. It is with these latter that dogs chew the
grass which they so frequently swallow. The great molar
just alluded to, and the corresponding tooth of the upper
jaw, are what we designate as the carnivorous cheek-teeth
(les carnassieres of F. Cuvier); the anterior pointed ones
are the false molars, and the flattened posterior ones, the
tubercular grinders. The amount of these teeth differs
slightly in some of the genera. Thus, for example, in the
el me race, or cats, there is no separate tubercular tooth
jn the lower jaw; but its function is performed by the
inner projecting lobe of the under carnivorous cheek-tooth,
the rounded point of which, when the jaws are closed, is
applied to the flat surface of the upper tubercular grinder.
It will be readily conceived that such species as possess
the fewest false molars, and the shortest jaws, have the
greatest power in biting, and are likely to prove the most
carnivorous.
We subdivide the Carnivora, in the first place, into
three principal tribes, in accordance chiefly with certain dis¬
tinctive peculiarities in the form of the hinder feet. These
tribes are named Plantigrada, Digitigrada, and Pin¬
nipedia.
Tribe I—Plantigrada.
. Entire sole of the foot placed upon the ground in walk¬
ing. Five toes to both the fore and hind extremities. No
caecum.
6 . 1—1
lar
Genus Ursus. Linn.
6—6
Incisors —, canine
1 —l’
mo-
7-7’
42. Tail short.
Of the six molars on each side of the upper jaw of this ge- Fene.
nus there are three which we would denominate false molars; Carnivora
another corresponds to the carnivorous cheek-tooth, and   
the remaining two are tuberculated grinders. In the under
jaw there is generally an additional molar on each side.
It must be remembered, however, that the number of teeth
in the bears is very variable even in the same species, ac¬
cording to the age of the individual. The false molars es¬
pecially vary greatly,—for in young animals they have not
become apparent,—in aged ones they have disappeared.
Among carnivorous quadrupeds, as we have already
ninted, w-e find many different degrees of ferocity, from
the all-subduing and blood-thirsty disposition of the tiger,
winch so savagely rejoices to imbrue its horrid jaws in the
palpitating flesh of a living victim, to the more omnivorous
propensities of the Plantigrada, such as the bear, racoon,
or coati-mundi,—species which, though addicted to prey
on other animals, are at the same time endowed with a
much greater capacity to adapt their constitution to a mis¬
cellaneous diet. This accommodating instinct no doubt
corresponds with, if it does not proceed from, the less de¬
terminate formation of the digestive and prehensile organs ;
such as the stomach, teeth, and claws. The unequalled
strength and activity of the tiger,—its sharp retractile ta¬
lons, the great development of the canine teeth, and the
compressed and cutting character of the molars, combined
with the simplicity of the stomach, and the shortness of
the intestinal canal, render it, as it were, the type of car¬
nivorous animals. It exhibits no tendency in any of its
forms to the herbivorous structure, but is strictly and cha¬
racteristically a flesh-eating animal, “ a most beautiful and
cruel beast of prey.” It is otherwise with our present ge¬
nus, containing the race of bears. Their external forms
are massy and inactive, their claws are unretractile, their
muzzles more elongated, their jaws consequently weaker,
and their teeth, though sufficiently formidable, manifest a
decided relation to the herbivorous structure in the breadth
of the molars, and their bluntly tuberculated crowns. In
accordance with these conditions of their organization, we
find that even the polar bear (Ursus maritimus), one of
the most carnivorous of its kind, may be sustained for a
length of time in captivity, on bread alone. It is known
that several species, in the wild state, are remarkably fond
o honey (a substance which, though in one sense an ani¬
mal secretion, is, in another and more essential one, a ve¬
getable product), and have been observed climbing trees
to obtain it. Others feed on fruits, reptiles, insects, parti¬
cularly ants; and Sir Stamford Raffles possessed a tame
Malay bear (U. Malay anus'), which gave proof of its re¬
fined appetite, by refusing to eat any thing but mango-
steens, or to drink any other wine than champagne.1
Here, then, as among every other group which pan oc-
cupy the attention of the naturalist, we find the most beau¬
tiful and harmonious uniformity to prevail between the spe¬
cial end in view, and the means of its attainment. Of all
carnivorous animals, bears are the least qualified either to
pursue m open warfare, or to secure by ambuscade, a livino-
prey. I heir plantigrade position renders their movements
comparatively slow and the nearly equal length of their
fore and hind legs deprives them of the power of leaping.
Had, therefore, their natural love of flesh and blood been
as insatiable as that of the tiger, and their means of obtain¬
ing it so much more restricted, their lives must have passed
nc^W6 TCies would ere ]ong have become ex-
S'” LBUt! HE Wh° temPers the wind to the shorn
lamb, has drawn strength from this very weakness, and
whirb ed that’ Wltih th? deterioration of those characters
which are essential to the well-being of a strictly carnivo-
Linn. Trans, vol. xii.
vol. XIV.
Wilson’s Illustrations of Zoology, vol i. Genus Ursus.
MAMMALIA.
154
Ferae, rous animal, should arise a capacity of deriving nourish-
Cariiivora.nient from a wider and more miscellaneous range of mate-
v v rials,—and thus the balance is beautifully maintained be¬
tween the instinctive propensity and the subduing power.
The geographical distribution of the genus Ursus, though
formerly believed to be confined to northern countries, is
now known to be very extensive. We are acquainted
with eight or nine species, several of which occur in the
warmer regions of Continental Asia, and the Indian Islands.
We cannot here, however, afford room for more than the
briefest summary. The white or polar bear (U. mariti-
mus), which does not occur among the antarctic icebergs,
is common to the northern shores of Asia and America.
This gigantic prowler among frost-bound regions, attains
to a higher latitude than any other known quadruped, and
seems indeed to dwell by preference
“ In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice.”
Its southern limit seems to be somewhere about the 55th
parallel. It is a truly ice-haunting and maritime species,
occurring along a vast extent of shore, but never entering
into wooded countries, except by inadvertence, or during
the prevalence of great mists, nor shewing itself, unless ac¬
cidentally, at any considerable distance from the sea.1
It might naturally be supposed, that animals of almost
gigantic size, of great strength, and considerable ferocity,
would be too formidable and dangerous to the human race,
to remain long unknoAvn in any of their distinguishing cha¬
racteristics. Yet the specific differences, it must be ad¬
mitted, of the black and brown bears, both of Europe and
America, are still insufficiently illustrated. Both conti¬
nents produce a black bear and a brown one ; the white or
polar species, just mentioned, is common to the northern
latitudes of each, while America alone is inhabited by the
grizzly bear, Ursus ferox. This is undoubtedly the most
formidable animal of the northern parts of the New World.
When full grown it equals in size the great polar species, and
is not only of more active habits, but of a fiercer and more
vindictive disposition. Its strength is so enormous, that it
will drag away the carcass of a buffalo weighing a thousand
pounds. Dr Richardson informs us, that a party of voyagers,
who had been occupied all day in tracking a canoe up the
Saskatchewan, were seated around a fire enjoying the re¬
pose of the evening twilight, and partly occupied in the
agreeable task of preparing their supper. Suddenly a huge
grizzly bear sprung over the canoe, which they had tilted
behind them, and seizing one of the party by the shoulder,
carried him off. The remainder were scattered in terror, with
the sole exception of a metif named Bourasso, who, grasp¬
ing his gun, followed the bear, whom he saw deliberately
retreating with his companion in his mouth. He called out
to his unfortunate comrade that he was afraid to fire lest
he should hit him instead of the bear, but he was answered
to fire instantly, as the monster was squeezing him to death.
On this he took steady aim, and lodged his ball in the body
of the brute, which immediately dropped its original prey,
and turned round to revenge itself upon the brave Bouras¬
so. He, however, contrived to effect his escape, and the
bear, probably feeling itself severely wounded, disappeared
into a neighbouring thicket. The rescued man eventually
recovered, although one of his arms was fractured, and he
was otherwise severely bitten. Another individual, still liv¬
ing in the neighbourhood of Edmonton House, was attacked
by a bear of this species, which suddenly sprung out of a
thicket, and scalped him by a single scratch of its tremen¬
dous claws, laying bare the skull, and pulling down the skin Ferae,
of the forehead quite over the eyes. Assistance being at Carnivora,
hand, he was rescued from the bear without farther injury, v—'
but he was left in a painful and unfortunate predicament,
for the scalp not being properly replaced in time, he lost
the power of vision (although his eyes remained uninjured),
owing to the hardening of that skinny and tenacious veil.2
The grizzly bear inhabits the Rocky Mountains, and their
eastern plains, at least as far north as latitude 61°, and its
southern range, according to Lieutenant Pike, extends to
Mexico.3
Another and much smaller species of the New World is
the black bear of North America (£/. Americanus, see
Plate IV., figure 3). It is esteemed as food. The only
South American species with which we are acquainted,
is the Ursus ornatus of Frederick Cuvier {Ibid. figs. 4
and 4 a). It is black, with the throat and muzzle white,
and a large fulvous spot upon the brows. The European
bears are generally supposed to be two in number, the
brown or common bear {U. arctos, Linn.), and the black
bear {U. niger). The latter, however, is by some consi¬
dered only as a variety. There are at least three bears in
India. The long-lipped bear ( U. labiatus) is met with oc¬
casionally in menageries in this country, under the name
of Ursine Sloth (first bestowed upon an individual acci¬
dentally deficient in the canine teeth). It dwells in holes
and caverns, which it sometimes excavates with its long
claws, and feeds on fruit, insects, and honey. It is rather
a docile and intelligent animal, and is taught various tricks
by the jugglers of Bengal, who frequently exhibit it for the
amusement of the people. The Malay bear {U. Malay-
anus, Raffles), before alluded to, occurs likewise in Suma¬
tra, where it is said to cause great damage by climbing to
the summit of the cocoa trees to drink the milk, after de¬
vouring the tops of the plant. A third Indian species is
the bear of Thibet {U. Tibetanus, Cuv.), a species inter¬
mediate between the two preceding, but more ferocious
than either. Its claws are weaker than usual, and some
suppose that it cannot climb trees. It was found by Dr
Wallich among the mountains of Nepaul, and by M. A.
Duvaucel in those of Silhet. We may conclude by observ¬
ing, that bears have never been found in any part of Africa
in modern times, although those of Lybia are mentioned by
Virgil and other ancients :—
Acestes
Horridus in jaculis et pelle Libystidis ursse.
g J |
Genus Procyon, Storr., Cuv. Incisors 6, canine ^|,
molar „ ^~ 40. Tail long. Six ventral mammas.
0—0
This genus contains the animals commonly called ra¬
coons. We have no precise knowledge of more than two
species. The first is the common racoon of North Ame¬
rica (P. lotor, Cuv. Ursus lotor, Linn.), a fox-like crea¬
ture, with the gait of a bear. In a state of nature it sleeps
throughout the day, prowling during the night in search of
fruits, roots, birds, eggs, and insects. At low water it fre¬
quents the sea-shore, where it preys on Crustacea and shell¬
fish. It climbs trees with great facility. According to M.
Desmarest it extends as far south as Paraguay. But it is
the second species or crab-eating racoon (P. cancrivorus,
Geoff.), which is the more characteristic of the southern
portion of the New World.
The genus Ailurus of Fred. Cuvier, maybe here men-
1 The student who desires to complete his knowledge of this interesting animal, is referred to Martin’s Voyage to Spitzbergen, Fa-
bricius’s Fauna Grcen/andica, Pennant’s Arctic Zoology, Scoresby’s Account of the Arctic Regions, the Appendix to Parry’s Second Voyage,
and Richardson’s Fauna Boreali-Americana, part 1st. The same works may of course be consulted with equal advantage for the his¬
tory and description of other arctic quadrupeds. 2 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part 1st, p. 27.
3 Travels on the Missouri and Arktmsaw.
M A M M A LI A.
Ferae. tioned as allied to the racoons. It possesses, however, only
1 _armV 0r&y °ne ^se rno^ar instead of three. Its dentition is not dis¬
tinctly known. One species only has been hitherto recog¬
nised, the A. fulgens, a native of the mountains of Northern
India.1 It is an extremely beautiful animal, clothed in a
soft dense fur, the upper parts of a bright cinnamon red, the
under surface deep black. In size it resembles a large do-
mestic cat, and dwells by preference among trees in the
vicinity of streams and torrents, preying on birds and small
quadrupeds. It offers in some measure a combination of
the characters of the bears, civets, and racoons. (See Plate
IV., figures 6 and 6 «.)
Another recently constructed genus is named Ictides,
by M. Valenciennes.2 The three hindermost molars of the
upper jaw are much smaller and less tuberculated than
those of the racoons, especially the farthest back in each
jaw, which is very small and almost simple. (See Plate
IV., figure 5.) The tail is long and densely furred,
with an involved appearance as if it were prehensile. Two
species have been described,—let. albifrons, a native of Su-
matia, Malacca, and Java; and let. ater, found chiefly in
Malacca. They are not yet distinctly characterized or dis¬
criminated, and one or other of them is the Bintui'ong of
Raffles.3 . It was observed to climb trees, with the assist¬
ance of its tail, which has uncommon strength. Major
Farquhar kept one alive for many years. It fed both on
animal and vegetable food, was particularly fond of plan¬
tains, but also ate readily of fowl’s heads, eggs, &c. It was
155
of wild bees, and makes use of its long tongue to extract Fene.
their gathered sweets. On this account it was named the Carnivora.
honey bear, by the missionaries.
Genus Meles, Storr.
Ian
5 — 5
Incisives —,
6
canine
1 — I
1—1’
most active during the night.4
Genus Nasua, Storr., Cuv. Incisors
canine
molars
6 —.6
1 — 1
1 — P
— 40. Tail long, covered with hair, not
No CEecum.
G — G
prehensile. Six ventral mammae.   
This genus contains the well-known South American
animals called coatis, or coati mondis, so frequently seen
in our menageries. Individuals vary greatly in colour, and
it is the impression of some observers, that the red and brown
coatis, N. rufa and fusca (Viverra nasua and nasica of
Linn.), are identical. We have represented the so called
Nasua rufa on Plate IV., figure 7. In a state of na¬
ture these animals dwell in the woods, preying on such small
birds and quadrupeds as they can overcome, and producing
occasional devastation in sugar-cane plantations. They
are often domesticated in Brazil, Guiana, and Paraguay,
but it is necessary to keep them chained, as they climb
better than cats, and are always getting into mischief, from
their restless activity and habits (otherwise praiseworthy) of
general inquiry, which induce them to poke their snouts
into every unaccustomed hole and corner. A specimen at
present in our possession is extremely domestic, much at¬
tached to society, and also very fond of strawberries, earth¬
worms, honey, eggs, chickens (either raw or roasted), young
frogs, and green pease.
We may here allude briefly to the genus Potos of Geof-
froy (Cercoleptes, Illiger), which contains only a single
species of a somewhat anomalous aspect. It is the yellow
maucoco of Pennant (P. caudivolvulus, Desm.), frequent¬
ly called the kinkajou. Its size is nearly that of a domestic
cat, and its physiognomy is remarkably like a lemur’s. A
tame one kept by F. Cuvier was mild and fond of caresses.
It loved obscurity, and slept much during the day. It oc¬
casionally ate meat, but preferred a vegetable diet. It was
a dexterous climber. According to Humboldt it is very
abundant in New Grenada, and was among the number of
those animals formerly reduced by the aborigines to a do¬
mestic state. It is said to be a great destroyer of the nests
tuTe ’ — 38* Tail verY short- Two pectoral and
four ventral mammae. An anal pouch.
Here naturalists place the badgers, a small genus, widely
distributed over Europe, and occurring both in Asia and
merica. At the same time we have no precise know-
ledge of more than two species. Our common badger
{Meles vulgaris, Ursus meles, Linn.) is greyish-brown
above, beneath black, with a longitudinal black band on
each side of the head, passing round the eye and ear. The
tuberculous molars at the bottom of each jaw, especially
those of the upper, are distinguished by their extent, of
w nch the effect is to limit that of the carnivorous teeth,
and consequently to diminish the natural appetite for flesh,
or, at all events, the power of exercising it. The tubercu¬
lous molar of the upper jaw, occupies a space equal to that
of the carnivorous cheek tooth, and of the two false molars,
by which it is preceded, and the lower half of the under
carnivorous tooth is enlarged, so as to be properly opposed
to the larger tuberculous tooth above. It is thus half tu¬
berculous and half carnivorous. The second incisives of
each side of the lower jaw are not inserted on the same line
as the others, but farther in. Although the badger is un¬
doubtedly a carnivorous animal, it is much less so than many
others of the ferine order, and even in a state of nature
feeds freely on fruits and roots. We have known it enter
a garden to devour strawberries. When domesticated it
is omnivorous, like the cat and dog. Its subterranean life,
and woodland habits, are well known.
The American badger (Meles Labradoria of Richardson
and others), or carcajou of Buffbn, is of a mottled or hoary
grey colour above, whitish on the under surface. The fur is
very soft and fine. This species inhabits the sandy plains or
prairies which skirt the Rocky Mountains as far north as the
banks of the Peace River. It abounds in the plains of the
Missouri, although its southern range has not been hitherto
defined. Fhe holes which it perforates in the prairies, in the
vicinity of Carlton-house, are often annoying to horsemen,
especially when the ground is covered with snow. The
greater number of these burrows, however, are not dug by
t le badger itself, but are merely enlargements of the sub -
terranean dwellings of marmots (Arctomys Hoodii and
Jxichardsonii), which it at the same time most ungener¬
ously digs up and devours. It appears indeed to be fully
more carnivorous than the European species,—a specimen
which Sir J. Richardson killed, having had a small marmot
nearly entire, and several field mice, in its interior. But
it had also been feeding on some vegetable matter. It
passes the winter, from November to April, in a torpid
state.5 1
Although the badgers approach the marten tribe in the
characters of their dentition, they are far from resemblino-
those finely formed, light, and lively creatures in other par-
taculars; their bodies, though strong and muscular, being
rather heavily formed, and their movements by no means
active. Their physiognomy, it has been observed, an¬
nounces neither quickness of intelligence, nor vivacity of
passion. 1 hey lead a retired, if not a solitary life. Badgers,
though frequently mentioned by Latin writers under the
names of taxus and meles, seem to have passed unnoticed
ie . r^,t s‘ . ^ ct we know that the European species
occurs in Calabria. 1
1 See Linn. Trans, vol. xv. p. 161. 2 Annates des Sciences Nat t iv
* vT "A 2 "4 COmmlnsW b7 Se',eral recent s^le"lati5 “‘Ik ‘he genus
xm. p. Jo4. 5 Fauna Boreali-Americana, Part i. p. 39.
MAMMALIA.
Caralvora. Genus Gulo. Incisives^, canines ~—molars ^ 
or ^^ ; = 38 or 36. No anal pouch.
The Glutton of the north of Europe ( Gulo arcticus, Ur-
sus gulo, Linn.) may be mentioned as an example of our
present genus. It is common in Norway, especially in the
neighbourhood of Drontheim, and is remarkable for its
fierceness and voracity. It is said to climb trees, that it
may the more readily pounce upon deer and other large
animals which it could not otherwise obtain. It fastens on
their necks with teeth and claws, till its astounded prey
rolls upon the earth from loss of blood, or terror at such
an unexpected and insidious foe. In a domestic state it
has been known to eat thirteen pounds of flesh in a single
day. It is not larger than a badger. The glutton does
not become torpid in the winter season.
The Wolverine of North America (Gulo luscus, Sabine),
though regarded by Baron Cuvier as nothing more than a
variety of the preceding, is by others considered as a well
distinguished species. Its habits are characteristically de¬
scribed by Sir J. Richardson : “ The Wolverine is a carni¬
vorous animal, which feeds chiefly upon the carcasses of
beasts that have been killed by accident. It has great
strength, and annoys the natives by destroying their hoards
of provision, and demolishing their marten traps. It is so
suspicious, that it will rarely enter a trap itself, but, begin¬
ning behind, pulls it to pieces, scatters the logs of which it
is built, and then carries off the bait. It feeds also on mea¬
dow-mice, marmots, and other rodentia, and occasionally
on disabled quadrupeds of a larger size. I have seen one
chasing an American hare, which was at the same time ha¬
rassed by a snowy owl. It resembles the bear in its gait,
and is not fleet; but it is very industrious, and no doubt
feeds well, as it is generally fat. It is much abroad in the
winter, and the track of its journey in a single night may
be often traced for many miles. From the shortness of its
legs, its makes its way through loose snow with difficulty,
but when it falls upon the beaten track of a marten trapper,
it will pursue it for a long way. Mr Graham observes,
‘that the Wolverines are extremely mischievous, and do
more damage to the small fur trade, than all the other ra¬
pacious animals conjointly. They will follow the marten
hunter’s path round a line of traps extending forty, fifty, or
sixty miles, and render the whole unserviceable, 'merely to
come at the baits, which are generally the head of a part¬
ridge, or a bit of dried venison. They are not fond of the
martens themselves, but never fail of tearing them in pieces,
or of burying them in the snow by the side of the path, at
a considerable distance from the trap. Drifts of snow often
conceal the repositories thus made of the martens from the
hunter, in which case they furnish a regale to the hungry
fox, whose sagacious nostril guides him unerringly to the
spot. Two or three foxes are often seen following a wol¬
verine for this purpose.’1 The wolverine is said to be a
great destroyer of beavers, but it must be only in the
summer, when those industrious animals are at work on
land, that it can surprise them. An attempt to break open
their house in the winter, even supposing it possible for the
claws of a wolverine to penetrate the thick mud walls when
frozen as hard as stone, would only have the effect of driv¬
ing the beavers into the water to seek for shelter in their
vaults on the borders of the dam.”2 Next to the polar
bear, the wolverine is one of the most northern of known
quadrupeds. Its bones were found in Melville Island, near¬
ly in latitude 75°.
A third species of this genus is the Grison, or banded
glutton (G. vittutusj, an inhabitant of a warmer clime. It
is very common in Paraguay. A fourth is the Taira (G. Fene.
barbatus,—Mustelus barbatus, Linn.), described by Azara Carnivora.
under the name of le grand furet. It is likewise a native  v '
of South America.
The Ratel, or cape glutton (G. mellivorus,— Viverra
mellivora and capensis, Gmelin), differs from the pre¬
ceding in having one false molar less in each jaw, and in
the upper tubercular teeth being slightly developed, as in
cats; but in its external aspect it resembles the grison and
badger. It is described by Sparmann as being about the
size of the latter,—the fur greyish above, and black below,
with an intermediate line of white. It inhabits the Cape
of Good Hope, where, with its long claws, it disinters the
nests of wild bees, and feeds upon their honey. Though
long regarded as exclusively of African origin, it now ap¬
pears, on the testimony of General Hardwick, to occur in
several parts of India, along the courses of the Ganges and
the Jumna. Its manners, however, do not at all corres¬
pond with those assigned to the African variety. It inha¬
bits the high banks of the great rivers, and seldom issues
abroad during the day. At night it prowls about the Ma-
hommedan habitations, and will sometimes even scratch up
recently interred human bodies, unless the graves be pro¬
tected by a covering of thorny shrubs. So rapid indeed
are its subterranean operations, that it will work its way be¬
neath the surface in the course of ten minutes. Its fa¬
vourite food consists of birds and small quadrupeds. There
is a specimen of this animal in the London Zoological Gar¬
dens, remarkable for its playfulness and good humour. It
solicits attention by a great variety of postures, and tumbles
head over heels as soon as it has succeeded in attracting
the notice of a visitor.3
Tribe II.—Digitigrada.
The groups of this tribe derive their name from their
peculiar mode of locomotion. The heel does not touch
the ground, and the act of walking is performed, as it were,
upon the toes. We may name as familiar examples the
pole-cats, martens, dogs, hyenas, and the whole of the fe¬
line race. Like most of our attempts, however, at a gene¬
ral arrangement, founded on any single attribute, we find
this principle imperfect, or at least admitting of exceptions in
relation to the character prescribed, in as far as several
species might be adduced, which truly agree with their di-
gitigrade congeners in their prevailing character, but ap¬
proach the plantigrades in their mode of locomotion.
The genuine Digitigrades, however, such as cats, are
among the most agile of their tribe, and as activity is an
almost indispensable adjunct in the habits of a carnivorous
creature, we find that these light-footed kinds are also the
most exclusively flesh-eating of all the ferine order. In¬
deed all the genera of our present tribe may be said to be
more strictly carnivorous than those of the preceding.
1st Subdivision.
A single tuberculous tooth behind the carnivorous cheek¬
tooth of the upper jaw. Body much elongated. Limbs
short.
This subdivision corresponds to the old genus Mustela
of Linnaeus, and includes all those small and slender bodied
animals which, in our ow n country, are usually designated
as vermin, such as weasels, polecats, &c., the Verminium
genus of Ray. They are very blood-thirsty, and extremely
destructive for their size, destroying great quantities of
game, both in woods, fields, and moorish mountains, and
1 Graham’s MSS. p. 13.
3 Gardens and Menagerie, vol. i. p. 20.
I
1 Fauna Boreali-Americana, Part i. p. 43.
MAMMAL 1 A.
157
Can*™, especially ?f reSmcMntr7dywemnp.d TheyTe"^^^ lopensities tPeCifilC nam?S T leriVed fr0m tl’eir sllPPosed Fel"
'—^'nocturnal and insidious, and, from their worm-like form; tLfXir haMr'ifk/,}!''1™ f k'"dS f foreStS’ il aPPeors c»™ivora.
can penetrate minute openings,—thus gaining access to j f- ,! kf th®se of most other sPecies, are of anv
places where their presence‘was little" elpecTed, ^ndle'ss fim° nam^ ar! nftc' f B°f.ST and m°re ^aVy the
desired. The general dentition may be stated as : inci- lime ” oTwhich dlStnCtS “ r0cky’ bare’ sub-
6 mine 1 —1 i 4-45-5 l™6’ °f ^bich the most hoPeless attribute is that of forest
mine , .. molars   or ^   ; = 34 nr 38. fenery. The common marten more frequently approaches
SPS than tho /-kfVw-v^   _ iii
sires —, canine ,
o 1
34 or 38.
1’ “*°5 5 U1 6 6’ — ^ jo. „  — ptn muic ix equenuy approaches
We shall now proceed to give a short sketch of the mi- re^n dUtinS.^he^h0'^''’ a"d wf Prob“b|y- ^ that
nor genera (increased in number though restricted in ex- writers c g S d by thf ?ame of domestica by the old
tent), into which the musteline group of Linnaeus has been ten is I t af ^esner anc^ Aldrovandus. The pine mar-
subdivided in recent times. • 18 extremely common over the northern parts of Ame-
The polecats (subgenus Putorius, Cuv.i) are among the IbumW Jh A^a"tic t(? the Pacific, and is particularly
most sanguinary. Their lower carnivorous cheek-tooth has killed bv fire^6 1JlVe remainec* standing after being
no interior tubercle, their upper tubercular tool is broade^ po tant ardcTe of " 18 ^ and l8 ]°^ formed an
than long, and they have only two false molars above and fond cL u of c^merce, upwards of a hundred thou-
three below on each side, /hey exhde a strong and dfs- to tt trade T, ttTk in d-Wcts devoted
agreeable odour. The species are extremely numerous tive subject nfp ! i kno'vn Jhat lt; also formed a lucra-
and widely spread. We have three well known BHtish ^P°m °m Sc°^ Dr
kinds,—the foumart, or common polecat (M. putorius cordTnltn sf T P-'p8 T ^ °n the t0pS of trees* Ac’
Lmn.) of which the ferret (A/, furo) is regarded Smply as subterraneous*1" R^ha,hdson’,ts bablts in America are rather
“n‘bet:yer,uedra sap,ing “wared its
in Finland, and in other parts of the north MitfeLt'ofEu' -l/l/ °f t,le *“ous of du' foreign martens is the
rope, from the Icy to the* Black Sea. Erxleben however' beau ^of Us tr ^ Linn')’ S° *b“
IS m error when he supposes it to be a North American anri ^ J ^Ur‘ ^t.is very J1^e 0ur martens both in size
species. The animal of the New World is the vison (M 1 P10P0rtl0ns> and is usually of a rich lustrous brown co-
vison, Gmelin) or minx otter of Pennant? Both^peS seasmnTith of Pa'e'' in,,sun;mCT> and "larked during^hai
prey much on fish, reptiles, and aquatic insects, and the and face if? UP°" , 6 °at’ wbitish tba "ars
latter is easily tamed. “ One,” savsSir T Bicbarflcnr, « u- u a ■ 1 • ,1S 8Pread over a wide extent of northern
I saw in the possession of a Canadian woman, passed thedav ^ ^ hfld in tbe hiShest estimation of all the
in her pocket, looking out occasionally, when its attention was’tes of T ,pUrSuit amon^ the frozen
was roused by any unusual noise.” 3 Other species inha- fulTdKTlSChatkaiSprobablythemostPain”
bit the warmer countries of the earth, such as Africa fP ncc citL h Pf1 °US oP those sacrifices which the human
africatius, Desm.), Madagascar (P. striatus F Cuvier)" of riches orce or *ree Pave ever made to the love
and Java (C. nudipes, Id.). The last namS anima^ m" a J, hf ,.The r<;be ia by much the most esteem-
yellowish fawn-colour, with the head and termination of lusirousff S°fter’ and more flexlble and
the tail white, is figured in this work Plate V fimire 1 ? i i any °ther season- In this state it is equally
There is a Cape species (Viverra zori’lla, Gmelin) which nobksse^ pbmeSe mandarins Tartarian chiefs, and the
in its general aspect, resembles the polecats yet th^form and ^ reSarded a« one of the
of its fore-claws is somewhat peculiar, and s Jms to ndi ments^f Th^h Tgnificent of a11 the artificial adorn-
cate subterranean habits of life, and a propenTfty to ^ Zlit Z?an fraT A single skin of richest
It has, on this account, been formed by some authors into attcmntcV'01^ ^ tvvelve.to fourteen pounds, and in its
a separate subgenus under the name of Zortf/a,—perhaps of cold and SZ™ tZ 'TT'* perish miserably
an inappropriate title, and apt to mislead the student, in as skilful in the 16 Ru8.Sian dea ers’ however, are so
far as it was first applied by Spanish writers to one of the nfte ^ .perZfc preparation of these furs, that they
mephitic species of America. 6 Z™ S"cceed in 8elhng the summer skins for those of win-
The Martens properly so called (Mustela of Cuvier Z A- G may ci’ tbat t0 tbe Pursuit °f tbe sable we owe
but to which the generic name of Mahtes would be more the dlscovfry of tbe ea8tem countries of Siberia.
bnowu6 |c“s°orfMm:« ^2 Le/bf'
^ hidicate ^ ^ ^^ ^ ^ ““
some diminution of the purely carnivorous propensity. We
have two British species, the common or beech marten .
(M. jagorum, Ray, M. martes, var. fagorum, Linn.), of molars , r>
which the throat and breast are white, and the nine mar , , ’ '   
ten7 4f nr  ... v. 1. ■ a se molafs. above an<I three below, but the upper tuber
cular tooth is verv laro-e. anA n* i   . IP, l.UDer-
Genus Mephitis, Cuv.
4 — 4
Incisives canines
0
;= 34.
I — 1
1 — i’
As in the polecats, there are two
ten {M. abietum, Ray, M. martes, var. abietum, Linn.^of cular to^th^verv lari^Z but the uPPer tuber-
whicb the throat and breast are dingy yellow. The for carnivnm i Se’ancl as long as broad; the lower
mer is the more common in England,"aVd the southern arM rcharacter inZh^ on its inner side,
central parts of Scotland,-the latter pievaili in the north. They resemble the'ktterairta theTngthen'ed Srf
that- !1?rn,?UVier,haS aPPlied the generic name Putorius to the group which contains th« „ i , a ,
that of Mustela on the martens. We think the latter should have been eiven to wZ h P IeCat and the weaseb ^ he bestows
but givetoe rti1 lc°1tiierWiSe apt t0 carry false associations. Some recent writers adonTthf C°"tained the true weasel (M. vul-
„at,g e the tltle of Martes to the martens properly so called. This is verv well in Pt t £ us Futor™s, as assigned bv Cuvier,
ric /,La\a Now we think, that whenever a Linn JanVnul a “vJaT 'he,n W.e ^ term
^ e should still be retained, as indicative of one of the restrictedTroups8611113 “ ^ t0 the rank of a the original gene°:
sirctic JLooloav. vnl. v r\ «7 re™ z> /• * • . P p
2 AmHn ^ z t . iwuiuatxvc ui une ui me resinctea groups.
Arctic Zoology, vol. i. p. 87, and Fauna Boreali-Americana, Part i. p. 48.
1 Ibid. p. 49.
158
MAMMALIA.
Ferae, the fore feet, and the almost plantigrade form of the hin-
Carnivora. ^ extrem;ties.
' The animals of this genus are commonly called skunks
or mephitic weasels, and are remarkable for their intense
and ineradicable odour. Although several species are de¬
scribed by naturalists, it does not clearly appear that more
exists than one, the skunk weasel of Pennant {Mephitis
Americana, Rich., Viverra putorius, Gmelin), which is
spread over a great extent of territory in the New World,
and varies in different localities. Its size is that of a do¬
mestic cat, its fur, though rather coarse, is very ample, of
a black colour, marked by longitudinal bands of white, and
the tail, which is long and bushy, has generally two broad
longitudinal white stripes above upon a black ground. The
skunk, as described by Sir J. Richardson, inhabits rocky and
woody regions, spending the winter in a hole, and seldom
stirring abroad during the colder seasons. It preys on mice,
and in summer feeds much on frogs. Its gait is slow, and
it can be easily overtaken by its pursuers, as it makes no
great efforts to escape by flight, but trusts the discomfiture
of its enemies to the discharge of a most noisome fluid.
This fluid, which is of a deep yellow colour, is contained in
a small bag placed at the root of the tail, and emits proba¬
bly the most overpowering stench in the known world. It
is so durable, that wherever a skunk has been killed, the
place retains a taint for many days. “ Mr Graham says
that he knew several Indians who had lost their eyesight in
consequence of inflammation, produced by this fluid having
been thrown into them by the animal, which has the power
of ejecting it to the distance of upwards of four feet. I
have known,” adds Sir J. Richardson, “ a dead skunk thrown
over the stockades of a trading post produce instant nau¬
sea in several women in a house with closed doors upwards
of a hundred yards distant. The odour has some resem¬
blance to that of garlic, although much more disagreeable.
One may, however, soon become familiarized with it; for,
notwithstanding the disgust it produces at first, I have ma¬
naged to skin a couple of recent specimens by recurring to
tbe task at intervals. When care is taken not to soil the
carcass with any of the strong smelling fluid, the meat is
considered by the natives to be excellent food. It breeds
once a-year, and has from six to ten young at a time.”1
Not fewer than fifteen varieties of this animal have been
described, and many of them under separate names, as dis¬
tinct species. It is singular that the Hudson’s Bay variety
should approach most nearly to the description of the
Chinche of Buffon {Viverra mephitis, Gmelin), which,
though said to be an inhabitant of Chili, is yet regarded by
some observers as identical with die skunk of more north¬
ern regions, and to the same or closely related species we
may also no doubt refer the so-called glutton of Quito
( Gulo Quitemis), described by Humboldt.2
Genus Mydaus, Horsfield. Incisives-, canines   -,
b 1 — 1
4 4
molars   ; rr 34. Muzzle truncated, or pig like. Tail
very short.
The only known species of this genus is the Teledu of
Java {M. meliceps, Horsfield), classed as a Mephitis by
Desmarest and others. In its dentition it certainly agrees
closely with the mephitic weasels of America, but its exter¬
nal character and physiognomy are peculiar, its form being
heavy, its neck strong and short, and its mode of progres¬
sion almost entirely plantigrade. It emits an odour very
similar to that of the skunk. “ The Mydaus meliceps,”
says Dr Horsfield, in his excellent account of this curious
animal, “ presents a singular fact in its geographical distri¬
bution. It is confined exclusively to those mountains which
have an elevation of more than 7000 feet above the level of
the ocean ; on these it occurs with as much regularity as Fera.
many plants. The long extended surface of Java, abound- Carnivora,
ing with conical points which exceed this elevation, affords w
many places favourable for its resort. On ascending these
mountains, the traveller scarcely fails to meet with our ani¬
mal, which, from its peculiarities, is universally known to
the inhabitants of these elevated tracts ; while to those of
the plains it is as strange as an animal from a foreign coun¬
try. A traveller would inquire in vain for the Teledu at
Batavia, Semarang, or Surabaya. In my visits to the
mountainous districts I uniformly met with it; and, as far as
the information of the natives can be relied on, it is found
on all the mountains. It is, however, more abundant on
those which, after reaching a certain elevation, consist ot
numerous connected horizontal ridges, than on those which
terminate in a defined conical peak. Of the former de¬
scription are the mountain Prahu and the Tengger Hills,
which are both distinctly indicated in Sir Stamford Raffles’
map of Java : here I observed it in great abundance. It
was the less common on mountain Gede, south of Batavia;
on the mountain Ungarang, south of Semarang; and on the
mountain Ijen, at the farthest eastern extremity ; but I
traced its range through the whole island.
“ Most of these mountains and ridges furnish tracts of
considerable extent, fitted for the cultivation of wheat and
other European grains. Certain extra-tropical fruits are
likewise raised with success. Peaches and strawberries
grow in considerable abundance, and the common culinary
vegetables of Europe are cultivated to great extent. To
most Europeans and Chinese a residence in these elevated
regions is extremely desirable; and even the natives, who
in general dislike its cold atmosphere, are attracted by the
fertility of the soil, and find it an advantage to establish
villages, and to clear grounds for culture. Potatoes, cab¬
bages, and many other culinary vegetables are extensively
raised, as the entire supply of the plains in these articles
depends on these elevated districts. Extensive plantations
of wheat and of other European grains, as well as of tobacco,
are here found, where rice, the universal product of the
plains, refuses to grow. These grounds and plantations
are laid out in the deep vegetable mould, where the teledu
holds its range as the most ancient inhabitant of the soil.
In its rambles in search of food, this animal frequently en¬
ters the plantations and destroys the roots of young plants;
in this manner it causes extensive injury, and on the Teng¬
ger Hills particularly, where these plantations are more ex¬
tensive than in other elevated tracts, its visits are much
dreaded by the inhabitants; it burrows in the earth with
its nose, in the same manner as hogs; and, in traversing
the hills, its nocturnal toils are observed in the morning,
in small ridges of mould recently turned up.
“ The Mydaus forms its dwelling at a slight depth be¬
neath the surface, in the black mould, with considerable
ingenuity. Having selected a spot, defended above by the
roots of a large tree, it constructs a cell or chamber of a
globular form, having a diameter of several feet, the sides
of which it makes perfectly smooth and regular; this it pro¬
vides with a subterraneous conduit or avenue, about six
feet in length, the external entrance to which it conceals
with twigs and dry leaves. During the day it remains con¬
cealed like a badger in its hole; at night it proceeds in
search of its food, which consists of insects and their larvae,
and of worms of every kind ; it is particularly fond of the
common lumbrici, or earthworms, which abound in the
fertile mould. These animals, agreeably to the informa¬
tion of the natives, live in pairs, and the female produces
two or three young at a birth.
“ The motions of the mydaus are slow, and it is easily
taken by the natives, who by no means fear it. During
1 Fauna Borcali-Americana, p. i. p. 55.
2 Recueil d’Observations sur la Zoologie.
MAMMALIA.
159
Ferae.
?«hleri^e fbodies sdf”fin the Thr• sjt bri^ c •
v,—a desirable rewarrl * j -i • eLeivetl m April, from one to three at a birth. Seven or Carmvora<
numbers than I could employ. Whenever the nativestur- ‘"Another “Vf08 ^ fnuaIiy imPorted int.0 England.^ '
prise them suddenly they nrenare them for fnnrl ■ tL fl i t ri\nodler weP known American species is the sea otter
1: Te “d0Ur’ r P
m excene"1 condition, „ Uteir food ab^ f»e”fe«il^ ^
sss-ssts mmmm
• # % 7 ±. \_J A. OWXXil
time in confinement by Dr Horsfield, afforded him an op¬
portunity of studying its disposition. It soon became gen¬
tle and reconciled to its situation, and never emitted its
offensive effluvium. In the natural state, however, its odour
A   —~ ^CXI CO Lilt JL CitlliU 1IUII1
Kamtschatka to the Yellow Sea on the Asiatic shores, and
fi om Alaska to California on those of America. It seems
to have more of the manners of a seal than of the land
otter, and is sometimes met with out at sea, at a vast dis-
is so strong and volatile, that the entire neighbourhood of tance from theTore pTnl1 ^ ^ f "
SSiSSSsSsiS' SSL^fS5i£S
IWCTS&ttsS'SjSS
or twelve it became drowsy, and, making a small groove in
the earth, it placed its snout in it and fell asleep.
Genus Lutra, Ray. Mustela, Linn. Incisives ca¬
nines
1 — 1
molars
5 — 5
0 — G
of the animal, and the season of the year. Those obtained
in winter are of a finer black, and otherwise more perfect
than at any other period, and, according to Meares, the
male is much more beautiful than the female. Those in
= 36 or 38. Head *ghest estimation have the belly and throat interspersed
Tail cimr. , 'y1. , knlliant silver hairs, while the other parts consist of a
lad strong and depressed at thick black coat, with a silky gloss of extreme fineness.
Resides these northern otters we have a Brazilian species,
and one (supposed to be distinct) from Carolina, while seve¬
ral Asiatic kinds have been described by Sir Stamford
Raffles, Dr Horsfield, and MM. Diard and Leschenhault.
1 he Cape otter {Lutra inunguis, F. Cuv.), is alleged to
1 — 1’   5-5
flat. Body long and low.
the base.
We here place those amphibious fish-eating animals com¬
monly called oiters, of which there are many species. The
character and aspect of our European kind {Lutra vul-
unconsumed. What can be the nature of its objection to that name. It measures abo. t three feet in length exclu
tins despised portion ? In Scotland we find the otter fre- sive of the tail, which is ten inches. The fur fs soft and
quently inhabiting the sea-shore as well as the interior, and thick, of a chesnut-brown colour, paler on the flanks ^ith
seeking its food both in salt and fresh water. The female a mixture of grey about the head. It inhabits the salt'nools
br,„? forth her young, usually four or five in number, du- along the marWshores of the cipl and picys on fiKnd
ring spi ing. The fur is valuable, and forms an article of Crustacea. 1 1 '
export from our northern isles.
1 he Canada otter (£. Canadensis, Sabine),2 resembles
the European species, both in food and habits, but it is a
much larger animal, with a shorter tail, and is distinguished
by the fur of the abdomen being of the same shining brown
colour as that of the back. It is found across the whole of
the northern parts of North America, where, during the
2l> Subdivision.
Two tubercidous teeth behind the carnivorous cheek tooth
of the upper jaw. Body proportionally shorter than in
the preceding subdivision, and the limbs longer.
Our present group is mainly constituted by the genera
winter season, it haunts the falls and rapids the sake of cZnl includtag thelogs! S*
open water, and when these are frozen ovpr in nnp rlisH-ifvf n„A j • i ’  ’ U1.v ’
open water, and when these are frozen over in one district,
it will travel a long way in search of others, which may have
resisted the power of frost. If pursued by the hunters du¬
ring these peregrinations, it will throw itself forward on its
belly, and slide through the snow for several yards, leaving
behind it a deep furrow, and repeating this peculiar move
and foxes, the civets and ichneumons, besides a few minor
genera of recent introduction.
Genus Canis, Linn. Cuv. Incisives canines ^ 1
molars,
6 — 6
7—7’
6’
1 — 1’
= 42.
The incisive teeth are all placed on
ment with such rapidity, that the swiftest runner on snow- the same line, and are usually trilobate, before beimr worn
shoes with difficulty overtakes it. It also doubles on its by use. The upper molars consist of three small In °le-
track very cunningly, dives occasionally beneath the snow, lobed false molars, one bicuspidate carnivorous cheek-tooth
and at last, when too closelv pressed to render flight avail- and two small ...ui, i ’
and at last, when too closely pressed to render flight avail
able, it will turn and defend itself with courageous obsti
nacy. During the spring season, on the Great Bear Lake
this species frequently robbed the nets of Sir John Frank¬
lin’s first expedition, usually carrying off the heads of the fish.
and two small tuberculous teeth with flattened crowns. The
inferior molars consist of four false molars, one carnivorous
cheek-tooth, and two tuberculous grinders. The tongue is
smooth. The anterior extremities are furnished with five
toes, the posterior with four.
’ Researches. _ 2 Zoological Appendix to Franklin’s Journey to the Polar Sea n 453
Pauna Boreah. Americana, part 1. p. 58. 4 Mavuel de Mammalogie. p. 157. ’ P
MAMMALIA.
160
Ferre, This genus, of such high importance as containing the
Carnivora, numerous and various breeds of our domestic dog, is in one
v~" v " or other of its forms most widely spread over almost all
the regions of the habitable globe. We shall not here at¬
tempt to give the peculiar characters of the Canis fami-
liaris, by which general specific term, if we may be allow¬
ed the expression, naturalists are in use to distinguish the
domesticated races from the wolves, jackals, and foxes,
because their characters are so extremely variable in their
nature, and admit of such an extended range of modifica¬
tion, that the exceptions to any presupposed peculiarity are
almost as numerous as its confirmations. The more curved
form of the tail probably distinguishes all domestic dogs
from w’olves, while the rounded outline of the pupil serves
to separate them from the foxes, in which that organ, when
exposed to light, assumes a lenticular shape. We shall
proceed to a few general observations on the natural his¬
tory of these animals, without attempting even an enumera¬
tion of the principal domestic kinds.1
The real origin of our domestic breeds whether from a
single or complex source, may be said to be now entirely
unknown, as a subject either of history or tradition. It is
lost in the usual obscurity of a remote antiquity, and can
now only be ascertained (if at all) by the investigations of
the naturalist. So infinitely varied is the external aspect
of these invaluable creatures, and so much does it seem to
depend, not only on the physical conditions of clime and
country under which they exist, but on the moral and po¬
litical state of the particular nations by whom they are held
in subjection, that in numerous instances all traces of re¬
semblance to the supposed original, or indeed to any known
species of wild animal, have disappeared; and after the
lapse of ages, we are in fact at last presented with wdiat
may be termed artificial creatures, incapable of subsisting
without the aid and companionship of man, and of which
assuredly no natural type ever existed in any age or coun¬
try. It is clear from what we know of the harmonious laws
by which a Divine Providence regulates the economy of the
animal kingdom, that no such creature as a pug dog could
ever have existed as an independent being in a state of
nature, or formed one of those “ golden links” by which
creation is so softly blended. It would have marred the
immaculate beauty of the primeval world.
Many varieties, however, of the domestic dog, though
originally produced by what may be termed accidents, have
now become permanent subspecies, if we may use the
term, each of which is signalised by some characteristic
peculiarity of either a physical or instinctive nature, and
differs from an ordinary variety (as exhibited among un¬
reclaimed animals), in the power which it possesses of re¬
producing individuals exactly similar to itself. Several of
these varieties from their great value to mankind, have
been so encouraged and preserved in purity, as to have be¬
come impressed with characters not only distinctive, but of
so uniform and permanent a nature as to exhibit in certain
instances the aspect of a total difference in kind. Making
due allowance, however, for the influence of all extraneous
01 accidental causes, we yet deem it impossible to doubt
that the origin of the dog tribe, as it now exists under the
extended dominion of mankind, has been rather complex
t an simple. We do not mean to maintain that every
strong ) marked variety has had each its own original
source, or that even when nature
“ Wanton’d as in her prime, and play’d at will
Her virgin fancies,’’
there ever existed wild greyhounds, unreclaimed pug dogs,
or native pointers and poodles, all alike independent of perffi
each other, and of their now acknowledged lord and mas-Carnivora,
ter, because the question in that case would, from their v——^
multiplicity, be speedily set at rest by the occurrence of
one or other of these animals in its original and unsubdued
condition. But we think it improper to refer the various
breeds to one and the same origin, the theory seeming to
ourselves more natural which supposes that the characteris¬
tic kinds, or great leading varieties of each country or con¬
tinent, have either directly descended from, or been cross¬
ed and remodelled by a union with, such of the native
(canine) animals of the same natural genus, as we still find
to occur in such country or continent. For example, al¬
though we may admit with Guldenstaedt, that the Kalmuc,
and some other eastern dogs, may have derived their origin
from the jackal, the same cannot be said of those of New
Holland, or of North and South America, where the jackal
is unknown; and several of our own northern varieties
are evidently descended so much more immediately from
the wolf, as to render the ancestral aid of the “ lion’s pro¬
vider” altogether superfluous. We also know that in Ame¬
rica and New Holland, at the period of (and consequently
prior to) the discovery of these countries by Europeans,
there existed both wild and domesticated dogs, the former
of which were evidently indigenous, and in all probability
the origin of the latter.2
We believe that Pallas was among the first to give cur¬
rency to the opinion that the dog was to be regarded in a
great measure as an adventitious animal, that is to say, as
a creature produced by the fortuitous and diversified al¬
liances of several natural species. Both the shepherd’s dog
and the wolf dog, in his opinion, derive their origin from the
jackal, while the mastiff is regarded as more nearly related
to the hyena, and the smaller tribes of terriers, &c, to the
fox, His ideas, though somewhat fanciful, merit the atten¬
tion of the naturalist. We object, howrever, to the hyena,
which (though classed with the dogs by Linnaeus) is not
in fact a canine animal, but belongs to a distinct and well-
defined genus, characterized by having five toes on each
foot, and five molar teeth on either side of both jaws ;
whereas the truly canine race, such as dogs, wolves, and
jackals, have only four toes on the hinder extremities, with
six molar teeth on each side of the upper jaw, and seven
on each side of the under. The general proportions of the
hyena, too, are very different, the fore-legs being longer
than the hind ones, which has the effect of raising the
shoulders and anterior portion of the body; whereas in
the other species just named, the hind legs are longer than
the fore ones, a character which probably obtains among
all swift-footed animals. The immediate relationship of
the fox is likewise doubtful. His alliance would be useful
as giving the earthy propensities of the terrier tribes, but
we cannot overlook the peculiar shape of the pupil, which
is what naturalists call nocturnal, that is oblong, and nar¬
rowing under the influence of light; whereas in dogs and
other canine species, though it decreases in size under that
influence, it retains its circular form. The difference in
the habitual character and instinctive habits of the fox
must also be borne in mind. It is scarcely necessary to
say that it is a wary, silent, nocturnal animal, of sly and so¬
litary habits, never congregating, or hunting its prey in
packs, but preferring a gradual and unperceived approach,
and the exercise of an insidious cunning, to the more open
warfare declared by its congeners. This distinction is in
truth of greater importance than may at first appear, for we
consider the social or gregarious sentiment in animals as
£lven a rri°re view of the origin and natural historv of domestic dogs in the 5th and Gth numbers of the
r .y urnn of yff011 ure’ ^n<! the first volume of our Illustrations of Zoology, genus Canis. The reader will find a valuable
paper (by another hand) on sporting dogs, under the term Hound, of this Encyclopedia. See volume xi. p. 762.
L or Humboldt s opinion of the indigenous dogs of South America, see Personal Narrativ>, vol. ii. part 2.
the .true basi? of a thorough domestication. A solitary
v , species, may, indeed, be tamed, so far as the individual is
MAMMALIA.
161
concerned, but if the social instinct is wanting, its de¬
scendants will be only half reclaimed, and the process must
be again resorted to. But the love of society, which we
call the social instinct, and which is so strongly possess¬
ed by sheep, oxen, and other domestic kinds, when once
properly directed towards himself by the skill of man, ren¬
ders these animals forever both attached and subservient
to the human race. Another strong objection, though of
a more negative kind, to the theories of Pallas and Gulden-
staedt, is founded on their slight consideration, if not en~
tire exclusion, of the wolf as the most probable parent, espe¬
cially in northern countries, of a numerous and important
tribe of our domestic dogs. In reference to the point at
issue, we indeed regard this animal, as of all others, the
most entitled to our strong attention. Many well known
varieties of the dog exhibit so wolfish an aspect, that their
descent from that species, at a more or less remote period,
can scarcely be doubted; and we incline the more to this
opinion, when we consider that the jackal is not a northern
animal, that the wolf is eminently so ; and that the remot¬
est tribes of the human race, inhabiting the highest northern
latitudes, have never been found unaccompanied by a do¬
mesticated breed of dogs, bearing a greater resemblance to
the wTolf than to the jackal.
All the principal and regulating facts in the natural his¬
tory of the wolf and dog are identical. The rutting season
commences at the same time, and continues for an equal
period in each ; and both carry their young for nine weeks,
—Gilibert’s opinion that the period of the wolf’s gestation
extended to three months and a half having since been prov¬
ed to be erroneous. Plien the jackal is a puny and power¬
less creature, compared with many of its alleged descen¬
dants, while the wolf is one of the strongest of European
carnivorous animals. Though those of Spain and Italy are
not gigantic, the wolves of Lithuania are extremely lar^e,
frequently measuring five feet in length from the muzzle^to
the insertion of the tail; and the same, or even increased
dimensions are maintained by those of still more northern
climes. Both their coat and colour vary in accordance
with the climate. In high northern latitudes they become
white in winter, and a black variety occurs in Spain. This
natural variation of the colour of the wolf is a circumstance
of some importance in relation to the present inquiry, be¬
cause the tendency to become white at one extremity of
the series, or range of colours, and black at the other, com¬
bined with what may be called the central or representa¬
tive hue of the animal, which is brown, supplies in fact
the three elementary colours of the whole tribe of dogs,
and thus in a great measure accounts for the variety of
mai kings by which our domestic races are distinguished.
In a state of domestication the wolf is capable of assuming
and retaining all the docility and gentleness of the dog,
and the productive union of the two, though at one time
doubted by Buffon, was at an after period ascertained and
demonstrated by that brilliant historian of the brute crea¬
tion, and has since been frequently confirmed in recent
times. We shall here rest satisfied with a single citation :
“Those naturalists,” says Captain Sabine, “who believe
that no animal, in a perfectly natural and wild state, will
connect itself with one of a different species, will consider
the long agitated question of the specific identity of the
wolf and dog, as determined by a circumstance of frequent
occurrence at Melville Island. In December and January,
which are the months in which wolves are in season, a
female paid almost daily visits to the neighbourhood of the
ships, and remained till she was joined by a setter-dog be¬
longing to one of the officers. They were usually together
Supplement to the Appendix to Parry’s First Voyage, p. 185.
VOL. XIV.
from two to three hours ; and as they did not go far away, Fene.
unless an endeavour was made to approach them, repeated Carnivora.
and decided evidence was obtained of the purpose for which ' v  
they were thus associated.”1
Now the only reasonable objection which, as it appears
to us, remained to the experiments of Buffon and the
younger Cuvier, was deducible from the fact of these hav¬
ing been made upon animals in confinement, and which
were consequently existing under constrained and artificial
circumstances. But here such objection ceases. We wit¬
ness the voluntary cohabiting of two creatures brought up
under entirely different circumstances,—the one with as
much of wildness as the most forlorn region of the earth
could induce upon an originally savage nature, the other
so altered m its form and aspect by the immemorial sub¬
jection of itself and ancestors to the dominion of man, as to
have lost almost all outward resemblance to the stock from
whence it sprung ; and yet, notwithstanding this disparity
of manners, and the different conditions of the social state,
they mutually recognise and acknowledge each other, and
the immediate representative of the natural and unaltered
species, “ like the wild envoy of a barbarous clan,” seeks
and obtains the affection of the enslaved descendant. Un ¬
less. all our established notions regarding the legitimate
distinctions of species are essentially false, what more do
we require to prove the identity of the animals in ques¬
tion ? ^
It is also of importance to bear in mind the existence of
wild dogs of the domestic breed, which live in a fierce and
emancipated state in the plains and forests of many differ¬
ent countries, because this fact demonstrates that no
changes, either physical or artificial, on the earth’s surface
whether produced by the agency of man or otherwise, can
have extinguished the original source, when its descendants,
after regaining their liberty, are thus found to breed and
prosper in a state of nature. We insist the more upon this
observation, because we think it cuts deeply at the base of
a theory, or rather hypothesis, maintained by certain na¬
turalists, who, unable in any way 1o disencumber the sub¬
ject, give it the slip by asserting that we must now for ever
seek in vain for the original type of our domestic races, in
consequence of its extinction, either by universal servitude,
or actual extermination. Now, it would certainly be sur¬
prising if the original source of the plurality of our domes¬
tic dogs had ceased to exist in an independent state, when
we see the wild species of so many of our other domestic
animals still flourishing in their original positions, notwith¬
standing their more confined limits, the smaller number of
their young, and their comparatively defenceless nature.
Those troops of wild (emancipated) dogs which we know
to exist in the midst of European colonies, in spite of con¬
tinued efforts to destroy them, prove that in the infancy and
early progress of human society, a naturally wild species
could neither be entirely subdued, nor utterly exterminat¬
ed. Nor is there any evidence whatever from history, tra¬
dition, or the geological phenomena of nature, of the ex¬
tinction of any wild animal of the dog kind ; and, as an¬
cient writers mention all the actual species of that tribe in
the countries where they still exist, it may more reasonably
be concluded that one or more of these wild species are the
actual source of our various domestic breeds, than that the
source itself has been extirpated.
It is proper, while endeavouring to trace the origin of
w a aron Cuvier has called “the completest, the most
singular, and the most useful conquest ever made by man,”2
more especially when we know how ancient that conquest
must have been, to refer to the native species of the coun-
ry usua y legarded as the cradle ot the human race. From
the earliest periods of which we have any detailed records
lllgne Animal, t. i. p. 149.
MAMMALIA.
162
Ferae, down to the more minutely authenticated histories of mo-
Carnivora. dern times, there has never been any indication given of
'the existence, in Asia Minor, of more than four wild ani¬
mals of the dog tribe, viz. the hyena, the wolf, the fox, and
the jackal. The first of these species, we have already
stated, is not now regarded by naturalists as pertaining to
the canine race, and we have also referred to certain strong¬
ly marked distinctive peculiarities of the fox; so that we
consider the wolf and jackal as alone entitled to our parti¬
cular regard in relation to the present inquiry. We have
already said enough to shew the strong claims of the wolf,
so far as the northern races are concerned; but the mul¬
tiplicity of size, form, and locality of our domestic dogs,
seems to indicate a compound origin, and it cannot be de ¬
nied that many of the southern dogs present so marked and
peculiar a character, that their descent from the jackal is
obvious. It is not our province to enter in this place into
anatomical details, but we may state generally, that an at¬
tentive comparison scarcely exhibits any sensible difference
between the internal structure of the jackal and that of the
shepherd’s dog. This is the opinion espoused by Pallas
and Guldenstaedt, the former of whom maintains that the
dogs of the Kalmuks are in truth neither more nor less
than jackals. This animal has always abounded in Asia
Minor, where all the theogonies of the west have placed the
paradisaical cradle of the human race, and where it must
have been easily accessible to the first families of mankind.
We willingly coincide in this view, with the reservations
before mentioned regarding the great northern dogs, and
those of the still remoter countries of the New World, where
the jackal is unknown, but where its place is amply filled
by gaunt and grizzly wolves. It is, indeed, by no means
likely that the dogs mentioned by Pietro Martyro and
Oviedo, as living with the inhabitants of the little Antilles
and the Caraibs of Terra Firma, were derived from species
foreign to America; because the authors first named (both
of whom were contemporaneous with and witnesses to the
discovery and conquest of America) describe these dogs
as being of various colours and kinds of coat, from which
we may infer that they had been, even then, for a long
period reduced to servitude. They were all mute ; that is
to say, they never barked: but that faculty seems, in truth,
to be neither natural nor innate, but rather acquired by
habit, as domestic dogs run wild have no other cry than a
shai’p or prolonged howl; and the silent species of bar¬
barous nations, when introduced into civilized society,
speedily acquire the bark of our domestic kinds.
It may, moreover, be borne in mind, that there are at
least two kinds of jackal,—the better known species, com¬
monly called the Indian Jackal f Canis aureus, Linn.), and
that from Senegal, described by Frederick Cuvier under
the name of Canis anthus. These animals, though re¬
garded as specifically distinct, have bred together in the
Garden of Plants. This is a fact of considerable import¬
ance, as shewing the facility with which a mixed breed
from the jackal might be procured ; and as it was previous¬
ly known that the wolf manifested the same instinctive in¬
clination towards different varieties of the dog, we thus ob¬
tain a more extended knowledge of a feature in the cha¬
racter of the canine race, which throws considerable light
upon our inquiries. When we see that both the wolf and
jackal thus breed with other species, and that all our do¬
mesticated dogs breed with each other, although some are
scarcely distinguishable from the wolf, while others seem
identical with the jackal, we can scarcely doubt that all
such domesticated varieties have in fact arisen primarily
from these two animals,—the southern from the jackal, Fene.
the northern from the wolf; and that the intermediate va- Carnivora
rieties have sprung from an intermixture of the jackal-dogs
on the one hand, and of the wolf-dogs on the other, after¬
wards crossed and commingled in various conceivable ways,
both by accident and design. We confess that the ex¬
treme variations are still surprising, if not unaccountable ;
such as the difference between a lofty limbed and almost
gigantic stag-hound of the ancient Irish breed, and the
low-legged waddling turnspit, or terrier of the Isle of Skye;
but that domestication for many thousand years, and the
altered habits of life which ensue from it, have been strong¬
ly influential in moulding the form and character of the
canine race, is evident from this, that the dogs of all wild
and secluded nations, whose domestic animals may be sup¬
posed to exist most nearly in a state of nature, are all more
strongly allied either to the wolf or the jackall, than those
that partake the fortunes of civilized men, who dwell in
large cities, or in thickly peopled countries; and this ap¬
proximation to the aspect of the wild animal in the one
case, and departure from it in the other, is in truth the
surest index to the primitive types which it is possible to
obtain. Thus from twro or three original sources or dis¬
tinct kinds, have been derived about ten times the number
of mixed races,—many of which, and chiefly those wdfich
lead the most artificial or altered modes of life, have now
lost all traces of resemblance to the stock from which they
sprung.
The length of the preceding observations will prevent
our entering into any detailed account of the infinitely va¬
ried dogs of the domestic kind. The subject is, indeed, far
too extensive for our present limits, for there is scarcely a
nation of the earth, savage or civilized, that does not be¬
nefit by their friendly assistance, or derive delight from
their affectionate companionship. We doubt not that
many tribes of mankind would cease to exist if their dogs
were withdrawn from them, and we know of scarcely any
which would not suffer severely from such deprivation.
Their strength, activity, and courage,—their intelligence,
perseverance, and attachment—their exquisite sense of
smell—their finely accommodating instincts, and, in many
cases, their extreme beauty and grace,—have deservedly
rendered the canine tribe the objects of the most unfeigned
wonder and admiration to all observers and narrators, whe¬
ther of ancient or modern days, from Hippocrates to the
Ettrick Shepherd.1
Having figured, as an illustration of the present genus,
the Hare Indian, or Mackenzie River dog (Canis fami-
liaris, var. lagopus of Richardson, see Plate V., figure 4),
we shall here conclude with a few lines in explanation of
its history and habits. This variety, as far as yet known, is
cultivated only by the Hare Indians and other tribes that fre¬
quent the borders of the Great Bear Lake, and the banks
of the Mackenzie River. It is too small to be used as a
beast of burden, and is therefore employed solely in the
chase. It has a mild and demure countenance, a small
head, slender muzzle, erect thickish ears, somewhat oblique
eyes, rather slender legs, broad hairy feet, and a bushy tail.
Though it is covered with long hair, intermingled at the
roots with a deal of wool, it differs from the American
foxes, and agrees writh the wolves, in always having callous
protuberances, even during w inter, on the soles of the feet
and at the roots of the toes. Its size is inferior to that
of the prairie wolf, but rather greater than that of the red
fox of America. Its resemblance, however, to the former
is so great, that, on comparing live specimens, Dr Richard-
Ihe reader who desires a knowledge, or at least a notion of domestic dogs of various kinds, will consult with advantage (in ad¬
dition,of course, to the various sporting Annals of our own countrv), Mr Griffith’s valuable English edition (with additions) of the
Regne Animal—the Menageries (vol. i.) of the Library of Entertaining Knowledge our essay “ On the Origin and Natural History of
Hogs” in the Quarterly Journal of Agriculture (5th and Cth Nos.) and Captain Brown’s Compendium entitled Anecdotes cf Dogs.
Canrivora. smallness of n° deCid^d diffe.rence in forra (excePt the
^ v • allness the cranium), nor in the fineness of the fur
nor even m the arrangement of the spots of colour. It
nears, in tact, the same relation to the prairie wolf that the
nartsTfT dlSg dw t?Jthe,great ^rey wolf of the northern
parts of the New World, a fact which affords an interesting
confirmation of the general views contained in the preced”
'ffij;arag!'aphs\ Th1e Hare Indian doS is very playful and
affectionate, and easily attached by kindness. It is, how-
in?Hn ?Wt Vejy docile bey°nd tbe range of its immediate
instincts, and has a great dislike to confinement. Its
voice, when injured or afraid, is that of a wolf, but when
mere y excited or surprised, it makes an attempt to bark,
usually ending, however, in a kind of howl. For its size
^™ely SWif) and ?rong- A y°ung one purchased
y Dr Ilichardson from the Hare Indians, became greatly
attached to its master, and when not more than seven
months old ran by the side of his sledge upon the snow,
£ nftpn miles’Wltb0ut fatl&ue- During this long journey;
o ten carried, of its own accord, a glove in its mouth for
amde-two 5 ,buJ though gentle in its manners, it exhi-
brted but a limited love of learning, and made no progress
in fetching and carrying comparable to that of the New¬
foundland dog, or many other kinds. It was at last unfor¬
tunately killed and eaten by an Indian on the banks of the
oasxatchewan, who pretended that he mistook for a fox
—a reason which, according to our European notions;
wou d not so much have led to as deterred from such a
meal.1
We shall now say a few words regarding wolves. The
common wolf ( Canis lupus, Linn.) is the fiercest and most
carnivorous of the wild animals yet indigenous to Europe.
It resembles a large lank-faced, ill-conditioned dog, with a
straight tail, a coat of a greyish-fawn colour, and in the
adult state, a blackish streak upon the anterior legs. It
varies, however, considerably, both in size and colour, ac¬
cording to the nature of the different localities in which
it occurs, being larger and fiercer in more northern and
unpeopled countries,—feebler and of smaller size when
surrounded by enemies, and living in a state of continual
fear and precaution. He wanders about in summer during
the morning and evening twilight in search of food, which
in a sufficing quantity he seldom finds. Frogs, field-mice,
and the putrid remains of larger animals, are not despised.
I he rutting season of the female is in January. She is
then followed by numerous males, the strongest or boldest
of which having driven away the others, becomes her com¬
panion, and seldom quits her till the young have completed
their education. When about to bring forth, she prepares
her den in some sheltered and secluded spot, which she
furnishes with leaves, dried grass, and a portion of wool or
hair from her own body. The number of her litter varies
from five or six to nine, and the young are born with their
eyes closed. For several days the mother never quits
them, she herself being carefully fed by the male. She
suckles for two months, but about the end of the fifth or
sixth week she disgorges half-digested food, and soon after
accustoms them to kill and feed upon small animals which
she has previously captured. It has been observed that,
during this period, the young are never left alone, but are
always guarded by one or other of the parents. In about
two months they lead them from the covert, and initiate
them in the mysteries of the chase. In November or De¬
cember they begin to wander forth by themselves, but
they usually remain more or less united in one family, till
the parents are obliged to prepare for another brood.
The wolf in a wild state is a cowardly though cruel ani¬
mal. He has sometimes been observed so stupified by
mammalia.
163
sudden fear as to be killed or secured alive without danger Fene.
or difficulty. At the same time, when pressed by hunger, Carnivora,
and assembled in troops during the winter season, theyv
become formidable both to man and beast. We know
tiom the ancient chroniclers, and from various legal enact¬
ments and feudal tenures, how greatly Britain, especially
Yorkshire, was infested by wolves during the days of our
baxon ancestors; and that in the reign of Athelstane it
^ Iiecessary t0 erect a kind of retreat at a place
called Fhxton, for the protection of passing travellers.
• rVei’ bowexer> appear to have become almost extinct
in England as far back as the termination of the thirteenth
XAT ^ ^100? d° n°r find them recorded as a nuisance
“ VrA-12?1;, “ h is none of the least blessings,”
observes Hollmshed, “ wherewith God hath indued this
island, that it is void of noisome beasts, as lions, bears, ti¬
gers, pards, wolfes, and such like, by means whereof our
countrymen may trafelle in safetie, and our herds and
flocks remain for the most part abroad in the field without
ame herdsman or keeper. This is chiefly spoken of the
south and south-west parts of the island. For whereas
we that dwell on this side of the Tweed, may safelie boast
of our secuntie m this behalfe: yet cannot the Scots do
the like m evene point within their kingdome, sith they
ave grievous wolfes and cruell foxes, besides some other
pt like disposition continuallie conversant among them, to
the general hindrance of their husbandmen, and no small
damage unto the mhabiters of those quarters.”2 Accord¬
ing to the same authority, the extirpation of wolves from
England was imposed as a tribute by king Edgar upon the
conquered Welsh. Ludwal, prince of Wales, paid yearly
a tribute of 300 wolves, so that in four years none were
lett. I he last seen in Scotland was killed by Sir Ewen
Cameron m the year 1680. In Ireland the species was
not^ totally extirpated till about thirty years after that pe-
In a state of domestication the wolf can be regarded as
nothing more than a dog of a somewhat anomalous and un¬
usual aspect. M. F. Cuvier has more than once rendered
them so tame and docile, that but for their unextinguish-
able love of live poultry, they might have been allowed to
wander where they chose. They associated freely and
fi u iAaA011!™011 do£s’ and sPeedily acquired from them
the habit of barking. In general, however, and when left
free to manifest their natural instinct, dogs exhibit a great
aversion to wolves; and the latter, according to Hearne,
frequently slay and devour the train dogs of the Esquimaux.
Captain Lyon, who describes the wolves of Melville Pen¬
insula as comparatively fearless, states, that one afternoon
a fine dog having strayed a short way ahead of its master,
five wolves made a sudden and unexpected rush upon it,
and devoured it in so incredibly short a time, that before
the gentleman who witnessed the attack could reach the
scene of action, the dog had totally disappeared with the
exception of the lower part of one leg. In those forlorn
regions they frequently came alongside the frost-bound
ship, and one night broke into a snow-hut, and carried away
a brace of Esquimaux dogs, which appeared to have made
a vigorous though unavailing resistance, the ceiling bein-
all besprinkled with blood and hair. So strong, as well as
ferocious are these blood-thirsty creatures, in spite of what
one might suppose the subduing influence of intense cold,
that when the alarm was given, and an armed party pro¬
ceeded to attempt a rescue, one of the wolves above allud¬
ed to was observed, when fired at, to take up a dead dog
in his mouth, and to set off with it at an easy canter, al-
ough the weight of the victim was supposed to be equal
o ns own. These and similar facts, apparently of a na~
• a” fxcellfnt account of this, as well as of the other dogs of North America see Ttn r a ■ .
* Chronicles, vol. i. n. 378 5 an- erica5 bee ^ ciiina Boreah-Americana* part i. p. 79.
’ 1 ' Private Journal, pp. 151, 339, &c
164
M A M M A L I A.
ture contradictory to the theory of an identity of species
which we have previously proponed, is, in truth, in proper
accordance with what we know takes place among many other
animals, when wild and tame individuals chance to encoun¬
ter. A strongly marked jealousy, if not positive enmity,
seems to exist between the unsubdued members of the
same species and such as have passed beneath the yoke.
It may be supposed to result, not unnaturally, from that
perception of “ similitude in dissimilitude” which, according
to circumstances, leads alike to the extremes of love or ha¬
tred. We have already alluded to the strong instinctive
affection which in due season has been seen to exist be¬
tween them, and we certainly do not conceive that, from a
few chance murders rendered almost imperative by the
pressure of the times, an argument of any value can be de¬
duced against the natural identity of the wolf and dog.
The black wolf of Europe (Canis Lycaoii, Linn, le
loup noir, Buff'.) differs very slightly from the common
brown species except in colour. Its ferocity, however, is
said to be greater. It occurs accidentally in France,—
more frequently in Spain and the Pyrenean range. There
were two of these black wolves some years ago in the me¬
nagerie of the King’s Garden in Paris, which every season
brought forth young as fierce and mistrustful as themselves,
but not like their parents in their colour and external mark¬
ings. From this circumstance we would hesitate to regard
the black wolf as more than an accidental variety. Indeed
it has been regarded by some as a mixed race, originally
sprung from the common wolf and a black dog run wild
among the woods or mountains. The American Indians
do not regard the black wolves as distinct from the others,
although they abound on the banks of the Missouri, and
they report that one or more of that colour are occasionally
found in the litter of the common kind.
In regard to the wolves of the New World in general,
naturalists do not quite accord in their enumeration of the
species. A brown wolf, described as possessing all the
characters of the European kind, is said to exist within the
limits of the United States ; but the more northern Ame¬
rican species, though they may possibly approximate those
of Siberia and of Lapland, certainly differ greatly in their
general physiognomy from the natives of France and the
Pyrenees. They are of a more robust and larger form,
their hair is longer, finer, and more woolly, their muzzle
thicker and blunter, their head larger and rounder, with a
sensible depression at the union of the nose and forehead.
Except in their superior size and strength, the North Ame¬
rican wolves so greatly resembled the sledge dogs of the
natives, that our arctic travellers more than once mistook
a band of these predaceous animals for the domestic troop
of an Indian party. The howl of each is precisely the
same.1 When the deep and long enduring snows of win¬
ter have entombed the face of nature in their silent shroud,
these creatures often suffer dreadfully from famine, and were
they not for the most part as fearful as rapacious, they
would assuredly prove most unpleasant neighbours. But
the simple expedient of tying an inflated bladder to a
branch, so as to admit of its waving in the wind, is suffi¬
cient to keep a whole herd at a distance. At times, how¬
ever, they become more venturous; and at Cumberland
House, in 1820, a wolf which had been seen prowling around
the fort, and was shot at and severely wounded by a mus¬
ket-ball, returned again in the dark, streaming with blood,
and carried off a dog among fifty others,—the latter howl¬
ing piteously, but unable to summon courage to attack the Ferse.
gaunt intruder. Sir J. Richardson was even told of a poor Carnivora.
Indian woman having been strangled by a wolf, while her
husband, who saw the onset of the animal, was hastening
to her assistance; but their destruction of human life is
most extremely rare. In the spring of 1826, a large grey
wolf was driven by hunger to prowl among the huts which
had been erected in the vicinity of Fort Franklin, but he
attacked no one, and being unsuccessful in obtaining food,
he was found a few days afterwards, lying dead upon the
snow. This specimen is now in the Edinburgh College
Museum, and is exhibited in Plate V., figure 3, of the pre¬
sent work.2
We have already alluded briefly to those other canine
animals called Jackals, of which there are at least two
species. The Asiatic kind (Canis aureus), commonly
called the Lion’s Provider, occurs over a great extent of
territory from India to Palestine, and from Egypt and Bar-
bary, along the shores and through the deserts of Africa to
the Cape of Good Hope. Its great voracity, gregarious
habits, and wild nocturnal cries, are well known to eastern
travellers. It hunts in packs, and the king of beasts, when
roused from his royal slumbers by the yells of these insa¬
tiate creatures in pursuit of prey, probably follows the hue
and cry, and ere long coming up with the slaughtered
quarry, comes in for more than a monarch’s share of deer
or antelope, to the no small chagrin of his so-called pro¬
viders. The Senegal kind {Canis is characteristic
of the western shores, and the Cape jackal (C. mesome-
las, by some regarded rather as a fox), is found more ex¬
clusively at the southern portion of the continent.
Our next group of canine animals contains the Foxes.
These may be distinguished both from dogs and wolves by
their longer and more brushy tails, their pointed muzzle,
and the vertical pupils of their cunning eyes. They also
exhale a much more fetid smell. They are of smaller size,
but much more numerous in amount of species. On the
well-known aspect and character of our common kind ( Ca¬
nis vulpes, Linn.) we need not here enter, but shall briefly
notice a few of the foreign species.
The arctic fox {Canis lagopus) inhabits the most nor¬
thern lands hitherto discovered. It breeds on the sea
coasts, chiefly within the arctic circle, forming its burrows
in sandy spots, not isolated as with us, but in little villages
of twenty or thirty adjoining. It resembles our European
fox in form, but is more densely clothed, of smaller size,
and changes its colour in winter from bluish-brown to white.
Its fur is of small value compared to that of the red fox,
but its flesh, when young, is eatable ; while, as an article of
food, the other species is extremely disagreeable. The
sooty dog of Pennant,3 and the blue fox described by Sir
George Mackenzie,4 are merely varieties of this arctic
species.
The red fox of North America {Canis fulvus, Desm.)
inhabits the woody districts of the fur countries. About
8000 skins are imported into England every year. Pen¬
nant, and most authors of the last century, regarded this
species as identical with our common European kind ; but
its peculiarities have since been pointed out by M. Palisot
de Beauvois. It is distinguished by its longer and finer
fur, and more brilliant colouring. Its cheeks are rounder,—
its nose thicker, shorter, and more truncated,—its eyes are
nearer to each other, and its feet generally much more
woolly beneath. It has a more copious brush, and is alto-
l he offspring of the wolf and Indian dog are prolific, and are prized by the voyagers as beasts of draught, being stronger
than the ordinary dogs.”— Sir G. Back’s Narrative, Appendix, p. 492. » & h
. * Jb or the other wolves of North America, see Fauna lioreali-Americana, Part i., and Harlan’s Fauna jlmericana. Several spe¬
cies occur in the more southern parts of the New World, such as the Mexican Wolf, the Red Wolf of Paraguay, &c. For these see
Desmarest s j iammalogie, Cuviers Ossemens Fossiles, and Azara’s Essai sur les Quadruvedes de Paraguay.
History of Quadrupeds, vol. i. p. 257. * Travels in Ireland, p. '127.
MAMMALIA. 16r
during speed8of the British rlnldHts”treilg* Weari"? Vie"']S f ^ FrCnCh Writer were ex«-™ely fanciful Fera.
^ ^to be exhausted at the first burst after which it if e-Wl*’ 1?lc1a,tl1°n to arrangement, we need not be surprised that he Carnivora,
overtaken either by a mouMed hun^mL titslemv he ft° . ■T,'11'1?'1 U betWee" the Kll'irrel “"d *e hare.'—v~
wolf. The red fox preys much on smTinimlw 2 ? f y haS lonRu “f and a some"'hat b'lsl>y ‘ah i and
kind, is fond of fish, and in fact rejects no animal substance der^tlmes^fomTlkte ^ Cfed °ffini!ies.'m mo'
of anv Linrl Tiirv a  ^ . , e j6™ times> to Paihate the vagaries of our imaginative pre¬
decessors. Blumenbach, from Bruce’s description, refers
it tr» C?  .. . ,
of any kind. The American cross fox ( Cams deems at us,
.off.) is probably a variety of the preceding, although it
is usually of smaller size. Its fur is much esteemed, a sin¬
gle specimen not many years ago being worth from four to
hve guineas, while that of the red fox did not bring more
than fifteen shillings. A rarer and still more valuable va-
nety is the black or silver fox ( Canis argentatm, Desm.),
of which never more than four or five individuals are taken
at any one post of the fur countries throughout the year,
although the hunters leave no device untried. It varies
from a mixed or hoary hue to a shining black. La Hontan
says, that in his time the skin of a black fox was worth its
weight in gold, and it still fetches six times the price of
any other fur obtained in North America. Various addi¬
tional species of the fox tribe have been described by na¬
turalists. J
Genus Megalotis, Illiger. Fennecus, Desm. Inci-
sives canines molars ; = ? Muzzle pointed.
Ears extremely large. Four (?) toes on each foot.
Great contrariety of opinion has existed among systema¬
tic naturalists regarding the nature and affinities of the ani¬
mal described by Bruce, the Abyssinian traveller, under
the name offennec,—the Animal anonyms of Buffon ; and
we regret to say, that in addition to merely scientific dis¬
cussion, some not very amiable inferences have been de¬
duced by that spirit of rivalry, which though useful as an
exciting motive, and as a disturber of lethargy, is some¬
times apt, in acrimonious minds, to overflow the bounds of
Christian charity. The discovery of the animal in ques-
it to. the civets. Sparrman maintains its identity with a
species of the south of Africa called Zerda,—in conse¬
quence of which it continues to bear that name in many
systematic works. Desmarest follows Illiger in making
it the type of a new genus,—the name of which, however,
lie changes to Fennecus. We need scarcely say, that by
these repeated transpositions but a feeble light was thrown
upon its actual nature. More recently, however, the Mu¬
seum of Frankfort was visited almost simultaneously by
two intelligent zoologists, M. Temminck and Dr Sigismond
Leuckart of Heidelberg, both of whom immediately recog-
nised the fennec of Bruce in an animal then recently trans-
mitted from Dongola by the traveller Riippel. As the result
o their investigations, and of those of others since continued,
to which we have had private access, there now remains no
doubt that the fennec is closely allied to the canine race,
being most related to the subdivision which contains the
foxes, and approaching particularly to the Canis corsac.
1 he teeth, the feet, the number of toes (?), and the form
of the tail, are said to be the same as those of a foxbut
the limbs are higher and more slender in proportion. The
aspect of the head is rendered peculiar by the extraordina¬
ry size of the ears. Our information is still defective re¬
garding the manners of this species, but it appears to be
the opinion of those who have studied its character and his-
toiy, that the fact reported by Bruce of its living on trees
is erroneous, and that it is more probably a ground or even
a subterranean animal, supporting itself, in a state of nature,
u -n • , "" r;  i— on small quadrupeds and birds.1 Of the individual obser-
I v a ^wed sh aSS'gn^ o', Wat hkfW1SC Claim°(! ved by Bruce the favourite food was dates, or any other
by a Swedish gentleman, M Shioldebrand, who is asserted sweetish food; yet it was observed to be very fondof the
_e °rmer t0 haye got the start of him in this matter eggs of small birds. When hungry it would eat bread,
especially when spread with honey; but when a small bird
passed near, it was observed to engross for a time the fen¬
nec s whole attention, and to be followed, while within the
range of sight, with eager eye. It became unquiet and
restless as soon as night came on, from which we mav infer
a nocturnal nature. Its body measured about ten inches
long, the tail five, the ears three. The pupil of the eye
was large and black, and surrounded by a deep blue iris.
It had a sly and wily aspect, but as its habits are not gre¬
garious, and for other reasons, Bruce doubts the propriety
of this creature being regarded as the Saplian of the Scrip'-
tures,—an opinion advocated both by Jewish and Arabian
Writers.
The genus now consists of two species, the fennec of
Bruce, above alluded to (M. Brucii, Canis zerda of Gme-
lin), which will be found figured in Plate V., figure 6;
and Delalande’s fennec {M. Delalandii, Smith, Canis
megalotis, Cuv.), which is native to the Cape of Good
Hope.2 *
We may notice in this place another singular canine ani¬
mal from the Cape, which seems to have likewise received
a multiplicity of names. It occupies, as it were, a station
intermediate to that of the dogs and hyenas, and although
long known to the coionists under the designation of wild
dog, and alluded to by many travellers, its distinctive pe¬
culiarities were first pointed out by Mr Burchell, who de-
by some petty artifice. Neither the one nor the other,
however, it has been observed, has described the species
with such a degree of scientific accuracy as to afford us
any aid in determining its true position in the system, and
the consequence has been, that each subsequent writer has
placed it in a different genus. Some have classed it with
the cats, others among the canine tribes. Illiger made it
the type of a new genus, under the name of Megalotis
(which we here adopt), while it has been occasionally pla¬
ced with the squirrels in the order Glires, and was even at
one period published by the skilful G. St Hilaire as a quad-
rumanous animal, belonging to the genus Galago ! Al¬
though thus known under a sufficient number of appella¬
tions, it is nevertheless most commonly called the “ Ano¬
nymous animal,” as if it had no name at all; and while one
writer describes it as inhabiting the desert wastes of the
Sahara, where it is alleged to excavate for itself a subterra¬
nean dwelling, another assures us that it dwells habitually
amid the plumy summits of the loftiest palm-trees. In con¬
sequence of these contradictory statements, some later
authors seem inclined to deny its existence altogether,
while others allege that the so called anonymous animal
constitutes in fact a distinct genus, consisting not of one
but of two easily distinguished species.
Buffon is known to have published his figure of the fen¬
nec from a drawing transmitted to him by Bruce. As the
1 Edinburgh Cabinet Library, No. xii. p. 390.
8 Fof, figures and descriptions of these animals, see Bruce’s Travels, plate 28; Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. ii. n. 372: and
Ituppels Reiseim Nbrdlichen Afrika, pi. 111. The ears in Bruce’s figure are too large. 4
166 MAMMALIA.
Camera hnr^ rtv,’'•t,Ile °-£^ vena‘ica:' ,In num- birds and quadrupeds. . In confinement it agrees well with Fer*
—v^ T-S £f &ur * <«et of rice and animal food. It vielS the odorifer- Camera.
toes on the anterior feet, and its body is hyaena-like in its
form, being considerably higher before than behind, with
the joints of the carpus very weak. If classed with the
true dogs, its most appropriate title would be Cams hyce-
noides, but it is understood that Mr Brooks (in whose splen¬
did museum there existed a skeleton of the animal) regard¬
ed it as a distinct genus, and we find it recorded as such un¬
der the name oi Lycaon tricolor? The general colour of this
animal is a sandy bay or ochreous yellow, shaded with
darker hairs, and the entire body is blotched and brindled
with black and white spots. Mr Burchell kept a specimen
for thirteen months chained up in a stable-yard, but its
nature was ferocious, and although at last it began to gam¬
ble occasionally with a common dog, yet its keeper never
daied to touch it with his hand. In its native state it
hunts in regular packs, both by day and night, and is so rapid
in its movements, that none but the swiftest animals can
ensuie their safety. Sheep fall an easy sacrifice, but the
largei cattle are seldom attacked, except stealthily from
behind, for the sake of snapping off their tails,—the want
of which, our readers may be assured, in a warm country,
swarming with hide-piercing insects, is the source of most
ous substance called dedes in Java, the jibet of the Malays.
This perfume is a great favourite in Java, where, during
festal days and public processions, the air is diffusively filled
with its odour. Salt is said to be a poison to the animal
which yields it.
In the group or subgenus called genets (Genetta,
Cuv.) the anal bag is reduced to little more than a fold of
the skin, and the secretion is very slight, though there is a
sensible exhalation of a musky odour. The pupil, when ex¬
posed to light, is vertical, and the claws are almost as re¬
tractile as those of cats. The common genet (V. genetta,
Linn.) is a European species, widely extended in its distri¬
bution from the south of France to the Cape of Good Hope.
It varies considerably in its markings, and its fur forms an
article of commerce. Other species occur both in Africa
and die East.. The rare Javanese animal the Delundung,
which seems m some respects intermediate between the
vivense and the cats (it forms the genus Prionodon of Dr
Horsfield), is ranked by Baron Cuvier with the genets.
We may here briefly notice a peculiar species long known
to systematic writers under the name of palm marten and
Cenette de France. Its dentition and the majority of its
serious distress to any quadruped. “ In the morning,” says other characters agree with those of the genets but its
our travefler, Philip returned with the oxen ; but report- form is thicker, its toes semi-palmate, and fts walk almost
ed that, in consequence of Abram Abram s neglecting in plantigrade. Its most peculiar character, however consists
e night before to secure them as usual in the cattle-pen, in the form of the tail, which is spirally rolled, though not
the wilde honden (wild dogs) had bitten off the tails of prehensile. It now forms the genus Paradoxurus^T F
three. One had only lost riie brush, but the others were Cuvier, of which his brother thf Baron admitted of only a
deprived of the whole!” The animal in question is of a
more slender form than either the striped or the spotted
hyaena.
Genus Viverra, Linn., Cuv. Incisors canines - \
. 6 — 6 . 1 — 1
1110 ars oZIg ’ — ^le l°wer incisives are placed on the
same line, and the canines are rather strong. The upper
molars consist, on each side, of three false molars, slightly
conical and compressed, of a large carnivorous cheek-tooth,
sharp, cutting, and tricuspidate, and of two tuberculous grind¬
ers. I he lower jaw presents four false molars on each side, a
strong carnivorous bicuspidate cheek-tooth, and a single very
broad tuberculous grinder. The head is long, the muzzle
pointed, the pupil narrow when contracted, and the tongue
covered by corneous papillae. Each foot is furnished with
five toes, and the claws are semi-retractyle. The tail is
long and covered with hair.
I his genus, as now restricted (the ichneumons no longer
forming one of its constituent portions), contains the ani¬
mals commonly called civets and genets, all remarkable for
their musky odpur. They are peculiar to the warmer
countries ot the ancient world, and their habits, in a state
ot nature, are as yet but slightly known.
The civets properly so called (Viv^rra, Cuv.), are dis¬
tinguished by a deep anal pouch divided into two interior
sacks, and filled with a musky pomade, of considerable
commercial value as an article of perfumery. The species
occur both in Asia and Africa. Enfras, a town of Abyssi¬
nia, is said to carry on an extensive civet trade, great num¬
bers being there kept in a state of confinement. The V.
civetta sxx&zibetha of Linnaeus are still insufficiently distin¬
guished. They are very closely allied to each other, but
the former is said to be characteristic of Africa, the latter
of the East Indies. Dr Horsfield has described a third spe¬
cies called Basse by the Javanese, Its appetite is very
single species (the animal just alluded to), under the name
of P. typus, shown in Plate VI., figure 1. It is called
Pougoune in India. If, as is generally supposed, it is also
synonymous with the Musanga of Java, then the following
particulars, communicated by Dr Horsfield, will apply to
b°th. The musanga is most abundant near villages in the
vicinity of the larger forests. It constructs its nest in the
folk ot a branch, or the hollow of a tree, of dry leaves,
small twigs, and grass, and sallies forth at night in search
c§§s chickens. It also robs gardens of various kinds
of fruit, is particularly fond of pine-apples, and devours cof¬
fee-berries in such quantities as to be very destructive in
plantations of that commodity.3
Genus Herpestes, Illiger. Ichneumon, Lacepede. In¬
cisors -, canines molars ; = 36. Body elon¬
gated, and low upon the legs. Head small and pointed.
Eyes susceptible of being covered with a nictitating mem¬
brane. Ears short and rounded. Feet with five toes, arm¬
ed with sharpish semi-retractile claws. Tail long and point¬
ed. Anal pouch large, but simple.
This genus, according to Geoffroy,4 contains nine spe¬
cies, of which four are from India or the Indian Archipe-
lago, one from Madagascar, two from undetermined re¬
gions, one from the Cape, and one from the north-east of
Africa. The last is the celebrated ichneumon {Herpestes
Pharaonis, Desm.), so noted in the mythology of ancient
Egypt. It is larger than a cat, and shaped like a marten,
the fur composed of hairs ringed with brown and fawn co¬
lour. The paws and muzzle are black, and the tail termi¬
nates in a diverging tuft. The ichneumon, “ presenting a
lively image of a beneficent power perpetually engaged in
the destruction of those noisome and dangerous reptiles
which propagate with such terrible rapidity in hot and hu-
 j.   t j t . L _:  . *11 i i
sanguinary in a state of nature* and 1B ^ niid1climateis/’ was adored by the Egy)>tains.'_ It still abounds
    ’ and leads it to prey on in the northern parts of the country, that is, between the
See also the 2d volume of Burchell’s Travels, and Griffith’s
p. 376T"”minCt’ ”n<i th<! °f DeSm-
5 SoMuncirSty see’nS' regaSTo the n‘'n'? rsh‘ “ssured|y t0 l,ave 1,een retained.
(Ictioes ?), and the'genus above named g lh afhnities wJ1ieh exist between the Bentourong of Raffles
Description de I'Egyptc, Hist. Nat. t. ii. p. 140
C«SVa.I5fep“errna ?Tt’ bjt I' !s rare “ Upper Egypt.
  preys on rats, reptiles, and the ee-irs both of ^ j
houses Like rat 78 UP- Iiind °f pet about "’olr
. -Like cats, these animals acquire a strono- attarh
ment to part,cular dwellings, and readily ecofTnise £
voice and person of their master. ^ bn
,n,,:,Innd:rf cif ’ commoni>’caiied the ul
nrnngos Desm.), is less in size than the preceding its Vo
tablet?. wl!.reS “d h?. ,t«l pointed^ ififcek’
mammalia.
Genus Hya:na, Storr,
1   ] 5  E
“ molars
Cuv.
incisives
6’
l-V ",u,“r5 = S4- All the extremities with
below0e„n r„Ther,e ,T three/a!se «>olars above, and four
jell conical, blunt, and singularly larue • the unner
rM;V0b0uUtS,hheeeV00th haS a Sma" IT
cutting points? ,nfen0r PreSentS 0nly a of strong
the^xtSinirt t ^ If* this «CT'1S, “mbined wi*
ZTZTdmary Strength of the muscIes Of the iaws and
i . *, ... auu its tan pointed. It is cpIp Lx. ’ S °r^ ^°,n a tremendous power of mastication
brated, like its brother of the Nile, for its destruction of of th^18 °f WhlCih the sPecies can crush to atoms the bones
poisonous snakes and other reptiles, and is still more despr iff i argest and most obdurate prey. Their hold is in
vedly renowned for its strange instinctive d COverv ^ ftf f° Str°n^ and 80 tenaeious! that it is almost impos"
medicinal virtues of the plant called n,, the ^a^tlnn^ them wh
16T
canines n ^'e!'se-
Larnivora.
medicinal virtues of the pSt cahed °f the
nome^f^^016 ‘a tIlen0the^wbi
nomed fangs. Another nearly allied species is iT>p 7^7,
mon gnseus of Desmarest ( pLrm cafrn
easily domesticated, and thrives well {n’b^ead and milk
eyan„i?bCeartr=T„ ^ ^-bdn^aS^
r.^-,x.IJoU,ics are unsubduah p nn-1 ii- ^ • i • • t c ° 1JUl'1IJUcii we mink trom anv
cannot be trusted in the vicinity of caged birds or poultrv ^T'P'e’ “S fr0m a ghittonous and grasping instinct
I may be rendered useful in the destruction of rate ami Z ■ “t0?5 man5't0 assemhle together even^ver the
other vermin. This animal is «,M „ A ! u... rats. “d insufficent meal. They are accused of vToladog Jhe
nr tVlO C o 7rJ • i &
erroneously) applied the „“f rn^s^
bcstowmg an Egyptian name upon a species whiSured
ly occurs not m the country of the Pharaohs.
c Genus Evzasp, lUiger Surikala, Desm. Incisives,
j, canines —, molars ~~i = 40. Four toes on
within their iron fangs. Hence, among the Arabians their
ZIT-Z Ted aS tl,e ^o' of ebstinacy Hymn^
generally inhabit caverns and other rocky places yfrom
whence they issue under cover of the nighl f„ prowl
sodal nThicMe6 graSarious, not so much we think from any
social principle, as from a gluttonous and graspine instinct
which induces manv tn n<fcpmLlQ . ai. P g msimcC,
both the anterior and posterior extremities.
, .1 Vs f nus is constituted by the Surikate alone ( Fwerra
tetradactyla, Lmn.), an animal from the south of Africa an ~ th v  “ —** c licuu man s grave. JLike
of a nature intermediate between the pole-cats and ich’ hip7 f iT- anima1’ h°wever, the hyaena is perfectly capa-
neumons. It is easily tamed, and, like a cat, becomes at f ^ ?eiVg tfmed’ and indeed a contradictory featureVn
!ed„V° ltS °Wn dwelling- Buffon erred in deeming it a o/itsVarnfafam? °bsf red even in the manifestation
nLV at ! a d unbiassed instincts. About Mount Li
ozava it. r* i , Allcy are accused or viojatino' flip
sepulchres of the dead, for the sake of devouring whatever
hihuemSedleyFCrn 0r mayfha-e to find Lt httily
disposition tTmte a pecuh>r gloomincss and malignity of
o^W iff1 6 a»Pef- ftheSe Creatures’ and ^ name
ot laugh mg hyena,” which one of them bears seems to
render their character still more unnatural 2d’revoking
ip,! fanCy tl(:m indulging in their horrid mirth, like reck-
ess resurrectionists,-their hilarity increasing as they Tctr
the protecting cerements from the dead man’s grave. yLike
any other animal, however, the hyaena is perfectly cana
ble of beinsr tamed. anP i , ly caPa_
native of America.
We shall terminate this subdivision of the Dimtim-ada
by the notice of a singular animal from the southern parts
We ISetlL^T1; ^ n,aturaI1y thehyenas!
ve allude to the Proteles Lalandii of Isidore G St
vis SlvfFmer y ;egarded as a genet, and named pro-
visuinally Vreerra hyamoides by Baron Cuvier. It was
originally transmitted from the Cape by M. Delalanf?
and belongs undoubtedly to a distinct genus. Its cranbm
partakes of the characters of the dogs and civets and like
the canine tribes, it 0 own „A. I- etS’ and’ Jlke
tlie canine tribes, it birVa t~ 1"^’
alAte^fiptVl^ll!!0^.^^"* »d nsually proZ^s^’sISyt^ ^
Barbarv. aeenrdino- t^   T,-. -in
ban„s, Syria> the north of Asia, and rtie vicinity ^‘<Algiers
uccST b,r°rdmg ‘0 BrUCe’IiTe mostIy “PO" largfand
&c and betf r00tSi elpe1!slly ^bose of Fritillarias,
tL o i l I inf?rms us that he has known large patches of
o*ertk„tteUm HUPdI ‘T Z theW S“rch onionsrl
care that after 1 e.ad<!s’ that tle)e 'rere chosen with such
caie, that after having been peeled, if any small decayed spot
became perceptible, they were left uneaten. In AbyssiTia
v evJfr’“! ma"y 0t,l"'r conn,ncs- their habits are certain!
he s-me'e^ y’ °r’ at d|cidedly carnivorous, although
tne Same courap-e or rathor   •. i i? .
ii •, t ouuuiuers. Sloping: back anri
^“rXtedTrk^rora thio,rf a hrv™to
an inhabitant of thebanks of rteFisICrbSiril
ture cS&n “ite b®6" examined as yet only in an imma-
tu e condition. Its teeth amount to thirty, of which four
are canine, twelve incisives, with eight molars in the un
per jaw, and six in the under; but there is reason to be¬
lieve that our knowledge of its true condition is as vet
imperfect. (See Plate VI., figures 2 aod 2 a.) ^
3d Subdivision.
Aro tuberculous tooth behind the large carnivorous cheek¬
tooth oj the lower jaw.
ni vIroLSUnbfdIViSir COnftS 0f the m0St bl°odthirsty and car-
with the ndd V Ciaf ’ and contains Linnaean genus Felis,
turali nT dfi°n ° the hyaenas’ which the great Swedish na-
1 P^ced in the same genus as the dogs and wolves
■RowuV uuviuusiy manifest itself. In
,,arbaryj according to the same authority, the Moors in
,® dayP."!e’ "‘fSeize *hc hyaena by the ears and drag him
aIonB, without Ins resenting such ignominious treatment
othermse than by attempting to draw himself back; and
entrance,^take16” TT™
utterance0VrdS l>,m’ I"'ft®nd t0 Produce fascination by^S
mr^tec^r^tiSd bi1,,hecreature in th?
noise and lurid glare, thatrSw^a'ikcATb?^
r,„hrrd 'mreslstl,,sly succumbs to fate. Bruce one
liyLa wAclXd Ced! S foS
enell r”8 ,,0t °nIy aliv® but -)““<= uniniuS Si
durtag fhe nivKT"'’ t,0W®VCr’ 0n an0tlMr occasion,
next morZ,? l„ “ y°Ung aSS’ a goat> and “ “d
the whole KIL was"ot unreasonably astonished to find
whole of them not only killed, but actually eaten, with
1 Mem. du Mus., t. xi. pi. 20.
MAMMALIA.
168
Ferse. the exception of some of the ass’s bones ! This was pretty
Carnivora. wen for
an animal so curious in bulbous roots. Yet the
' J experience of the narrator was undoubtedly great. “ I do
not think,” says the Abyssinian traveller, “ there is any one
that hath hitherto written of this animal who ever saw the
thousandth part of them that I have. They were a plague
in Abyssinia in every situation, both in the city and the
field, and I think surpassed the sheep in number. Gondar
was full of them from the time it turned dark till the dawn
of day, seeking the different pieces of slaughtered carcasses
which this cruel and unclean people expose in the streets
without burial, and who firmly believe that these animals
are Falasha from the neighbouring mountains, transformed
by magic, and come down to eat human flesh in the dark
in safety.” On entering his tent one night he perceived
two large blue eyes glaring at him from the head of his
bed. It was a hyaena with several bunches of candles in its
mouth, but which immediately paid for its temerity as a tal¬
low-chandler with its life.
Africa is the true country of hyaenas, although the striped
species {Hyaena vulgaris, Desm., Canis hyaena, Linn.) ex¬
tends into western Asia. The spotted or Cape hyaena
{H. capensis, Desm., Canis crocuta, Linn.) resembles the
species just named except in the external markings of the
fur. It carries' the posterior part of the body very low,
owing to the articulations of the hind legs being con¬
stantly bent. It is apt to feel dazzled by strong light,
which gives an appearance of indecision to its movements
during the day. It is easily tamed, and, according to Sir
John Barrow, is trained in the district of Schneuburg
for the service of the chace. The third species (which
we here figure as an example of the genus, see Plate
VI., figure 4) is called the brown hyaena {H. hrunnea,
Thunberg,1 H. villosa, Smith).2 It is likewise a native
of Southern Africa, and is characterized by the blackish rays
upon its legs.3
Genus Felis, Linn. Incisives-, canines \ -, molars
 ^ or ^^ ; =r 30 or 28. Of the four molars of the up¬
per jaw two are conical or false molars, one is a very large
three-lobed carnivorous cheek-tooth, and the fourth (want¬
ing in some of the species) is a small tuberculous tooth,
broader than long. The molars of the under jaw consist
of two simple compressed false molars, and one bicuspidate
carnivorous cheek-tooth. There is no tuberculous tooth in
this jaw, but its functions are performed by the inner lobe of
the cheek-tooth, the rounded point of which, when the jaws
are closed, is brought into contact with the flattened sur¬
face of the upper tubercular grinder. Head and muzzle
short. Anterior feet with five toes, the posterior with four,
all strongly armed with sharp, curved, retractile talons, held
backwards in repose. Tongue rough, with horny papillae
pointing backwards.
The feline race, containing the most bloodthirsty and fe¬
rocious of animals, is characterized by an organic structure
admirably adapted to the wants and habits of its numerous
species. These differ greatly in size and colour, but re¬
semble each other in shape and general proportions. The
genus is distributed over the whole world, with the excep¬
tion of Australia and the polar circles.
In a state of nature animals of the cat kind are almost
continually in action both by night and day. They either
walk, creep, or advance rapidly by prodigious bounds, but
they seldom run, owing, it is believed, to the extreme Fene.
flexibility of their limbs and vertebral column, which do not Carnivora,
preserve the rigidity suitable to that species of progression, '
Their sense of sight, especially during twilight, is acute,
their hearing very perfect, their perception of smell less so
than among the canine race. Their most obtuse sense is
supposed to be that of taste ;—the lingual nerve in the lion,
according to Desmoulins, being no larger than that of a
middle-sized dog. The tongue of these animals is in truth
almost as much an organ of mastication as of taste, the
sharp and callous points with which it is covered being used
for tearing away the softer parts of the animal substances
on which they prey. The perception of touch is said to
reside in great perfection in the small bulbs at the base of
the whiskers.
V' e have elsewhere stated our opinion, that all that has
been said regarding the noble generosity and superior
courage of the lion and other species of the race, is con¬
sidered by naturalists to be purely fabulous.4 They seize
their prey by surprise, lying in treacherous ambuscade, or
gliding insidiously through dark ravines ; and are constitu¬
tionally of a nature so shy and mistrustful, that if they fail
in their first attempt upon the life of even an insignificant
creature, they rarely renew it again upon the same indivi¬
dual. Neither does their ferocity by any means imply, as
so frequently supposed, the fatal necessity of murder ; for
the instinct to destroy is only the sensation of hunger in
animals having a propensity to flesh, and provided with the
means of obtaining it. This instinct is itself effaceable by
an artificial supply of food, provided continuously and in
abundance. No existing animal (we mean of course of the
higher classes,—inhabitants of the same element with our¬
selves) is rendered incapable, by the constitution of its na¬
ture, of being ameliorated by the art of man. The blood¬
thirsty jaguar of America plays with its keeper, as a kitten
does with a child ; and our menageries of recent years have
exhibited many Bengal tigers of very mild and gentle man¬
ners.
The females are remarkable for their tender attachment to
their young, while the males are distinguished by a peculiar
jealousy, as it may be called, which frequently renders them
the most formidable enemies of their own offspring. Hence it
is, that the former sex usually conceal the places of their
“ procreant cradle,” or frequently remove their young. They
are, upon the whole, a solitary tribe (although young lions
sometimes assemble together in small family groups), and,
like most animals which feed on living prey, rarely seek
each other’s society except during the season of love. Like
the “ mighty hunters” among the human race, they require
an extensive domain for the exercise of their predacious
habits, and a near neighbour can therefore be regarded
only as a mortal foe. It is the uneradicable nature of this
sentiment which causes that peculiar noise in the throat
and the mistrustful rolling of the eye, observable even in
the most perfectly reclaimed individuals, when they are ap¬
proached during meal-time. The cry varies greatly in the
different species. The lion, when in that mood “ of stern
disdain at which the desert trembles,” roars with a voice
resembling distant thunder, deep, tremulous, and broken ;
the jaguar barks almost like a dog; the cry of the wily
panther is like the grating of a saw; and most of them,
when pleased, appear to purr after the manner of our do¬
mestic cat, with an energy proportioned to the size of the
species.
1 Mem. de l Acad, de Stock. 1820, part i. pi. 2, * Linn. Trans, vol. xv. pi. 19.
3 The Canis {Hycena) Hycerwmelas ot Bruce is nothing more than a variety of the common striped species. The II. venation of Bur-
chell (/L picta, lem.) has been already noticed under another head. The fossil species do not fall within the province of the pre¬
sent article.
4 Illustrations of Zoology, vol. i. Genus Felis.
MAMMALIA.
Fer®. It would be inconsistent with the nature and prescribed the shore* nftho c
Carnivora, extent of the present treatise to enter into descriptive de mnrhT! / h-r C, P Sea* The sPecies was therefore Ferae.
tails of the numerous and diversified species of Ilch Hon aid l^sTh y 10 anClen,t ^iterS th“ *heCarmv„nu
genus Felis is composed.1 The following notices must havp h, Me^ast.henes al«ne among the Greeks seems to —>
^ " -- lowing notices must have been acquainted with it from personal observation.
Aristotle mentions it merely as an animal of which he had
therefore be few and brief.
The lion (Fe/is leo) king of beasts, is easily distinguish¬
ed by his uniform tawny hue, his large and flowing mane,
and tufted tail. His general aspect is indeed strikingly
bold and magnificent. His large and shaggy mane, sur-
roundmg his imperial front,—his bright commanding eyes,
winch upon the least excitement seem to glow with un¬
earthly lustre,—-his magnanimous and lofty countenance,
symbolical of boldness from remote antiquity,—to say no -
thmg of his muscular limbs, extensile talons, and the irre¬
sistible armature of his deadly jaws,—certainly embody our
i , ,   j annual ui nineii ne naa
neard by name; and, even among the Romans, it was long
regarded as of extreme rarity. Claudius exhibited four at
one time, and it has been reasonably conjectured that the
beautiful mosaic picture of four tigers, discovered a good
many years ago in Rome, near the Arch of Gallienus, was
ecU display 20rnraemoration of 80 striking and unprecedent-
1 he panther {Felis pardus, Linn.), the pardalis of an¬
cient writers, is believed to occur over a great portion of
Africa, the warmer parts of Asia, and the islands of the In-
liveliest conceptions of warlike grkndeur and of a now£ £ n A w T™ ^ °f Asia’ and the *landsof the In-
not unbefitting' his assumption re™" swav fSZ ^ Ar<='>'Pdago. It is usually marked along the sides
them parts of Africa produce a varied of which the m. S'X 7 rT" r°WS °f black sPots> each being itself
is nearly black. Th„sPe of 'Srb^arJ bmw^aTm rThl"leo^JSimI>;e S1,,°tS T?ed in a
thick mane covering the neck and shoulders of the male7 closelv allied tn th (FeltsJC0Pa[duA'> Linn0 is a species
IttSen^.theyareofaye.lowhue.with thinner mTnt otSlS^nd^beS
Modern naturalists seem inclined to regard some of nan 10^0? V Y , 6 fgant °f * less than the
limals as of different species, according t? their natu Proportionally higher
The Asiatic lion seldom attains to the dimensions of the
bouth African kind, and his colour is paler and more uni
form. Modern naturalists seem inclined to regard some o
these animals as of different species, according to their natu¬
ral localities, but they have as yet failed to point out satis¬
factory characters for their specific separation ; and their
general reasoning on the subject is rather hypothetical than
conclusive.
The geographical distribution of the lion seems to have
become greatly circumscribed within these last two thou¬
sand years, for from many districts where it formerly
abounded it has now entirely disappeared. According to
Herodotus it was once sufficiently common both in Thrace
and Macedonia, and it is also known to have abounded in
Asia, from the shores of Syria to the banks of the Ganges
and the Oxus. The vast numbersbroughttogether by the
Romans during the games of the circus have been often
recorded.
Inferior to the lion in the majesty of his deportment, but
nearly equal in size and strength, and perhaps superior in
activity, is the tiger (Felis tigris), a familiarly known, but
greatly dreaded feline animal, of which the external cha¬
racters need not to be here detailed. This “ most beauti¬
ful and cruel beast of prey” has a more slender body, and
a smaller and rounder head than his great congener. His
motions, notwithstanding his vast deceptive bulk, are full
of graceful ease and lightness ; and the rich tawny yellow
of the prevailing portion of his coat, contrasted with the
numerous sloping lines of black, and the pure white of the
under portions of his body, render him one of the most perfect
pictures of savage beauty presented by the brute creation.
I he geographical distribution of this gorgeous tyrant of the
East is much more extended (so far as Asia is concerned,
for he does not occur in Africa) from south to north than
that of the lion, as he not only advances far into those de¬
sert countries which separate China from Siberia, but is
also found between the Irtysch and the Ischim, and even,
though rarely, as far as the banks of the Obi. In a longi¬
tudinal direction, however, there is a much greater restric¬
tion of the one species than of the other, as the tiger ap¬
pears but rarely to pass to the westward of a line drawn
from the mouths of the Indus in a northerly direction to
The hunting tiger or chittah {Felis jubata, Schreber), one
of the most lively and elegant of the genus, is less than the
in the legs. Its toes are lengthened like those of a dog,
and its claws, very slightly retractile, are blunter and less
curved than in any other species of the cat kind. It is an
Asiatic animal well known in eastern countries as an acces-
sary in the chase of antelopes. The extent of its geogra-
phical distribution is still, we think, obscure. According
to Ihunberg it is common in the south of Africa,—a fact
confirmed by Lichtenstein, who saw the chief of a horde of
Caffres clothed in its beautiful and sumptuous skins; Tem •
mmck has ascertained its existence along the western shores
of that division of the world; and several specimens have
been lately transmitted from Nubia by Ruppel to the Frank-
ca rfuseum. Now the range is so great from the north
o Africa to the far forests of Sumatra, where hunting tigers
likewise abound, that observers have surmised that two
species have been probably confounded under one name,
i hose from eastern countries are said to be more dog-like,
to have longer legs, and a scantier mane. The chittah is
known in Persia by the name of youze, and naturalists are
of opinion that many of the skins received by furriers from
Senegal and other parts of Africa, are identical with those
of the hunting tiger of Hindostan. Many other feline spe¬
cies occur in Asia, Africa, and the eastern islands.
In the New World animals of this genus are likewise
very numerous. Of these one of the most noted is the
great panther of the furriers, tigre d’Amerique of the
French, commonly called the jaguar {Felis onca, Linn.).
It is a fierce and dangerous species, of which the habits
have been well described by Humboldt, Azara, and other
writers. Its general colour and aspect resemble those of
the preceding spotted species, but it is of greater size, pro-
portionably lower on the legs, with a larger head, and the
circular spots, ranged along the sides in four rows, have
usually each a smaller spot in the centre. The jaguar in¬
habits the forests which skirt the magnificent rivers of South
America, and is by iar the most formidable animal of the
New World, where it is held in great dread by the native
tribes, who are impressed with the belief that it prefers
their flesh to that of white men. They are probably what
Most of these may be found in two works very accessible to all classes of ivr , r-7 .
Jardine (Mammalia, vol. ii.), and the Miscellany of'Natural History, edited by Sir T 1) T -mrl “ f edited by Sir W.
Griffith s Animal Kingdom, vol. ii, Desmarest’s Matr.maloqie, p. 21C, Temminck’s Mortoarnnhi / a/° 111 *fkne. Species). See also
Ruppell’s Reiseim Nordlichen Africa, Azara’s Voyage an L the Atlas to
Wilson’s Illustrations of Zoology as last referred to. tSL NaL ^ impedes of that country, and
these are to be me/with^orrihSn 0Ur PaSes with anecdotes of tiger-hunting, &c. as
VOL. XIV.
T
f
170
MAMMALIA.
Ferae, the Highland schoolmaster would call more accessible, be-
Carnivora. jng ]ess incumbered with clothing. While travelling, they
light great fires during the night, from the notion (we be¬
lieve well founded), that most wild animals fear the restless
glare of that fierce element; yet, of six men stated by
Azara as having been devoured by jaguars, two were car¬
ried away from the immediate precincts of a blazing fire at
which they bivouacked. This animal so greatly abounded
in Paraguay before the expulsion of the Jesuits, that 2000
are known to have been slain in a single year. Humboldt
mentions, about the same period, that more than 4000 ja¬
guars were killed annually throughout the Spanish colonies,
and that 2000 skins were formerly exported every year
from Buenos Ayres alone. No wonder that a cheerful fire,
amid the damp recesses of the forests, should be there found
less pleasant than in colder climes.
Another fierce, but less powerful species of the New
World, is the puma or American lion (^Felis concolor>
Linn.). It is almost the only animal against which the
charge of wanton or unnecessary cruelty seems well found¬
ed. It has been known to kill fifty sheep at one time, for
the sake of sipping a little of the blood of each. Its man¬
ners differ considerably from those of the jaguar. It rather
inhabits plains than forests, and approaches nearer to the
habitations of man. In ascending a tree it is said to spring
up at a single leap, and to descend in the same manner;
while the jaguar runs up exactly like a common cat. Not¬
withstanding its ferocity in a state of nature, it is easily
tamed when taken young, as we have elsewhere recorded
of the specimen brought home in the Diamond frigate, by
the late lamented Captain Lord Napier. The puma is
more widely distributed than the preceding species, as it
occurs not only over a great portion of South America,
but extends northwards to the province of Pennsylvania,
and even makes occasional inroads into the state of New
York. For the history of the beautiful ocelot (Felis par-
dalis, Linn.), and of the other species of the New World,
we must refer the reader to the works mentioned in the
preceding note. In illustration of the genus, we have
figured (see Plate VI., figure 3), the female of the chati
(Felis mitis, F. Cuvier), a rare species, from South Ame¬
rica. We have also represented1 (see same plate, figure
6) another small species sent from India to the Edinburgh
Museum. It exhibits an alliance to the lynxes in its slightly
tufted ears.
In regard to the European feline animals, the only in¬
digenous species (exclusive of the lynxes) is the common
wild cat (Felis catus, Linn.), usually, though perhaps er¬
roneously, regarded as the source of our domestic kind. A
few lines may not be misbestowed on the subject of this
curious inquiry. The opinion generally current amongst
us, and even adopted by most naturalists, as to the origin
of that useful domestic animal which we find as a reclaim¬
ed captive wherever man is in any measure civilized and
gregarious, is, that it has sprung from the larger inhabitant
of our rocky ravines and forests, a species of a brownish
grey colour, paler beneath, marked with some deeper
transverse bands, and three bars upon the tail, of which the
lower part is blackish. Now several circumstances seem
at variance with this supposition. The tail of the domes¬
tic cat is longer and tapers to a point,—that of the wild cat
being of nearly equal thickness throughout, and thus ap¬
pearing as if truncated at the extremity. The head, too,
in the former is larger in proportion to the body.2 All our
other domestic creatures are larger than their original
races, but the house-cat, supposing it to have sprung from
the indigenous woodland species, seems to have reversed
the rule; for never even its most pampered and overgrown
condition does it in anyway equal the powerful dimensions Ferce.
of its supposed original. Carnivora.
When we seek to ascertain the origin of any anciently
domesticated species, the mind naturally reverts to periods
of antiquity, and to the history of nations characterized by
remote records. It was from within the sacred precincts
of the temples of Isis, and under the reign of the Pharaohs
or Egyptian kings, that the earliest rays of science dawned
upon the nations. There the heroic Greeks “ drew golden
light,” and from thence were distributed, by more or less
direct gradations, the knowledge and civilization which,
long waning at the primal source with feeble and uncertain
gleam, have burned like an unconsuming fire amid those
“ barbarian lands” to which they were conveyed. Egypt,
so remarkable in the early civilization of the human race,
might reasonably be supposed even a priori to have fur¬
nished the primitive families of mankind with one or more
of its domesticated animals ; and in relation more particu¬
larly to the present subject, we know that of all the ancient
nations of whom we possess records, the Egyptians were
the most noted for their appreciation of the useful qualities
of the cat. It was even embalmed in their temples, in
common with the mystical body of the ibis, and we doubt
not it must have become familiar to them from its benefi¬
cial qualities as a domestic species ; for the reverential re¬
gard in which several animals were held in ancient days
may be supposed to have sprung either from the beneficial
influence which they exercised in the economy of nature,
or the more direct benefits which they conferred in the do¬
mestic state. That the people in question derived their
cats from an indigenous source is more than probable, es¬
pecially as a wild Egyptian species (Felis manicnlata.
Tern.) bears, of all others, the closest resemblance to the
domestic breed. At all events, it could scarcely be drawn
from the wild cat of Europe, as that species, though widely
distributed over all the wooded countries of the continent,
and ranging through Russia into Siberia, and over a great
range of Asiatic territory, is unknown on the banks of the
Nile, and seems to hold its centre of dominion rather in the
temperate than the warmer regions of the earth. Another
argument against the derivation of our domestic cats from
the indigenous woodland species, may be drawn from the
extreme scarcity of the former in the early ages of our
history. It is known that in the time of Hoel the Good,
King of Wales, who died in the year 948, laws were enact¬
ed to preserve and establish the price of cats and other ani¬
mals remarkable for being alike rare and useful, and for¬
feits were exacted from any one who should kill the cat
that guarded the prince’s granary. Now, these precaution¬
ary regulations would seem to indicate that our domestic
cats were not originally natives of our island, but were in¬
troduced from some of the warmer countries of the east,
and required for a time considerable care and attention to
preserve the breed. This would scarcely have been neces¬
sary had the original stock been found prowling in every
thicket and corrie of the country, which the wild cat un¬
doubtedly was in those distant days. We therefore agree
with M. Temminck and other naturalists who suppose that
the gloved cat of Northern Africa (F. maniculata) is the
more probable source of our domestic kind (see Plate
VI., figure 5). Its proportions agree generally with those of
the wild cat of Britain, but it is smaller by about one-third,
and its tail is comparatively longer and more slender. The
nature of its coat and the distribution of its colours re¬
semble those of the female wild cat, although it is more of
a yellowish ash colour,—a hue, we may observe, which pre¬
vails in the natural tinting of many of the quadrupeds of
northern Africa.3
undfrTeSeTf/^ P‘ 232’ pL 25- U is fiSured in the work referred to as the Felis ornata but it is described
, c, , . 2 Fleming s British Animals, p. 15.
work beforereferred ^no°rap ies’ P* 120’ note» Edinburgh Cabinet Library (Nubia and Abyssinia, No. xii. p. 401), and Ruppel’s
MAMMALIA.
171
rs bdut as„fe “of their toevFe™-
They are chiefly characterized by the length of their
the comparative shortness of their tails, and their DaSS t.hn crrpnf-fir rartt-fl/ar, f:    a.__ > rm /• ^
their fur, the comparative shortness of their tails, and their
tufted ears. Their skins are of considerable value in com¬
merce, and it appears that several species have been con¬
founded by naturalists under the name of Felis lynx, Linn.
The largest and most beautiful is sent to us from Asia by
way of Russia. Its fur is of a reddish-grey colour, spotted
with black. It equals a wolf in size, and is the Felts
cervaria of Temminck. The lynx of the north of Europe
{-Felis borealis^ Temm.) is of an ashy grey, varying to
brown and hoary, the fur being extremely full. Natural¬
ists are now inclined to recur to the opinion of Pennant,
that the Canada lynx {F. Canadensis, Geoff.) and this spe-
cies are identical. According to Sir J. Richardson, they are
timid creatures, incapable of attacking any of the larger
quadrupeds, but well armed for the capture of the Ameri¬
can hare, on which they chiefly prey. They make a poor
hght when surprised by a hunter on a tree; for though
they spit like cats, and set up their hair in anger, they
are easily killed by a blow on the back with a slender stick.
They swim well, and will cross the arm of a lake two miles
wide. Their flesh, which is white and tender, though ra¬
ther flavourless, is eaten by the natives.
The lynx of temperate and southern Europe {Felis lynx,
Temm.) has a red fur, spotted with brown. It has now
almost disappeared from the more densely peopled portions
of the continent. A specimen described by M. Rory St
Vincent was, however, killed within eight leagues of Lis¬
bon. It is rather frequent among the central and southern
mountains of Spain, where it is said to attain a greater
size and a more beautiful aspect than elsewhere. It is
likewise well known in the Neapolitan dominions. We
presume that this is the species which occurs in Germany,
where, however, according to Tiedemann, it is now much
rarer than of old. M. Schyntz informs us that it is by no
means unusual in Switzerland. M. Delarbe mentions one
that was killed in Auvergne in 1788, and Cuvier has re¬
corded another destroyed at Barege, at a much later date.
We are not aware that it exists at present in France,
though it may no doubt still descend occasionally in search
of prey from the more secure fastnesses of the Pyrenees.
The south of Europe produces a distinct species of smaller
size, described by Oken under the name of Felis pardina.
The caracal or Barbary lynx {Felis caracal, Linn., see
Plate VI., figure 8), is a native of warmer and more south¬
ern climates than the preceding. It is a wild and savage ani¬
mal, of a uniform wine red colour, about the height of a
fox, but much more powerful. It has been known to attack
and tear a hound in pieces. The caracal is probably the
animal designated by the ancients under the name of lynx,
as the species now distinguished by that title has never been
found in those countries of which the lynx of the ancients
was said to be a native. Pliny assigns Ethiopia as its ori¬
ginal country, and according to Ovid,
“ Victa racemifero lyncas dedit India Baccho.”
Several other species are described by naturalists. Of
these we have here engraved the booted lynx of Bruce
{Felis caligata, Temm., see Plate VI., figure 7), a wild
animal extensively distributed over Africa, and also occur¬
ring, it is said, in Southern India.
Tribe III—Amphibia.
The concluding tribe of the carnivorous Mammalia con¬
sists of the seals and morses. Their feet are so short, and
so encompassed in the skin, as to render their terrestrial
pass the greater portion of their lives in water. The form
of the body is elongated, the spine extremely flexible, the
muscles very powerful, the fur short and close.
dhe genus Phoca of Linnaeus comprises a great amount,
and a considerable diversity of species,—some of which,
trough still regarded as seals, are separated into minor
genera by modern naturalists. The teeth differ consider¬
ably both in their nature and number, and when accurate¬
ly ascertained and distinctly described, will no doubt aid
the systematic observer in his arrangement of the species
into natural groups. All the species agree in having five
toes to both extremities. Those of the fore paws diminish
in size from the what we may call the thumb to the exte¬
rior or httle finger, while on the hind legs the lateral toes
are the largest, and the others diminish towards the centre.
I he form of the head bears some resemblance to that of a
dog, and in their natural cunning and intelligence, and
their capacity of being tamed and instructed, they present
vwj er “keness to that sagacious creature. They prey
chiefly on fish, and are extremely destructive to salmon
and other migratory and gregarious species along our shores,
in estuaries, and at the mouths of rivers. They seldom,
however, ascend the fresh waters to any considerable dis¬
tance from the sea, and the alleged occurrence of seals in
remote Siberian rivers, and the inland waters of Lake
Baikal, is a fact which requires confirmation.1
Although extensively distributed over the waters of the
ocean, it is in high latitudes (whether northern or southern)
that seals occur in greatest abundance,—such as inhabit
tropical regions being as it were insulated from their kind,
and occurring in less numerous assemblages. The species
are so vaguely described by voyagers, and have been even
as yet so indifferently characterized by naturalists, that
their geographical boundaries are in no way well defined;
but we may rest assured that those authors are in error who
describe our northern kinds as occurring equally among
the antarctic icebergs. All other animals have limits which
they do not pass, and seals are doubtless subject to a cor-
responding restriction. For example, the gigantic species
called the sea elephant (Phocaproboscidea, Desm.) is never
found in the northern hemisphere, while such of the smaller
southern species as have been examined, are found to dif-
fer from those of corresponding size, which are native to
the European shores. In regard to the geographical dis¬
tribution of marine amphibia, the views of Peron are de¬
serving of consideration. He is of opinion that the species,
in reference to their natural location, form three great geo¬
graphical groups, of which two are northern (Atlantic and
Pacific) and one southern, and that the species of each of
these regions are proper to itself. He inclines to apply
the same principles to the cetaceous tribes. In neither case,
however, has he sufficiently considered the numerous spe¬
cies which occur in temperate and equatorial regions A
proper exposition of the species of the Mediterranean and
the Euxine, and their comparison on the one hand with
those of the north, and on the other with such as are known
to occur in the enclosed waters of the Caspian, the Red
Sea, the Persian Gulf, the Indian Ocean, and the frozen
waters of the extreme south, would prove a subject of deep
interest. It is indeed singular that animals so important
m the scale of creation, whether we regard their great eco¬
nomic value to mankind, their position in the system of na-
ture, or their peculiar organization and habits of life, should
hitherto have attracted so superficial a notice on the part
of naturalists. l
1 See Krachenninikow’s Voyage en Sibirie et au Kamtschatka, t. ii. p. 421.
172
MAMMALIA.
Ferae. jn t}ie restricted genus Phoca (Peron), the external ear
v ayniJu^- is obsolete or rudimentary ; the incisives are pointed, with
simple edges ; the toes possess a certain degree of motion,
and the claws by which they are terminated are placed on
the margin of the uniting membrane.
Our common seal {Phoca vitulina, Linn., see Plate
VII., figure 1) possesses, in common with the little group
of species with which it is associated {Calocephalus, F.
Cuv.), six incisive teeth above, and four below. It varies
greatly in colour, and sometimes attains the length of six
feet. It is frequent along the northern European shores,
and extends into very high latitudes. It is even said to
occur in the Caspian Sea, and the great fresh water lakes
of Russia and Siberia; but this assertion, as Baron Cuvier
has remarked, requires to be confirmed by an exact com¬
parison of species. Seals were formerly used as food,
though their flesh is coarse and dark coloured. Their blood
is blackish, and very abundant. At present they are slain
chiefly on account of their skins and oil. Dean Monroe
informs us, that on the banks of Lochegrenord, in Islay,
they were formerly killed by means of trained dogs. They
seem occasionally subject to epidemic diseases. About fifty
years ago numerous carcasses were cast ashore in every bay
in the north of Scotland, Orkney, and Shetland, and many
were found in a sickly state at sea.1
Our other British species is called the great seal {Phoca
barhala, Fabr.). It attains the length of ten or twelve feet,
and seems almost confined with us to the western and nor¬
thern isles, although it has been occasionally met with off
the Fern Isles, and a specimen was shot some time ago
near Stonehaven by the late Lord Cassilis. It spreads,
however, far and wide along the icy arctic shores.
Of the antarctic species we may name the small nailed
seal, Phoca leptonyx of Blainville (genus Stenorhinchus,
F. Cuv.), to which the species brought home by Captain
Weddell from the South Orkneys, and now in the Edin¬
burgh Museum, seems nearly allied.2 The head of the
latter is very small, the neck greatly elongated. Its teeth
4 j1 5 5
are, incisors-, canines-; r, molars     ; = 32. The
4 1 — 1 5 — 5
last named teeth are sharp, compressed, trilobate.
One of the most noted of the southern seals is the mon¬
strous species so often mentioned by Dampier, Anson,
Cook, and other navigators, under the names of sea lion,
sea elephant, &c. It is the Phoca leonina, Linn. Ph.pro-
hoscidea of Peron and Desmarest, and probably also the
Ph. Ansonii of the last named author, for its synonyms are
almost as numerous as its own oily herds. It constitutes
the type of the modern genus Macrorhinus, distinguished
by having four incisive teeth in the upper jaw, and only two
in the under, the molars obtusely conical, and the muzzle
in the form of a short moveable proboscis. The species are
widely extended over the southern hemisphere, and furnish
the English and American fisheries with an important arti¬
cle of commerce. The sea elephant above alluded to is
the largest of the group, attaining sometimes to the length
of 30 feet, and measuring from I 5 to 18 feet in circum¬
ference. The lower canines are long and projecting, and
the male during the rutting season is characterized by the
full inflated condition of the muzzle. It inhabits many of
the desert isles and sandy shores of the southern hemi¬
sphere. According to Peron it migrates every season,
with a view to avoid the extremes of heat and cold, mov¬
ing southwards in summer and northwards in winter. Its
favourite food consists of cuttle fish, and it loves to repose Fer®.
itself amid the thick and tangled beds 0$Laminaria g^aw-Carnivoia.
tea. It is probable that it also feeds on fuci, as a quantity' 
of marine vegetation has been found in its interior, min¬
gled with the bones of cephalopodous mollusca. These
animals keep much at sea during the first four months of
the year, after which they pay frequent visits to the land.
They move with great ease and some celerity in the wa¬
ter, but their motions on shore are slow and awkward, and
they are then easily slain, notwithstanding their great
strength and gigantic size. Their dispositions are natural¬
ly mild, their habits indolent, and their general character
much less wary and mistrustful than that of the smaller
tribes of seals. They are thus easily approached by man,
and fall a ready victim to the lance of their pursuers. One
male has generally several females, and, during the season
of love, dreadful conflicts take place with a view to the for¬
mation of a seraglio. A certain degree of domestic peace
is established in the autumn. Gestation continues about
nine months, and the females bring forth one or two young
ones in June of the ensuing year. At this period they
usually assemble together on sandy flats, at some little dis¬
tance from the shore, and surrounded by the males. They
give suck for two or three months ; during which time they
are said to reside entirely on shore. They then descend
together to the sea, where, after a few weeks’ refreshment,
they recommence their contentious courtships.3
We cannot here enter into farther details regarding the
seal tribe, and shall conclude by observing that the Phoca
monachus of Gmehn, a well-known Mediterranean species,
common among the islands of the Adriatic, and the shores
of Greece, and probably the species best known to ancient
writers, belongs to the genus Pelagius of F. Cuvier, cha¬
racterized by four incisors both above and below,—the
molars being like obtuse cones, with a slightly developed
heel before and behind.
The preceding groups of amphibious mammalia agree in
the absence or rudimentary state of the external ear. It is
otherwise, however, with the remaining genus Otaria,
Peron, which is distinguished by external ears, and by the
singular character of having double cutting edges to the
four intermediate incisors of the upper jaw, the external
being small and simple. All the molars are simply conical;
the toes of the fore paws are almost immoveable; and the
swimming membrane is prolonged in advance of the toes of
the hinder extremities. All the claws are flat and slender.
To this genus belongs the maned seal (Phoca jubata,
Gmel.), or sea lion of Steller, Pernetty, and some other
authors. It grows to the size of from fifteen to twenty feet,
and the neck of the male is clothed with hair longer and
more frizzled than that of the rest of the body. The species
is usually described as occurring at both extremities of the
Pacific Ocean, but the individuals found along the Pata¬
gonian coast, at the Malouin Islands, and in the Straits of
Magellan, will assuredly be found to differ specifically from
those of Behring’s Straits and other northern regions.
Forster describes them as living in troops, the old males
roaring like lions or enraged bulls, and, except during the
breeding season, living together apart from the females.
On the Magellanic shores, they couple in December and
January, carry eleven months, and bring forth two young.
Those of Kamtschatka, according to Steller,4 are of analo¬
gous habits ; but in each group there are only two or three
females, instead of ten or a dozen, and each produces at a
1 Fleming’s British Animals, p. 17.
* Consult Weddell s Vryage to the South Pole, and Lesson’s Manuel de Mammalo ;ie, p. 200.
1' or ample details see i eron’s Voyage aux Torres Australe.s, 2d Ed. t. ili. pp. 56-103, and the well known narratives of our own
illustrious circumnavigators. rx
* De Bestiis Marinis, Mem. Acad. Petersb., t. iL
Ferae, birth only a single young. The flesh is held in some
Carnivora, esteem by the natives of the Aleutian Isles and other nor-
thern tribes.
To the preceding genus also belongs the Sea Bear, so
called (Phoca Ursina, Gmel.). It measures about eight
feet, and is destitute of mane. The colour varies with age
and season, from brown to grey and white. The young,
when newly born, are black. The fur of this species, when
cleared of the longer coarser hair, is almost as much es¬
teemed as that of the beaver. It fears the maned seal, but
wages a cruel war against most other marine creatures. A
corresponding species exists in either hemisphere, that is,
the Ursine Seal is described by Steller as a native of
Kamtschatka, and by Foster as inhabiting the southern
coast of America, and the shores of New Holland, and Van
Diemen’s Land. It is probable that two distinct kinds are
here confounded.1 Various additional species aredescrib-
ed by MM. Desmarest, F. Cuvier, Lesson, and other sys¬
tematic writers.
MAMMALIA.
173
without danger, as an attackon one individualgenerally draws Marsu
its neighbours around it, and the planks of the boat are pialia."
sometimes pierced with their tusks, which, from the great'
weight of the suspended body, become weapons of enor¬
mous power. The species is confined to the coldest re¬
gions of the northern hemisphere, and its southern bound¬
ary is probably more restricted than of old. It is mention¬
ed by some ot our ancient native writers, but has been long
unknown along the British shores, although the ivory bits
described by Strabo as articles of British commerce may
be conjectured to have been fabricated from its teeth. In
December 1817, a solitary wanderer, who had probably
been floated southwards on an iceberg, was shot while re¬
posing on a small rock in the Sound of Stockness, on the
east coast of Harris, one of our Outer Hebrides.3
Order III—MARSUPIALIA.
Genus Irichechus, Linn. Incisors —, canines   
^ O’ o — o
molars b _ b; = 24. Body elongated, and conical, like
that of the preceding groups of seals. Head round, muzzle
full. No external ears. Tail extremely short.
The absence of canine and incisive teeth from the lower
jaw sufficiently distinguishes the present genus, which as
yet contains but a single species, commonly called the morse,
walrus, or sea-hor^e,— Trichechus rosmarus, Linn. See Plate
VII., figure 2. It attains to the length of from 18 to 20
teet, and in its general aspect and habits resembles a gigan¬
tic seal. It is an animal of gregarious disposition, and oc¬
curs abundantly in the Northern Atlantic, and the polar
regions of the Pacific Ocean. The walrus is sought for
amid those icy solitudes, on account of its oil, skin, and ivory
tusks. The latter are harder and more homogeneous than
those of the elephant, and are less apt to be rendered yel¬
low by the hand of time, for which reason they are useful
to dentists in the fabrication of false teeth. The capture
of this animal is not, however, an object of such import¬
ance as it is known to have been prior to the institution of
the Spitzbergen whale-fishery. In fact, it is now allowed
to float along its desolate shores, almost without molesta¬
tion from the British, the Russians being its principal per¬
secutors. Our whale-fishers seldom take more than ha’f a
dozen in a voyage, although the elder Scoresby once pro¬
cured in a single season 130 in Magdalene Bay. But this
is nothing to the multitudes obtained in former times.
Stephen Bennet, for example, in 1606, along the shores of
Cherry Island, killed 700 or 800 in less than six hours;
and in the ensuing voyage about 1000 were slain in less
than seven hours. “When seen at a distance,” says the Rev.
Dr Scoresby, “ the front part of the young walrus, with¬
out tusks, is not unlike the human face. As this animal is
in the habit of raising its head above water, to look at ships,
and other passing objects, it is not at all improbable but
that it may have afforded foundation for some of the stories
of mermaids. I have myself seen a sea-horse in such a
position and under such circumstances, that it required little
stretch of imagination to mistake it for a human being; so
like indeed was it, that the surgeon of the ship actually
reported to me his having seen a man with his head just
appearing above the surface of the water.”2 The walrus
is a fearless animal, paying no regard to a boat, except as
an object of curiosity. Its capture in the water is not made
The order which contains the marsupial or pouched ani¬
mals, is composed of such heterogeneous elements, as to
be extremely difficult ol definition. The most universal,
as well as remarkable peculiarity, consists in the prema¬
ture production of the young, the majority of which are
born in a state comparable only to that exhibited by the
foetus of other animals not many days after conception.
I bus the Virginian Opossum, when first brought forth,
does not weigh above a single grain, though its parent is
as large as a full-grown cat; and the Gigantic Kangaroo,
which sometimes attains the weight of nearly 200 pounds,
gives birth to a pair of young ones, each about an inch
Jong. Incapable of voluntary movement, destitute of dis¬
tinct sensation, and with the external organs in a rudiment¬
ary state, the feeble offspring becomes attached (in a man¬
ner as yet but indistinctly known) to the mammse of the
mother, and adheres to them continuously till such time as
it has attained the ordinary conditions of a new born crea¬
ture, and even long after that period it continues to seek
frequent refuge in its parent’s lap, which for that purpose
is furnished with an ample pouch, within which the nipples
are contained. Two special bones attached to the pubis,
and interposed between the muscles of the abdomen, sup¬
port the pouch, and occur at the same time not only in the
females of certain species in which the pouch is scarcely
perceptible, but also in the males, in which it does not ex¬
ist.4 Another peculiarity of the marsupial order consists
in this, that in spite of a general resemblance which so
strikingly pervades the species, that for a long time they
were regarded as forming only a single undivided genus,
they differ so greatly in their teeth, and in their organs of
digestion and of locomotion, that a rigorous adherence to
these characters, would induce their partition into various
orders. “ On disait, en un mot,” says Baron Cuvier, “ que
les marsupiaux forment une classe distincte, parallele a
cede des quadrupedes ordinaires et divisible en ordres sem-
blables ; en sorte que si on pla^ait ces deux classes sur deux
colonnes, les Sariques, lesDasyures, et les Perameles seraient
vis-a-vis des carnassiers insectivores a longues canines, tels
que les tenrecs et les taupes; les Phalangers et les Poto-
roos, vis-a-vis des herissons et des Musaraignes; les Kan-
guroos proprement dits ne se laisseraient guere comparer
a rien, mais les Phascolomes devraient aller vis-a-vis des
rongeurs. Enfin, si Ton n’avait egard qu’aux os propres de
la bourse, et si 1 on regardait comme marsuniaux tous les
ammaux qm les possedent, les ornithorir.ques et les echidnes
s ®ee’ in^dt|Jtion the works aiready quoted, the artidc Phoque of the Diction. Classique d'Hist. Nat t xiii n 40ft
’ Ant* Regions, vo\. i. p. 504. _ _ 3 Edinburgh Phil. Jour,,, vnl U ’ a«Q P‘ 400-
174
MAMMALIA.
Marsu- y formcraient un groupe parallele a celui des edentes.”1
pialia. In these views we can scarcely agree, and in truth they
have not been proceeded upon by their author, who, in his
most recent work, continued to group the marsupial genera
under a distinct order, as above named.
Many years have elapsed since (in 1828) we ventured
to express our opinion regarding the unnatural constitution
of the marsupial order, and we are satisfied to see that
similar sentiments have been generally expressed in more
recent times. The present work does not present a
proper field on which to enter into a minute detail of the
many ingenious, though not always consistent, theories
which have been proposed in explanation of the numerous
anomalies observable in the structure and habits of this ex¬
traordinary assemblage of living creatures. Considered
even in regard to their external structure, something re¬
markable may be presumed to characterize a group of ani¬
mals regarding the division and arrangement of which
scarcely two naturalists of note have expressed the same
opinion. Baron Cuvier, as we have seen, made them con¬
stitute the fourth family of his Carnivorous Order; MM.
Geoffroy St Hilaire and Latreille regarded them as form¬
ing of themselves a separate order, while M. De Blainville
erected them into what he was pleased to call a sub-class of
the animal kingdom. In fact, as we have already observed,
the only principle on which zoological writers were formerly
of one mind in relation to the Marsupialia, was that
of holding the genera together in juxtaposition,—certainly
an unfortunate principle to proceed upon, if it can be shewn
to be inconsistent with the due consideration of those na¬
tural and undisputed analogies by which we profess our¬
selves to be guided in our arrangements of the other tribes.
It has been well observed, that the marsupial genera exhibit
the types of almost as many separate orders as exist among
all the other Mammalia; and no one will doubt of this being
in a great measure true, who has ever examined the well
armed jaws of a Didelphis or Dasyurus, and compared
them with the simple structure of the same parts in the
gentle wombat.
According to the principles of the natural system so
much (and deservedly) insisted on by the modern school,
the group of genera named Marsupialia, whether regard¬
ed as a family or an order, includes indeed such hetero¬
geneous elements, as bid defiance to every preconceived
form of classification. It is true that they all present some
peculiar modifications of the generative and lacteal systems;
and if the student has recourse to these alone, and regards
them as a sufficient and satisfactory basis for the establish¬
ment of a primary character, in conformity with the nature
of which the totality of the class Mammalia is to be parti¬
tioned into two great subdivisions, then the Monodelphs
and Didelphs of M. De Blainville may suffice. But if the
formation of a class, according to the admitted signification
of the term, depends upon the coexistence of certain cha¬
racters, neither few in number, nor of less than the highest
value and importance in their kind, it is difficult to see why
the mere existence of an external pouch, or duplication of
the abdominal skin, though connected with a very peculiar,
and it may be unaccountable mode of foetal production,
should suffice for the establishment of one of the greatest
divisions of which the animal kingdom is regarded as sus¬
ceptible. A bird differs in its class from a mammiferous ani¬
mal or quadruped commonly so called, on the one hand,
and from an amphibious animal or reptile on the other;
and it is distinguished from both by many essential orga-
nic attributes, which involve such a difference in the vital
functions and economy of the several subjects of these dif¬
ferent classes, as to render their mutual discrimination, as it
were, apparent to the most cursory observer. They not Marsu.
only differ in their mode of producing their young, and in pialia.
their method of rearing it, but also in the structure of the ' -
heart, the character of the respiratory and circulating sys¬
tems, the perfection of the senses, the number of the cer¬
vical vertebrae, and consequently in their whole external
form and aspect. But the marsupial animals, however dis¬
similar to each other, do not vary essentially from certain
types which occur in one or other of the numerous orders
of which the normal mammalia are composed; and with
these different genera they may assuredly be combined, in
a manner more consistent with the principles of the natural
system, than when they are allowed to constitute by them¬
selves a separate and exclusive division, by whatever name
it may be called. “ Let each of the marsupial genera be
classed according to the position pointed out by a careful
study of its natural and most influential characters; and if,
for example, the- structure of its teeth indicate a carnivo¬
rous disposition in one genus, an insectivorous one in ano¬
ther, or a herbivorous one in a third, then let each be re¬
ferred to its appropriate station in the general system, whe¬
ther as a member of the Carnivora, the Insectivora, or in
closer connection with the more harmless Glires. But do
not re-establish the worst parts of an artificial method, by
following a fanciful analogy in the structure of a secondary
and apparently uninfluential organ. That the marsupium
or pouch is not a character of a highly influential kind,
is evident from its occurrence in tribes and genera which
in every other respect are so variously and dissimilarly con¬
stituted. It does not, in short, afford a key to the rest ot
the organization.”2 The preceding observations may suffice
to guard the reader from the supposition that the Cuvierian
order of marsupial animals is of natural component parts
W e adhere, however, to that order, in conformity with our
adoption of the general principles of classification laid down
in the Regne Animal. The Marsupialia are arranged by
Owen into five varieties, according to their digestive organs.
These tribes appear to be confined entirely to New Hol¬
land, America, and one or two islands in the eastern seas.
They are unknown in Europe, Africa, and continental Asia.
We shall now proceed to a brief notice of the genera.
Division I. Long canines and small incisors in both
jaws. Abdominal pouch sometimes wanting.
The hind molars of this group are beset with points,
and in general all the characters of the teeth are those of
the insectivorous tribes, to which they consequently ap¬
proximate closely in their food and habits.
Genus Didelphis, Linn. Incisives-^, canines —~ \
8 1 — 1
molars
= 50 or 48.
Head long and coni¬
cal. Muzzle pointed. Mouth deeply cleft. Eyes placed
high, oblique. Ears large, thin, nearly naked, rounded in
their outlines. Tongue ciliated on the edges, and beset
with horny papillae. Five separate toes to each foot. The
thumb of the hinder extremities (which are plantigrade)
opposable, and destitute of nail; the nails of the other toes
curved. Tail rather long, round, scaly, and without hair
throughout the greater part of its extent. Stomach small
and simple; ccecum of medium size, not pouched.
This genus contains the most anciently known of the
marsupial tribes, and is peculiar to America, particularly the
southern division. The species are known under the ge¬
neral name of opossums. They are nocturnal animals, re¬
sembling martens in their habits, but are less active in their
movements. Their intelligence is limited, a fact in curi¬
ous conformity with the entire absence of all folds or con-
I hoc. cit. p. 174.
Wilson’s Illustrations of Zoology, voL L Order Marsupialia.
Marsu-
pialia.
mammalia.
175
M. Des* "hTfelie’ra^TJtht areincapab^of climbhig^trees like^eir^American^conge^
ners. They prey chiefly during the night, feeding
M. Desmoulins, that the intellectual faculties are in the
mrect ratio of the extent of the cerebral surfaces.2 They
dwell in woods, where they climb the branches of trees,
feeding on birds, eggs, reptiles, insects, and fruits. They
enter farm-yards, and commit great damage by sucking the
blood of poultry. b
One of the best known is the Virginian opossum, Plate
small quadrupeds, birds, insects, mollusca, and the remains
ot seals or other marine animals which they may occasion-
a ly find along the shore. The species (at present four in
number) are restricted to New Holland and Van Diemen’s
i^and. We may mention as an example the Das. ursinus
Dinck ( /JpJj'th 'ttwi'nn TTr»vv.^\  • i n i .
try of the Illinois, and is well tnown in°the southern Uni- settling £ kob^ TTw^Xr?.^'^,Marty de-'
structive to poultry. It, however, in return frequently fur¬
nished the convicts with a fresh dinner, and its flesh was
said in taste to resemble veal. As the settlement increased
they retired to the deeper recesses of the forest, where they
are still easily procured by traps, baited with any kind of
raw mpnf\ TVwA..   « •'
ted States. This species lives in fields and woods, and
often enters houses during the night, in search of domestic
birds, or other prey.. It brings forth upwards of a dozen
young at a time, which at first do not weigh above a grain.
iey ins>tmctiyely adhere to the teat, to which they conti-
nue fixed till they are as large as mice, and become cover¬
ed with hair. The first gestation lasts about six-and-twenty
days, and the offspring remain in the pouch for nearly twice
that period. Azara has seen them carried along by their
mother, by means of their little tails twisted round that of
their parent.
The crab-eating opossum {D. cancrivora, Gmel.) is a more
restricted species. (See Plate VII., figures 5 and 5 a.)
It inhabits the coasts of Guiana and Brazil, and besides the
usual prey, is said to feed greedily on crabs, which, accord¬
ing to Laborde, it catches by introducing its tail into their
holes. Several other species are described by naturalists.
Genus Thylacinus, Temm. Distinguished from the
preceding by the want of thumb on the hinder extremities.
raw meat. Their tracks are often seen on the sea shore.
Genus Perameles, Geoff.
7—7
Incisors canines
D
i — l
molars
1 — 1,
7 7 > ^ 48. Head elongated, muzzle pointed.
Feet with five toes, of which the fore paws have the inner-
most and outermost merely rudimentary, and without nails,
and the middle toe the largest. The hind feet have the
thumb or innermost toe rudimentary, and without nail, the
second and third united under a common integument as
far as the nads, the fourth the largest and most elongate,
and the fifth or outer toe next in size to the preceding.
Although systematic writers describe three species of
this genus, the only one as yet distinctly known is the long-
haired. mouerate size, and New Holland, an insectivorous animal resembling a large
the Thylacinus Harrisii of Temminck.4 This animal is
as large as a wolf, though somewhat lower in the legs,
and may be regarded as the strongest and largest of all the
flesh-eating species of Australia. It is of a greyish colour,
with transverse bands of black on the hinder parts of the
body. The head is large, and resembles that of a dog. It
dwells among rocks and caverns, in the deep and almost
inaccessible glens in the vicinity of the highest mountains
of its native island, and is said to prey upon the brush kan¬
garoo and other quadrupeds. Some authors allege that it
feeds on Ornithorhynchi, Echidnae, and crabs, and that its
compressed tail gives it great power and activity as a swim¬
mer But we find nothing of this kind given by its origi¬
nal describer, who does not even mention it as a littoral
species, although M. Temminck, and in his wake subse¬
quent compilers, make it inhabit rocks by the sea shore.
It may do so, but the fact is not stated by Mr Harris.
As we cannot detail the characters of all the minor mar¬
supial groups, we may here note that the Didelphis peni-
cillata of Dr Shaw, and the Dasyurus minimus of Geoffrey,
form the genus Phascogale of Temminck.
Genus 'Dasyurus, Geoff. Incisives canines
4 ’ 1 — 1’
i 6 — 6
1110 ars 6 6 ’ Anteri°r feet with five toes, armed
with curved claws, the posterior with four, and a fifth in
a rudimentary state, without nail, and distant from the
others.
The Dasyuri approach the opossums {Didelphis') in their
general organization, but wanting the strong thumb of the
..i, .AT/ *■' . Jameson, consisted in tins,
that the marsupium, or abdominal pouch for the reception
of the foetal young, did not open from above downwards, as
in most other marsupial animals, but commenced almost
imperceptibly at the distance of half an inch from the an-
termr margin of the anus, and extended upwards beneath a
thick fold of the skin as far as the sternum,—the entrance
of the sack being arched upwards, and quite open for more
than an inch from its lower or posterior margin. The whole
cavity was lined with soft, very short, white, woolly hair,
and its panetes were remarkably soft and dilatable.5
Division II. Two long incisives in the lower jaw, pro¬
jecting forwards. Six incisives in the upper jaw. The
upper canines, as usual, long and pointed, but the
lower so small as to be frequently hidden in the gums.
Thumb of the hinder extremities separate and oppo¬
sable, the two following toes shorter than the others
and united as far as the toes. The intestines and the
ccecum long. An abdominal pouch in all the females.
The regime of this division, as might be inferred from
the structure of the teeth and intestines, is almost entirely
frugivorous. J
Genus Phalangista, Cuv. The Phalangers properly
^ called, exhibit rm extension of the skin along the flanks.
I hey have in each jaw four posterior molars presenting a
double range of points, besides a large anterior tooth com¬
pressed and conical, between which and the upper canine
teeth are two others small and pointed. To the latter
correspond the very small teeth of the under jaw already
2 ?ee ^ ie<lemann,/con. Cereb. Sirniar. et quer. Mammal, rar. tab. 5. fig. 9.
bee the article Cerebrospinal of the Diction. Classique d'Hist. Nat. t. iii n 3fil
3 Linn. Trans, vol. ix. pi. 19. 4 nrZZ. j iV
th5 Geeftheidetailed observation3 with we were kin41y furnished by Dr Granr^'/thp^r tt ■ - a
the first volume of our Illustrations of Zoolony. ^ ^ - t (of the London University), and published in
176
MAMMALIA.
Marsu- mentioned in the divisional character. The tail is prehen-
pialia. gile.
* The species inhabit the Moluccas, New Holland, and
Van Diemen’s Land. They in some measure represent
in the ancient world the opossums of America, but they
differ greatly in their teeth. Those of the Moluccas and
other eastern islands dwell in trees, and feed on fruits and
insects. Their flesh is eaten, though it exhales a disagree-
-able odour. The tail is naked and scaly. M. Temminck
distinguishes five species,—Phal. ursina, chrysorrhos, ma-
culata, cavifrons, and Quoy. In the Australian species, the
tail is furred. The latter amount to three,—Phal. vulpina,
Cookii, and nana, Temm.1
In the genus Petaurus of Shaw, which includes those
animals commonly called flying Phalangers, the skin of the
sides is more or less extended. By this structure they are
partly supported in the air, so that their leaping powers are
greatly increased. They are peculiar to New Holland. In
some of the species, canine teeth still exist in the lower
jaw, but extremely small in size. The upper canines, and
the first three molars, both above and below, are very
pointed. The posterior molars have each four points. As
an example, we may name the pigmy opossum of Shaw
{Pet. pygmcea of Desmarest, who of this group forms his
subgenus of Voltigeur or Acrabata), one of the smallest
of quadrupeds, scarcely exceeding a mouse in size. The
hairs of the tail are beautifully disposed on either side, like
the barbs of a quill. (See Plate VII., figures 7 and 7 a.)
Other species want the lower canine teeth, and the upper
ones are very diminutive. The four hinder molars also
present four points, but somewhat curved or lunate, in
which they approximate those of the ruminants. There
are two additional anterior molars above and one below, of
a less complicated character,—a structure which, as Cuvier
observes, "renders the species more frugivorous than the
preceding.
Division HI. Two long projecting incisors in the lower
jaw and six in the upper. Canine teeth in the upper
jaw only. Hinder paws long and narrow, without thumb,
the first two toes being very small, and united together
as far as the base of the nails. An abdominal pouch
in the females.
The only genus of this division is that called Hypsi-
prymnus by Illiger, consisting of the kangaroo rat, Hyp.
murinus, Desm. {Macropus minor, Shaw). It has on each
side of both jaws a long-shaped anterior molar, cutting and
dentated, followed by four others beset by four blunt tu¬
bercles. There is only a single species known, of a mouse
colour, equalling a small rabbit in size. Its regimen is her¬
bivorous, its stomach large, divided into two sacks, and
much pursed. The ccecum is rather small and rounded.
This animal is called potoroo by the natives of New Hol¬
land.2 The great length of its hinder extremities indicates
its leaping powers.
Division IV. No canine teeth in either jaw.
Genus Macropus, Shaw, Cuv. Halmaturus, Illiger.
Kangurus, Geoff. Desm. Incisives canine   r, m
2 0 — 0
lars
5 — 5
5’
= 28.
Extremities disproportioned, the fore
legs being small, short, and furnished with five toes; the
hinder legs, much lengthened, and muscular, with only Marsu.
four toes, of which the two inner are very small and united pialia.
together. Tail lengthened, strong, furnished with power- —v—
ful muscles, and of great use in locomotion. Hair woolly.
An abdominal pouch in the female.
This singular genus, of which nearly a dozen species have
been described by voyagers and systematic writers, con¬
tains the animals commonly called kangaroos. “ Buffon,
whose only errors were those of genius, clearly perceived
that every continent, in its animal productions, presented
the appearance of a special creation ; but he gave an uni¬
versality to this proposition, of which it is not altogether
susceptible. It is nevertheless true, even at the present
day, within certain limits. A great number of the Asiatic
animals are not found in Africa, and vice versa. The le¬
murs seem to exist only in Madagascar. America is peo¬
pled with a host of mammalia exclusively peculiar to itself,
and there are many more in Europe not to be found in the
other quarters of the globe. The discovery of Australia
has given an additional support to the opinion of Buffon.
The species of animals there discovered have not only no
affinity with those of the other continents, but, in fact, be¬
long, for the most part, to genera altogether different. Such
are those mammalia which the natives of New Holland call
kangaroo, and which offer to the observation of the natural¬
ist organic peculiarities perceivable in no other animal, with
the exception of a single species. It is in this tribe that,
for the first time, we view the singular phenomenon of an
animal using its tail as a third hind leg in standing upright
and in walking.” 3
Kangaroos in general dwell in small troops of from twelve
to thirty, under the guidance of an old male. In a state of
repose they rest as it were upon a kind of tripod, composed
of the two hinder legs and tail, the body being nearly per¬
pendicular, and the head extended horizontally. In mov¬
ing leisurely they employ their fore feet like other quadru¬
peds, but, in more rapid progression, they advance by pro¬
digious bounds, leaping, it is said, nearly thirty feet at a
single spring. MM. Quoy and Gaymard, however, who
often hunted these animals, inform us, “ que lorsqu’ils
etaient vivement poursuivis par les chiens, ils couraient
toujours sur leurs quatre pieds, et n’executaient de grands
sauts que quand ils rencontraient des obstacles a franchir.”
The support which they receive from their tails is also of
great advantage in self-defence, by enabling them to inflict
severe wounds with their hind feet. In the natural state
their habits are herbivorous, but in a domestic condition
they eat almost every kind of food. Their own flesh is
held in considerable estimation, and as they now breed freely
in this country, the time may come when we shall find a joint
of kangaroo an acceptable and frequent dish upon our own
tables. The females bring forth only one or two at a time.
One of the largest species of the genus is that described
in Cook’s first voyage. It is the Macropus major of Shaw
{Kangurus labiatus of Desm.), and is distinguished by its
fur of an ashy grey colour above, paler below, a transverse
band of grey upon the chin, the upper surface of the legs
and tail being of a blacker hue. It measures nearly six
feet in height, and is well known in the neighbourhood of
Botany Bay. Mr Cunningham probably alludes to the
hunting of this species in the following passage :—“ From
the great length of their hind legs and tail, they are enabled
to stand on the firm bottom, while the dogs are obliged to
swim, and in this way a fight between a large kangaroo and
1 The last named species is not inserted in the second edition of the Rcgne Animal, but another is described under the name of
Phal. Bougainvillii. h or the descriptions, see Monograph, de Mammalogie, p. 1. #
2 White’s Voyage to New South Wales, p. 286. Philip’s Voyage to Botany Bay, p. 277- M. F. Cuvier is of opinion that the ob.
servations of MAX. C^uoy and Ciaymard have established the existence of other species besides the kangaroo-rat above named. To
the latter they give the name of 11. Whilei. It is probably identical with Kangums Gaimardi of Desmarest.
* Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iii. p. 47.
a pack of dogs affords a most amusing spectacle. The
kangaroo stands generally upright, with his fore paws spread
out before him, wheeling round and round to ward off his
assailants ; and whenever one arrives within reach he
pounces his paws upon him, and, sousing him suddenly
under, holds him fast in this position, gazing all the while
around with the most solemn simpleton sort of aspect, heed¬
less of the kicking and sprawling of his victim, whom he
quickly puts an end to, if some courageous colleague does
not m good time advance to aid, and force the kangaroo to
let his half-drowned antagonist bob above water again, who
paddles forthwith toward shore, shaking his ears and look¬
ing most piteously, with no inclination to venture in a se¬
cond time, notwithstanding all the halloos and cheerWs
with which you urge him.” 1
The preceding is sometimes confounded with a still larger
species, called the sooty kangaroo (K. geant of F. Cuvier),
which inhabits the south coast of New Holland, and is sup¬
posed likewise to occur in the vicinity of Port Jackson.
1 he latter is seen m large troops, which, in the course of
their habitual movements, form broad well-beaten footpaths,
which a stranger would readily mistake for those occasion¬
ed by a numerous and active colony of the human race.
Another species, called the banded kangaroo {K. fasciatus,
Peron and Lesueu),2 inhabits the islands (Bernier, &c.) on
the west coast of New Holland. Its ears are smaller, and
its tail feebler, than the same parts of the other species.
It dwells among almost impenetrable thickets of a low
growing species of mimosa, through which it forms nume¬
rous galleries, communicating with each other, and in which
it seeks refuge on the approach of danger. From these
and other peculiarities in its form and habits, M. Fred.
Cuvier regards it as the type of a genus distinct from Ma-
cropus, and on which he bestows the name of Halmaturus,
originally proposed by Illiger for the kangaroos.3 We
think it unnecessary to extend our observations on animals,
the general habits of which have of late years been so fre¬
quently described, and shall merely name Le Brun’s kan¬
garoo (the Javan opossum of Pennant and Shaw, K. Brunii,
Desm.) as a species which occurs somewhat beyond the
range of its nearest allies. It inhabits the Aroe Islands,
and, according to Le Brun, digs in the earth like a rab¬
bit.4
MAMMALIA.
177
a middle-sized dog, and inhabits the banks of the river rw*
Vapaum in New Holland. STV
llodentia
Division VI.
Two cylindrical truncated incisives in each
jaw. No canines.
Division V. Two long incisive teeth in the under jaw,
no canines; two long incisives in the middle of the
upper jaw, with some smaller lateral ones, and two
small canines.
This division, like the preceding, contains only a single
S,?mnT'y ca,'^th« Wombat, which constitutes the
the lr. J? alcolomys °f Geoffrey and Cuvier. In addition to
e teeth.uboyc mentioned, there are five molars in each side
abo„t ?hf7’ 0rAei\ty-four teeth ^ all. The wombat is
about the size of a badger, and, in its general aspect, re-
rWl 68 u'T b?r' In its dentition and intestines it is
ahmuy *llierd to ,the frder Rodentia, which we are now
ferent B ^ l 6 articulati°n of the lower jaw is dif-
. JlS jlabl7’ however, are herbivorous. Captain
audin introduced two specimens into the French Mena¬
gerie from the south coast of New Holland. Their mo¬
tions were slow, their dispositions gentle and passive ; and
tK1 WW?’ I80, 3!' aS the absence of fear was concerned,
they exhibited little sense or discrimination. In their na¬
tural state they live m burrows, and the female brings forth
three or four young at a birth. Peron stated that the
flesh of the wombat is much esteemed by the seal-fishers,
and Cuvier expressed his desire that it should be natu¬
ralized in the basse-cours of France, as likely to prove a
valuable addition to the table. It is the Phase, wombat
(see Plate VII figure 6) of Peron and Lesueur,6 the
J to. Bassii of Lesson,7 and the Wombatus fossor of
CreofFroy.8 Some confusion has arisen in its history in
consequence of Bass (and we believe also Flinders) having
described under the name of wombat, an animal of cor¬
responding external aspect, but furnished with six incisives,
two canines, and sixteen molars in each jaw. The latter
has by some been referred to the genus Phascolarctos, with
which, however, its dentition is equally discordant. We
know, in truth, little of the animals (whether of one or more
species) hitherto recorded under the title of wombat, ex¬
cept that they are feeble defenceless creatures, inhabiting
certain islands in Bass’s Straits.8 They seem to have been
first noticed by Dr Shaw, in his crude compendium, under
the name of ursine opossum,™ and a good deal has been
since written about them to very little purpose. Mr Ben-
net, however, informs us, that a wombat was kept alive, and
in a tame state, at Been, in the Jumal country. It usually
lemained in its habitation till dark, and then came out in
search of the keelers or milk vessels, from which it would
contrive to get off the covers, and would then bathe itself
m the milk, drinking at the same time. It would also en¬
ter the little vegetable garden attached to the station, in
search of lettuces, to which it evinced great partiality ; and
when none could be found, it would gnaw the cabbage
stalks without touching the leaves.11 6
Here naturalists place only a single species, the Phas¬
colarctos fuscus of Blainville, commonly called the Koala.
Besides the teeth mentioned in the preceding divisional
character, this animal has four molars on each side of both
jaws, making twenty-eight teeth in all. Its feet are pen-
tadactylous.5 Its ears large and pointed, with the conch
directed forward. The limbs are short, and the tail want- Order IV—GLIRES or RODENTIA GNAWFI?«;
mg. It somewhat resembles a bear in its aspect, and is ’
said both to climb trees with facility and to burrow in the
ground. The female carries about her young for a long
time upon her back. The koala attains the dimensions of
The following are the principal characters of this exten¬
sive order. Two large incisive teeth in each jaw, separat¬
ed by an empty space from the molars. No canine teeth
1 Two Years in New South Wales, vol. i. 314. 2 Vmmno „„„ rr„ a , , ....
S We he has bestowed this name of Halmaturus saltus, cauda) on the snecieTwhichTupnVl %
4 Voyage aux Indes, p. 374, pi. 213. See also Gould’s Mammals of Australia P 1 ^ befitS-
poucl lLseo!$P ^ i. p. 188. « Le
: "rvr sr -"t- ^^ * r»ex°“rft3s6t *koala-
Aaturahsts differ even in their simple observation of the form of the intestines TRo ' JJWf‘ t’
m a”d sle"ler\ whiIe Cuvier describes it “ gros et court ” It is furnished with an appendix vermiformis! ° Geoffroy’ 18 very
V Sir E. Hnme in FAV7 rr  •' n „
io 7 n- , ~ . lumisneu wicn an arypei
ueneral Zoology, vol. i. p. 504. Its anatomy described by Sir E. Home in Ihil Tram
VOL. XIV. ‘
11 Wanderings, vol. i. p. 330.
178
MAMMALIA.
Glires or Molar teeth either with flat crowns, or with more or less of
llodentia. a tuberculated surface. The four extremities terminated
unguiculated toes, which vary in number according to
the species. Thumb sometimes rudimentary or obsolete ;
never opposable to the other toes. Number of mammae
various. Orbits not separated from the temporal fossae.
Lower jaw articulated by a longitudinal condyle. Hinder
extremities exceeding the anterior in length. Stomach
simple ; intestines very long ; coecum large, but sometimes
wanting.1
The genera of this order confine themselves chiefly to
a vegetable diet, by which we mean not only leguminous
plants, but grain, grasses, fruit, nuts, and other productions
of the earth. They derive their name of gnawers from
their mode of eating, which consists in reducing their food
by a continuous action of the front teeth, into very small
particles, instead of tearing it like the carnivorous tribes,
or grinding it by a lateral motion, like the ruminating ones.
In the Rodentia, the lower jaw is so articulated as to ad¬
mit, in addition to the vertical movement which must ne¬
cessarily obtain in all the higher animals, of a motion back¬
wards and forwards, but not lateral; and in fine adapta¬
tion to this structure, the raised plates of the molar teeth
are placed transversely, so as to act in more direct opposi¬
tion to the confined horizontal movement of the jaw, thus
aiding the power of triturition. A few of the species (such,
for example, as the earless marmot, M. citillus, Linn.), are
somewhat carnivorously inclined, and in natural accordance
with this propensity, their molar teeth are jagged, or more
sharply tuberculated than in other genera. Several of the
murine species may be said to be omnivorous, and have
become colonized in many foreign regions, through the un¬
intentional agency of man. Most of the hybernating quad¬
rupeds belong to this order. The Rodentia seem to inha¬
bit all parts of the known world, with the exception of the
numerous islands which compose the different central ar¬
chipelagoes of the South Seas, where they do not occur as
aboriginal. They are creatures of a timid disposition,—
their habits for the most part nocturnal.
Division I. With clavicles.
Genus Sciurus. Linn. Cuv.
Incisors §, canine °n—-*
J U —— 0
= 22.2 Anterior paws with four toes, fur-
molars    
4 — 4
nished with curved compressed claws, thumb tubercular ;
posterior paws with five toes, which, as well as the tarsus,
are elongated. Tail long, usually furnished with an ample
fur of considerable length. Two pectoral and six ventral
mammae.
The species of this genus, commonly called Squirrels, are
with few exceptions essentially arboreal in their habits, and
pass their lives among the umbrageous branches of forest
trees, where they construct a spherical nest, composed of
twigs, leaves, and moss, intermingled occasionally with a
portion of fur apparently plucked from their own bodies.
Certain species, however, inhabit burrows at the base of
trees. Squirrels are extensively distributed over the whole
earth, with the exception of New Holland, where as yet
none has been discovered. Buffon was in error when he
supposed the species in general to be characteristic of the
colder and temperate regions of the earth ; for we now re-
ceive many fine kinds from the warmest countries of Asia,
and the sultry forests of Africa are by no means unproduc¬
tive of these agile tribes. The species, howerer, are much
more abundant in North America than in Europe.
The distichous or divergent character of the fur upon
the tail, and the absence or existence of cheek pouches.
furnish characters by which the genus is divided into minor Glires or
£rouPs; , Itodentia.
Of those with distichous tails, but unprovided with cheek ^—y—
pouches, our common squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris), affords
a familiar example. This beautiful and active creature is
widely dispersed over the cold and temperate zones of the
ancient continent, and its external colour and aspect vary
with the diversified climates under which it occurs. Several
imaginary species have been described by travellers not
conversant with the modifications which it undergoes. In
Britain, France, and Southern Germany, the fur is always
of a reddish-brown above, more or less lively according to
the season, and of a pure white below. In the northern
parts of Europe and Asia, it assumes a much grayer hue
in winter, owing to the hairs becoming encircled with whit¬
ish rings. A black variety is described by Pallas and
Gmelin as native to the rugged and mountainous regions
which surround Lake Baikal; but it is more than probable
that it will be found to constitute a distinct species. The
common squirrel does not hybernate or become torpid
during winter, but stores up in the trunk of a tree a supply
of nuts, acorns, pine seeds, &c., to which it has recourse,
when the ordinary supplies of the forest have fallen or been
exhausted. Its graceful and varied postures, with its beau¬
tifully flowing tail, its sparkling eyes and tufted ears, its
activity and cunning in a state of nature, and familiar pe¬
tulance in confinement, are all too generally known to need
description. It never breeds in captivity. The only other
European species with which we are acquainted is the
Sciurus alpinus of M. F. Cuvier, a native of the Alps and
Pyrenees. In its general size and proportions it resembles
the common kind, but its head is somewhat less. Its co¬
lour is deep brown, speckled with yellowish-white above,
the under parts being pure white. The inner surface of
the limbs is grey ; the edges of the lips are white. A ful¬
vous band separates the white and grey of the under parts
from the brown of the upper. A male and female lived
for a long time in the Menagerie of the French Museum,
and the colours of their coat underwent no change, further
than that the brown became somewhat blacker in win¬
ter, and that the tail, during the latter season, assumed a
greyer aspect.3 For the numerous foreign species we must
refer the reader to the works of systematic authors. We
have figured as an example of the genus, the Sciurus cine-
reus of America. (See Plate VIII., figure 1.)
The flying squirrels belong to the genus Pteromys of
Cuvier, and are characterized by an extension of the late¬
ral skin, which spreads out from the fore to the hind legs,
and, by acting as a parachute, greatly aids them in the act
of leaping. A species (Sciurus volans, Linn. Pt. Sibiri-
cus, Desm.), occurs in Poland, Russia, and Siberia. It
feeds chiefly on the young shoots of nine trees, and, ac¬
cording to Pallas, its excrements thru acquire so resinous
a quality, that they burn wdth a pure bright flame. It springs
from branch to branch and from tree to tree with the most
surprising agility. It is not readily tamed, and bites se¬
verely when in a state of irritation. Another flying squir¬
rel (Pt. volucella, Desm.), erroneously earned polatouche
by Buffon, from the Russian name polatucka (which ap¬
plies to the preceding species), inhabits the United States.
(See Plate VIII., figures 4 and 2.) It lives well in
captivity ; and it even appears that a pair bred at Malraai-
son in 1809. This animal is frequently brought alive to
Europe Several other species inhabit the Eastern Islands.4
Gen _s Cheiromys. Cuv. Geoff. Incisors canine^ ^
4 4
molars .^—rd ; = 18. Five toes to all the feet,—those of
1
2
3
As in the dormice. Genus Myoxis.
Vi! ul)Per. javv to occur only in the young, and disappears in the adult state.
Muminalogie, p. 332, and the article Ecureuil of the Diction. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. vi. p.
Horsfield’s Zoological Researches, liv. 4 and 5.
p. 67.
MAMMALIA.
179
furai“edSw”thea teSea’n releT' ?0mblne in formin* a su>>- GUre, or
V sable thumb. Two inguinal mammae. PI . , t t’ contnve(I with great art, and consisting Itodentia.
This singular genus, regarding the true position of which or passage r^cePtacle’ Wlth a lar8e canal" “
^ - K; strs; ir„rd:s!:s:fa°dt,eaS
snnnliorl  j.  *^1 i ^ *
turalists, contains only one species, the aye-aye of Mada¬
gascar or long-fingered Lemur of Shaw (Lemur psylodac-
tylus, Schreber, Sciurus Madagascariensis, Gmelin). This
animal is of the size of a hare, its colour brown mingled
with yellow, its ears large and almost bare, its tail very
long, and rather densely clothed with long blackish hair,
(bee Plate VIII., figures 3 and 6.) The aye-aye is
slow in its movements, of timid disposition and nocturnal
if" 1*70 CJ Cl J L. O - . .I
supplied during autumn with an ample store of moss and
iiay. During the joyous summer season the alpine mar¬
mots are often seen sporting near their holes, or sitting up-
ngit in the enjoyment of the genial sunshine; but it is
said that a, sentinel is usually placed on the summit of a
neighbouring crag, to give warning of approaching danger.
Certain it is that they are very wary, and not easily sur-
pnsed at any distance from their subterranean retreats.
habits. It was discovered by Sonnerat on the eastern coast When thVl!7 dls.tance f0™ their subterranean retreats,
of Madagascar. Little is' known of its natural history • but of th • increa*inS (:old of autumn betokens the approach
a pair, kept alive for some months by the French teller to .7 sleep, b<^e themselves
fed on boiled rice, in the eating of wMch they mJe ns" of 1;,! X t ^ Wh‘lh the>: l,ave I’teviously famished
their long fingers, pretty much in the way in ^deh the m W Tmer,hay-, With «* **■»<=, or some si-
* - y Wmcn tne milar material, they also close up the opening to their
Chinese employ their chop-sticks. In a state of freedom
it is said to pick out larvae and other insects from beneath
the bark of trees. In its distinct orbits, the form of the
hind teet, and other characters, it seems allied to the quad-
rumanous order (at the termination of which it is placed by
M. Desmarest), but its teeth are those of the Roden tial tribes.
2
2’
Genus Arctomys, Gmel. Mm, Linn. Incisors ca¬
nines
0—0 . 5—5
0 — o’ mo ars 5~ZT5 ’ — 22. Anterior paws with four
fingers, and the rudiments of a thumb; posterior with five.
Tail of medium length, or short.
The marmots are subterranean dwellers, living together
gregariously, and subject to the torpid state in winter. Al¬
though they feed on roots and other vegetation, the some¬
what pointed tubercles of the molar teeth indicate a de¬
parture from the strictly herbivorous character, and they
are easily induced to eat both flesh and insects. They
are usually extremely fat, prior to the assumption of the
torpid state, and the epiploon is then furnished with nu¬
merous adipose leaflets; when they awake again on the
return of spring, they are very thin, and their weight
has become sensibly diminished, a proof that the fatty sub¬
stance with which they are so amply furnished, supports
the system not only in hybernation, but also during those
trying periods wdien they are roused by any accidental al¬
ternation of temperature.1 It is seldom, however, that they
are exposed to sudden changes in those deep burrows, in
w hich they take their winter sleep. The genus is at pre¬
sent composed of a great amount of species, the majority
of which inhabit the temperate and colder regions of both
continents. Above a dozen occur in North America, and
(including the three species brought from Buckharia by
M. Eversham), about eight are found in Europe.2
The most generally known species is the marmot of the
Alps (Arct. marmotta, Gmel., Mus alpinus, Linn.), an ani¬
mal somewhat larger than a rabbit, of a yellowish-grey co¬
lour, ashy towards the head, the upper part of which, and
y ... ' —j   '-‘j, me opening to ineir
dwelling, and soon fall into a torpid state, which continues
till the spring. When they first enter their winter quar¬
ters they are extremely fat, but become emaciated after
the lapse of a few months. If carefully dug up they may
be carried away without awakening; but the heat of a
warm chamber speedily restores them to active life. In
like manner, if well cared for in confinement, they do not
assume the torpid state. From these, and other facts well
Known to naturalists, it would appear that hybernating ani¬
mals are not condemned to torpidity by any inherent qua¬
lity of their nature, but that it is rather a provisional fa¬
culty, dependent on external circumstances, and may con¬
sequently be interrupted, postponed, or altogether pre¬
vented, by regulating the conditions under which the indi¬
vidual is placed.3 The Alpine marmot is less productive
than most of its order. It brings forth only once a year,
and produces four or five young at a birth. These increase
rapidly, and are not only easy to tame, but may be taught
to perform various tricks and gesticulations. In a domes¬
tic state they are almost omnivorous, and in eating they
sit upright, and use their pawrs like a squirrel.
Another noted species is the bobac or Polish marmot
(Arctomys bobac, Gmelin). It is found in Poland, in the
basins of the Dnieper and Borysthenes, and spreads through
the north of Asia into Kamtschatka. It lives in groups of
from twenty to forty, digging deep excavations on the
southern sides of hills of no great elevation, and resembles
the preceding species in its general habits. The souslik
or variegated marmot (Arctomys citillus, Gmel.) differs in
not being gregarious. It is of a more irascible disposition,
and exhibits a tendency to prey on animal food. In addi¬
tion to the supply of hay, chiefly used for bedding by the
other species, this kind stores up roots, nuts, grain, &c. from
which its winter sleep may be inferred to be less profound.
Pallas, indeed, informs us, that such as are occasionally
found in granaries are observed in motion even during the
winter season.4 The so-called variegated or Siberian
marmot has a widely extended distribution, occurring in
Austria. anrl TTnI)— • i
the end of the tail, are black. It inhabits high mountains Austria'’ ^Bohemir^Zir^mnean^Rn^1011’ 0YCcumnf.in
immediately beneath the line of perpetual snow. Though northwards into Siberia, KamtschaS^
of a stupid aspect, ,t is a creature not only of great instinc- islands, and soutlmards to Persia and HtadusL The
tive intelligence, but also susceptible of education, while species of this genus are likewise numeroTin nX, Ame
abits, m a state of nature, are in every way worthy of nca j5 of these, however, we shall here notice only the
1 Mangili’s Mtmoire sur le Lethargic des Marmottes.
2 For the species see Pallas’s Nov. sp. Quadrup. e Glir. Ord. and the Fauna Boreali-Americana nart i
bee the article Animal Kingdom of this work, vol. iii. p. 180. ’ "
4 It may be here noted, however, that under the title of Mus citillus, Pallas is supposed to have de^riW tWc a- ,
marmot, two of which he regarded as varieties of the other. The actual distribution of e-ich htheref - i sPecies of
bee Novce species Quadrupednm e Glirium Ordine; and for the recent species, Voyage a Boukhara mr M |(o>° )a •V,n0l e ‘i-rcumseribed.
in which the animals collected by M. Eversman are described by Lichtenstein. ’ ^ ’ aron Meyendorff, in 1820,
1,.or ^ Marmots of the New World, see Godman’s American Natural History, vol ii Dr IDrhn’s s ■ tv.
Travels of Lewis and Clarke, ami SirJ.Richardson’s work already so frequently referred to. ’ Harlans Fauna Americana, the
180
MAMMALIA.
Glires or Quebec marmot (Arctomys empetra, see Plate VIII.,
Kodentia. figures 5 and 8) of Pennant.1 It inhabits woody districts, at
J v least as far north as lat. 61°. Although it is a subterranean
species, it also climbs trees and bushes, probably in search
of buds or other vegetation. The natives capture it by
pouring water into the hole which it inhabits. They consi¬
der its flesh as a delicacy when in good condition. Its fur,
however, is of no value.
Incisives ca-
2
nines
Genus Mvoxis, Gmelint Mus, Linn
0 0 4 4
0 _ q> molars 4 ; = 20. No cheek pouches.
Anterior paws with four toes and a rudimentary thumb;
posterior with five. Tail long, sometimes round and bushy,
sometimes depressed and distichous, occasionally tufted
only at the extremity. Hair very fine and soft. No cce-
cum.
The beautiful species, commonly called dormice, which
constitute this genus, seem characteristic of Europe.
They resemble squirrels in many of their habits, live in
woods, and store up provisions for their winter store, al¬
though they pass most of that season in torpidity.2 Their
food consists chiefly of nuts and fruits, but they are said to
attack occasionally the eggs and young of small birds.
They pair in spring, and bring forth usually about five young
in summer. Many curious observations have been made
upon the nature of their hybernal sleep by Mangili, Saissy,
Edwards, and others. Respiration is suspended and re¬
newed at regular intervals, which vary, however, with the
temperature. Thus, at 3° an individual observed by Man¬
gili respired twenty-four or twenty-five times consecutive¬
ly in a minute, after four minutes of repose. Their bodily
temperature also falls. A lerot or garden dormouse, which
in summer shewed a heat of 36° 5', exhibited in December
only 21°. Edwards has shewn that hybernating animals
habitually produce less heat than other warm-blooded spe¬
cies, and that in that respect they continue permanently
under the same conditions as the young of ordinary animals.
The fat dormouse (Myoxis gits, see Plate VIII., figure
7) is the most nearly allied to the squirrels. It dwells
m forests, climbs trees, and leaps from branch to branch
with considerable agility. It builds its bed in hollow trees,
or in rocky clefts, dislikes moisture, and rarely descends to
the ground. It is confined to the warmer and temperate
parts of Europe, and was used by the Romans (as it still
is in Italy) as food. That luxurious people fattened it for
the table in receptacles called Gliraria ; and Martial was
of opinion, that in spite of long continued abstinence it be¬
came fattened by its winter sleep :
* Tota mihi dormitur hiems; et pinguior illo
Tempore sum quo me nil nisi somnus alit.”
The flavour of its flesh resembles that of the guinea-pig.
The lerot or garden dormouse (AT. niteld) is more nume¬
rous and widely spread than the preceding. It inhabits
temperate Europe as far north as Poland, and frequently
occurs in gardens and outhouses. It inhabits holes in
walls and hollow trees, and is injurious from its habit of
climbing espalier trees, and eating the best and ripest
fruit, especially peaches. It is itself uneatable. The mus-
cardine (our English dormouse, Alyoxus muscardinus,
Gmelin, 3Tus avellanarius, Linn.) is scarcely larger than
a common mouse. It never enters houses, but inhabits Glires or
woods, where it makes a nest like that of the squirrel, com- Rodentia.
posed of interlaced herbage opening from above, and usually " v—'
placed on a hazel bush, or some low growing tree. It hv-
bernates in hollow trees, occurs over Europe from Italy to
Sweden, and is the only British species. Although ex¬
tremely lethargic it is easily roused from torpidity, by
either a diminution or increase of temperature. M. Man¬
gili exposed a dormouse in a lethargic state to an artificial
cold of 10°, and it died in twenty minutes. When opened
a great quantity of blood was found in the ventricles of the
heart and in the principal vessels connected with the lungs,
while the lungs themselves, as well as the veins of the neck,
head, and brain, were much distended.
Genus Echimys, Geoff. Incisives —, canines ^
2 0 — 0
4 4
molars ^ ^ ; rr 20. No cheek pouches. Four toes and
the vestige of a thumb on the anterior feet; the posterior
with five toes. Tail long, scaly, slightly haired. Fur
coarse, and intermingled with flattened spines.
This genus consists of several South American species
usually designated spiny rats, although in some the hair
is of the usual kind. We know little of their history or
habits. The red species (Ech. spinosns) is described by
Azara as digging burrows in dry and sandy soils, four or
five feet long, about eight inches beneath the surface, and
sometimes so numerous and close together, as to render
precaution necessary on the part of the pedestrian. It mea¬
sures about eight inches in length.
Genus Hydromys, Geoff. Incisives —, molars ^ ^:
2 2 — 2
= 12. Feet with five toes, the thumb almost enveloped
in the skin, the anterior toes free, those of the hinder ex¬
tremities connected by a swimming membrane. Tail
nearly as long as the body, cylindrical, pointed at the ex¬
tremity, and covered with coarse hair.
Two Australasian animals (ZT. leucogaster and chryso-
gaster, Geoff.3), by some regarded as varieties of each
other, constitute this obscurely known genus. The yel¬
low-bellied species was described from a single individual
killed by a sailor on an island in the straits of Entrecas-
teaux, while it was endeavouring to hide itself beneath a
heap of stones. (See Plate VIII., figures 9 and 12.)
Its fur is softer and finer than that of the white-bellied spe¬
cies. Both kinds measure about a foot in length, besides
the tail, which extends eleven inches. In the first edition
of the Regne Animal, they were erroneously regarded as
natives of Guiana, and their supposed attributes are still
commingled with those of a South American animal of am¬
phibious habits, called the Coypou (genus Myopotamus of
Commerson). Setting aside, then, the generalities which
apply to the latter animal, we believe that nothing is known
of the habits of the Hydromys. They are, in the mean
time, inferred to resemble those of our water rats.4
We shall here merely name the
Genus Capromys of Desmarest, which contains two spe¬
cies native to the island of Cuba, where they are known to
have been used as food by the natives. They resemble
enormous rats.5
Genus Mus, Cuv. Desm.
Incisives molars |
£ 3 — 3
The Quebec marmot of Forster (Phil. Trans. Ixh. p. 378), is, however, another species—the Arc-
1 Arctic Zoology, vol. i. p.
/omys Farryi of Itichardson. v 1 ■ " ' ' '  
Hip ra^p'nfTwPwmip*Rv1£n '''e are acquainted (M. Coupeii, F. Cuvier, M. murinus, Desm., an animal imported from
lethargic whSi exposed to^he cotrofEumpe^8 probab1^ in its native countlT active throuShout the ^ear’ was found to become
] p T/T By6/ ~\t i j u 4 Diction. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. viii. p. 427.
See Mem. de la Soc. d Hut. Nat. de Paris, t. i. p. 43; and Mgm Animal, t. L p. 200. ?
mammalia.
Rodentil ,T 16i interior feet with four toes and a rudimentary
 y   thumb, the posterior with five. Tail long, naked, and
scaly. °
This genus, still of great extent, is now restricted to
t le rats and mice properly so called, an omnivorous race,
some of which have followed man throughout his almost
universal migrations. Wherever European nations have
colonized, these small but adventurous creatures have ac¬
companied the merchant or the mariner ; and from the for¬
lorn settlements of the fur traders of North America to the
populous cities of Southern Asia, their sly and furtive ha¬
bits are the source of equal annoyance.
The common brown rat of this country (M. decumanus)
is beheved to be an eastern animal, a native of Persia and
Hindustan, which made its appearance in the western
countries of Europe only during the earlier half of last cen¬
tury. It is a bolder and more powerful species than its
piedecessor the black rat, which it is said to have nearly
extirpated.1 It burrows under the foundations of walls
and houses, makes its way into drains of foul water, swims
with great facility, abounds in sea-port towns, and fre¬
quently establishes itself on board of ship. It is extremely
prolific. This species is now well known in America and
the colonies. It was unknown, even in the maritime towns
of I ranee, prior to 1750 ; and according to Pallas, was un¬
observed in Siberia and Russia before 1766. About that
period they were seen to arrive in great troops towards the
embouchure of the Wolga, and in the towns of Astracan
181
this rat in preference to that of any other species. It is Glires or
extremely mischievous, and wall burrow to a great depth, Rodentia.
passing beneath the foundations of stores and granaries,
unless these are very deeply laid; and it perforates with
ease the walls of such buildings as are formed of mud or
unburnt bricks. It is also destructive in gardens, from its
habit of turning up the seeds of all kinds of leguminous
plants. Fruits likewise suffer from its depredations, and it
will even attack poultry when at all stinted in its vegetable
sPecies is considered dangerous;
and a European serving in the Honourable Company’s ar¬
tillery is known to have died in the Doub of confirmed hy¬
drophobia, in consequence of having been bit by it. One
of the largest and most destructive rats with which we are
acquainted is the pilori, or musk-rat of the Antilles (M.
pilorides, Pallas and Gmelin), which measures fifteen inches
in length, exclusive of the tail.4
Several foreign rats (not to be confounded, however, with
the genus Echimys, already noticed) have a portion of their
hair so strong and stiff as to be almost spiny. Such is the
Perchal rat (JHus Perchal, Shaw), a species which mea¬
sures above a foot in length, exclusive of the tail. It in¬
habits houses in the town and neighbourhood of Pondi¬
cherry, where it serves as food. Another spiny species
occurs in Egypt, and is described by Geoffroy under the
name of Mus Cahirinus.
Of the smaller species, or mice, we need scarcely describe
the external aspect. The common domestic species {Mus
ern diserMh?tT8^fromXeEng ^ CT ^ ^ WeSt" mUSCuluS"> was Unknown toTcient^rs/andnow o^
The black Ta”Liter animal, of a
than6the nrecedrj6 ^ and sharPer mufle totle’s experiment inflation to this point has been often
i,rod„PHvJ ffd Xf 18 Ta ? 0mmV0TS’ but less cluoted- He placed a pregnant female in a vessel of grain,
I ductive. Its original country is extremely doubtful, and after the lapse of a short period he examined his store
befief mi?ke.n° —an? the Prlevailin8' and f°Und the grain greatly diminished, but the mice in¬
die ales h l/kTAwL ^ T Eur°?e dUnng the mid; ,Creased t0 12°- To the same genus belongs a somewhat
d, ag ^ Sb. the Prevaihng. sPfcies m s°me P^G of larger species, called the long-tailed field mouse (M. sylva-
the continent, but is now comparatively rare in Britain. Dr ticus\ which resembles the preceding in the colour of its
Fleming, however, observes, that “ the period of their ex¬
tirpation is far distant. They still infest the older houses
of London and Edinburgh, and in many districts of the
country they are common.”2 It was observed during the
great fires which occurred in the ancient quarter of the
last named city in the year 1824, that such rats as were
dislodged from garrets and other lofty places, were all '
the black kind.
upper parts, but has the sides more rufous, the ears larger,
the head longer, and the eyes more prominent. It dwells
in fields, woods, and gardens, stores up seeds and roots in
autumn, and is said to become torpid in very cold weather.
This species is extremely abundant in certain seasons, and
is often very destructive in plantations, by gnawing asun-
of der the seedling trees or devouring the seeds. Buffon was
of opinion that it did more damage in these respects than
Foreign countries produce various species of the rat all other quadrupeds and birds together. They*are killed
tnbe unknown to Europe. Of these we shall briefly de- abroad by fastening a roasted walnut to a stick, the latter
sjcnoe the_ Malabar rat of Dr Shaw,—Mus giganteus of supporting a large stone. In this manner above 2000 have
General Hardwicke,—a species of enormous size.3 The
nose is rounded, the under jaw much shorter than the up¬
per, the cutting teeth broad, incurved, compressed. The
body is thick, and greatly arched, the upper portion black,
the under inclining to grey. The legs and toes are black,
and the tail, thinly covered with hair, measures two and a
been killed between the 15th November and the 8th of
December, in a piece of ground not exceeding forty French
arpents. The harvest mouse of White {31. messorius) is
the smallest of British quadrupeds, the length of its body
measuring only about two inches and a quarter. It builds
its nest above ground. The one described by Mr White
half inches in circumference at the root. The specimen was composed of the blades of wheat, was perfectly round
just noticed was a female, and weighed two pounds eleven in its form, of the size of a cricket ball, with an aperture so
nnncps and a Lalf. TVip mnlp wpio-Lo ingeniously contrived, as to be discovered with difficulty.
It contained eight young ones, all blind and naked, and was
suspended in the head of a thistle. It is also often hung
ounces and a half. The male weighs above" three pounds,
and, including the tail, which is above a foot long, measures
nearly thirty inches in length. This huge rat is found in
^ °   7 . imsue. it 1S ajS0 otten hun_
many places on the Coromandel coast, in Mysore, and in amid the blades of standing corn. The harvest-mouse like
several parts of Bengal, between Calcutta and Hurdwar. most of the field species, is more frequently met with in the
It is partial to dry situations, and scarcely ever occurs at a autumn than during any other season. It seeks protection
distance from human dwellings. According to General from the winter’s cold in hay or corn ricks or in burrows
Hardwicke, the lowest caste of Hindoos eat the flesh of beneath the earth. We have ourselves found it several
V™lUVe find,the ab0JVe10bserVati0n recorded in a111 ™odern b«oks of natural history,-Pennant’s opinion having been followed by our
Ingush compilers ; and the same sentiment prevails in most foreign works. “ II est vorace,” says M. Desmarest “ fait la euerre la
CShPpCnaZte/a ra^ir’:;&C- M“mmaJ°0ie’ P-29£, Neverthless, we have sought in vain for the evidence on which such supposition
rat Ch?efl5 S • ?n, the/°ntrflar.v’’ ^ ** F1™g> “I kn<T tbat th/y h^e lived for years under the same roof, the brown
rat chiefly residing in holes of the floor, the other chiefly in holes of the roof.” British Animals, p. 20
Ibid’ 3 Linn- Trans- vo1- viL P- 306. i 'm^te Animal, t. i. p. 201.
182
MAMMALIA.
Glires or times in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. It does not ap-
Kodentia. pear to have been as yet generally recognised on the conti-
v nent of Europe, though well known in some of the provin¬
ces of France, where of late a still smaller species has been
discovered, the mulot nain, M. pumilus of F. Cuvier.
The American field-mouse (Mm leucopus, Rafinesque)
inhabits the northern districts of the New World, and ex¬
tends across the whole country from die shores of Hud¬
son’s Bay to the mouth of the Columbia. It becomes an
inmate of the dwelling-houses as soon as any have been
erected at a trading post. “ The gait and prying actions
of this little creature,” says Sir J. Richardson, “ when it ven¬
tures from its hole in the dusk of the evening, are so much
like those of the English domestic mouse, that most of the
European residents at Hudson’s Bay have considered it to
be the same animal, altogether overlooking the obvious dif¬
ferences of their tails and other peculiarities. The Ame¬
rican field-mouse, however, has a habit of making hoards
of grain or little pieces of fat, which I believe is unknown
of the European domestic mouse; and what is most sin¬
gular, these hoards are not formed in the animal’s retreats,
but generally in a shoe left at the bedside, the pocket of a
coat, a nightcap, a bag hung against a wall, or some simi¬
lar place.”1 This species may be regarded as the repre¬
sentative of the Mus sylvaticm of Europe. In the stoat or
ermine it finds a most inveterate and deadly foe, being fre¬
quently pursued by that greedy bloodsucker even into the
sleeping apartments of the settlers.
Genus Gerbillus, Desm. Meriones, Illig. Incisives
2 3 3 °
2> molars ; = 16. Anterior feet short, furnished with
four toes, and a rudimentary thumb ; the posterior long,
with five toes. Tail long, and covered with hair.
The species of this genus are peculiar to the warmer
portions of the ancient continent. They may be described
as long-footed rats, allied in many respects to the gerboas,
with which indeed they have been frequently confounded.
As an example we may mention the Mus tamaricinus of
Pallas, a subterranean animal, inhabiting the southern
shores and deserts of the Caspian Sea. An Indian species
( G. Indicm) was discovered by General Hardwicke ;2 and
several others inhabit Africa, from Nubia to the Cape.
They are great leapers.
Genus Meriones, F. Cuv. Separated from the pre¬
ceding on account of the greater length of the hind legs,
the nakedness of the tail, and the existence of a very small
tooth in front of the molars of the upper jaw.
The species are American, and the best known is that
called the jumping mouse of Canada, described as a gerboa
by General Davies.3 It is an animal of extreme agility, of
the size of a mouse, with a very long tail. “ The first I
was so fortunate to catch,” says the gentleman just named,
“ was taken in a large field near the falls of Montmorenci,
and by its having strayed too far from the skirts of a wood,
allowed myself, assisted by three other gentlemen, to sur¬
round it, and after an hour’s hard chase to get it unhurt.
though not before it was thoroughly fatigued, which might Glires or
accelerate its death. During the time the animal remained Rodentia.
in its usual vigour, its agility was incredible for so small a" v—'
creature. It always took progressive leaps of from three
to four, and sometimes of five yards, although seldom above
twelve or fourteen inches from the surface of the grass; but
I have frequently observed others in shrubby places, and in
the woods, among plants, where they chiefly reside, leap
considerably higher. When found in such places it is im¬
possible to take them, from their wonderful agility, and
their evading all pursuit, by bounding into the thickest part
of the cover they can find.” On the approach of cold
weather it descends into the earth, and passes the winter
in a state of torpidity. Another ot these species has been
described under the name of Labrador jumping mouse.4 It
is a very common animal in the fur countries as far north
as Great Slave Lake, but Sir J. Richardson did not obtain
any precise information regarding its habits.5
Genus Cricetus, Cuv. Teeth as in the genus A/W,
but the tail is short, and clothed with hair, and the mouth
is provided with cheek pouches, in which the species trans¬
port grain and other provisions into their subterranean
chambers.
The most noted is the hamster ( Cricetm vulgaris, Desm.,
Mm cricetm, Pallas; see Plate VIII., figure 10), an
animal of variable colour, somewhat larger than a rat, of a
thicker form, with a shorter tail. Although it occurs in
Lower Alsace, it is rare in Europe to the west of the
Rhine, but is widely spread from that river to the Danube
on the south-west, and north-easterly through a vast ex¬
tent of country into Siberia. It lives on roots, fruits, herbs,
and other vegetable produce, and is said to be much at¬
tached to the grain of the liquorice plant. Some authors
allege that it also preys occasionally on small birds, mice,
&c. Though easily tamed, it is a fierce, resentful, pugna¬
cious creature, and has been known to spring upon the •
muzzle of a horse, and hold on with its teeth till killed.
When preparing for defence or attack, it empties its cheek
pouches, and then so inflates them with air that its head and
neck seem larger than the whole body. It then rises on its
hind legs, and making a sudden spring, seizes on its adver¬
sary with the most obdurate tenacity. It will even spitefully
grasp, and perseveringly maintain its hold of a piece of hot
iron. Though the hamster occurs in great numbers, it is
so far a solitary animal, that each inhabits a separate hole.
It lays up during the summer season an ample and varied
store, and is extremely injurious in many countries, from
the quantity of grain which it conveys from time to time,
in its cheek pouches, to its subterranean dwelling. These
vary in depth and the number of their divarications with
the age of the animal,—a young individual making them
hardly a foot in depth, while the elders sink them four or
five. rI he principal chamber is lined with hay, and serves
as a sleeping room, while the other apartments contain
the provisions.6 These, it is said, will amount, for a single
individual, to the weight of a hundred pounds. “ On the
Linn. Trans, vol. viii. pi. vii.
3 Ibid. vol. iv. pi. viii.
1 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part i. p. 142.
r, Vn'thp11 vo1; iL P- y7. 5 Fauna Boreali-Americana, part i. p. 144.
nersonal ohsprvatiJn . 6 iamster> ,^s in that °f other foreign species, the nabits of which we have no means of ascertaining from
Hines however ,are.nec^ssarijy dependent for our information on the published works of authors of repute. We are some-
the sneoies in nnesHon a tfn088.^ Wllc^ statement to be led, where there is a contrariety of evidence; as, for example, in regard to
rmone insmi’en mhoril” , ,est ca’n.WiM?b” sa.vs Cuvier, “ dans toutes les contrces saWoraraewses qui s’etendent depuis le nord d’Alle-
trnn irrnsdi” (nirtinn ri ft)ne -Animal, t. i. p. 205); “ II evite," observes M. Desmoulins, “les terrains sablonneux, et ceux qui sont
thorn i* a rli-niritv of n. (Bst. Aat. i. viii. p. 34.). So in like manner regarding the entrances to their subterranean stores,
nieds et denifmi tVois niorl -''H' cavitfs’” according to M. Desmarest, “ oil dies (diverses semences, &c.) sont situees it deux
Claire et 1’autre nernendicubbre no’6’ ^ 6 le? con|muiliquerit au dehors par deux galeries, dont une, oblique, est le chemin d'usape ordi.
has two ar)ertuVes Pthe (mt do;.omVC les CaS d’alerte” Wammalogie, piilO); while Dr Shaw observes, that “ each hole
animal goes in and owl (Genjal zjl",? volTv7!,?) wa"fdd a"d.,U j?ihr01“8h »”» ■<“'«' that the
mlv'riedtmlhrfe, **
aiaUon W Precise additions to actual knowledge which we find amid the multiplied channels of modern infor-
mammalia.
Mentia. inP,P0 his subt^eouflboS fheTmryrf wS'he'shuB SyTates oTswam^or tb""' favo”ite.3bodf ™ small Glire, or
UP Wlth great care; and thus remaining in a state of tran fL J. or swamps, or the grassy borders of slow-flow- Rodentia.
 , arniiig ill cl biaxe or rran- mg streams which dosspss n mndd^r
.  wi yv 111^11 lie SI1UIS
up with great care ; and thus remaining in a state of tran¬
quillity, feeds on his collected provision till the frost be¬
comes severe; at which period he falls into a profound
s umber, which soon grows into a confirmed torpidity, so
that the animal continues rolled up, with all its limbs in¬
flexible, its body perfectly cold, and without the least an
pearance of life. T-> - -r
tne heart is seen contracting and dilating, but with a mo¬
tion so slow as. to be scarce perceptible, not exceeding fif¬
teen pulsations in a minute, though in the waking state of
the animal it beats a hundred and fifty pulsations in the
same time. It is added, that the fat of the creature has the
appearance of being coagulated, that its intestines do not
exhibit the smallest symptoms of irritability on the appli¬
cation of the strongest stimulants, and the electric shock
mnv naocmH 4-V» 1 i. • , nr* r-r-ii .
. ^ £ 7   O V
mg streams which possess a muddy bottom. They are
very prolific, bringing forth sometimes three broods in a
season, but their numbers are often checked by a great
mortality which attacks them at uncertain intervals, from
some unknown cause. The districts in which they abound
are also subject to frequent inundations, which, covering all
tne lower crrmmrlc i ®
In this state it may be even opened, when the lower 9 inundations, covering all
contracting and dating, bufwith’a mo- <h-
iwrw j • .   maiiy uy drown¬
ing, and m severe winters they are almost extirpated from
certain districts by their swampy dwellings being frozen
over. In such cases, Sir J. Richardson informs us, they are
driven by famine to devour each other. In a state of na¬
ture they are rather watchful than shy, that is, they will
approach close to a canoe, but will dive the instant they
perceive the flash of a gun. According to Hearne they
are easily tamed. Their fur is extensively used in the fa-
may be passed through it without effect This lethiro-v of wIIT"’7 Ti“T‘ Sllcu "Vs exi;ensiveiy used in the fa-
the hamster has been generally ascribed to the eS of *k nfh °f hats’-bctween ^ and five hundred thousand
cold alone, but late obfervatio/s W ^0^“^ ^ The In-
at a certain depth below the surface, so as to be beyond
the access of the external air, the animal does not fall into
its state of torpidity, and that the severest cold on the sur¬
face does not affect it On the contrary, when dug up out
of its burrow, and exposed to the air, it infallibly awakes
in a few hours. The waking of the hamster is a gradual
operation: he first loses the rigidity of his limbs, then makes
profound inspirations, at long intervals ; after this he begins
to move his limbs, opens his mouth Lnd utterVa sorf of ™St™!eS by.the ba»ks ofl^es and rivers. In this coun-
unpleasant rattling sound. After continuing these onorn- W observed> ^ herbivorous,
unpleasant rattling sound. After continuing these opera
tions f°r some time, he at length opens his eyes, and endea¬
vours to rise, but reels about for some time, as if in a state
of intoxication, till at length, after resting a small space, he
perfectly recovers his usual powers. This transition from
torpidity to activity requires more or less time, according
wu 6 temPerature °f the air, and other circumstances.
When exposed to a cold air, he is sometimes two hours in
Hnrv • Knf   _• i • , . _ _ .
dian hunters spear these animals through the walls of theR
mud houses.
Genus Arvicola, Cuv. Incisives molars — ifi
2 7 3 ^9 ~ ■■■
Hind feet neither palmated nor ciliated. Tail rout'd, haired.
,, ® Sei9us contains, among many other species, two
small British quadrupeds,—the water rat (A. aquaticd) and
the short-tailed field mouse (A. agrestis). The former in¬
habits holes by the banks of lakes and rivers. In this coun-
/ iTT iicruivorous,
but french and Italian naturalists state that it preys also on
insects, reptiles, and the spawn of fishes. The latter is very
common m field8, gardens, and the outskirts of woods, in
u 0t riirV!1 sometimes occasions no small damage. Al¬
though M. Desmarest assigns “ 1’ancien continent” as the
geographical range of the genus Arvicola, yet several spe¬
cies inhabit North America. Indeed the French author
has himself described A. xanthognathus as native to the
i. {. x •  , owntn.uca iwu uuuis in nas mmselt described^
.»■ ” * ” a,r the Cha"ge " effeCted in hdf f Hudson’s Bay. Of tha'species of Northern
Numerous other species of this genus are described bv Dpsm \ the eco1n°mic rat economus,
naturalists, and the beautiful little sS ZeAan antal Lkys in nroliditThe s *7' ^ and ^7 ^ich it
called chinchilla (C. laniqer, Geoff and Desm'i so rp rpstsphiofl P -.i.^i ^ 6 f^P11.68 of winter. This dabour
markable for the softness of its fur^has been usuSiy clashed Wasolita^fe dwe^
with the hamsters.2 New genera have been formed hv M nrTho • ^ a A inS m deserted holes, and feeding
Rafinesque Smaltz, and rel^. Z^Zi^h^h^ TfT ^ ^
tion of several of the reputed hamsters of North AmericS the same hole Th,!^?, • 7 betake tbe™selves to
such as the sand rat, caias rat, pouched rat of Cana£ &IL; 1 f™. T5! 0fCS,on?1 “'^trons of this species
but into the history of these we cannot enter.3
Genus Fiber, Cuv., Desm. Incisives molars —~ - •
27 ^ 3 9
= 16. Hind feet with a marginal row of long hairs, but
not webbed.4 Tail long, laterally compressed, scaly or
granular, and thinly haired.
Of this genus the only species as yet distinctly charac¬
terized is Fiber zibethecus, or musk rat of Canada, com-
monly called the musquash. It is an animal of amphibious
habits, measuring above a foot in length, with a thick flat-
fish hnHv. A shnrf- hoarl 4.U* l,, "U• J •„
are scarcely less remarkable than those of the lemming,
ihe cause of these movements is quite unknown, although
1 alias imagines (and every one is entitled to indulge that
poetical and pleasing attribute) that they are occasioned, at
least in Kamtschatka, by some uneasy sensation produced
by the subterranean fire of that volcanic region. M. Bose
conceived that he had found this species in the forest of
Montmorency, and we have also been informed of its sup¬
posed occurrence in Switzerland. Although those locali¬
ties are somewhat doubtful, we must at the same time bear
0^hAE^Tforiiftensive,,y
body, very short legs, and large hind feet. The fur greatly called Wilson’s meadow hi* u °rd (commonly
resembles that of the beaver, but is shorter, with the down as identical with our A. agrestis] ^ ^ S°me re§arded
coarser and of less value. Although it resists the water
when alive, it is easily wetted after death. The musquash
is peculiar to North America, where it extends from about
north latitude 30°, almost to the mouth of the Mackenzie
River in latitude 69°. They feed, for the most part, on ve¬
getable substances (in summer they are said to devour the
,.„9en^s Georychus, Iliig. Lemmus, Desm. Scarcely
differs from the preceding, except in the shortness of the
for digging ’ ^ ^ arger and stronger claws, more fit
T 6 ^aCe tHe Cel!brated lemming (Mus lemmus,
Linn., Lem. Norvegxcus, Desm.), of the migratory move-
1 General Zoology, vol. ii. p. 97.
■ The chinehilla is now regarded as generically distinct. We shall notice it at the mnnlnonn . * j
* T K^fK-^mericana, part i., and Lesson’s Manuel de Mammalogie. °Ur Present order*
xieds de derriere demi palmds.” Cuvier, Thprpisnn voch™* »» -r»*_T *
“ There is no vestige of a web.” Richardson.
184
M A M M A LI A.
Glires or merits of which we have such singular records. It is a
llodentia. northern animal, an inhabitant of the mountains of Nor-
Y way and Lapland, of the size of a rat, and clothed with fur
varied by black and tawny. The specimens from different
localities do not altogether accord either in size or colour.
The lemming differs from many of its congeners, and in¬
deed from several species of its own genus, in having five
well developed toes to the anterior feet, instead of four toes
and a rudimentary thumb. We have heard less of late of
this animal than might have been anticipated from the ex¬
traordinary accounts which the preceding century furnished
of its history. The lemmings were described as natives of
the mountains of Kolen, in Lapland, and were said to ap¬
pear once or twice in a quarter of a century “ in numbers
numberless,” advancing in a straight line, unchecked by
hill or dale, by lake or river, and devouring in their on¬
ward journey “ every green thing.” Even the anxieties of
maternity do not slacken their march, for they have been
known to produce their offspring while journeying, and to
proceed as if nothing had happened, with a young one be¬
tween their teeth, and another on their back.1 Innumer¬
able bands were seen to march from the Kolen, through Nord-
land and Finmark, to the Western Ocean, which, nothing
daunted, they immediately entered, and after swimming
about for some time, as might be expected, perished. Other
bands were observed to take their route through Swedish
Lapland to the Bothnian Gulf, where they were drowned
in the same manner. When opposed by the peasants, they
stood still and barked at them; and they themselves were
not only barked at in return, but were swallowed in great
quantities by the lean and hungry dogs of Lapland. The
advent of these vermin is regarded as the omen of a bad
harvest. They are followed in their journeys by bears,
wolves, and foxes, which prey upon them incessantly, and
regard them as the most delicious food.2 These excursions
seem to augur a rigorous winter, of which the lemmings in
some way appear forewarned. For example, the season of
1742, remarkable for its severity throughout the circle of
Umea, was comparatively mild in that of Lula, although
situate further to the north ; the lemmings migrated from
the former, but remained stationary in the latter district.
Whatever may be the motive of these journeys, they are
certainly executed with surprising perseverance, and with
the universal accord of the whole nation,—the officina
murium pouring forth its entire hordes, and leaving scarce
a remnant in their ancient habitation. The greater pro¬
portion perish before they reach the sea, and of course few
survive to return to their ancestral homes. They do, how¬
ever, endeavour to return ; for the object of their travel to
a far country, whatever it may be, is not to found a multi¬
plied or more extended empire. This indeed is evident
from the comparatively local restriction of the species; for
the true lemming of the Scandinavian Alps does not appear
to occur even in Russian Lapland ; and the kind which in¬
habits the countries in the vicinity of the White and Polar
Seas, as far as the mouths of the Obi, is a species or strong¬
ly marked variety, smaller by at least one-third, and of a
different aspect and colour.3 Their migratory propensities
are, however, entirely the same in different countries ; for
the species which dwells among the northern extremities
of the Ural Mountains, emigrates sometimes towards Pet-
zora, at other times towards the banks of the Obi, and is
followed, as usual, by troops of carnivorous and insatiate
foes.4 The domestic manners of the species are said to
present this discrepancy, that the Norwegian lemmings lay
up no provisions, and have only a single chamber in their
subterranean dwelling-places, whereas the lesser kind ex¬
cavate numerous apartments, and are provident of the win- Glires or
ter season, by storing up ample magazines of that species Rodentia.
of rein-deer moss called Lichen rangiferinus.5
Many other lemmings occur in Siberia and the Tartarian
deserts, and several in North America. Of the latter we
may mention that from Hudson’s Bay, G. Hudsonius, one
of the most northern of known quadrupeds. It does not
appear to have been met with as yet in the interior of
America, but inhabits Labrador, Hudson’s Straits, the
coast from Church-hill to the extremity of Melville Penin¬
sula, and the desolate islands of the Polar Sea. Its man¬
ners are imperfectly known, but Hearne states that it is so
easily tamed, that if taken even when full grown, it will in
a day or two become reconciled to captivity, and will vo¬
luntarily creep into its master’s bosom. This species has
no external ears, and scarcely any tail. “ Les deux doigts
du milieu,” says Cuvier, “ aux pieds de devant du male,
ont 1 air d’avoir les ongles doubles parceque la peaudubout
du doigt est calleuse, et fait une saillie sous la pointe de
1’ongle,—conformation qui ne s’est encore rencontree que
dans cet animal.”6 Sir J. Richardson, however, informs us,
that the lower layer of the claw appeared to him to be not
an enlargement of the callus, but rather of the same sub¬
stance as the superior portion or nail proper.
Genus Dipus, Gmel. Incisors —, molars    , or
3 — 3
3 — 3’
— 16 or 18. Head broad. Eyes large. Ears long
and pointed. Anterior feet with four toes, and a nailed
wart in place of thumb. The posterior extremities of great
length, and terminated by three or five toes. Tail very
long, cylindrical, covered throughout with short hair, and
terminated by a tuft.
The jerboas, called two-footed rats by ancient writers,
are nocturnal animals, of subterranean habits, native to the
central countries of the Old World. They feed on fruits
and roots. One of their most remarkable characters con¬
sists in this, that the three middle toes are all supported
by a single metatarsal bone, which thus resembles the
canon bone of the ruminating tribes, an osteological feature
unique, we believe, in the rodential order. Such of the
species as have only three toes, have but a single metatarsal
bone to the whole. The Dipus jerboa (Mils sagitta, Pall.)
is abundant in Barbary, in Upper and Lower Egypt, and
Syria, and makes its appearance again in more northern
countries between the Tanais and the Volga. It feeds
chiefly on bulbous plants, and is remarkable for the extreme
celerity of its course, which it effects by a series of long
and rapid bounds. Though its tail, from the cruel experi¬
ments of M. Lepechin, appears to be of great use in loco¬
motion, it is not by any means thick and muscular like
that of the kangaroo. The jerboa usually walks on all
fours, but when alarmed it seeks its safety by prodigious
leaps, executed with great force and rapidity. When about
to spring, it raises its body by means of the hinder extre¬
mities, and supports itself at the same time upon its tail,
while the fore feet are so closely pressed to the breast, as
to be scarcely visible. Hence, probably, its ancient name
of dipus, or two-footed. It then leaps into the air, and
alights upon its four feet, but instantaneously erecting it¬
self, it makes another spring, and so on in such rapid suc¬
cession, as to appear as if rather flying than running. The
experiments above alluded to consisted in maiming or cut¬
ting off’the tails of these poor creatures. In proportion as
that organ Avas reduced in length, their power of leaping
diminished; and, when it was entirely lopped away, they
not only could not run at all, but fell backwards whenever
1 Mammalogie, p. 288.
8 Schreber, pi. 195, B.
6 Diet. Class. d’Hist. Nat, article CampagnoL
2 See Quarterly Review, vol. xlvii. p. 338, and Dodsley’s Annual Register, for 1789.
4 Pallas, Novce Species Quadrupedum e glirium ordine.
6 Rcgne Animal, t. i. p. 208.
MAMMALIA.
Glires or they attempted to raise themselves with a view to their ac-
Kodentia. customed spring. “ The jerboa,” says Bruce, “ is a small
harmless animal of the desert, nearly the size of a common
rat, the skin very smooth, and the ends of the hairs tipt
with black. It lives in the smoothest plains or places of
the desert, especially where the soil is fixed gravel, for in
that chiefly it burrows, dividing its hole below into many
mansions. It seems to be apprehensive of the falling in
of the ground; it therefore generally digs its hole under
the root of some spurge, thyme, or absynthium, upon whose
loot it seems to depend for its roof not falling in and bury¬
ing it in the ruins of its subterranean habitation. It seems
to delight most in those places that are haunted by the
cerastis, or horned viper. Nature has certainly imposed
this dangerous neighbourhood upon the one for the good
and advantage of the other, and that of mankind in gene¬
ral. Of the many trials I made, I never found a jerboa in
the body of a viper, excepting one in that of a female big
with young, and the jerboa itself was then nearly consum¬
ed,”1 This species is used as food, and its flesh, in taste,
is scarcely distinguishable from that of a young rabbit. It
is described at a remote period by ancient authors, and is
represented in some of the earliest medals of the Cyrenai-
cum, sitting beneath an umbellated plant (supposed the
Silphium), the figure of which is likewise preserved on the
silver medals of Gyrene. The Dipus jaculus inhabits the
T. artarian deserts, and other species occur in different re¬
gions, from the shores of the Caspian Sea to the banks of
the rivers of Siberia. We here figure an African species, the
Dipus hirtipes of Lichtenstein. (See PI. VIII., figure 11.)
The largest species of the genus, as formerly constructed,
is the Cape jerboa, Dipus coffer, Gmel. It differs from the
others in having four molar teeth on each side of both jaws,
five toes to the anterior feet, and only four to the posterior,
the latter armed with broad claws almost resembling hoofs.
It measures about a foot in length, exclusive of the tail,
which extends fifteen inches. This species is remarkable
for it;s great strength and activity, which enable it to spring
from twenty to thirty feet at a single bound. It dwells in
deep burrows in the mountainous regions to the north of
the Cape of Good Hope, and is known to the Dutch colo¬
nists under the name of spmngen haas, or jumping hare.
In consequence of the peculiarities of structure just refer¬
red to, it has been formed by Illiger into a separate genus,
under the name of Pedetes {Helamys, F. Cuvier). (See
Plate IX., figure 1.)
Genus Spalanx, Guldenstaedt. Aspalax, Olivier, Desm.
Teeth as in the rats and hamsters, but the incisives more
projecting and exposed. Legs very short; all the feet fur¬
nished with five toes, with flat thin nails. External ears
and tail scarcely perceptible.
The singular animal (Mus typhlus of Pallas) which forms
the type of this genus, resembles the mole in its habits,—
throwing up the earth from its burrows in the same man¬
ner, though furnished with much less powerful limbs. It
measures nearly ten inches long, has a thick cylindrical
body, a large triangular head, and no apparent eyes. Be¬
neath the skin, however, there are small black points re¬
sembling eyes, although their functions, as organs of vision,
are difficult to understand, in as far as they are covered
over by skin and hair. “ Whether the spalax be absolute¬
ly blind, or whether it receives any perception of light
through the medium of the eye as an organ, does not suf¬
ficiently appear by what has hitherto been said by its de-
185
scribers. The presence of what may be called the vestige Glires or
of an oigan, seems perfectly consistent with other instances Rodentia.
in which the application of such imperfect organ is not at
all to be traced. On the contrary, it accords with that ap¬
parent unwillingness in nature to depart from prescribed
laws. The total absence of an accustomed organ is much
more anomalous in nature than the complete inutility of
an imperfect one.”2 It has been generally assumed that
the Greeks described our common mole as blind, under the
name of asa-waA*!-. and modern authors, knowing that the
sleek inhabitant of our pastures is possessed of eyes, though
small ones, have prided themselves on their supposed cor¬
rection of an ancient error ; but the observations of Olivier
go to prove that the mole of the Greeks was not the spe¬
cies of western Europe, but the animal in question, which
spreads through Asia Minor into Persia and the south of
Russia, between the Tanais and the Wolga. The original
error probably lay with the Latin writers, who translated
the word into talpa, and then applied the term to
the mole of Europe. We may add, however, that Profes¬
sor Savi of Pisa is of opinion that the aspalax is to be re¬
garded as identical with the species of mole (Talpa cccca)
which he discovered in the Apennines,3 and which Baron
Cuviei says is “ tout a fait aveugle,”4 by which we pre¬
sume he merely means that its eyes are covered by the
skin. M. Charles Lucien Bonaparte likewise regards these
species as synonymous.5
We may here briefly notice the genus Bathiergus of
Ilhger, which, with several attributes of the preceding
genus, is distinguished by four molars on each side both
above and below, by a small though perceptible eye, and
a short tail. The sand mole (D. maritimus, Plate
IX., figure 2), as the larger species is usually called, is
an animal of the size of a rabbit, which occurs abundantly
along the sandy shores of the Cape of Good Hope, where
it sometimes excavates the ground in such a manner as to
produce inconvenience, if not danger, to horsemen. An¬
other species, called the Cape rat [B. capensis), is destruc¬
tive in gardens and pleasure grounds. A third has been
described under the title of B. hottentotus, by MM. Lesson
and Garnot.6
For the genera Geomys and Diplostoma of M. Rafi-
nesque, and a few other groups of the Rodential Order, the
characters of which we cannot here detail, we must refer
the reader to the works quoted below.7
Genus Castor, Linn. Incisives molars 7—-—; = 20.
Eyes small. Ears short and rounded.
4 — 4’
  Five toes to each
foot, those of the hinder extremities united by a web or
membrane. Tail broad, depressed, ovular, naked, and
scaly. Two pouches (in the male) on each side of the
genitals, containing an unctuous matter called castoreum.
As the description of the beaver, which alone constitutes
our present genus, is recorded in almost every book of na¬
tural history, we shall here confine ourselves to a few par¬
ticulars regarding its general habits, and as its history, as
given by the traveller Hearne, has been characterized by
competent authority as the most accurate which has been
yet presented to the public, we shall here abridge it for the
benefit of the same. We may, however, premise by ob¬
serving, that naturalists have not yet been able to establish
any distinctive characters between the gregarious beavers
of North America, and the few that still survive in isolated
pairs along the banks of a few great European rivers, such
; JrawV01' y- P-. 12lV, 2cGriffitlh,S fditi0U voL ^ P- 162. 3 Decade prima.
Rtgne Animal, t. 1. p. Iril. Since the above was written, we have happened to cast our eves on a supplementarv note bv Baron
Cuvier, in which he states as follows: “ La taupe appelee aveuyle par M. Savi, ne Pest pas entierement; ses paupieres ont a^ssi une
ouyerture, mais encore plus petite que dans la taupe commune. On a ni<< Pexistence du nerf optique de la taupe commune -—ie me
crois en etat de le demontrer et dans tout son trajet. Ibid. p. 580. ^ ^
5 Jconographia della Fauna Italica. 6 Voyage de la Coquxlle PI. 2.
7 Desmarest’s Mammalogie, and Richardson’s Fauna Roreali-Americana.
VOL. XIV. „
2 A
186
M A M MALI A.
Glires or as thj Rhone, the Rhine, and the Danube.1 Those of
Rodentia. Europe seem of somevvl|at larger dimensions, and of a paler
coloured fur. (See Plate IX., figure 3.)
The situation of the beaver houses in America is found
to be various. Where the animals are numerous, they in¬
habit lakes, ponds, and rivers, as well as those narrow creeks
which connect the lakes together. They generally, how¬
ever, prefer flowing waters, probably on account of the ad¬
vantages afforded by the current for transporting the ma¬
terials of their dwellings. They also prefer deepish water,
no doubt because it yields a better protection from the
frost. But it is when they build in small creeks or rivers,
the waters of which are liable tp dry or be drained off, that
they manifest that beautiful instinct with which Providence
has gifted them,—the formation of dams. These differ in
shape according to the nature of particular localities. Where
the water has little motion the dam is almost straight;
where the current is considerable it is curved, with its con¬
vexity towards the stream. The materials made use of are
drift wood, green willows, birch, and poplars; also mud
and stones intermixed in such a manner as must evidently
contribute to the strength of the dam ; but there is no par¬
ticular method observed, except that the work is carried
on with a regular sweep, and that all the parts are made of
equal strength. “ In places,” says Hearne, “ which have
been long frequented by beavers undisturbed, their dams,
by frequent repairing, become a solid bank, capable of re¬
sisting a great force both of ice and water ; and as the wil¬
low, poplar, and birch generally take root and shoot up,
they by degrees form a kind of regular planted hedge,
which I have seen in some places so tall, that birds have
built their nests among the branches.”2 Their houses are
formed of the same materials as the dams, with little order
or regularity of structure, and seldom contain more than
four old, and six or eight young beavers. It not unfre-
quently happens that some of the larger houses have one
or more partitions, but these are only posts of the main
building left by the sagacity of the beaver to support the
roof, for the apartments, as some are pleased to call them,
have usually no communication with each other except by
water. Those travellers who assert that the beavers have
two doors to their dwellings, one on the land side, and the
other next the water, manifest, according to Hearne, even
a greater ignorance of their habits than do those who assign
to them an elegant suite of apartments, for such a construc¬
tion would render their houses of little use either as a pro¬
tection from their enemies, or as a covering from the win¬
ter’s cold. Neither is it true that these animals drive stakes
into the ground when building ; they lay the pieces cross¬
wise and horizontal. It is equally inaccurate to state that
the wood work is first finished, and then plastered, for both
houses and dams consist from the foundation of a mingled
mass of mud and wood, mixed with stones, when such can
be obtained. They carry the mud and stones with their
fore-paws, and the timber between their teeth. They al¬
ways work in the night, and with great expedition. They
cover their houses late every autumn with fresh mud, which
freezing when the frost sets in, becomes almost as hard
as stone ; and thus neither wolves nor wolverines can dis¬
turb their well-earned repose. When walking over their
work, and especially when about to plunge into the vrater,
they sometimes give a peculiar flap with their broad heavy
tails; but they do not use these parts exactly as a mason
uses his trowel, for a tame beaver will flap by the fireside,
where there is nothing but dust and ashes.
The favourite food of beavers is the plant called Nuphar Glires ot
luteum, which bears a resemblance to a cabbage stalk, and Itodentia.
grows at the bottom of lakes and rivers. They also gnaw —■
the bark of birch, poplar, and willow trees. But during
the bright summer days which clothe even the far northern
regions with a luxuriant vegetation (the more beautiful as
contrasted with the rigorous and long enduring winter) a
more varied herbage, with the addition of berries, is con¬
sumed. When the ice breaks up in spring they always
leave their embankments, and rove about until a little be¬
fore the fall of the leaf, when they return again to their
old habitations, and lay in their winter stock of wood.
They seldom begin to repair the houses till the frost sets
in, and never finish the outer coating till the cold becomes
pretty severe. When they erect a new habitation, they
fell the wood early in summer, but seldom begin building
till towards the latter end of August. Some tame beavers
kept by Hearne became extremely attached to human so¬
ciety, and were also remarkably fond of rice and plum¬
pudding. ihey would even eat freely of partridges and
fresh venison. Kalm mentions a tame beaver which be¬
longed to a gentleman of New York, and was in the habit
of going about the house like a dog. A cat which inha¬
bited the same dwelling, on producing kittens took posses¬
sion of the beaver’s bed without any opposition being offer¬
ed ; and ere long, when the cat went out, the beaver used
to take a kitten between his paws, and hold it to his breast,
as if to keep it warm, till the return of the proper pa¬
rent.3
Dr Richardson informs us that the flesh of these animals
is much prized by the Indians and Canadian voyagers,
especially when roasted in the skin, after the hair has been
singed off. This of course makes it an expensive luxury,
the enjoyment of which it requires all the influence of the
fur traders to restrain. Beavers are said to pair in Febru¬
ary, to carry their young about ten weeks, and to bring
forth from four to eight cubs by the middle or end of May.
In regard to the geographical distribution of these highly
interesting creatures, Pennant fixes their southern range
in Louisiana, about latitude 30°, not far from the Gulf of
Mexico, while Mr Say assigns as their limit the confluence
of the Ohio and Mississippi, about seven degrees farther
north. In the higher latitudes, their extension seems re¬
stricted by the absence or deficiency of wood, the districts
called the Barren Grounds not yielding enough even of
willows for their subsistence. Many are known to occur
as high as latitude 68°, on the banks of the Mackenzie, the
largest and best wooded of the American rivers that dis¬
charge themselves into the icy basin of the Polar Sea.
The Iroquois are the greatest beaver catchers in Canada.
There is no doubt that great injury has resulted from the
indiscriminate capture of old and young, and the too fre¬
quent trenching of the same dams,—evils which the Hud¬
son’s Bay Company are at last endeavouring to remedy by
the adoption of more prudent measures. “ In the year
1743, the imports of beaver skins into the ports of Lon¬
don and Rochelle, amounted to upwards of 150,000; and
there is reason to suppose that a considerable additional
quantity was at that period introduced illicitly into Great
Britain. In 1827, the importation of beaver skins into
London, from more than four times the extent of fur coun¬
try than that which was occupied in 1743, did not much
exceed 50,000. ”4
There is an amphibious animal called the Coipu (Mus
coipus, Molina), which dwells by the rivers of South Ame-
Nousn avons pu encore constater, malgre des comparaisons scrupuleuses, si les castors ou bievres qui vivent dans des terriers le
long du Rhone, du Danube, du Weser et d’aulres rivieres, sont differents par 1’espece de celui d’Amerique ; ou si le voisinage des
homines est ce qui les empeche de batir.”_.7Zt^nc Animal, t. i. p. 214. “ Nous avons cru devoir reunir, d’apres MM. Cuvier, le castor
d’Europe a celui du Canada, surtout d’apres 1’observation recente de ses mceurs en captivity, qui prouve evidemment que ce castor
a, comme 1 autre, un penchant inne a construire.’5 JVFditiTnuloffie, p. 278.
~ Journey to the Northern Ocean. 3 Travels in North America. 4 Fauna Borcali-Americana, part 1st, p. 108,
M A M ft
riCa’ an(! is a^iec^ t0 tlle beaver in many of its characters,
except that its tail is narrow and elongated. Its fur, much
used in the manufacture of hats, is known to merchants un¬
der the name of racoonda, and is imported in great quan¬
tities to Europe. This animal inhabits Chili, is very abun¬
dant in the provinces of Buenos Ayres and Tucuman, but
lare in Paraguay. It is described by Desmarest as a hy-
dromys (//. coypus1 *), and is mentioned by Azara under
the name of Quouhja? It is now regarded as forming a
distinct genus under the title of Myopotamus, as first pro¬
posed, we believe, by M. Commerson.
Division IL Clavicles incomplete or nonexistent.
Genus Hystrix, Linn. Incisives —, molars -4~ —
20. Muzzle broad and blunt. Ears short and rounded.
1 ongue beset with prickly scales. Anterior feet with four
toes and a rudimentary thumb, the posterior with five, the
whole armed (except the small anterior thumb) with strong
claws. Body protected by strong sharp-pointed spines of
different length, intermingled with the hairs.
This genus is composed of four or five animals of very
extraordinary aspect, known under the name of porcupines.
They occur in Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and have
recently been formed into several minor generic groups, of
which we shall give a brief sketch. All the species feed on
fruits, roots, and grain, and either dig themselves subter¬
ranean dwellings, or seek retirement in the secure hollows
of ancient trees.
The restricted genus Hystrix, Cuv., characterized by
the dilatation of the muzzle and nasal bones, contains the
European porcupine (H. cri&tata, Linn.), an animal which
occurs in the south of Italy, Spain, Sicily, and Barbary.
(See Plate IX., figure 4.) Indeed, the identical spe¬
cies, or one closely allied, extends to the Cape of Good
Hope, and spreads from Persia into Hindustan. It mea¬
sures above two feet in length. Its quills are very lono-,
ringed with brownish-black and white. There is a kind of
crest or mane of long bristles on the head and nape. The
tail is short, and furnished with truncated hollow quills,
suspended by a narrow pedicle, so that they rattle when
the creature walks, like a half-filled quiver. Mr Brydone
mentions that the porcupine is frequent in Sicily, in the
district of Baiae, and that he killed several during a shoot¬
ing excursion in the Monte Barbaro. He dined upon his
game, but found it luscious, and soon palling upon the ap¬
petite.3 The singular aspect of this animal seems to have
attracted the attention of the lovers of natural history at a
very early period, and many fabulous attributes were added
to the character of a creature in itself sufficiently curious.
It was said to possess the power of darting its quills at
pleasure with great force, and to a considerable distance,
against its enemies ; and Claudian observes, that it is itself
at once the quiver, the arrow, and the bow :
“ Ecce, brevis propriis munitur bestia telis,
Externam nec quaerit opem, fert omnia secum
Se pharetra, sese jaculo, sese utitur arcu !”
We may add, that Agricola states the Italian porcupine to
be not indigenous to the south of Europe, but imported
from India or Africa.
In the genus Atherura, Cuv., the head and muzzle are
not dilated, and the tail is long, though not prehensile. It
contains the Hystrix fasciculata, Linn., Mus fasciculatus,
Desm., a native of India and the peninsula of Malacca.
The genus Eretison, F. Cuvier, of which the cranium
is flat, and the muzzle not dilated, the tail of medium
length, and the quills short and half concealed by long
hair, contains the well-known Canada porcupine (//. dor-
[ALIA. 187
sata, Linn.). This species is distributed over a consider- Glires or
able extent of North America, from the 37° to the 67°. Rodentia.
According to Dr Harlan, it makes its dwelling-place be-v^-^v-w'
neath the roots of hollow trees. It dislikes water, is cleanly
in its habits, sleeps much, and feeds chiefly on the bark
and leaves of Pinus canadensis and Tilia glabra. It is
also fond of sweet apples and Indian corn. In the fur
countries it is most numerous in sandy districts, covered
wdth Pinus Banksiana, on the bark of which it delights to
feed. Its spines are detachable by the slightest touch
(some say by an act of volition on the part of the animal),
and not unfrequently occasion the death both of dogs and
woives. Its flesh tastes like flabby pork, and, though re¬
lished by the Indians, is nauseous to the palate of a Euro¬
pean.
The genus Synetheres of F. Cuvier (Couendu, Lace-
pede), contains certain South American species with pre¬
hensile tails, such as II. prehensilis, Linn., and //. insidi-
osa, Lichtenstein. (See Plate IX., figure 5.) The
feet have only four claws, armed with nails, and they dif¬
fer from the preceding species in their habit of climbing
trees. Other generic groups have been proposed in rela¬
tion to the genus Hystrix, but without having met with
general reception on the part of naturalists.4
Genus Lepus, Linn. Incisives —, molars ^f ; ~ 28.
Anterior feet with five toes, posterior with four. Tail short.
Ccecum very large, pouched, and divided by a spiral valve.
The species of this genus, familiarly known under the
name of hares and rabbits, are spread over almost all the
legions of the earth, from the tropical regions of Africa and
Ameiica, to the islands of the Polar Sea. Their most dis¬
tinctive character consists in their upper incisives being
double, that is, each has a smaller one behind it. The soles
of the feet, and the inside of the mouth (a character re¬
marked by Aristotle), are covered with hair. The genus
is not only one of considerable extent, but extremely na¬
tural,—the species of which it is composed corresponding
both to the principal characters, and also to several others
which are secondary and unessential, such as the colour of
the fur, which is usually of a reddish-grey, woth the eye
placed in a spot of paler hue. The abdomen and under
sjde of the tail seem almost always wdiite, and the tips of
the ears black. I hey are all of a timid disposition, ex¬
tremely swift in their movements, and valuable to the hu¬
man race, not more on account of the value of their furs,
than of their nutritive and pleasant flavoured flesh. Seve¬
ral of the species resemble each other so closely as to be
with difficulty distinguished.
The common hare {Lepus timidus) is known all over
Europe, and a great part of Russia, Asia Minor, Syria, &c.
The varying hare {Lepus variabilis) is somewhat larger
in the body, with rather shorter ears and tail, its fur in
summer being of a bluish-grey, and changing to white in
winter. This remarkable alteration is said to take place in
the following manner:—About the middle of September
the grey feet become whitish, and before the end of the
month all the four feet are white, and the ears and muz¬
zle of a brighter aspect. The white colour gradually as¬
cends the legs and thighs, and beneath the grey hair whit¬
ish spots may be observed, which continue to increase till the
end of October; but still the back continues grey, while
the eye-brows and ears are nearly white. From this period
the change is rapid, and by the middle of November the
whole fur is white, excepting the tips of the ears, of which
the black is permanent. Ihe back becomes white within
eight days, and during the whole of this singular mutation
no hair is shed. Hence it appears that the fur itself, though
2 Essai sur l'Hist. Nat. de Paraguay, t. ii. p. 5. See also Annul, du Mm. t. vi. pi. 35.
4 See Memoires du Museum, t. ix. o. 413. *
1 Mammalogie, p. 296.
3 Tour in Sicily.
188
Glires or altered in aspect, remains unchanged. It continues white
Rodentia, till the month of March, or later, according to the sea-
V * v ^' son, after which it again becomes grey. But the spring
change differs in this respect from that of the early winter,
that the hair is then completely shed.1 This animal inha¬
bits the alpine parts of Europe, but does not extend to the
extreme north, as supposed by Pennant, the species of that
locality being now distinguished by the name of Polar
hare, Lepus glacialis, Leach. The size of the latter is
equal to that of the largest English hare. It does not bur-
row, but seeks shelter among large stones and the crevices
of rocks. Its flesh is more juicy than that of our own al¬
pine or varying hare. I he polar species is common in
North America, but does not seem to advance southwards
beyond the 08th parallel, and does not occur in wooded
countries, though often seen in the vicinity of thin clumps
of spruce fir. It extends to Melville Island. Several other
species occur in America. The American hare, commonly
so called {Lepus Americanus), bears a great resemblance
to a rabbit, and seldom weighs more than four pounds. It
is common in all the woody districts, and 25,000 have
been taken at a single trading post in one season. They
are imported into Britain under the name of rabbit-skins.
The prairie hare {Lepus Virginianus) is a much larger
animal, weighing from seven to eleven pounds. It can
leap above twenty feet at a single bound. We cannot here
allude to the species of southern latitudes.2
The rabbit {Lepus cuniculus), now so common through¬
out the temperate and southern parts of Europe, is suppo¬
sed to have been of African origin, and first imported into
Spain. . It differs greatly from the hare in its gregarious
habits, its subterranean life, the whiter colour of its flesh,
and less perfect state of the young when first produced!
It is also much more prolific.3
A few species of the old genus Lepus, of which the ears
are shorter, the limbs of more equal length, the clavicles
almost perfect, and the tail wanting, form the generic group
now called Lagomys. We shall here mention as an ex¬
ample the Pika of Northern Asia {Lag. alpinus, Plate
IX., figure 6). It is about the size of a guinea pig
and inhabits the tops of high mountains, such as those
of the Altaic range, and the cold heights of Siberia. It
dwells in burrows, the clefts of rocks, and even (when it
can get them) in the trunks of trees, and is sometimes gre¬
garious, sometimes solitary. Towards the middle of Au¬
gust it collects and prepares a great mass of hay and other
herbage for winter use, and in this labour several join to¬
gether. These heaps sometimes measure more than eight
feet in diameter, and equal or exceed the height of a tall
man. This admirable instinct has rendered these little
animals celebrated throughout the countries they inhabit.
Their precious stores, however, are often discovered by the
Siberian hunters of the sable, who convert them from their
intended uses into fodder for their hungry horses.
• Jn ™rne^iat)e succession to the porcupines, hares, and
pikas, Baron Cuvier places those groups of the Rodential
rder, which Linnaeus and Pallas combined under the ge-
nenc name of Cavia, and of which the well known guinea-
W S! ? ai,iar examPle- They are all natives of the
New World, and, except in the imperfect condition of their
h! ™eS’ °.ffer1SUch dlsParity of structure as have induced,
generT ^ 7 reCent timeS’the formation of the following
Genus HYDRocn^Rus.Erxleben. Incisives molars
4 — 4 2
-20. Muzzle deep and blunt. Ears rather small
M A M M ALIA.
.4’
and rounded. Anterior feet furnished with four toes, the Glires or
posterior with three, all webbed, and terminated by strong Rodentia.
blunt claws. No tail. Mammae twelve. Fur coarse and " v"^-'
thin.
The only known species of this genus is the capybara or
water hog of South America {H. capybara, Erx., Sus hy-
drochcerus, Linn.). It sometimes measures upwards of four
feet in length, and is the largest of all the Rodentia. Its
habits are aquatic and gregarious. It abounds in the rivers
of the Oroonoko, the Apure, and the Cassiquiare, and is
much preyed on by jaguars while on shore, and by croco¬
diles in the water. Its flesh is excellent, and was eaten by
the missionary monks during Lent along with their turtle,
on the score, we presume, of its amphibious habits. Pre¬
cise views of the exact nature of all mammalia are some¬
times inconvenient. These animals are so numerous in
many of the marshes and moist savannahs of the Llanos as
greatly to injure the adjoining pastures. They browse
chiefly on that kind of grass which serves best for fattening
horses, called chigmrero or chiquire’s grass, so designated
from one of the native names of the capybara. Their flesh
is made into hams, and would be less disagreeable if free
from the strong odour of musk with which it is impregnated.
Ihese creatures are of gentle disposition, capable of con¬
siderable attachment in a state of domestication, and not
greatly fearing the human race even in their natural and
unieclaimed condition. When attacked they endeavour to
escape by flight; and, w hen overtaken, they can scarcely
be said to stand upon the defensive, but as they possess
great natural strength both in their incisive teeth and
grinders, they have been known, in their dying agonies, or
when pushed to a desperate extremity, to inflict so severe
a wound as to tear the flesh from the paw of a jaguar or the
leg of a horse. They were observed by Humboldt in all
the great rivers, either swimming about like dogs, with the
head and neck above water, or diving from the surface to
escape their pursuers, d hey possess the power of remain¬
ing submerged for seven or eight minutes.
Genus Cavia, Illiger. deeth the same in number as
in the preceding genus. Feet not palmated. Only twx>
ventral mammae.
I his genus is also believed to contain only a single spe¬
cies, well known throughout Europe in a domestic state
under the name of guinea-pig ( Cavia cobaja, Pallas, Mus
porcellus, Linn., see Plate IX., figure 7 a). Like most
reclaimed animals, it varies in its markings, the usual co¬
lours being a mixture of white, black, and reddish-brown.
It is of an amazingly prolific nature, being capable of bring¬
ing forth when not more than two months old, and that
same period only elapsing between the production of each
brood. The number of young at a birth varies with the
age of the parent, from four to twrelve. It has been calcu¬
lated that a single pair may prove the parent stock of a
thousand in a year. I he wild or native guinea-pig is sup¬
posed to be an animal of corresponding size and structure,
but of a uniform reddish-grey or brown colour, paler on
the under surface. It is called aperea, and is indigenous
to the countries between the Plata and the Amazon. (See
Plate IX., figure 7 b.) It abounds in Paraguay, and also
occurs at Buenos Ayres, inhabiting brushwood by the
banks of rivers, and feeding chiefly during the evening
and morning twilight. A singular disparity exists in the
productive powers of these animals in the natural and do¬
mestic state, the aperea being said to bring forth only one
or twro at a birth, and to breed not more than once a year.
Some regard this as a strong fact against their probable
identity ; but when we consider that the teats are only two
1 Edin. Phil. Journal, vol. ii. p. 15. « i ■
* It is curious that naturalists should dlffpr i • ' hee the artlcle Uevre °r Dicl clliss- dllist. Nat. t. ix. p. 378.
covered with hair, and with their eyes onen ’* r I^,linjlortant Points in th -“ history of a creat ure so common. “ They are bom
perfect, the skin is destitute of hairf and the'limb/unfit fnl? im p. 217. “ The eyes and ears, at birth, are im-
5 nmos unfit for locomotion. i le.mng s British Animals, p. 21.
Kodenal extreme fertilitv nf tl. ?’ ouSht ,rath.er t0 consider ,h<!
 v 'Sp rnT if f yi f 6 do"?estlc kind as in a great measure
nar/« f °f ^ ^d Careful keePing- “ Nous avons com¬
pare, says Ant. Desmoulins, “ des cranes du cobaie do-
mestigue a ceux du cobaie sauvage, et nous n’y avons pas
trome de difference entre eux. Par-la se trouve peremp-
toirement refute tout ce qu’a dit Gall sur la cause organique
de cette activite gemtale dont les extremes ne sont nulle
part plus tranches qu’entre les deux etats sauvage et do-
breeZM ‘ In Speakin^ of the domestic
breed M Desmarest observes, “ qu’il ne boive iamais.”
Perhaps this means that they do not like water, but we can
^ouch for their drinking a great deal of milk. The French
author adds:—C’est un animal d’un naturel doux et
iocde mais il est sans aucune intelligence, et incapable de
sattacher a son maitre. ’ 2 Now, in contradiction to the
last part of the indictment, we have seen this animal exhi¬
bit great discrimination in singling out and creeping kindly
into the protecting arms of a favourite and well-known in¬
dividual of a pet-loving community. It is rather remark¬
able that the guinea-pig is never used as food in European
countries, when we know that the aperea is esteemed for
that purpose, and is pursued as game in its native regions.
ihe animals called agoutis in some measure represent
our hares and rabbits in the Antilles and South America,
they form the genus Dasyprocta of Illiger. The com¬
mon species (Cavia agouti, Linn.) is gregarious, living in
troops of about twenty individuals. It inhabits woods, re¬
sembles a rabbit in its gait and aspect, but equals a hare in
size. Its flesh is good, partaking of the qualities of these
two ammals combined. The agouti occurs in Guiana, Bra-
zd, 1 araguay, and some of the West Indian islands. It is
said to be extremely voracious, devouring all kinds of vege¬
table substances, and is much attached to nuts. In a state
of confinement, it will speedily gnaw its way through a
door. Ihe Patagonian cavy of Pennant and Shaw (Das.
Datachomca), called by Azara the pampa hare, likewise be¬
longs to this genus. It inhabits the pampas or great plains,
and usually occurs in pairs. Azara was informed that this
species produces its young in the burrows dug by the vis-
offlt TV1 6 w" m far ®outhwards int0 the colder countries
the New World, and was observed by Narborough and
ther voyagers to be very abundant in the vicinity of Port
esire, in the 4/ south latitude, as well as at Port Saint
Julian, some degrees farther south.
Ihe pacas (genus Ccdogenys, F. Cuvier) resemble the
me nnVl? tkeir‘eeth’ bat they have a small additional inner
Of the eet’ and,0ne ^ua]]y sma11) on either side
There* fr five t0es to each extremity.
tW°jpecies’ the brown and the yellow
peca {Cel. subniger and/fcs), both natives of Brazil and
Guyana. They are excellent as articles of food, and Buf-
fon and later writers have advised their importation into
Europe for the uses of the table.
We shall here close our sketch of the Order Rodentia
with a short notice of an animal, the exact position of
w nch in the order has not yet been rigorously determin¬
ed. We allude to the chinchilla, a South American spe-
cies, greatly esteemed for the fineness and beauty of its fur
which forms a frequent adornment of the fair sex“in Europe!
Mr Rennet has remarked that, notwithstanding the exten¬
sive trade carried on in the skins of this animal, it mieht
have been regarded till of late as almost unknown, as no
modern naturalist, with the exception of Molina, had seen
an entire specimen, either living or dead.3 That author
M A M M ALIA.
1 189
describes it as a species “ of field-rat, in great estimation for FcLntata.
e extreme fineness of its wool, if a rich fur as delicate Z
the silken webs of the garden spiders may be so termed.
is of an ash-grey, and sufficiently long for spinning. The
httle animal which produces it is six inches long from the
nose to the root of the tail, with small pointed ears, a short
uzzle, teeth hke the house rat, and a tail of moderate
-round C\t ed Wlth delicate fun 11 lives in burrows under
Thill } -he °Per c°untry of the northern provinces of
its spedes18 T/fe S' °f in comPany witk others of
nlanTs whth 1 f ^ T" ,the roots of vari°os bulbous
plants, which grow abundantly in those parts, and produces
twice a year five or six young ones. It is so docile and
Id in temper, that, if taken into the hands, it neither
I!1.68 nor tnes to escape, but seems to take a pleasure in
as stfllCaanrdSned\ ^ ^ " the b°SOm’ ^ ™ins the"
as still and quiet as if it were in its own nest. The ancient
Peruvians, who were far more industrious than the moderns
made of this wool coverlets for beds and valuable stuffs.” <
“awodlv^pld observer’ Sclimidtn>eycr, also describes it as
a woolly field-mouse, which lives under ground, and chiefly
feeds on wild onions. Its fine fur is well known in Europe^
that which comes from Upper Peru is rougher and lamer
itrcolou^b'f^'^r °f Cbile’ but not always 80 beautiful5in
S colour. Great numbers of these animals are caught in
ie neighbourhood of Coquimbo and Copiapo generally by
boys with dogs and sold to traders, who bring them to San-
XV111 Valparaiso’ from whence they are exported.
he Peruvian skins are either brought to BuencsPAyres
fiom the eastern parts of the Andes, or sent to Lima.” 3
living specimen of the chinchilla was brought to En--
and by Captain Beechy, and presented to the^ Zoological
Sodety, while, at the same time, an entire skin, rendered
valuable by the preservation of the skull (which never ex¬
ists in the skins of commerce) was presented by Mr Collie
urgeon, to the British Museum. According to Mr Ben!
nrove thni‘f lteSt in.spectio.nJof the teeth was sufficient to
prove that the species could no longer be associated with
• 6 groups m which it had been previously placed, and that
it was distinct in character from every other known genus
of Rodentia. Geoffrey and Desmarest had pmviSy
Cuvier h VVIth t ie hamsters (genus Cricetus), and Baron
Cuvier having never seen its teeth, was uncertain whether
JatTaS pTh ied t0 the gainea-P*gs, the lagomys, or the
rats. But the inspection of the specimens above alluded
to has shewn that it possesses two incisives and eight molars
in each jaw or twenty teeth in all. The form of the head
resembles that of a rabbit; the eyes are full, large, and
black ; and the ears (in this differing from Molina’s descrip¬
tion, already quoted) are broad, naked, rounded at the tins
and nearly as long as the head. There are four short toes,’
with a distinct rudiment of a thumb on the anterior feet •
and the posterior are furnished with the same number, three
of them long, the middle more produced than the two la¬
teral ones and the fourth external to the others, and placed
far behind. A second specimen has been since added to
^ugher fe?00108^ S°Ciety °f I-ger
Order V.—EDENTATA, Cuv.
sS’SSSt'SSSSSS
* Did. Class, d'flist. Nat. t. iv. p. 248. “—  
4 an l Menagerie oj the Zooloqical Society Vol. in] * Mam™to<,ie, p. 357.
Gardens and Menagerie, vol. i. p, 9.
M A M M A L I A.
190
Edentata, the armadillos have both canines and molars,—the latter,
“'""'^"■-''indeed, so numerous as to be surpassed only by those of
the cetaceous genus Delphinus. The osteology of this or¬
der is the only portion of their structure with which we are
well acquainted, and we owe that knowledge to the beauti¬
ful memoir of Baron Cuvier.1 But we know with what
singular fidelity the skeleton, though itself essentially inert,
represents, by the form and amalgamation of its parts,
the supervening modifications of the more active organs,
that is, those of the nervous, sensitive, and digestive sys¬
tems. In relation to almost all the actions which result
from those systems, our present order is not only one of the
most widely separate from other Mammalia, but also pre¬
sents the greatest disparity between several of its own ge¬
nera, as compared with each other. These genera, it has
been observed, though connected together in spite of obvious
differences, by several heteroclyte characters, and appearing
to be, as it were, the work of a particular conception, are by
no means the products of one common country, but almost
each group is characteristic of some separate great division
of the globe, such as the southern parts of Africa and Ame¬
rica, the Indian Archipelago, or New Holland. It is diffi¬
cult to state any character belonging to the entire order,
although the great size of their claws, embracing all the
extremity of the toes, and more or less approaching the na¬
ture of hoofs, is perhaps among the most prevalent. Their
movements may be characterized as slow and inactive.
Some climb trees, others dig burrows, while the habits of a
few are amphibious. Their food varies in the different ge¬
nera. None are strictly or fiercely carnivorous, but several
devour insects, and shew no distaste for flesh. Many in¬
dulge in a herbivorous diet. Baron Cuvier divides the or¬
der into three tribes, as follows.
Tribe 1st, Tardigrada.
We here place those singlar animals of the New World,
commonly called sloths,—genus Bradypus, Linn. They
are distinguished by the shortness of the face, by the cy¬
lindrical form of the molars (four on each side above, and
three below), and the sharp and lengthened shape of the
canines. (See Plate X., figure 3.) The toes, vary¬
ing as to amount in different species, are incased within
the skin as far as the base of the claws, which are long and
arched, and in a state of repose are kept bent beneath the
palm of the hand, or sole of the foot. The hind feet are
articulated obliquely on the leg, and thus act as supports,
chiefly by their external margins. “ Les phalanges des
doigts,” says Cuvier, “ sont articulees par des ginglymes
serres, et les premieres se soudent a un certain age aux os
du metacarpe on du metatarse: ceux-ci finissent par se
souder ensemble finite d’usage;”2 and to this inconvenient
(or we should rather say peculiar) structure of the extre¬
mities, may be added that of their disproportionate respec¬
tive lengths. The arm and fore-arm are much longer than
the thigh and leg, so that when they walk they are obliged
to draw themselves along upon their elbows. The pelvis is so
broad, and the thighs are so directed laterally, that the knees
cannot approximate. “ Us se tiennent sur les arbres,” says
Cuvier rightly, for their structure is entirely suited to ar¬
boreal habits ; but when he adds, “ et n’en quittent un
quapres 1 avoir depouille de ses feuilles, tant il leuret pen-
ule den gagner un autre,” we must correct the senti¬
ments of the European philosopher by the experience of a
practical observer Mr Waterton states, that as he was
one day crossing the river Essequibo, he saw a large two¬
toed sloth upon the ground. How it came there nobody
could tell. Although the trees were not twenty yards from
1 Ossemens Fossiles, t. v.
* See our present article, p. 121.
him, he could not make his way even that short distance Edentata-
before the party landed and overtook him. He immediately/
threw himself upon his back, and gallantly defended him¬
self with his fore-legs. Mr Waterton humanely allowed him
to hook himself to a long stick, by which he conveyed him
to a high and stately mora tree. This he ascended with
great rapidity, and then went off in a lateral direction, by
catching hold of the b’-anches of another tree, and so he
proceeded towards the heart of the forest, and was soon
lost to view. The sloth, in truth, is the most sylvan of
quadrupeds. It is produced, it lives, and it dies among
trees, and though unequal to cope with John Gilpin in
speed, it yields not to his namesake in love of forest scene¬
ry. “ The sloth,” says our author, “ is the only known
quadruped which spends its whole life from the branches of
trees, suspended by his feet. I have paid uncommon at¬
tention to him in his native haunts. The monkey and squir¬
rel will seize a branch with their fore feet, and pull them¬
selves up, and rest or run upon it; but the sloth, after seiz-
ing it, still remains suspended, and suspended moves along
under the branch, till he can lay hold of another. Where-
ever I have seen him in his native woods, whether at rest,
or asleep, or on his travels, I have always observed that he
was suspended from the branch of a tree; and when his
form and anatomy are considered, it will appear evident
that he cannot be at ease in any situation where his body
is higher or above his feet.”3 One of the great objects of
the creation seems to be to multiply the enjoyments of ani¬
mal life,—an object which can only be attained by a vast
diversity in structure and instinct. In the case of the sloth,
as in all other cases, structure and instinct accord, and we
may therefore fairly infer, notwithstanding what Buffon and
others have composed regarding his miserable and degraded
existence, that his peculiar mode of life is accompanied by
a corresponding share of pleasure and advantage. No ani¬
mal is organized for wretchedness.
Few species of the genus are as yet distinctly known, and
these few offer among themselves a considerable disparity
of structure in several important particulars, such as the
Kumber of the ribs, and the form of the cranium. The
three-toed species, which are furnished with a short tail,
form the genus Acheus of F. Cuvier. Of these the di, or
three-toed sloth {Brad, tridactylus, Linn., see Plate X.,
fig. 2.), is the only animal hitherto supposed to possess nine
cervical vertebrae. We have already alluded to the more
recent opinion, that in this respect it forms no exception to
the usual rule.4 The Unau, or two-toed species {B. di-
dactylus, Linn., Ibid., fig. 4), is, according to Cuvier, “un
peu moins malheureusement organise que I’Ai,” in other
words, something different in its habits of life, renders ne¬
cessary a less anomalous form. All these animals are be¬
lieved to be very tenacious of life. They will hang long to
the branch of a tree after being mortally wounded. “ De-
lalande aide de son domestique, a inutilement essaye pen¬
dant une demi-heure d’etrangler un A’i avec une corde de
la grosseur du doigts; I’animal ne cessait d’etendre et de
ramener ses bras en crochets sur la poitrine par intervalles,
ce qu’il fit encore pendant plusieurs heures au fond d’un
tonneau d’alcohol ou on le tint ensuite submerge. Pison
avait disseque vivante une femelle pleine d’unau. Elle se re-
muait encore en totalite et contractait ses pieds longtemps
apres I’arrachement du cceur et des visceres.”5 We conclude
by observing that sloths are entirely herbivorous, feeding
chiefly on leaves, especially those of Cecropia peltata.
Tribe 2d, Effodentia.
In this tribe the muzzle is elongated. The teeth are of
the molar kind only (and in some even these are wanting).
2 Regno Animal, t. i. p. 224. 3 Wanderings in South America.
5 Diet. Class. d’Hist. Nat. t. ii. p. 48B.
Edentata.^ The first generic group is that called Dasypus by Lin-
nseus, which we name armadillo. Their teeth are feeble,
simple, and cylindrical, and range in different species from
28 to 68. Their most remarkable character consists in
their being covered by a defensive armour, or kind of os¬
seous shell, divided into polygonal scales arranged in nu¬
merous transverse bands, covering head, body, and often¬
times the tail. The ears are large, the claws strong, and
varying in number with the species. The tongue is smooth,
and but slightly extensile. A few scattered hairs occur
between the scaly plates, but these creatures can scarcely
be said to have any fur. They dig burrows, and live partly
on a vegetable regimen, partly on insects, reptiles, worms,
and animal remains. Their stomach is simple, and the coe-
cum is absent. They are all natives of the warmer and
temperate parts of America. The females are very prolific.
As we cannot here describe the species, nor even indi¬
cate the minor groups into which recent naturalists have
divided the original genus, we shall here give a short ex¬
tract in illustration of their general habits.1 We quote
from Mr Waterton, to whom naturalists are greatly indebt¬
ed for many interesting elucidations of the history of the
rarer animals of South America. “ The armadillo burrows
in the sand like a rabbit. As it often takes a considerable
time to dig him out of his hole, it would be a long and la¬
borious business to attack each hole indiscriminately, with¬
out knowing whether the animal were there or not. To
prevent disappointment, the Indians carefully examine the
mouth of the hole, and put a short stick down it. Now if,
on introducing the stick, a number of musquitos come out,
the Indian knows to a certainty that the armadillo is in it;
and vice versa, wherever there are no musquitos in the hole,
there is no armadillo. The Indian, having satisfied him¬
self that the armadillo is there, by the musquitos which come
out, immediately cuts a long and slender stick, and intro¬
duces it into the hole; he carefully observes the line the
stick takes, and then sinks a pit in the sand to catch the
end of it; this done, he puts it farther into the hole, and
digs another pit; and so on, until at last he comes up with
the armadillo, which had been making itself a passage in
the sand till it had exhausted all its strength through pure
exertion. I have been sometimes three quarters of a day in
digging out one armadillo, and obliged to sink half a dozen
pits, seven feet deep, before I got up to it. The Indians
and negroes are very fond of the flesh, but I consider it
strong and rank. On laying hold of the armadillo, you
must be cautious not to come in contact with his feet; they
are armed with sharp claws, and will inflict severe wounds:
when not molested, he is harmless and innocent. The ar¬
madillo swims well in time of need, but does not go into the
water by choice. He is very seldom seen abroad during
the day; and when surprised, he is sure to be near the
mouth of his hole. Every part of him is well protected by
his shell, except his ears. In life, this shell is very limber,
so that the animal is enabled to go at full stretch, or roll
himself up into a ball, as occasion may require.”2
We knew little of the actual history of the armadillos, or
of their amount of species, till the time of Azara, who de¬
scribes eight different kinds, one of which {Das. giganteus')
measures above three feet in length. They were supposed
to feed exclusively on vegetable substances, till the Spanish
author observed that they were both insectivorous and car¬
nivorous. The direction of their burrows shew that they
pursue the ant-heaps, and these laborious insects quickly
M A M MALI A.
191
diminish in their neighbourhood. The great species just Edentata,
named (which belongs tc the genus Piuodontes of F. Cu-'^-^v^1*^'
vier, distinguished by the great size of its claws, and the
enormous number of its teeth,—about 90 in all) feeds on
carcasses, and when a human being happens to be buried
beyond the usual precincts of the sepulture, and in a dis¬
trict where this animal occurs, the grave is covered by
stiong double boards, to prevent the disinterment of the
body. I hey also prey on birds and their eggs, as well as
on lizards and other reptiles. They are themselves eaten
both by native Indians and by Spanish tribes. As an ex¬
ample of the genus we have figured the Encoubert, or six-
banded armadillo {Das. sexcinctus, Linn., see Plate X.,
%• p)> a species distinguished from all the others by pos¬
sessing a pair of small teeth upon the incisive bone. It mea¬
sures about a foot and a half in length from the snout to the
insertion of the tail. The latter part is round, about half the
length of the body, and is ringed only at its base. The
cuirass is composed of six or seven moveable bands, formed
of large, smooth, rectangular pieces, longer than broad.3
xhis animal runs swiftly, and burrows with great ease. It
possesses, in spite of its scaly armour, the singular faculty
of so pressing and expanding itself upon the surface of the
ground, as to become three times broader than high. It is
extremely common in Paraguay.
M e may here notice a very singular animal of modern
discovery, of the natural habits of which our information is
as yet extremely scanty, but which partakes of many of the
chaiacters of the armadillos. We allude to the Chlamy-
phorus truncatus of Dr Harlan. (See Plate X., figure i.)
It is a subterranean species from Mendoza, in the inte¬
rior of Chili, so well represented on the plate referred to,
as to save us the necessity of descriptive details. The ani¬
mal was obtained in a living state, but survived in confine¬
ment only a few days. Its habits are said to resemble those
of the mole, and it is reputed to carry its young beneath
the scaly covering of its body. Baron Cuvier states that it
has “ dix dents partout,”4 while its original describer men¬
tions only eight on each side (all molars), that is, sixteen in
each jaw.5
Genus Ohycteropus, Geoff. The only known species
of this genus is an animal peculiar to Africa, called the
Cape ant-eater (Or. Capensis). It is of large dimensions,
measuring between three and four feet in length, exclusive
of the tail, which is nearly two feet long. Its grinders
amount to six on each side of both jaws, or twenty-four in
all, and are distinguished by a peculiar structure, being in
the form of solid cylinders, traversed throughout their length
by an infinity of little canals resembling the interior pores
of canes. Its habits are nocturnal and subterranean, and
its food consists of ants and termites, which it seizes with
its long glutinous tongue, after having disarranged their
dwellings with its paws. The ant-eaters properly so call¬
ed, belong to the following genus, and are peculiar to Ame¬
rica, so that the species just noticed may be regarded mere¬
ly as their African representative. Its flesh is used as food,
and is indeed held in considerable estimation both by Eu¬
ropean and Hottentot, notwithstanding the strong odour of
formic acid with which it is infected.
Genus Myrmecophaga, Linn. Teeth entirely want¬
ing. Head more or less elongated, and terminated bv a
slender muzzle and a narrow mouth. Eyes and ears small,
the latter rounded. Tongue very long, cylindrical, and ca¬
pable of extension. Toes (varying in number with the spe-
Sxre,thf R^(Jne Anhnah.t- P- 220 ’ prjffith’s Ardmal Kingdom, vol. iii. p. 233 ; F. Cuvier’s Mam. Lithoq., Azara’s Essal <ur
Uhst Nat. du Paraguay, t. n.; Desmarest’s Mammalogie, p. 3G6; and the article Taiou in the French DictionrJires d'Hist Nat '
Wanderings, p. 183.
3 A different mode of counting the bands of this and other species has led to some confusion in their synonymy D sexcinctm
and octodecimcmctus, Linn, are one and the same, and correspond to the Tatou poyou of Azara. J j J
* Regne Animal, t. i. p. 229. 3 See Annals of the Neiv York Lyceum of Natural History, vol i., and Zoological Journal, No. vi
192
Edentata, cies) always united as far as the base of the claws, which
are large and strong. Tail very long, sometimes prehen¬
sile and comparatively bare, sometimes covered with lax de¬
pending hairs.
This genus consists of the true ant-eaters, all of which
are natives of South America, and occur chiefly in the
countries bounded on the south-east by the Rio de la Pla¬
ta, and on the north by the Oroonoko. Naturalists are
tolerably well acquainted with at least three species. They
prey almost exclusively on ants and termites, which they
take by means of their long, extensile, gluey tongues, aid¬
ed, as excavating implements, by their vigorous claws. Like
the sloths, there exists among themselves a considerable
disparity of structure,—the small two-toed species being
provided with strong clavicles, attached to the sternum,
while in the larger species these parts are entirely wanting.
One of the most notable features of the ant-eaters con¬
sists in the lengthened, cylindrical, tunnel-shaped character
of the head, which almost resembles that of the long-billed
birds, such as snipes and woodcocks. This is caused chiefly
by the great prolongation of the jaws, of which the upper
(in the species called Tamandud) is more than twice the
length of the cranium. If these long jaws were to open at
the same angle as in most mammiferous animals, the gape
or separation of the terminal portions would be propor¬
tionally greater than in any other species; but, as it hap¬
pens, the opening of the mouth is in fact the most restrict¬
ed with which we are acquainted. This is owing to the
jaws being surrounded throughout their entire extent by
the skin, there being only a very small terminal mouth,
measuring scarcely a fifteenth part of the length of the
maxillae. The muscles of the lower jaw are, moreover, so
extremely feeble, as to be almost unable to produce any
compression. They seem to collect their food entirely
writh their tongue, and may be presumed to swallow it with¬
out mastication, like the majority of birds and fishes. The
ant-eaters, of all the Mammalia, are those of which the
temporal fossae and zygomatic arches are the most effaced.
The bones of the nose occupy almost the half of the length
of the upper portion of the head. The ribs of these animals
are so broad, as to leave scarcely any intermediate space
between them.
The great ant-eater (Myr. jubatd), though low of sta¬
ture, is an animal of almost gigantic extent, sometimes
measuring seven feet from the muzzle to the end of the
tail. It has four toes to the anterior feet, and five to the
posterior. Its tail is garnished, from base to tip, with very
long hair. It seems singular that so large and robust a
creature should support itself solely on ants ; but we must
bear in mind the multitudes of those minute insects which
occur in South America. In captivity it may be fed on
crumbs of bread, meal, flour and water, &c. A living spe¬
cimen, brought a good many years ago into Spain, ate rea¬
dily of raw meat minced, and was said to swallow from
four to five pounds a-day.1 How many ants would be re¬
quired to equal that amount ? This species possesses great
strength in its legs and paw s, and is said to defend itself
successfully against the attacks of the largest feline ani¬
mals, such as the jaguar and other beasts of prey. It is
even held in great dread by the Indians, who however
muc i they may have disabled it, never approach it closely
till it is entirely dead. When it seizes an animal with its
fore-paws, it hugs it. tightly to its body, and retains its
grasp so tenaciously as to kill its enemy either by pressure
or starvation. It docs not climb trees.
The species known under the name of Tamandua (Myr.
tamandua, Cuv., M. tetradactyla and tridactyla, Linn.) is
not more than half the size of the preceding, and differs in
M A M M A L 1 A.
Its prehensile and almost naked tail, by which it is assisted Edentata,
in climbing trees. Azara supposed that, in addition to''—^
the usual insect food, this species eats wild bees and honey.
It smells strongly of musk. The little ant-eater {M.
didactyla, Linn., see Plate X., figures 5 and 8) is rather an
elegant animal. Its body measures little more in length
than six inches, and, besides the great disparity of size, it
is distinguished from the two preceding species by having
only two claws to the fore feet and four to the hinder ones.
It is covered by a beautiful soft fur, of a very pale yellow¬
ish-brown colour. It inhabits the woods of Guyana and
Brazil, dwelling habitually on trees, and preying on ants
and other insects.
Genus Manis, Linn. In this genus also the teeth are
entirely wanting. The body is extremely elongated, low
upon the legs, and covered by strong corneous scales. The
muzzle is very long, the mouth small and terminal, the
tongue of remarkable length, round and extensile. All the
feet have five toes, armed with strong talons. The tail is
very long, covered with scales, and as broad at its base as
the termination of the body.
The entire range of the animal kingdom scarcely pre¬
sents us with species of a more marked and peculiar aspect
than the manis tribe or pangolins. Instead of hair they
are covered by a scaly armour, composed of triangular
plates, placed upon each other like slates or tiles; and
this remarkable character, combined with their attenuated
form, gives them so much the appearance of reptiles, that
they are often designated as scaly lizards. (See Plate
X., figures 6 and 7.) We possess no very detailed
knowledge of their natural history. They seem to be in¬
offensive creatures, feeding, like the ant-eater, on insects, es¬
pecially ants, which they collect by thrusting their long insi¬
dious tongue into the dwellings of these industrious la¬
bourers. Three species are described by systematic wri¬
ters, and of these one inhabits continental India, another
occurs in Java, and a third is native to Senegal and the
coast of Guinea.
Tribe 3d, Monotrema.
The term by which this tribe is designated was first be¬
stowed by Geoff'roy St Hilaire, and is now very generally
adopted by naturalists. It applies to a small number of
species discovered in New Holland in comparatively recent
times, and characterized by a general organization, cer¬
tainly conformable to that of other mammalia, but with
modifications so remarkable and anomalous, that their true
position in the animal kingdom (the very class to which
they belong), is still a disputed point. The apparent ab¬
sence of mammae, and their supposed oviparous nature,
were these two circumstances satisfactorily ascertained,
would either remove them from the ordinary class of quad¬
rupeds, or render necessary an alteration in the technical
definition of that class. In our present tribe only two ge¬
nera are as yet included, viz. Echidna and Ornitho-
rhynchus. Latreille was of opinion that these should form
two distinct orders, an arrangement which has not been
adopted, but which possesses the advantage of shewing that
they greatly differ from each other,—an inference not de-
ducible from Sir Everard Home’s mode of combining them
in a single genus. Shaw placed Echidna with the ant-
eaters, and as connecting these with the porcupines ;
while he expressed his opinion that Ornithorynchus (his
genus Platypus), should follow Myrmecophaga. This ar¬
rangement, in fact, approaches very close to that adopted by
Baron Cuvier.
The monotremous tribes exhibit several peculiarities in.
1 Shaw’s General Zoology, voL i. p. 168.
Edentata, thr-ir osteological structure, by which they are further allied
" to the class of birds. Such, for example, is a kind of cla¬
vicle common to both shoulders, placed in front of the or-
dinary clavicle, and analogous to the furcula of the fea¬
thered tribes. Besides the five claws on each foot, the
males bear a spur on their hind legs, resembling that of a
cock, but pierced by a canal capable of transmitting a li¬
quid of a venomous or inflammatory quality, secreted by a
peculiar gland.1 But however anomalous these and other
characters may be, when we consider their quadrupedal
form, their hairy covering, their lungs freely suspended,
the existence of a diaphragm, the rudiments of teeth, and
the general agreement of the skeleton with that of other
mammiferous animals, we can scarcely hesitate as to the
class to which they belong.2 Their agreements with the
Mammalia are numerous and striking, and deduced from
t e most important organs, while their disagreements are
tew, and deduced for the most part from characters not of
tie highest value. We shall conclude these meagre ge¬
neralities with the words of Baron Cuvier: “ Avec les
formes exterieures et le poil des mammiferes; avec leur
circulation, leur cerveau, leurs organes des sens, et une
grande partie de leurs organes du mouvement; avec le
bassin des Didelphes, les Monotremes ressemblent a beau-
coup d egards, aux oiseaux et aux reptiles par leur epaules
et par les organes de la generation ; ils manquent de ma-
melles et paraissent assez vraisemblablement produire des
ceufs ou quelque chose d’equivalent, au lieu de mettre au
jour des petits vivans. Ils semblent vouloir echapper a nos
classifications par leur osteologie comme par leurs autres
rapports. On ne peut comparer celle de leur tete a celle
d’aucun des ordres de Mammiferes; cependant c’est une
vraie tete de Mammifere et non d’ovipare d’aucune classe.”2
Genus Echidna, Cuv. Teeth entirely wanting, but
their functions partly supplied by several rows of small
spines upon the palate, directed backwards. Muzzle long,
slender, terminated by a small mouth, containing an exten¬
sile tongue. Body short and rounded, covered by many
strong sharp spines. Legs short, each foot furnished with
five strong claws, fit for digging. Tail very short.
Only two species of this genus have been as yet disco¬
vered,—the E. hystrix, which occurs in the vicinity of
Port Jackson, and is almost entirely covered by strong
spines, and the E. setosa, a native of Van Diemen’s Land
and the islands in Bass’s Straits, characterized by fewer
species, and a more ample coat of hair. (See Plate
XL, figure 1.) Some observers incline to consider
them as varieties of the same species, resulting from a dif¬
ference in age.4 Both animals are nearly of the size, and
somewhat of the aspect, of a hedgehog. They feed on
insects, and burrow under ground with great strength and
MAMMALIA.
193
celerity, their feet and claws being admirably adapted to Edentata,
subterranean purposes. It is even said that they will make
their way beneath a wall, or under a pretty strong pave¬
ment. During these exertions their bodies become greatly
lengthened, so as to present a very different appearance
from that of their ordinary state. They keep much under
ground during dry weather, and move about chiefly during
the rains. They are capable of supporting a long conti¬
nued abstinence, and seem subject to a kind of numbness
or peculiar stiffness (engourdissemeni), which will some¬
times continue for upwards of eighty hours, and is fre¬
quently renewed when they are retained in captivity.5
Genus Ornithorhynchus, Blumenbach. Platypus,
Shaw. This genus differs from the preceding, in having
two fibrous molar teeth placed in the gums on each side of
both jaws. The muzzle is prolonged into a broadish flat¬
tened beak, greatly resembling that of a duck. The head
is small and round, with minute eyes, and no external ears.
The nostrils are round, close to each other, and placed near
the extremity of the upper mandible or jaw. The tongue
is in some measure double,—there being one within the
beak, beset with villosities, and bearing another at its base,
of a thicker form, with two small fleshy anterior points.
The legs are very short, directed laterally, the anterior
and posterior very distant from each other, owing to the
comparatively lengthened form of the body. Each foot
has five toes, those of the anterior extremities of nearly
equal size, slender, separate, furnished with flattened nails,
united by a peculiar membrane which projects beneath
them ; the posterior toes united as far as the nails. Tail
rather short, broad at the base. The body is covered with
hair.
Of this very singular genus it does not appear that more
than a single species has as yet been ascertained,6—the
Ornithorhynchus paradoxus of modern writers, first de¬
scribed by Dr Shaw under the name of Duck-billed Pla¬
typus.^ It is an animal of a very peculiar aspect (see Plate
XL, figure 2), of amphibious habits, and a native of
New Holland, where it inhabits marshes, and the banks of
rivers, especially in the neighbourhood of Port Jackson.
I he general belief is, that it lays eggs. We think, however,
that that fact has as yet been rather inferred than demon¬
strated ; and it is certainly singular that it should not have
been proved in those districts where the species is so often
met with, and where so extraordinary a circumstance
must have excited a corresponding degree of curiosity and
attention. The following detailed particulars were pub¬
lished some time ago in an Italian periodical, but without
any indication of the source from which they were derived:
“ The ornithorhynchus inhabits the marshes of New Hol¬
land. It forms, among beds of reeds by the water-side, a
“I c-annot,” says Sir John Jamison, “ avoid relating to you an extraordinary peculiarity which I have lately discovered in the
Ornithorhynchus paradoxus. The male of this wonderful animal is provided with spurs on the hind feet or legs, like a cock.
The spur is situated oyer a cyst of venomous fluid, and has a tube or cannula up its centre, through which the animal can like
a serpent, force the poison when it inflicts its wound. I wounded one with small shot} and, on my overseer’s taking it out of the
water, it struck its spurs into the palm and back of his right hand with such force, and retained them in with such strength that
they could not be withdrawn until it was killed. The hand instantly swelled to a prodigious bulk; and the inflammation having
rapidly extended to the shoulder, he was in a few minutes threatened with locked jaw, and exhibited all the symptoms of a person
bitten by a venomous snake. The pain from the first was insupportable, and cold sweats and sickness of stomach took place so
alarmingly, that I found it necessary, besides the external application of oil and vinegar, to administer large quantities of the vola
tile alkali with opium, which I really think preserved his life.”—Extract from letter dated Kegentville, New South Wales Septem"
ber 10. 1816, published in Linn. Trans., vol. xii. p. 584. See also Dr Knox’s Observations on the Anatomy of the Ornithorhynchut
paradoxus, in Memoirs of the Wernerian Society (for 1823-4), vol. v. p. 26 and p. 144. y
* See De Blainville’s Dissertation sur la place que la famille des Omithorhynches et des Echidn'ts doit occuper dans les series naturelles.
3 Ossemens fossiles, t. v.
4 “ L echidne, dont on fait deux especes, suivant que les piquans sont plus ou moins garnis de polls, est vraiment uniaue.”—Les¬
son’s Manuel de Mammalogie, p. 318. 4 •
5 See Zoologie de la Coquille, p. 134, et seq.
6 In this opinion we coincide with Oken, Meckel, and Geoffrey St Hilaire. Desmarest, Macgillivray, Yander Hoeven Peron and
Lesueur, and other writers, have described what they regard as one or more species distinct from the common kind. We apprehend
that these authors, in the absence of an extensive series of specimens, have attached too much importance to certain individual varia-
llons- 7 Naturalist’s Miscellany, pi. 385.
VOL. XIV. ‘ o R
194
MAMMALIA.
Pachyder- nest composed of hair or wool, and intermingled roots, in
mata. which it deposits two white eggs, smaller than those of our
'wdomestic poultry ; on these it sits a long time, hatching them
like a bird, and refusing to leave them unless threatened by
a very formidable foe. It appears that during all this time
it eats neither seeds nor herbs, but contents itself with
slime or mud; at least nothing more is found within it.
When the ornithorhynchus plunges under water, it remains
but a short time submerged, and comes soon to the sur¬
face, shaking its head like a duck. It walks, or rather
creeps, along the margins of the marshes with considerable
quickness ; its movements are prompt, and its sight so ex¬
cellent as to render its capture difficult. It usually em¬
ploys only one nostril in respiration. It scratches its head
and neck, like a dog, with one of its hind legs. It attempts
to bite when taken, but can inflict no injury, owing to its
soft and feeble beak. The male alone is armed with a
spur upon the hinder legs, and he employs that weapon
against his aggressors. The wound which he inflicts pro¬
duces inflammation and a violent pain, but there is no in¬
stance of its having ever occasioned death.” 1 There is an
appearance of truth in the circumstantial mode in which
the preceding details are narrated, and we therefore regret
the more that they should have appeared anonymously.
The testimony borne to the oviparous nature of the animal
in question accords with the reported belief of the natives,
and with the researches of Hill and Jamison. “ The fe¬
male,” says the last named observer, “ is oviparous, and lives
in burrows in the ground, so that it is seldom seen either
on shore or in the water. The males are seen in numbers
throughout our winter months only, floating and diving in
all our large rivers; but they cannot continue long under
water. I had one drowned by having been left during the
night in a large tub of water. I have found no other sub¬
stance in their stomachs than small fish and fry. They
are very shy, and avoid the shot by diving, and afterwards
rising at a considerable distance.” 2
Order VI.—PACHYDERMATA.
In entering upon the consideration of this interesting
order, we may remind the reader that all the terrestrial
Mammalia are divisible into two great secondary groups,
the unguiculated or nailed quadrupeds, and the ungulated
or hoofed quadrupeds. The former series may be said to
terminate with the Edentata, which themselves approach
the ungulated tribes in the great size of their claws, and
the hoof-like fashion in which these embrace the extremi¬
ties of the toes. They still, however, possess the faculty
of being bent, or otherwise varied in their motion, for the
purposes of seizure, excavation, &c. It is the absence of
that faculty which characterizes the hoofed animals pro¬
perly so called; they want the clavicle, and their anterior
extremities are always in a state of pronation, being avail¬
able only for the purposes of support and of locomotion, but
not for collecting their food, or for any other kind of ma¬
nipulation. Ihey all browse on vegetable substances, and
their bodily forms, as well as their modes of life, are less
varied than those of the unguiculated orders.
J he great ungulated or hoofed division is itself parti¬
tioned into two groups, one of which consists of the rumi¬
nating tribes (order Pecora or Ruminantia), and the
other of certain thick-skinned genera, called Pachyder-
mata,—our present order. Of these two orders it will be
readily perceived that the former is established upon orga¬
nic peculiarities of the highest importance, and is therefore Pachyder.
in a great degree natural and well composed, while the mata.
constituents of the latter agree principally in the negative
character of not being ruminant, and exhibit among them¬
selves so great a range and diversity of structure and cha¬
racter, as to present a much less natural combination. We
find, accordingly, in examining the different genera, that
their toes vary (externally) from one to three, four, and
five ; that their teeth are sometimes of three kinds, some¬
times of only two ; that their skin, generally bare, is occa¬
sionally covered by close or even shaggy hair; that their
stomach, in some cases simple, is in others divided into se¬
veral pouches; that the size of certain species is small,
while that of others attains to the most gigantic dimen¬
sions ; and that while certain minor groups seem nearly al¬
lied to the ruminants, others are broadly distinguished by
numerous anomalies of organization, some of which point
them out as among the most remarkable species of the ani¬
mal kingdom. In a word, the pachydermatous order con¬
sists of the small sized living Daman, and the gigantic and
now extinguished Mastodon,—of the swift and slender
limbed horse, and the short-legged sluggish rhinoceros, of
the savage boar, and mild-eyed elephant. The great dif¬
ferences which exist in the genera now named have occa¬
sioned the grouping of this order into several families,
which some authors are inclined to view rather in the light
of distinct orders.3 We certainly think that the removal
of the genus Equus (which Illiger and others have classed
as a separate order under the title of Solidungula) would
enable us to simplify our definition of the pachydermous
tribes.
Family 1st—PROBOSCIDEA.
This family includes of living creatures (and with the
fossil species we are not concerned) the genus Elephas
alone. The skeleton exhibits five complete toes, but so
encrusted in a callous skin which surrounds the foot, that
only the nails are visible, attached, as it were, to the mar¬
gins of a seeming hoof. The canine teeth, and incisives,
properly so called, are wanting, but in the incisive bones are
implanted a pair of tusks, projecting much beyond the
mouth, and sometimes attaining an enormous size. The
necessary dimensions of the alveoli of these peculiar teeth,
as Baron Cuvier has remarked, render the upper jaw so
high, and so shorten the bones of the nose, that the nos¬
trils, in the skeleton, occur towards the upper portion of
the face, although in the living animal they are prolonged
under the form of a long, gradually attenuated, cylindrical,
trunk or proboscis, composed of several thousand small
muscles, so variously interlaced as to produce a great di¬
versity of motion, endowed with an exquisite sense of touch,
and terminated by a small finger-formed appendage. By
means of this admirable organ the elephant is possessed of
almost as much address as the ape receives from the hu¬
man-like structure of its hand. Its exquisite uses are so
frequently exhibited in menageries, that we need scarcely
expatiate upon the subject. The head, though of enor¬
mous size, is rendered comparatively light by the cellular
structure of a large portion of the cranium. There are no
incisive teeth in the lower jaw ; the grinders are two on
both sides of each jaw; making the total number ten, in¬
cluding the tusks. The stomach is simple, the ccecum
enormous, the mammae only two, their position pectoral.4
As the Genus Elefhas contains all the living species of
the family, the preceding characteristics may be regarded
1 Antkoloyxa (di Firenze), t. xxiv. p. 305.
2 Linn. Trans, vol. xii. p. 385. An interesting account of a living ornithorhynchus, in captivity, was published by Mr George Ben-
net, in one of the “Annuals.”
3 See Diet. Class. d'Hist. Nat. t. xii. p. 579. * Regne Animal, t. i. p. 238.
MAMMALIA.
195
Pachyder- as generic. The distinctive character of the teeth consists
niata. in the molars being composed of a certain number of verti-
—y-—''cal plates, each formed of an osseous substance, enveloped
by enamel, and connected together by a third or cortical
matter. These teeth succeed each other not vertically, as
the second molars of the human race succeed the milk-
teeth, but from behind forwards, in such a manner that in
proportion as one grinder becomes used it is pushed for¬
ward by its successor; and thus there is sometimes two,
sometimes only one on each side. The first teeth have
few plates, the succeeding ones a greater number; and the
molars are said to be sometimes changed as often as eight
times, while the tusks or great incisives are only once
renewed. There are only two species known to natura¬
lists of these gigantic creatures.
The African elephant (G. Africanus) is easily distin¬
guished from the Asiatic species by his rounder head, more
convex forehead, much larger ears, and the lozenge-marked
surface of his grinders. His tusks are also longer, and
those of his female are described as equally great with his
own, whereas the female of the Asiatic elephant has very
small tusks. He inhabits a wide extent of Africa from Se¬
negal to the Cape, and abounds in the forests of the inte¬
rior. That the African elephant has not in modern times
been rendered serviceable to man, we cannot think arises
from any defect in the wisdom or docility of his disposi¬
tion, but rather from a difference in the social and political
conditions of the human tribes of Africa, and their inferior
civilization. It is known that the ancient Carthaginians
made use of elephants, which, so far as our information
extends, there is no reason to believe were otherwise than
of African origin ; in like manner as the Asiatic variety
was used by Porus and the Indian kings. It is not yet
clearly ascertained whether the individuals of the eastern
shores of Africa are specifically the same as those of the
interior and western districts, or whether they do not ex¬
hibit a closer approximation to the Asiatic species. We
may observe, that the size of both the African and eastern
elephant has been much exaggerated. Dr Hill, for ex¬
ample, asserts that when full grown they will measure from
seventeen to twenty feet in height. One-half of the latter
dimension is probably nearer the truth, even for an indivi¬
dual of more than usual size, and twelve feet may be stated
as an extreme height. The African, however, are alleged
(by travellers though not by systematic writers) to be larger
than those of Asia. Major Denham, for example, while
journeying to the Schad, saw elephants so enormous that
he calculated their height at sixteen feet. These, how¬
ever, he had no opportunity of measuring; but another
which was killed in his presence was found to be nine feet
six inches from the foot to the hip-bone, and three feet
from the latter to the back; that is, twelve feet and a half
in all, or more than twice the height of the tallest races of
mankind. When we consider, that even in proportion to
its height, the elephant is an animal of enormous bulk, and
of the most massive proportions, we may conceive what an
enormous mass of flesh and bone its rugous coat must
usually contain. A large individual weighs from six to
seven thousand pounds, and it may easily be imagined that
when travelling through the forest with any special object
in view, he must force his way through all intervening ob¬
stacles more after the manner of a modern locomotive en¬
gine, than of any mere animal force of which we have an
accustomed conception.
“ Trampling his path through wood and brake,
And canes which crackling tail before his way,
And tassel-grass, whose silvery feathers play,
O’ertopping the young trees,
On comes the elephant to slake
His thirst at noon in yon pellucid springs.
L,o ! from his trunk upturn’d, aloft he flings
The grateful shower; and now,
Plucking the broad-leav’d bough
Of yonder plume, with waving motion slow,
Fanning the languid air,
He waves it to and fro.”1
Of the Asiatic elephants (Eleph. Indicus, see Plate XI.,
fig. 3) those of Ceylon are among the most celebrated. In¬
deed, the torrid zone seems the most favourable for the
production of the largest races ; for although elephants oc¬
cur along the coast of Malabar as far north as the territo¬
ries of Coorgah Rajah, these, according to Mr Corse (Scott)
are inferior to the breed from Ceylon. Those of China,
where they seem to be used rather as an appendage of im¬
perial greatness than as beasts of burden, are described as
smaller than those of more southern regions, and of a lighter
hue. A few are, however, said to have bred to the north¬
ward of the tropic ; and we may add, that elephants appear
to have been very anciently known even in remote parts of
the Chinese empire.2 As Kublai Khan, one of the con¬
quering heroes of the thirteenth century, subdued Ava and
other southern provinces, where elephants are known to
have abounded, and where they were opposed to his armies
in battle, it is probable that he then added those gigantic
and imposing animals to his establishment, and conveyed
them to the more northern parts of his great Tartarian em¬
pire, which included a large portion of what we now de¬
signate by the name of China.. A few are still kept by the
emperors of the reigning dynasty.3
It is to the Asiatic species that most of the anecdotes
apply, as recorded in our systematic works and books of
travels.4 Although generally regarded as the “ wisest of
beasts,” it is alleged by some to owe much of its apparent
sagacity to that admirable instrument its proboscis, by
which it is enabled to perform many actions which the
canine race, though probably equal in wisdom, cannot
achieve in consequence of their different, if not more de¬
fective, organization. “ Apres,” says Baron Cuvier, “ les
avoir etudies long-temps, nous n’avons pas trouve qu’elle
(1’intelligence) surpassat celle du chien ni de plusieurs
autres carnassiers.”5 Still we think it is demonstrable both
from ancient record and modern observation, that the ele¬
phant is most highly gifted for an irrational being, and that
it generally retains its finer natural instincts even in con¬
junction with those artificial acquirements which in several
other sagacious species seem to deaden or destroy the in¬
fluence of pure instinctive feeling.
We have already stated our opinion that the size of the
elephant is usually exaggerated. Mr Scott of Sinton, whose
authority is frequently quoted, and deservedly valued on
such points, has stated, in relation to the Asiatic species,
that he never heard of more than a single instance of its
exceeding the height of ten feet. The following are the
proportions which he gives of a fine male belonging to the
Vizier of Oude :—
From foot to foot over the shoulder, . .
From the top of the shoulder, perpendicular
height, 
From the top of the head when set up,
From the front of the face, to the insertion
of the tail, 
Feet. Inches.
. 22 10£
| 10 6
\ 12 2
1 15 11
1 Southey’s Curse of Kehama. 4 See various passages in Marsden’s edition of the Travels of Marco Polo.
3 Bell’s Travels, vol. ii. p. 25; Van Braam’s Voyage en Chine, t. i. p. 280.
4 As our restricted space prohibits an ampler exposition, we beg to refer the reader to a very accessible volume (in the Library of
Entertaining Knowledge) entitled The Menageries, vol. ii., where a complete account is given of the ancient and modern history of
elephants. 8 Animal, t. i. p. 239.
196
MAMMALIA.
Pachyder-
mata.
Nothing, indeed, is more deceptive than the dimensions
of an animal which, obviously exceeding in size whatever
living creature we have been previously accustomed to, has
yet been unsubjected to actual measurement, for our as¬
tonishment magnifies the real size. Thus a celebrated
elephant belonging to the Nabob of Dacca, which was ge¬
nerally reported to be fourteen feet high, and which even
Mr Scott’s practised eye estimated at twelve, was found by
measurement not to exceed ten feet. Those from Pegu
and Ava (as well as the Ceylonese) are, however, of greater
size than those of Hindostan. There is the skeleton of an
elephant in the museum of St Petersburgh, presented by
the King of Persia to the Czar Peter, which measures
above sixteen feet in height, but we have no doubt that
some portion of this prodigious stature is owing to the
mode in which the bones have been articulated in the set¬
ting up, and the more or less natural curvature of the
spine. A new born elephant usually measures about thirty-
five inches high, and he is said to grow eleven inches the
first year, eight the second, five the fifth, three and a half
the sixth, and two and a half in the seventh year. He
takes from twenty to thirty years to attain his full growth,
and has been alleged to live for a couple of centuries.
There are authentic instances of elephants having been
kept in a domestic state for a hundred and thirty years.
The female is capable of breeding after her fifteenth year.
She produces a single young one at a birth, after a gestation
of from twenty-two to twenty-three months.
Elephants in this country are usually fed on hay and
carrots, and the quantity of food which they consume is
enormous. Those of the Emperor Akbar had each a daily al¬
lowance of 200 pounds in weight, with an additional supply
of ten pounds of sugar, besides rice, milk, and pepper; and
during the sugar-cane season each was provided daily with
300 canes. The Mogul princes are known to have kept
up their stud of elephants at a vast expense ; and accord¬
ing to Pliny, even the Romans, a people so addicted to
extravagance, found the sustaining of the Carthaginian
elephants captured by Metellus so costly, that they were
afterwards slain in the circus. Yet, according to iElian’s
account, less rigid economy prevailed in the days of Ger-
manicus. His elephants were exhibited in the arena, re¬
posing on splendid couches, adorned with the richest ta¬
pestry. Tables of ivory and cedar-wood were placed be¬
fore them, and on these their viands were presented in
vessels of gold and silver. They danced to the sound of
“ flutes and soft recorders,” or moved about the theatre in
measured and harmonious steps, scattering around them
the freshest and the choicest flowers. Arrian mentions
an elephant which played on symbols, one being fastened
to each knee, and another held by his proboscis, while his
unwieldy companions danced in a circle, keeping time with
the greatest exactness.
The general use of gunpowder in the practice of war,
and the application of steam to machinery, have greatly
superseded the employment of this gigantic living engine
for the purposes of the human race, although it is still ex¬
tensively used as a beast of burden in the East. In regard
to the pecuniary value of the elephant, Mr Forbes informs
us that a common price is from 5000 to 6000 rupees, but
that he has seen one valued at 20,000.1 11 We must now
terminate our miscellaneous notices of this interesting
genus.2 °
Pachyder.
Family IL—PACHYDERMATA PROPER. . m^a-_.
In the majority of this family the three sorts of teeth exist
together, and the number of toes ranges from two to four.
Those in which the toes are of an even number have their
feet in a measure cloven, and approach the ruminants both
in the structure of the skeleton, and the complicated form
of the stomach.
Genus Hippopotamus, Linn. Incisives^-, canines
4 1 — 1
mo‘ars (T— 6 ’ := ^‘3 B°cly very bulky, legs proportion¬
ally short, the feet with four toes terminated by small
hoofs. Lower incisives cylindrical, and directed obliquely
forwards. Skin extremely thick, and hairless.
Only one species of this genus is distinctly known to
naturalists, the Hippopotamus amphibius of systematic wri¬
ters.4 Next to the elephant and rhinoceros this is proba¬
bly the most bulky land animal with which we are acquaint¬
ed. It is peculiar to Africa, where it inhabits the fresh
waters of the central and southern portions of that sultry
continent. It appears to have formerly existed in Lower
Egypt, but has long since disappeared from that district.
It is, however, well known in Abyssinia. Mr Salt had no
sooner reached the banks of the Tacazze, a tributary of the
Nile, than his attention was roused by the cry of his at¬
tendants of “ Gomari! Gomari!” the native title of the
hippopotamus ; but he at that time succeeded in obtaining
only a momentary glance, which sufficed to shew that its
action somewhat resembled the rolling of a grampus in the
sea. The river was about fifty yards across, and between
its fords, at the place alluded to, there are pools of almost im¬
measurable depth, resembling the wild and beautiful moun¬
tain tarns of the north of England, and in these the amphibi¬
ous giants love to dwell. Mr Salt and his party stationed
themselves on a high overhanging rock which commanded
a deep translucent pool, and they did not remain long be¬
fore a hippopotamus rose to the surface at a distance of
twenty yards. He came up very confidently, raising his
enormous head above the water with a violent snort. The
muskets were instantly discharged, their contents seemed
to strike directly on the forehead, on which he turned round
his head with an angry scowl, and making a sudden plunge,
descended to the bottom, with a peculiar noise between a
grunt and a roar. The sportsmen for a time entertained
the hope that he was killed, but he ere long rose again
close to the same spot, apparently not much concerned at
what had happened, but with somewhat greater caution
than before. The guns were again discharged, but as in¬
effectually as before; and although some of the party con¬
tinued firing at every one that made his appearance, they
were by no means certain that the slightest impression was
produced. This they attributed to their having used leaden
balls, which are too soft for such almost impenetrable skulls.
One of the most interesting parts of the amusement con¬
sisted in witnessing the perfect ease with which these huge
creatures quietly descended to the bottom, for the water
being exceedingly clear, they were distinctly perceptible
at least twenty feet beneath the surface. They are able
to remain five or six minutes at a time under the water.5
The flesh of the hippopotamus is used as food by many of
1 Oriental Memoirs.
J. In to the works already quoted, we have in this as in some other parts of our present treatise, availed ourselves of th«
natural history sketches contained in various volumes of the Edinburgh Cabinet Library.
11II 1 lonI! ni°lar sometimes found on each side of the upper jaw, but it seems of a temporary nature.
r * ' Pefmou ,ns regards the species of Senegal as distinct from that of the southern extremity of Africa.
J isau, a yoyai^e :o Abyssinia, p. 64b,
MAMMALIA.
197
i^ftddt,i,r^^4.rie‘y i" rf *« p.w **■.,*.
-- 7 ^*».*** Mxovy v^ixipxwj 1U1 cl veil
or purposes, and its teeth yield an ivory of great value.
Genus Sus, Linn. Ineisives ^ or canines, 1
_ 6 6 ’ 1 _ 1
7 — 7
7 — 7 ’
molars,
— 42 or 44. All the feet furnished with
to the north of the Moluccas, and the westward of New
Guinea. It would even appear that there are two wild'
species in the Celebes (besides Sus Babyrussa), and some
writers are of opinion that there exists in the Indian and
Chinese dominions a species distinct from the wild boar of
mata.
four tnp« ^ aominions a species distinct trom the wild boar o
aree^ze arf ™ lnter,neJate>1and of Europe, and the more probable source from which the Sia
scafcelv to tmfiTh™ ^ 1,8 meS breed> a?d ^ China, have been derived.
scarcely to touch the ground. The lower incisives always
project forwards, and the canine teeth, even those of the
upper jaw, likewise project and curve upwards. The snout
is lengthened, and truncated at the point.
The wild boar (*SW aper\ the supposed origin of our
We cannot here enter into a detailed history of our nu¬
merous cultivated breeds. With a repulsive aspect, an un¬
graceful form, the most sensual habits, and a ferocity of
disposition not seldom approaching to that of the carnivorous
tribes, the domestic hog is nevertheless one of the most
rlrkrYiocfl^ U \ ^ vyiigm ui UUl LliUcb, UiC QOmeStlC
domestic breeds of swine, occurs in many parts of Europe, useful of quadrupeds. If the value of a benefit denendsTn
is of’a brownish blacVco^8 °f ^ i ItS W & great measure on its universality, this despised animal may
arp Wcl ?!irk ,?ir,,COver1ed W1.th bnstles, which indeed claim a higher rank than many of a loftier nature^
mal of great stremdl^and^' cons A1 ? 18 f” am‘ for one of the most singular circumstances in its history
ai or great strength, and considerable activity ; but its is the immense extent of its distribution more snpciallv in
dimensions though large probably never exceed those of far removed and isolated s^ inS^
an overgrown individual of the domestic breed. Wherever barian people, to whom the wl spedes i utteX unknown
fnd tezr, S“e 0f,ratUr?,’ he ^ f°und *" moist The Islands, for exa^on S
^„d. k d/_ at10 P8’. gent;rally wel1 wooded, and for the Europeans, were found to be well stocked with a small!
most part not far distant from streams and marshes. He
prefers even cultivated grounds, with all the dangerous con ¬
sequences likely to result from such localities, to dry or
open tracts of weather-beaten barrenness. However fierce
black, short-legged hog ; and the traditionary belief of the
human natives, bore that they were as anciently descended
as themselves. The hog, in fact, is in these islands the prin¬
cipal quadruped, and is of all others the most carefully
The bread-fruit tree! efther' 2Z o?fZ
paste, or in its natural condition, constitutes its favourite
food, and its additional choice of yams, eddoes, and other
nutritive vegetables, rendersits flesh most juicy and deli¬
cious, its fat, though rich, being at the same time (so says
Foster) not less delicate and agreeable than the finest but¬
ter. Before our missionary labours had proved so signally
successful in those once forlorn and benighted regions, by
substituting the mild spirit of Christianity for the sanguin-
or presenting roasted pigs at the morais, as the most sa-
voury and acceptible offering to their deities which they
could bestow. Hogs are now abundant in America. They
were not, however, indigenous to the New World, but were
transported thither by the Spaniards, soon after the disco¬
very and conquest by that nation of the western regions.
China is famous for its pigs, and throughout most of the
provinces is much more abundant than mutton. Indeed
the powerful and prevailing love of the former viand has
even been assigned by a philosophical historian as a prin¬
cipal reason for the rejection by the subjects of the celestial
empire, of the laws and religion of Mahomet.2
Of animals allied to the boar we may name the Sus
larvatus, a species which occurs in Madagascar and Southern
Africa, and the Sus Babyrussa (see Plate XI., figure 4),
a native of the Indian Archipelago, distinguished by its
longer and more slender limbs, and the extraordinary length
strength, or irritated during the rutting season, when his
passions are inflamed, his natural tastes are almost entirely
herbivorous. Buffon, however, states that they have been
seen eating horse flesh; and the skin of deer, and the claws
of birds, have been sometimes found within them. Des-
marest asserts that they devour the smaller kinds of game,
such as leverets and partridges, and are very fond of eggs.
Their habits are rather nocturnal, at least they are fre¬
quently observed to quit their coverts during the evening
twilight, and when they hold their lair in the vicinity of
human cultivation, they often do great damage by turning
up the soil in long straight deep furrows, in search of roots
or grain. By means of their delicate perception of the
sense of touch and smell, they discover and disinter many
low growing plants, half sunk beneath the soil, and hence
probably their desire to dwell in moist and sombre places
where, amid “ a boundless contiguity of shade,” their na¬
tural powers are more easily and efficiently exerted. They
continue to increase in size and strength for four or five
years, and are said to live for about thirty years. It is
when they have nearly attained maturity, that they afford
the most exciting and dangerous occupation to the sports¬
man. A strong boar will then continue to run for a long
time, and finally make the most vigorous and determined
self-defence. An experienced boar exhibits considerable
intelligence in avoiding his enemies, although the strong
scent which emanates from him, especially in a state of irri¬
tation, renders his eventual escape from the dogs extreme
i , i-. t ,  --o  of its upturned and greatly curved tusks. The genus Pha-
y doubt ul. In his revenge also, there is said to be less of cochcerus, F. Cuvier, has only two incisives in the upper
blind and indiscriminate fury than might be expected from jaw, and even these are often wanting, though their vestiges
ms coarsely savage aspect; for even when harassed beyond are sometimes found beneath the gums. It is also charac-
the hope of life, and about to be torn to pieces by the insa- terized by a large and fleshy lobe on either cheek. The
tiate hounds, should he receive a ball from the huntsman’s species (supposed to be two in number if that described
rifle, he has been known to turn upon his dread pursuers, by Ruppel is really distinct) are fierce and savage animals,
to break through the bellowing pack, and to single out and which, when attacked, become extremely furious and rush
assault with savage ire his human persecutor.! ing on their enemies with great force and swiftness, oc-
t The wdd boar among the fiercestof th^mmds offndia. casionally inflict the most desperate and sometimes fatal
It there inhabits chiefly the woods and jungles; but when the wounds. The genus Dycoteles of Cuvier has four inci
grain is nearly ripe, it occasions great damage in corn fields, sives above, six below, with two canines and six molars in
and still greater among sugar plantations. In eastern coun- each jaw. The species differ from all the preceding por-
tries it is spread over a vast extent of territory, and exists cine groups in the canines being directed in the ordinary
Jnr$'Mrterly Journal of ^culture, vol. ii. p. 875. An account is given of the different domestic breeds in voh iii. p. 35, of the same
worK* ‘Tbid. voL u. p. 877. *
MAMMALIA.
198
Pachyder- manner, in there being only three toes to the hinder feet,
mata. an(j |n tlie tail being tubercular. These animals, common-
ly called peccaries, are native to South America, where
there are two species, the collared peccary (Z>. torquatus),
and the white-lipped peccary (D. labiatus). The former
inhabits the Atlantic coasts of the New World from Gu¬
yana to Paraguay, the latter occurs in parts of the same
extensive range, and is sometimes met with in vast flocks.
It is easily tamed, and its flesh is good to eat. Prior to the
practical researches of Azara, both species seem to have
been confounded under the title of Sus Tajassu, Linn.
Genus Rhinoceros, Linn. The number of teeth in
this genus differs according to the species. Each foot is
divided into three toes. The bones of the nose, which are
very thick, and united into a hollow arch, bear one or more
horns, which adhere to the skin, and are composed of a
fibrous substance, resembling a mass of agglutinated hairs.
The species, of which four or five are known to naturalists,
are of a dull and heavy aspect, and of much more restricted
capacity than the elephant. Though inferior also in size
to that sagacious creature, they are yet of sufficiently gigan¬
tic dimensions to form a very imposing feature in zoology.
Their senses of sight and touch are said to be rather defec-
ive ; those of smell and hearing more acute. A young
rhinoceros, kept in the Garden of Plants, in Paris, was ha¬
bitually gentle, obedient to his keepers, and extremely sen¬
sible of kindness. He exhibited, however, at times the most
violent paroxysms of rage, during which it was necessary
to keep beyond “ the pale of such contention,” as it would
have been but poor comfort to those whom he might have
gored, to be informed that his ordinary proceedings were en¬
tirely innocuous. He was usually mitigated by a liberal
supply of bread and fruit, and as soon as he saw those who
were in the habit of feeding him, he would stretch his muzzle
towards them, open his mouth, and extend his tongue.
The preceding observations apply to the species of con¬
tinental India {Rhinoceros Indicus, Cuv., see Plate XL,
fig. 8), which, besides twenty-eight molars, has two strong
incisive teeth in each jaw, two others of a smaller size be¬
tween the lower incisives, and one still smaller on each in¬
cisor of the upper jaw. It has only one horn, and its skin
forms deep folds behind and across the shoulders, and be¬
fore and across the thighs. “ The power of this species is
frequently displayed to a surprising degree when hunting
it. A few years ago, a party of Europeans, with their na¬
tive attendants and elephants, when out on the dangerous
sport of hunting these animals, met with a herd of seven of
them, led, as it appeared, by one larger and stronger than
the rest. When the large rhinoceros charged the hunters,
the leading elephants, instead of using their tusks or wea¬
pons, which, in ordinary cases, they are ready enough to
do, wheeled round, and received the" blow of the rhinoceros
on the posteriors. The blow brought them immediately to
the ground with their riders, and as soon as they had risen,
the brute was again ready, and again brought them down,
and in this manner did the combat continue until four of the
seven were killed, when the rest made good their retreat.1
1 he rhinoceros of Ja.va.{Rh.Javanus, Cuv.) is possessed
of the lai ge incisives and single horn of the Indian species,
but its skin has fewer folds, and is entirely covered with small
c ose-set angular tubercles. A third eastern species occurs
m Sumatra (i?/t. Sondaicus, Cuv.). Its skin is more hairy,
with scarcely any folds, and there is a small horn behind
the ordinary one.2
Ihe African species have two horns, no folds on the skin,
and want the incisive teeth. The best known is the Rki- Pachvder-
noceros Africanus of modern writers,—Rh. bicornis, Linn. mata.
Its name was changed on the discovery of the two-hornedv v"-—'
Sumatran species, and the title of African was bestowed
upon it, in the erroneous belief that it was the only species
found upon that continent. But the discovery of a distinct
species in the interior of southern Africa by Mr Burchell
(and which that traveller names Rh. simus), affords a proof,
among many others which might be adduced, of the impro¬
priety of naming any species from the continent which it
inhabits. Few creatures stand so “ alone in their glory” as
to exist over a vast tract of country without claiming kin¬
dred with any other, and it may almost be inferred a priori
that when one of a genus is discovered, a second or a third
will ere long be ascertained. When this happens, such
names as Africanus, Amencanus, &c. cease to be discri¬
minating, and consequently lose their value. In the mean
time, we have no means of ascertaining the difference in
the geographical distribution of the two species of African
rhinoceros, or how far their history and description may
not have been confounded by travellers. Mr Burchell’s
species is chiefly distinguished by the truncated form of the
lips and nose, and by its general dimensions being much
laiger. It was first met with amid immense plains near the
26° of south latitude, and was described by the natives as
feeding on nothing but grass, while the other is said to
browse on shrubs and branches. One or other of the spe¬
cies extends over a great expanse of Africa, where they are
much esteemed as food, the tongue especially being regard¬
ed as a great delicacy. The hunters of the rhinoceros are
called agageer in Abyssinia, from agaro to kill, by cutting
the hams or tendon of Achilles, with a sword. The eyes of
the animal being extremely small, his neck stiff, and his
head very ponderous,3 he seldom turns round so as to see
any thing that is not directly before him. To this, accord¬
ing to Bruce, he owes his death, as he never escapes if there
is as much plain ground as to enable a horse to get in ad¬
vance, for his pride and fury then induce him to lay aside
all thoughts of escaping but by the victorious overthrow of
his enemy. He stands for a moment at bay, then starting
forward, he suddenly charges the horse, after the manner
of a wild boar,—an animal which he greatly resembles in
his general mode of action. The horse, however, easily
avoids this heavy though impetuous onset, by turning shor'
aside,—and now is the fatal instant,— for a naked warrior,
armed with a ruthless sword, drops from behind the princi¬
pal hunter, and, unperceived by the huge rhinoceros, who
seeks only to wreak his vengeance on his more open enemy,
he smites him with a tremendous blow across the tendon of
the heel, and thus renders him incapable of further flight.
It may be easily conceived that his rage is great, and his
resistance vain.
A rhinoceros in confinement will consume towards two
hundred pounds of vegetable substances in a day. They
are usually fed on moistened beans, hay, carrots, and a cer¬
tain allowance of grain. In speaking of the supply of vege¬
table matter essential to the support of so gigantic a living
mass, we must likewise bear in mind the vast quantity of
water which it consumes. No country, according to Bruce,
but such as that of the Shangalla, deluged with six months’
rain, full of large and deep basins hewn by nature in the
living rock, and shaded from evaporation by dark umbrage¬
ous woods, or one watered by extensive and never-failing
rivers, can supply the enormous draughts of his capacious
maw.4
1 Griffiths's Animal Kingdom, vol. iii. p. 426
l Ahead^whJn disioinld fromt0/life’ ^ Horsfield’s Zoological Researches in Java.
merely rais^ it from the ground, and el^ttS re^Suo piac^t ^'fcm'rrw!1”8 °f “°m0" tt*t *” me" c0“ld
e may ere note an opinion entertained both by Mr Salt and Earon Cuvier, that the figure of the African rhinoceros given
*
Pachyder
mala.
We shall here briefly notice the Genus Hyrax of Her-
raann, which seems to contain only a single well authenticated
species (H. capensis and syriacus, figured in Plate XI.,
fig* 5), described under a variety of names, such as daman,
Cape marmot, Cape £avy, &c. It is an animal of the di¬
mensions of a rabbit, with a greyish-coloured fur. It was
long classed among the Rodentia, probably on account of
the smallness of its size ; but, as Cuvier has remarked, with
the exception of the horn, which is here wanting, the hyrax
may be said to represent the rhinoceros in miniature/ It
MAMMALIA.
199
followed by its thinner skinned enemies. It is also some- Pactiyder-
imes shot by those who lie in ambush during the night mata.
among the water melons, its accustomed food. It is tena-'   
cious ot hfe, if we may judge from the account given by
Azara, who saw one run for some time after it had receiv¬
ed two balls through the heart. It is a solitary animal, of
nocturnal habits, easily tamed if taken young. See its cra¬
nium on Plate XL, figure 6.
A SuC°™ £m(;rican species has been discovered of late
years by M. Rouhn,2 and described under the title of Ta-
- _ _ a —  ai, j v-c*i a y . JLVUl
nas exactly the same molars, but there are two strong in- virus vinchaaup If- ia Q i • • '* "
cisives curved downwards in the upper jaw, and, in the ins, a^eTeSes i „ Y ’"f'r m Slze*e preced-
young state, a pair of small canines; there are four inci- osteological structure exhibftsTen VI™ but
stves in the lower jaw. The fore feet have four toes, the it is saifto oc^l^
hinder three, all furnished with very small rounded hoofs tains. y S g among the moun-
(or rather nails, for in this respect our present genus seems The only other dparHh^l i
t0 an exception to its order), except the inner toe of of Raffles /md Horsfield (To-nir i. ^ ^ mPir
the hinder extremities, which bears a curved oblique nail. XL, figure 7). It is a r / Cllv*’, Fl*te
The tail is tubercular. This animal has twenty-one pair of ninsula of Malacca It pvpppH °tl UI?atra. ant^ tbe ■Pe"
ribs being exceeded in that number, we believe, b/only a size.Tnd is further' distinSed hv'a “er,'Can k'rdS “
singe quadruped, the unau or two-toed sloth, which h»= trasted colouring, the head, shoulders, imd'tore and bind
legs being of a blackish-brown, while the intermediate por¬
tion of the body is of a dingy white. Though a common
animal in the east, its habits in a state of nature are but
little known. I he specimen described by Sir T. S. Raffles
was young and tractable. It roamed about the park at
Rarrackpore, and was frequently observed to enter a pond
and walk along the bottom under water, but without any
exercise of the ordinary mode of swimming.3
single quadruped, the unau or two-toed sloth, which has
twenty-three. In this character, as in many others, it
agrees with the pachydermous tribes in general, all of which
have numerous ribs ; whereas the majority of the Rodentia
have only twelve or thirteen pair of ribs, those of the beaver
alone amounting to fifteen. The hyrax is spread over a
vast portion of Africa from the Cape of Good Hope to the
north of Abyssinia. It dwells in clefts of the rocks, feeding
on herbs and roots. Bruce describes it as “found in
Ethiopia, in the caverns of the rocks, or under the great
stones in the Mountains of the Sun, behind the queen’s pa¬
lace at Koscam. It is also frequent in the deep caverns in
the rock in many other parts of Abyssinia.” It is there
called aMoko, a,id several dozens Jfrequently see“ i ! tec^cSty cC^edT/lS 7 ,*rib*1
ting together upon great stones at the mouths of caves, en- toe to each foot, covered b^a^ ngrmdivWed hoo^Tf
joying the warmth of the mid-day sun, or the freshness of beneath the skin on each Jhp nf thf , d , f But»
a fine summer evening. They are gentle and easily tampd tnrS*l h de of ‘he metacarpal and meta-
Family III.—SOLIDUNGULA.
M e here place the different species of the horse tribe,
CnniPfl V n Q VO U... • 1 _
a fine summer evening. They are gentle and easily tamed
though at first, if roughly handled, they are apt to bite.
“ In Arabia and Syria he is called Israel’s sheep or gannim
Israel, for what reason I know not, unless it is chiefly from
his frequenting the rocks of Horeb and Sinai, where the
children of Israel made their forty years’ peregrination;
perhaps this name obtains only among the Arabians. I ap¬
prehend he is known by that of saphan in the Hebrew, and
is the animal commonly called by our translators cuniculus,
the rabbit or coney.”1
Genus Tapir, Linn. Incisives canines ——, mo-
.   uai auu meta¬
tarsal bones, are two small protuberances or styles, which
represent the lateral toes. The three kinds of teeth exist
females ^ ^ Canines are almost always -wanting in the
Genus Equus, Linn.
6 — 6
Incisives -, canines
o
1 — 1
I — 1
mo-
= 40. Upper lip developed and flexible. Eyes
lars
7 — 7
6’
1 — 1’
= 44.
7 7 > — Muzzle prolonged into a small fleshy
trunk, but not prehensile. Anterior feet with four toes,
posterior with three. Tail very short.
The most anciently known of this genus is the Tapir
Amenamw, supposed to be the largest quadruped native the zebra or mountain zebra (£. iefo-aj, and the 2a of
larS 6 — (i
lateral. Ears large, pointed, moveable. Limbs long and
slender. Tad of medium length, and either furnished
throughout its whole extent with long hair, or terminated
by a somewhat lengthened tuft. Stomach simple, and of
medium size ; intestines very long ; coecum enormous.
According to the views of modern naturalists, this im¬
portant genus consists of six distinct, though nearly allied
species, namely, the horse {Equus caballus), the dziggithai
to the southern division of the New World, where it is very
generally distributed from the Isthmus of Panama to the
neighbourhood of the Straits of Magellan, being, however,
more abundant in Guyana than in Paraguay. Its prevail-
the plains {E. Burchellii). It has been remarked that the
characters which distinguish these animals from each other
though sufficient for the purposes of the naturalist, are not,’
anatomically considered, of an essential nature. They are
ing colour is deep bro'wn, and there is a small mane on the rather superficial, consisting chiefly iiTthTcom^tive^e
upper portion of the neck of the male. This species mea- of the ears, the length and texture of the a
sures nearly six feet in length, with a height of about three tribution of the external colours. As the size varies te"
feet six inches. It is hunted by means of dogs on account markably in several of the species, the difference of dffiien’
both of its flesh and hide, the former being held in some sion can scarcely be assumed as a snpr.'firv ^ ? * u
esteem by the Indians, whose taste is not distinguished for the most accomplished comparative anatomistranwiftdiffi!
dehcacy. When pursued, it seeks its safety by bursting culty distinguish a species merely from the inspection of a
through close and thorny thickets, where it is with diftculty few isolated bones, although such inspection is amply suffl-
by Bruce must have been copied, for convenience, from the one-horned species of Buffon with the j
two-horned rhinoceros wants the folds in the skin, which are nevertheless represented bv the Abyssinian traveller ^ b0™’ 38 the
■ Bruce's Trach, Appendix, p. 136, pi. 23. See also the late Dr Scott's Essay in HWiiZo™, vol vf
- Aano/r, drs SWs A oh 1829, t. i p. 26. » See Linn. Trann vol iii. part 2d, Revarch*.
MAMMALIA.
200
Pachyder- cient for the determination of species in the case of almost
mata. all other groups of which we possess an osteological know-
'“■''v'"'-'' ledge. We shall devote a few sentences to each of the ani¬
mals above enumerated.
Equus caballus. The Horse. Our cultivated breeds of
this invaluable creature are now so numerous, that a volume
would scarcely suffice for their record. We shall here con¬
fine ourselves to the few facts within our knowledge which
illustrate its natural history, properly so called,—for one
great effort of the zoologist should consist in the distin¬
guishing of facts which depend on instinct, and are there¬
fore natural to an animal, from those which result artificial¬
ly from education and an altered mode of life,—in ascer¬
taining what really appertains to it as a natural inheritance,
as well as what it may have derived through the interven¬
tion of man,—and in avoiding to confound “ the animal
with the slave, the beast of burden with the creature of
God.”1 In the present case, however, it must be admitted,
that the domestic breeds are improved not more in useful¬
ness than in beauty and grandeur of aspect, whatever poets
may fancy to the contrary in a wild horse of the Tartarian
deserts. The following are the characters which distinguish
this animal in a state of nature. The head is large in pro¬
portion to the body; the front, above the eyes, bulging or
convex; the forehead straight; the ears long, carried ha¬
bitually low, and pointing backwards, thus producing a
somewhat vicious aspect; the circumference of the mouth
and nostrils is garnished with long hairs ; the mane is very
thick, and prolonged beyond the withers ; the back is less
vaulted than in the domestic varieties; the legs are propor¬
tionally longer and thicker ; the hair, sometimes long and
waving, is never smooth ; its colour, usually dun or brown,
sometimes varies to a kind of cream-colour, but is never
either black or pied. These are the characters of the tar-
pan or wild horse of the Tartarian deserts ; and similar fea¬
tures seem to have been reproduced in the Spanish or An¬
dalusian race, now wild in the pampas of the New World
to the south of Buenos Ayres. There the size has de¬
creased, the limbs become thicker, the neck and ears longer,
and the varied colouring has, in a great measure, disap¬
peared,—there being usually about ninety chestnut bays in
the hundred, while black is so rare that there is scarcely
one out of two thousand of that colour. Now, as all eman¬
cipated animals exhibit a tendency to recover after a cer¬
tain lapse of time, and as a consequence of liberty, not
merely the manners and instinctive inclinations, but also
the form and colour of their primitive types, M. Azara
concludes that this chestnut bay is the original hue of the
horse. According to Foster there are neither pied nor
black horses among the wild troops of central Asia, among
which the dun and greyish-brown prevail, and one or other
of these is therefore by some regarded as the natural co¬
lour. The hair of the South American troops has scarce¬
ly increased in length ; but this is probably owing to the
greater mildness and equality of temperature which prevail
in their adopted country, than in the climate of the north
of Asia. One remarkable distinction, however, is said to
exist between the disposition or temper of the South Ame¬
rican and Asiatic wild horses. It is this. At whatever age
the former are caught, they may be rendered, in a measure,
fit for the service of man almost in a few days, whereas the
latter can only be tamed when taken young, and frequent¬
ly shew themselves in after life to have been but half sub¬
dued. Does not this go far to prove that the one is the
genuine original,—the other but a rebel race ?
The native country of the horse is believed to be those de- Pachydsr-
sert regions which environ Lake Aral and the Caspian Sea. mata.
Although no doubt exists as to the occurrence of wild, or ^ v~—'
at least of what may be called independent horses in those
countries, as well as in the southern parts of Siberia, in the
great Mongolian deserts, and among the kalkas, to the
northwest of China ; yet it ought not to be concealed that
some thoughtful inquirers are of opinion that these also, as
well as those of America just mentioned, are merely eman¬
cipated tribes, descended at some remote period from an
enslaved stock, and that the real wild horse, using the ex¬
pression as we apply it to other animals existing entirely
(and ab initio) in a state of nature, is extinct. The wild
horses, for example, mentioned by Pallas as pasturing in
the deserts on each side of the river Don, in the vicinity of
the Palus Maeotis, are now believed, if not ascertained, to
be the offspring of the Russian horses employed in the siege
of Asoph in the year 1697, and which, for want of forage,
were at that time intentionally turned adrift. Their de¬
scendants have now assumed an aspect of great natural
wildness.
In Asia each congregated troop seldom exceeds twenty
individuals; but, in America, many thousands are some¬
times seen together. In both these distant regions a pe¬
culiar variety has sprung up with crisped or frizzled hair ;
but those of Asia are always white, while the American
(frizzled) variety is of every colour except white and pied.
When we consider the almost constant relation which may
be traced between the length and abundance of hair, and
an increased degree of cold, we might have expected to
discover this frizzled variety of the New World rather to¬
wards the colder country of Patagonia, than in Paraguay,
just as the corresponding variety of Asia is found beneath
the varying climate of the Baskir nation. According to
Azara those magnificent troops of insurgent horses (Alza-
dos is the Spanish term) which have become wild in the
plains of America, to the south of the Rio de la Plata, some¬
times amount to 10,000 individuals. Preceded by videttes
and detached skirmishers, they advance in a close column
so broad and dense that nothing can break through it. If
a travelling caravan, or a body of cavalry, is seen approach¬
ing, the leaders of the wild horses advance upon a recon-
noisance, and then, in accordance with the movements of the
chief, the entire body passes at a gallop to the left or right,
inviting, at the same time, by a deep prolonged neighing,
the domestic horses to desertion. These often join the
“ rebel host,” and are said never voluntarily to submit them¬
selves again to man’s dominion. Each of these great squad¬
rons is composed of a re-union of smaller companies, them¬
selves consisting of as many mares as a single horse can
keep under a loving subjection. Descended, as we have
said, from the ancient breed of Andalusia, these animals
are, however, inferior to their noble ancestry in beauty,
strength, and swiftness. Their heads are thicker, their
limbs coarser and less symmetrical, their necks and ears
longer; and, in all these qualities, it has been remarked,
they approach again to the supposed primitive model which
still exists in a state of freedom, amid the illimitable wilds
of the Tartarian deserts. Domestication, therefore, is not,
as Buffon has so eloquently maintained, in all cases preju¬
dicial to the nature of an animal; for the beau ideal of a
horse is undoubtedly to be found, not among the desert
tribes, as the French Pliny supposes, but rather in one of
the cultivated races of Spanish or Arabian birth.2
Equus hemionus, Pallas. The Dziggithai. This species
“ JDUULUU.
2 For a detailed account of the domestic breeds see article HoRSn in this Encyclopaedia; also Gulley’s Observations on Live Stock, Mar¬
shall’s Economy of Yorkshire and the Midland Counties, the works of Buffon, Bewick, &c. ; and the volume entitled !TAe Horse, in the farmer s
series of the “ Library of Useful Knowledge.” Our own sketch of the genus Equus coincides with, and is indeed chiefly compiled from mate¬
rials which we had sometime ago occasion to collect from various sources for the formation of an essay “ On the Origin and Natural 1 is-
tory of the Horse and its_ allied Species,” published in the Edinburgh Journal of Agriculture, No. vii.
MAMMALIA. onl
pAchyder-bears a considerable resemblance to a mule in nnrl
aT’ more eleSant- It is called ffemiono's KSfbr^d ^ The&o^fT'''^ 30° *°iSeS (ab°Ve P“M"-
' (']‘terall>; half-a®) by Aristotle, and is mentioned by that Dr Sh”w eon^t oS/ f 1 ^ "nd aSS’ a“orili”« to
philosopher as occurring in ancient times. It is of agrey- plants ft k chieflyofsahne, or bitter and lactescent' v '
ish Isabella colour. The coat, during winter, is tufted like kSilv I f also/«nd of ^ OT. brackish water. Its flesh
that of a camel, but in summer it is scarcely three lines in k L™ Y ^steemed by several oriental nations, and its skin
length, and is distinguished by radiated marks like ears of ed from”the TurkisW ^ ^ the.na™?i of chagrin, so call-
corn, scattered here and there upon the flanks. The exist- whirh if h • ^ ^ ^erm sa9n‘ ^he engrained aspect
ence of this animal in Syria was known to ancient writers red hi * •S ?0t’ howeyer’ natural t0 but is produ-
iEhan describes it as a native of India. The first of the tllh^dl pi:ocess descnbed by Pallas. In regard
moderns by whom it was recognised appears to have been kts in ^ ma"ner1s and appearance, as it ex-
Messerschmidt; but it is to Pallas that le are indebted for needLss Thl Vacel'S f " aS-t0 render descriPtion
its genuine history. It is confined at the present dav to heluff! f Ip , 1of eastern origin are much more
the steppes of Central Asia, and is found especially if the mov nl tClthrg SkinS’ CarryinStheir heads ]o{mY> and
desert of Gobi. There is certainly no modern prolf of its ZZli f Z h h* ^ a •Gry graCeful manner' They ac-
existence to the west of Lake Aral, and the mountains of Skf ^ Y f Jh 3 llgh pnCe' Some contrariety of opinion
Belur. It neither penetrates into forests, norascenf ward anTbr^ the pro.feSS. °f their introduction west-
mountains. Its neighing is more grave and sonorous than fil l great unip°vmity of aspect, compared with
thatofahorse; and it is described as bearUTshe^ 0^ S 1 v^f ^ of the horse, h^ induced some to
neck loftily like a stag. It can travel fifty o^sixty leaCs 2r t J ^68 haV? T ?Gen S° lonS nor 80 S^ally
across the desert without drinking, and7 its congreafted ArkflJllf °f ?6 b,iman race* In the time of
bands do not consist of more than akmt twenty Wlefand W In fh Z in Thrace’ nor even in Ganl 5
foals, under a single male chief. Sometimes several males Iw th the °ther hjnd’ Te know’ from the sacred writings,
are observed together, followed only by four or five females. Les ^fTh^T burden in the remotest
The rutting season takes place towards the end of Aue-nst* ill Tf 1 e^lsb bistory, and were, therefore, in all pro-
and the young are produced in spring! There Ts uSl l \ T t0 Serlitude by the eastem nations filly
only one brought forth at a timef which attains the adult kil l an,y °thf animal not essential to the ex¬
state in three years. The chase of this animal affords a ^^C(;.of a Pastoral people. Buffon is of opinion that the
favourite pastime both to the Mongols and Tanmits • but all ^sticat^d ^eed asses used in Europe came origin-
its prodigious and proverbial swiftness, aided by f piercing thenato GreecV Itl F^*'StrpaSScd int» EfyP‘. a"d
sight, and an acute sense of smell, generally baffles the ex- Thll lLl • ’ 1 Y’ l nCe’ GermanY> England, &c.
a, „ ^ ;„s 1*^;-
so in this humble species we mVdistinguish between the S exTsteirin'Sr f0r th“e “ no doubt °f
indigenous and subdued kinds. The Onager, or wild ass to the tmlln lll dun"g a period Iong prior
called koulan by many of the tribes of Asia differs from tinned fn *4 . Ys 0 good Queen Bess.” They are men-
the domestic breed in its shorter ears, the greater length Henrv III ^ Thgn ° t.lelred’ and again in the time of
and finer form of its limbs, its straighter chSt and S to S •• Jhey have been reintroduced
compressed body. In its general 2pe« ft rs sLd toT te w m h.e ,Jme of E1'zaI>a*’a lessor, upon tire re¬
semble a young foal. The mrdes alone chtwac^ritl tb7 a T m,efr“uLse w!th SPain, a country tamous for
edby the transverse bar across the shoulders, observable I,uci!mf”ll™ Slr DmtrMs’ptn' ““o' “,TliC reIa,ion of
in the domestic ass, and, in the wild species it is somn- nnnnvr-J n omas Browne, now become common
times double. The onager was well known to the ancients' Roman 'tlf /assus’the grandfather of Marcus, the wealthy
although it appears to htve been llfsiZ 0f dlrinl f f l 6 neVer Iaughed but once in a11 ^ and
dark ages, and to have been but obscure^known for several For ifTn fndffllrTnt ealng ’ 18 80mething strange,
centuries after the revival of learning. Indeed we possess Imbh lfllll nd:Cul0US.?1bjeCt COuld draw his
ed no good modern elucidation of its history till the time ho m 11 -fU eness 11?to a sm^eJ 11 be hard to believe
of Pallalri The Turkish name of this aSl^ Ziff
chakif or mountain ass, points out its natural locality elso nhm ? f ^c ■' u • e Guagga. This animal measures
where beautifully indicated,-- Whose^ouse Ihav7, made tTfrZ f &t the ^itbers*. The bead ^
the wilderness, and the barren land his dwelling-. The linos t C ^ b acblsb'broYn’ stnPed with greyish-white
range of the mountains is his pasture, and he seeketh after temnlTIInlfff 'i'1'0'! lIlc cbceks, but longitudinal on the
every green thing- Even tfe choice which Sdom^c lut d eye f he’otht 'cl ,he
ass may be often seen to make of the narrow and uneven paler beneath, and almost white up^n the belli The n’
paths by the wayside, is probably a remnant of this natural is blackish and resembles ,1,„, , xll>; , V'e mane
instinct. The native country of the wild ass is the same dreaprl A LkoL r i 1 a borse wblch has been
as that of the horse; but, while the latter extends af&r ou^f^•nlKh^LrUnS ^ to ^ taiL T1>c
north as the 56°, the former does not voluntarily pass be- frequently pastures ilcomnllv^Africa’ and
yond the 45°. In its southern migrations, however, it de- was for a tong time regarded as the female^^he^ ^
scends to the Persian Gulf, and even towards the south- of two so nearly allied species within tL Th exist^c®
ern extremity of Hindostan. It was seen by Odoar Bar- boundaries, and subiect toconstonlnll r6 ge°faphical
boza among the mountains of Golconda; and those troops third or intermediate virtotv I, 1 1 SS0ciatl0n’ wlthout any
of wild horses mentioned by Turner as frequenting the up- garded as aToof ^ ^1 7!- S1?rUn?,Up’ ^ be re-
land countries of Boutan, where they are called Go ft Kedlm? Cf n^seluffllnlLn!!!!^ ^ T a fate
haws, were, in fact, onagers or wild asses. Eye-witnesses while the entire simikritv nr fi,C°^jSe ^ltb eacb °.tbfr >
have also assured Pallas of their having frequently observed fluences, under which thel Gr ldentlty opclimatic in-
■n the Tartarian deserts, and those oAJia, thl route of
1 Acta Petropolitana, t. iL
VOL. XIV.
* Job, ch. xxix. ver. 6-8.
Pseudodoxia Epidemica.
2 c
202
MAMMALIA.
Pachyder-each has descended from a separate type, and forms a pri-
mata. mitive species. The quagga is of a much more docile and
pliant disposition than the zebra, and is consequently more
easily rendered subservient to domestic uses. A curricle
drawn by a pair of these animals has been often seen dur¬
ing the gay season in Hyde Park. The late Lord Morton
succeeded in raising mules between the quagga and mare,
and, in the course of his experiments, a rather singular
circumstance occurred. The mare which had produced
the hybrid or mule, gave birth several seasons afterwards
to a foal which exhibited decidedly the markings of the
quagga coat, although the mother had not, in the mean time,
associated except with her natural mate, the horse. Indeed
her former friend, the quagga, had been dead for more than
a year.
Equus zebra, Linn. E. montanus, Burchell. The Zebra,
or mountain zebra. This species resembles the mule in
shape. Its head is rather large, its ears long, it limbs ele¬
gantly small, its body well formed, round, and fleshy. But
its most remarkable character consists in the extraordinary
regularity of its stripes, or markings of alternate colours,
which seem rather an effect of art than the genuine pro¬
duction of nature. The head is striped with delicate bands
of black and white, which form a centre in the forehead ;
the neck is adorned with stripes of the same colour running
round it; the body is beautifully variegated with bands
running across the back, and ending in points at the belly;
and its thighs, legs, ears, and tail, are all beautifully streak¬
ed in the same manner.1 The sexes nearly resemble each
other. In the young the dark coloured bands of black or
brown are paler. The female carries for twelve months.
She has been known to breed in confinement with both the
horse and ass. M. F. Cuvier has figured and described a
mule produced between a female zebra and a Spanish ass.
(See Plate XII., figure 2.) It sucked for a year, and was
at first of a peaceable nature, but as it increased in size it
lost its resemblance to its mother, and also became very
stubborn and mischievous.2 Its coat, when we last heard
of it, was of a deep grey, varied on the withers, legs, and
tail, by transverse bands. It never neighed, loved to roll it¬
self on the moist ground, attacked all and sundry both with
hoofs and teeth, and was indeed a most unamiable creature.
rI he inhabitants of the Cape have never succeeded in their
attempts to reduce the zebra to subjection, although Spar-
mann records an instance of a rich citizen who, to a certain
extent, had managed to subdue them. On attempting,
however, on one occasion to yoke them to his chariot, he
nearly forfeited his life, for, without warning, they rushed
back to their stalls, with every symptom of fury and indio--
nation. Buffon was misinformed when he reported a state¬
ment (corrected in one of his supplementary volumes), that
zebras were used in Holland. Mr Barrow, however, seems
to think, that if judicious means were perseveringly made
use of, these gay and fantastic creatures might still be re¬
duced to an available servitude, notwithstanding their na¬
turally wild and vicious disposition ; and M. F. Cuvier men¬
tions^ an instance of a zebra which was so tame as to suffer
itself to be handled and mounted without difficulty. This
species was known to the ancients under the name ofAz/wo-
tiger, a term by which it is well designated, as possessing
fehnedTstrtyer 3°rSe’ ^ ^ Striped hide °f the Sreat
Equus Burchelhi, Gray. Equus zebra, Burchell. The'
Zebra of the plains. Although our knowledge of this beau-
tiful animal is originally due to Mr Burchell, who was the
first to perceive that South Africa produced two species Pachyder-
(besides the quagga), we seem to owe the more precise set- mata.
tlement of its distinctive characters to Mr W. E. Gray. It'^^v^-^
appears, in fact, that the traveller above named, after as¬
certaining that there really were two different kinds of this
animal, fell into the error of describing the one previously
known as the new species, while he overlooked, or did not
sufficiently illustrate, the specific distinctions of the zebra
of the plains, regarding it as the kind already well known,
although it had, in reality, hitherto escaped the notice of
naturalists. “ The hoofs of animals,” Mr Burchell observes,
“ destined by nature to inhabit rocky mountains, are, as far
as I have observed, of a form very different from those in¬
tended for sandy plains ; and this form is in itself sufficient
to point out the dauw3 4 as a separate species. The stripes
of the skin will answer that purpose equally well, and shew,
at the same time, the great affinity and specific distinction
of the ass, which may be characterized by a single stripe
across the shoulders. The quagga has many similar marks
on the hind and fore part of the body ; the zebra is cover¬
ed with stripes over the head and whole of the body, but
the legs are white; and the wild paarde is striped over
every part, even down to the feet. The zebra and wild
paarde may be further distinguished from each other, by the
stripes of the former being double ; that is, having a paler
stripe within it, while the latter, which may be termed Equus
montanus, is most regularly and beautifully covered with
single black and white stripes : added to this, the former is
never to be found on the mountains, nor the latter on the
plains.”5 * It is evident from the preceding descriptions (espe¬
cially from the line wdnch we have marked in Italics, and
which applies exclusively to the old species), and from the
comparison instituted by Mr Burchell himself, that although
he is entitled to the merit of discovering that there were two
distinct kinds, he has applied his new name to the old
species, and confounded the new species under an old
name. It therefore became imperative that his designa¬
tions should be changed, because the well known zebra is,
in fact, the mountain horse, and Mr Burchell's new species
is the zebra of the plains. Hence the propriety of the
emendations suggested by Mr Gray, who retains the name
of zebra, as applying specifically to the animal so called by
Linmeus andBuffbn; and applies the efXheiBurchellii to the
other species, in deserved honour of the enterprising and in¬
telligent traveller by whom it w^as discovered.0 The student
will not fail to perceive that the term montanus, though re¬
tained by Baron Cuvier7 to distinguish the new species, is
inapplicable to an animal which its first describer informs
us “ is never to be found on the mountains,” and which
was, in truth, originally applied by inadvertence to another
species. We here exhibit a portraiture of the young of
Burchell’s zebra. (See Plate XII., figure 1.)
Order VII—PECORA ; RUMINATING ANIMALS.
This order is deemed by Baron Cuvier to be the most
natural and best determined of the class of quadrupeds, as
all the species seem constructed on the same model, al¬
though the camels present some slight exceptions to the
prevailing characters. At all events, it includes species of
the highest and most essential value to the human race.
The characters of the order are somewhat negative. There
are seldom any incisive teeth in the upper jaw, and those of
the lower are usually eight in number. Between the in-
Bewick’s Quadrupeds.
The Dauw or wiid Faerie of the Hottent„tf(Z '5th liCrai^'•
vered species. '■ *
3 Dion. Cassius, lib. 75, cap. 14.
uus Zebra, Linn.) erroneously regarded by Mr Burchell as the newly disco-
6 See a paper entitled “a Revision of the Equidce ” in in.A(rica-..
7 lltgne Animal, t. i. p. 253. qU1(laB’ 111 Zoolo9™l Journal, vol. i. p. 241.
*
Pecora. cisive teeth and the molars there is an empty space, in
'“"“y''-'' which, in certain genera, are implanted the canines. The
molars, almost always six on each side of both jaws, have
their crowns marked by two double crosses, of which the
convexity is turned inwards in the upper, and outwards in
the lower teeth. The four limbs are terminated by two
toes (hence the title of Bisulca, bestowed by Illiger), each
covered by a hoof, and behind these hoofs there are some¬
times two small spur-like projections,—the vestiges of lateral
toes. The two bones of the metacarpus and metatarsus
are united into one, commonly named the canon bone; but
in certain species the vestiges of lateral bones are observ¬
able.
The most singular functional character in the natural
economy of the tribes of our present order, consists of that
ruminating faculty from which they derive their most fa¬
miliar appellation. They possess the power of re-chewing
their aliments, by bringing back the food for a second time
into the mouth after it has been swallowed ; and this power
results from the peculiar structure of the stomach, which is
m a measure quadruple,—the first three being so disposed
in relation to the oesophagus, as to admit of either of them
receiving the food. The first and largest is the paunch,
which receives the mass of vegetable matter grossly bruis¬
ed by a first and hasty mastication. It then proceeds into
the second called the bonnet, the sides of which have la-
mime resembling the combs of the honey-bee. This sto¬
mach is small and globular; it soaks the herbage, and com¬
presses it into little pellets, which successively remount to
the mouth, to undergo a second mastication. During this
process the creature remains quiescent, “bedward ruminat¬
ing,” until all the food previously taken into the paunch
has been subjected to it. When thus re-chewed, the ali¬
ments descend directly into the third stomach, and from
thence into the fourth, the sides of which are plaited or
wrinkled. This last is the true organ of digestion, and is
analogous to the simple stomach of ordinary animals. As
long as the young remain in the condition of sucklings, and
are supported only upon milk, the fourth stomach is the
largest of the whole, but, as soon as the herbivorous habit
commences, and large supplies of bulky food become indis-
pensable, the paunch acquires an enormous development.
The intestinal canal is very long in all ruminants, but the
larger intestines are but slightly pursed. The ccecum is
likewise long and smooth. The fat of these animals har¬
dens more in cooling than that of others, and even becomes
brittle. The mammae are placed between the hinder limbs.
With the exception of the horse and dog, all the most
truly valuable species which have yet been subjected to the
dominion of man, belong to the ruminating order; for ex¬
ample, sheep, rein-deer, camels, and “ the cattle on a thou¬
sand hills.” These either directly yield us the most im¬
portant articles of human diet, or afford us the kindly pro¬
tection of their woolly covering, or provide us with many
indispensable articles from their strong tenacious hides ; to
say nothing of their uses as beasts of burden. They are all
provided with antlers or horns, at least in the males,—with
the exception of the two genera which contain the camels
and musk deer, both of which are hornless. It may be as
well to devote a few paragraphs in this place to a brief con¬
sideration of the nature of these important parts.
The organs of defence and attack with which the heads
of ruminating herbivorous animals are furnished, are called,
according to their structure and composition, either antlers
or horns. With the former the stag, roe-buck, rein-deer,
elk, are armed ; antelopes, goats, sheep, bulls, are provided
with the latter. Although both these kinds of defensive
organs follow the same mode of formation, in so far as they
M A M MALI A.
are prolongations of the frontal bone, and have their ma¬
terials supplied by bloodvessels, yet there exists between'
them a considerable distinction in relation to the different
distribution of these vessels,—a distinction which occasions
the periodical fall of antlers, and the permanence of horns,
dhe bloodvessels of horns are internal, those of antlers ex¬
ternal ; the former are covered by a corneous substance,
and increase from their bases, the latter are, for a time, in¬
vested by a prolongation of the skin, and, in growing, ap¬
pear to sprout from their superior extremities.
Antlers, in their perfect state, according to Cuvier, are
true bones, both in their texture and elements. Their ex¬
ternal part is hard, compact, and fibrous ; their internal
spongy but solid. They have no large cells, no medullary
cavity, and no sinuses. The bases of antlers adhere to,
and form one body with the os frontis, in such a manner
that at certain ages it is impossible, from their internal tex¬
ture, to determine the limits between them ; but the skin
which covers the forehead does not extend further, an ir¬
regularly toothed bony substance called the burr surround¬
ing the base, while on the antlers themselves are only to
be seen furrows more or less deep,—the vestiges of vessels
formerly distributed along their surfaces when in a softer
state. These hard and naked organs remain only for one
year, the period of their fall varying according to the spe¬
cies; but, when that period approaches, there appears, on
sawing them longitudinally, a reddish mark of separation
between their bases and the eminence of the frontal bone,
by which they are supported. This mark becomes more
and more apparent till the osseous particles of that portion
at last lose their cohesion. At this period a very slight
shock frequently makes the antlers drop off,—two or three
days commonly intervening between the fall of the one, and
that of the other.
The eminence of the frontal bone, after this period, re¬
sembles a bone broken or sawed transversely, and its spongy
texture is laid open. The skin of the forehead soon covers
it, and, ere long, the new horns make their appearance in
the form of tubercles, which continue covered by an ex¬
tension of the skin, until they acquire their perfect shape
and size. During the whole of this time the tubercles are
soft and cartilaginous, and under the skin is a true perios¬
teum, in which vessels, sometimes as thick as the little
finger, are distributed, and penetrate the mass of cartilage
in every direction. This cartilage ossifies gradually as
other bones, and finishes by becoming a perfect bone.
The burr at the base of the horn now penetrates the in¬
dentations through which the vessels pass, and, by its fur¬
ther development, first confines, and finally obstructs their
flow.1 The skin and periosteum being thus deprived of
nourishment wither and fall away, and the antlers, now
hard, and sharp, and bare, exist for a time in their most
“palmy state,” ere long, however, to shed their glory either
amid the forest’s gloom, or on the heathy side of sun-lit
mountains. For several years successively, at each renewal,
they increase in size and majesty.
It is usually in the months of March and April, when a
great increase of vigour and activity is observable in these
animals, that the renewal of the antlers takes place, and
three weeks, or a month, are said to be sufficient for their
total growth. Antlers are the characteristic marks of the
male sex, the female of the rein-deer, however, forming an
exception to the general rule; for, in that species, the
heads of both sexes are armed.
Buffon considered the growth of antlers as a species of
animal vegetation, and referred the phenomena of their
production, and those attending the budding and expansion
of plants, to one and the same law. This view of the mat-
203
Pecora.
1 See Cuvier’s Comparative Anatomy, Lect. ii. p. 115.
204
Pecora.
MAM MALI A.
ter, so much more fanciful than correct, was no doubt
^ founded upon a limited knowledge of facts. The antlers of
the stag certainly begin to shoot in the spring season, when
an abundant nourishment (and, according to Buffon, so
much the more reparatory in its nature, as being composed
of buds containing the most active elements of vegeta¬
tion !) begins to renovate the strength which the rutting
season of the preceding autumn had exhausted; but, that
no connection exists between the two classes of phenomena
alluded to, is evident from this, that, in species of the same
climate, browsing on the same kinds of herbage, the periods
of the frontal accession may differ from four to five months.
Besides, if the production of antlers depended on the lig¬
neous quality of their nourishment, there would be no as¬
signable reason for the unarmed condition of the females,
none of which are provided with antlers, with the exception
of that of the rein-deer,—the very species, by the bye,
which is the least nourished by ligneous food. Neither can
the casting of the antlers be attributed in any way, as some
have imagined, to the influence of cold on the circulating
system; for those of the roe are reproduced in the middle
of winter, while the moulting of the stag is actually retard¬
ed by the continuance of cold. On the other hand, certain
species of the South American continent lose their antlers
about the period of the summer solstice. These, according
to the relation of Azara, are not subject to annual loss and
renewal, for he observed on the same day, three males, two
of which had the antlers old and complete, while those of the
other were only half grown. He adds, that not more than
one-third of the males renew their antlers in each year.
A more philosophical and better established relation has
been demonstrated to exist between the growth and decay
of the antlers, and the active or passive state of the genera¬
tive system. The period of love in this tribe of quadru¬
peds so well known under the name of rutting season, pro¬
duces a series of remarkable changes in their physical
state. The reflux of the animal fluids in a direction contrary
to that of the antlers, has so obvious an influence on their
fall, that, in climates where the rutting season does not at¬
tain to so violent, a crisis, the antlers are borne for more
than a year, and castration is said to render them perma¬
nent, by extinguishing the cause of this counter flow.1
We shall now notice the horns properly so called, which
are formed upon processes of bone, and which grow at
their root or base, and chemically considered, bear a great
resemblance to the hair, nails, and other external parts of
animals. In the third month of conception, while the foetus
of the cow is still inclosed in the membrane, the cartila¬
ginous os fronds presents no vestige of the horns. To¬
wards the seventh month, however, it becomes in part ossi¬
fied, and exhibits on either side a small tubercle, apparently
produced by the elevation of the osseous laminae. These
bony tumours soon after appear externally. They raise
the skin, which becomes callous at that part, in proportion
as the tumour grows. It becomes at last horny as it elon¬
gates, and forms a kind of sheath, which covers externally
the process of the frontal bone. Within this sheath there
are numerous branches of blood-vessels, which serve to
nounsh the osseous portion. The horns, therefore, are only
so id, hard, elastic, and insensible sheaths, which protect
the osseous prolongation of the frontal bone. These sheaths
are generally of a conical figure, and broadest at the base,
the extremity from which they grow. They also present
different channels or transverse furrows, which depend on
the age of the animal, and denote the number of years it
has lived m a very certain manner according to the species.
Ihe texture of the horns appears to be much the same
m the goat, sheep, antelope, and ox. They consist of fibres
of a substance analogous to hair, which appear agglutinated Pecora.
in a very solid manner. In the first two genera these
fibres are short, and covered by superincumbent layers like
tiles. In the last two they are longer, more compact, and
form elongated horns incased in each other.
The horns of the Rhinoceros already briefly alluded to,
seem to differ somewhat from those of ruminating animals.
They have no bony part, and are not situated on the os
frontis, but on the lines of the nose. They are formed,
however, of the same substance, and we even observe more
distinctly in the horns of this animal the fibres analogous
to hair. The base of the horn, indeed, presents externally
an infinite number of rigid hairs, which seem to separate
from the mass, and render that part rough to the touch.
When sawed transversely, and examined with a glass, we
perceive a multitude of pores that seem to indicate the in¬
tervals resulting from the union of the agglutinated hairs.
When divided lengthways, numerous longitudinal and pa-
I'allel furrows also demonstrate the same structure. This
kind of horn is attached to the skin only. Those of the
two-horned rhinoceros appear always in some degree mov¬
able. When fixed, as in the one-horned species, there is
a thick mucus interposed between its base and the bone
on which it rests.2
In the Giraffe or Camelopard the horns are short and
cylindrical, and even in their completed state, are covered
with hair, except at the points, which are more bare and
callous. 1 heir bases are dilated by very large cells, which
are continuous with the frontal sinuses. These horns differ
from those of the bull, antelope, &c. in this, that they are
not continuations of the frontal bone, but are separated
from it and the parietal, by a membranous space; at least
such is the structure observable in the young giraffe which
was transported to Paris by Delalande. These horns
are permanent, and in relation to several of their anatomi¬
cal and physiological characters, may be regarded as inter¬
mediate between the antlers of stags, and the horns pro¬
perly so called, of the other tribes.
We may observe, in conclusion, that ruminating animals
occur in almost all parts of Europe, Asia, Africa, and Ame¬
rica. None are native to New Holland.
2 11
Genus Camelus, Linn. Incisives canines , false
molars
1 — 1
molars
5 — 5
Incisives canines —
o i
= 36. The upper lateral in-
1 —l’ 5 — 5’
cisors assume the form of canine teeth, and the canines them¬
selves are straight and strong. The head is lengthened, the
upper lip cloven, the nostrils consist of two clefts capable of
being opened and closed. The eyes are projecting ; the ears
rather small. The neck and limbs extremely long. The feet
are not cloven, but are furnished beneath with a very broad
horny sole, and the two toes are each terminated by a small
short somewhat curved nail. There are one or more fatty
humps along the dorsal region. The mammae are four in
number.
Of this remarkable genus there are two species, or at
least two well marked races, usually regarded as distinct.
The Bactrian species, or Camel properly so called ((7. Bac-
trianus, Linn.), is distinguished by its pair of humps, one
above the shoulders, and another near the rump. It is an
animal of Asiatic origin, and is said still to occur in the
wild state in the desert of Shamo, on the frontiers of the
Celestial Empire. It is used as a beast of burden in Tur-
kistan and Thibet, and even as far north as the shores of
Lake Baikal. It is consequently capable of being accli¬
mated without much difficulty in any temperate region, and
was introduced into Tuscany by the Grand Duke Leopold,
where it still breeds in the maremmas of the Pisan district.
* Cump^waALect^xiv! ^623.*°^ Classi(lue d'Hut. Nat., t. iii. p. 371; consult also the words Bois and Cornes of the same work.
MAMMALIA.
Pecora. Though useful as a beast of burden, it is not there em- stuff's 'TLi'' • t, u'*.
 P^oved &t all extensively for the ceneral nurnosps nf mnl • fi' • * sPccies in^ablts avast extent of the Andes
known an^nwre^abundanf ofAhe^ two'^and^asTpread^fro6*^ and is easily deterredfrom its" accusSd paths
Afrt^ inThe ^name3of^ro^^ary^frorn^th^Greek f d^"
-ItO" Smith inf„rmsPLethat iH, th^“ed^tSed ScoSs „rChiH antlanT°l " ^
nQ1^^8bl^tp^brmerlj^maintainedSbynthe^Ho- pomkmtVertoXSXSlby
noui able Company, each being mounted by two men, and ^ . y ' n i i
armed withmusketoons or swivels. At particular seasons they fjENus Moschus, Linn. (Male) incisives-, canines 
are very savage. If we may judge from the ample covering ,6-6 n8 n°-8
of woolly hair by which, except towards the termination of
t le rutting season, both the species are clothed, we should
inter that each was originally derived from a comparatively
temperate clime. The southern base of the Caucasus has
been by some assigned to the dromedary or Arabian species;
ulnie the arid plains beneath the northern confines of the
1 aropamisaden range, with the wilderness of Gasnak and
Chorasmia, east of the Caspian Sea, are regarded as the
native abodes of the two humped or Bactrian camel. This,
it is said, may be inferred from scattered hints in the Zend’
the poems of Schah Ferdusi, and from the Arabian Epic,
the Romance of Antar.1 The articles used in manufactures,
and known by the names of mohair and camlets, are the
produce of the fur of these animals.
Ancient authors do not seem to allude to the camel as
an inhabitant of Africa. It is mentioned however in Genesis
(chap. xii. v. 16) as among the gifts bestowed by Pha¬
raoh on Abram, and it must therefore have been well
known on the banks of the mysterious Nile, at a period
prior to that of the most ancient of the Greek or Roman
writers. It has indeed been remarked as a singular cir¬
cumstance, that the Romans who waged such frequent wars
in Africa, should not have thought of mentioning these
animals, till Procopius noticed camel-riding Moors in arms
against Solomon, the Lieutenant of Belisarius.
molars
molars
6 — 6
6—6
6 — 6
= 34.
= 32.
(Female) incisives —, canines
8 o—.(f
The canine teeth in the upper jaw
Genus Auchenia, Illig.
false molars
1 — 1
Incisives -,
6
canines
molars
5 — 5
0 — 0
1 — 1’
= 32. Feet more clo-
0 —o’ 5 —53
ven than in the camels, but supported behind by a small
callous sole. No fatty humps upon the back. Mammas two.
The species of this genus are peculiar to South America,
where they may be said to represent the camels of the Old
World. Various species have been described by Molina2
and other writers, but naturalists seem to have failed in
establishing the distinctive characters of more than two, the
fama or guanaco (Camelus llacma, Linn.), and the Vi-
gogna {Camelus vicugna, Linn.). Of these the former is
as large as a stag. It is covered with long coarse chestnut
coloured hair, of varying hue, in the domestic state. It
lives in troops upon the cold and lofty ranges of the Andes,
and was the only native beast of burden in Peru at the time
of the discovery of that country by Europeans. The animal
known as the Alpaca (see Plate XII., figures 4 and 5)
is now regarded as a woolly-haired variety of the lama.
The vigogna is of smaller size, and is characterized by a
woolly fawn-coloured coat, of a texture so admirably soft
and fine as to be highly prized for the fabrication of various
of the male8 of this genus are long, vertical, compressed,
and slightly curved backwards. They protrude consider¬
ably from the mouth. (See Plate XII., figure 6.) The
teet are hoofed and cloven, like those of the ordinary ru¬
minants. The mammae are two or four in number.
The musk deer seem confined to the temperate and
southern parts of Asia, and the great eastern islands. They
are remarkable for their elegant and graceful forms. Al¬
though the substance called musk has been known through¬
out Central Asia from time immemorial, it does not appear
that the species which produced it was described by the
ancients, or in any way identified till the days of Abuzeid
Serassi, an Arabian author, who mentions it as a deer with¬
out horns. A knowledge of it seems to have been first in¬
troduced into Western Europe by Serapion, a writer of the
eighth century. The musk deer, properly so called (Mos-
chus moschiferus, Linn.) is nearly as large as a roebuck, and
occurs oyer a vast extent of Central Asia, from Thibet to
t le vicinity of Lake Baikal. It is also frequent in many
parts of India, and the mountainous provinces of the Chinese
empire. The prized perfume is obtained from a small bag
placed in the lower region of the abdomen of the males.
I here are various modes of capturing the musk deer or *
che-kiang, as it is called in the East. It is frequently shot.
I he sportsman, however, must climb among the mountain
fastnesses like a chamois hunter, and ascend towards the
most inaccessible places. It is also taken by nets and gins,
or by encumbering the sides of some deep and lonesome
defile by a kind of palisade of thick and prickly bushes.
Several other species of this genus have been described by
naturalists, such as the napu or Java musk (Jf. javanicus.
Raffles,3 see Plate XII., figure 7), and the beautiful
Chevotrain {31. pygmeeus), one of the smallest of the ruminat¬
ing order. J he body of the latter does not measure more
than eight inches long. The minima is a Ceylonese species
first described by Knox.4
In all the ensuing genera of the ruminating tribes, the
head (at least of the males) is furnished with antlers or horns
Genus Cervus, Linn. Teeth of the same amount as in
the preceding genus; the canines of the males, however,
being shorter. Branched antlers, solid and deciduous, and
of greater or less extent, according to age, and the consti-
tution of G3.cn p3rticul3r kind. M3mm3B four.
This genus contains those magnificent and diversified
species commonly called Deer. These animals are, with
' Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iv. p. 46. See also M. Desmoulins’ Memoire snr la Pntri* rU, n, ,
Storia Naturale del Chili. For the various species, real or supposed, see also the Sunomis nf M Cm>eall, ,.c‘H1 <iu. ^ lx-
dom, vol. v.), and the article Chameau in DictiorC Classic,™ p 447. * * of Mammalia (m Griffith's Animal King-
‘ t'"1’1, Tram- vol. xiii. 4 In his Historical Relation of Ceylon.
205
Pecora.
206 MAMMALIA.
Pecora. few exceptions, characterized by extremely graceful forms,
—v ' by light but strong proportions, and by the energy and ac¬
tivity of their general movements. As constituting the
noblest objects of the chase, as well as affording the choicest
subjects for the larder, they have long been regarded with
great interest by the human race. The genus is distribut¬
ed over all the greater divisions of the earth, with the ex¬
ception of New Holland, and its numerous species have
been formed in modern times into many minor groups, an
exposition of the detailed complexities of which would be
incompatible with the compendious nature of the present
treatise.1
Two species (the rein-deer and the elk) seem common
to the northern parts of Europe and America; five or six
are peculiar to North America; about an equal number
occur in the New World, south of the equator; and a
much greater variety inhabit India, China, and the great
islands of the south-east of Asia. The generality of deer
vary in colour according to age and season, and are sub¬
ject to those constitutional changes which physiologists dis¬
tinguish by the names of albinism and melanism,—the for¬
mer applied to the white, the latter to the black varieties
of colour. M. Desmoulins has remarked the singular cir¬
cumstance, that the white varieties occur more frequently
in equatorial regions than in the colder countries of the
north ; a proof, perhaps, that the intensity of light and
heat are but secondary causes in the production of animal
colours. We shall proceed to a brief notice of a few of
the more remarkable species.
The elk {Cervus aloes, Linn., see Plate XII., figure
9), called moose-deer in America, is the most gigantic of the
genus, and is easily recognised by the great height of its
limbs, the shortness of its neck, its lengthened head, project¬
ing muzzle, and short upright mane. Its general aspect
seems rather disproportioned and ungraceful. When full
grown it measures about six feet in height. The fur is long,
thick, extremely coarse, of a hoary brown colour, but varying
considei’ably in hue with age and season. The antlers are of
great breadth and solidity, plain along their inner or back¬
ward margins, but armed externally with numerous sharp
pointed snags or shoots, which sometimes amount to nearly
thirty in number.2 A single antler has been known to
weigh about sixty pounds. Although the muzzle of the
elk is long and flexible, yet, owing to the shortness of its
* neck, it gathers its food with difficulty, or at least in a
constrained and awkward posture, from the surface of the
ground. Hence its propensity to browse upon the tender
twigs and leaves of various shrubs and trees; a mode of
feeding frequently exhibited by the individual in the gar¬
dens of the Paris Museum. In the northern parts of Ame¬
rica elks live in small troops, and are fond of swampy
places. The old ones lose their horns in January and
February, the young in April and May. They were for¬
merly found as far south as the Ohio, but at present they
occur only in the more northern portions of the United
States, and beyond the great lakes. Although they form
small herds in Canada, they are very solitary in all the
more northern districts, where two are seldom seen to¬
gether except during the rutting season, or when the fe¬
male is accompanied by her fawns. Sir John Franklin
met with several during one of his expeditions feeding on
willows at the mouth of the Mackenzie lliver, in lat. 69°.
1 his great species is one of the shyest and most wary of
the deer tribe. It is an inoffensive animal, unless when ir¬
ritated by a wound, or under the influence of the rutting
season. W hen provoked, by whatever cause, its prodigi¬
ous strength renders it almost irresistible, and it will kill
the largest dog or the fiercest wolf in a moment by a single
blow of its fore foot. It is much sought after by the Ame- Pecora.
rican Indians on account of its flesh, which, though coarsev-—
grained, and tougher than most other kinds of venison, has
a palatable flavour, somewhat resembling that of beef. The
nose and tongue are particularly esteemed. The hide is
of value in the making of canoes, and of several articles of
dress. A fine male elk will weigh twelve hundred pounds.
This animal occurs (as far as yet known, specifically the
same) in several of the northern countries of Europe, es¬
pecially Scandinavia, between 53° and 63°. It is also found
in Asia, where it is said to advance (in Tartary) as far
south as the 45°. The ancient history of the elk consists
of but little else than a series of absurd fables. Neither
the Greek nor Roman writers knew any thing of its actual
existence in any of those territories which they overran,
although the former received exaggerated accounts from
the Scythians, the latter from the Germans, of its extraor¬
dinary aspect and character. It was said to have no joints
to its legs, to have antlers growing from its eye-lids, to be
incapable of browsing except when walking backwards,
while its origin was traced to a productive union between
the stag and camel.
Another noted species, likewise extensively distributed
over the northern parts of both the Old and New World, is
the rein-deer [Cervustarandus, Linn., see Plate XII., figure
8). It has long been domesticated in the Scandinavian
peninsula, and is an animal of indispensable importance to the
forlorn families of the Lapland race. We are less acquainted
with the domestic manners of the American variety, which
indeed has never been rendered subservient to man. There
appears to be tw'o distinct or well marked races of the rein¬
deer in the fur countries of the New World. One of these is
confined to the woody and more southern districts, while the
other retires to the woods only during the winter season,
and passes the bright but fleeting summer either in what
is called the barren grounds, or along the shores of the
Arctic Ocean. Those of the barren grounds are small of
stature, and so light that a hunter can carry a full grown
doe across his shoulders. Sir J. Richardson is of opinion that
when in prime condition the flavour of its flesh is superior
to that of the finest English mutton. He was probably
hungrier in America than he has ever been at home. The
other variety is much larger, and is usually called the wood¬
land caribou. It is, however, much inferior as an article
of diet. One of the most remarkable peculiarities of this
animal is that it travels southwards in the spring, crossing
the Nelson and the Severn Rivers in vast herds during the
month of May, with a view to spend the summer on the
low marshy shores of James’s Bay, and returning inland,
in a northerly direction^ in September. The provision
called pemmican, so essential to the subsistence of our
Arctic travellers, is formed by pouring one-third part of
melted fat over the flesh of the rein-deer, after it is dried
and pounded. We may add, that of all the cervine ani¬
mals of America, this species is the most easily approach¬
ed, and immense numbers are annually slain by the Indian
hunters. Indeed, the very existence of several of the na¬
tive northern tribes may be said to be linked to that of the
animal in question.
The European rein-deer, in its domestic state, is of in¬
finite advantage to the Laplanders, serving at once as a
substitute for the horse, the cow, the sheep, and the goat.
Several attempts have been made to introduce it into Bri¬
tain, but without any permanent success. It would pro¬
bably succeed better among the rocky hills of the Hebrides
than in the more luxuriant pastures of the south. Those
introduced by Sir H. G. Liddell, in 1786, although some
of them produced young, and gave promise of a healthy
1 ?p?r an ^mple account and classification of the antlered ruminants, see Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vols. iv. and v.
Ibe antlers as represented by the figure last referred to are immature.
Pecora.
MAMMALIA.
-was attributed to the riJhiras’of'th^pSsonwMch they kw Sartilla1' p"'!? '"T the W°18a’ about forty 'versts be-
K.4«."M:KrtbcrrJ
the grass of which was rich and he fed rnnti f] " CU'l 0,.w11<^ rein-deer are still found among the pine woods
throughout the ^10 ^ Ich fonder o^a sm^ fit'] ^ ^ the banks °f the ^
ply of lichen which was from Norwaf Zd Setfomh ^ ^ °f thf Kama-. Proceed —
which, extremely abundant on almost all the rocky o-rnunds of th a tt & °T\f 110 woody summits of that prolongation
of Scandinavia, constitutes his natural food HfZ n 6 YZ™ Mountains ^ich stretches between the
fondly follow any one who he d even a shred of^t in ht aS/ar aS the fort>’'sixth de^ Tlie
hand. When put into a garden where there exited a con- Maul US 1° Z ^ °f ^e^Caucasian
siderable variety both of flowering shrubs and forest trees a win/ ^ a ong.t!le banhs of the Kouma, where scarcely
the individual in question was oLeYd to brlst upo^ "X eI e?^W1ih0U^a feW bdnSshot dle Kab-'^
them all except the elder. He drank a ieat olntflv of Thi m6 ° dng,'eeSn t0 the south of Astracan.
water. This animal cast his antlers in winter for two Inr cm * re™ai vabIe. inequality of the polar distances in the
cessive seasons, and renewed them in the sprino- During Pos.lbons .of this species, according to the
one of these years they continued in the state of stumnf whinh^0 ^ mei'ld,an’ ^of. course dependent on the laws
till the 30th of January, when fliev b Yan to shoot f f regulat? tbe dlstTrd}ution of heat over the earth’s sur-
the 24th of February they were five or six inches hLh ’and Sr’’ "1 exPlained by ^nmboldt.2 It is well known that
covered by a deep pile of velvet hair. It mav possfblv be tho t im,ates do n?t be’ as lt; were> in bands parallel to
unsafe to reason generally from one individuafin a staL of 1 equator, but that the isothermal lines recede from the
confinement; but this account does certainly not ootpp b° 6 m 10 mtci'ior of continents, and advance towards it
with that of Leems, who, in his ninth chanter^ statps fh. ^ aPProacb tbe shores. It follows that the farther any
the rein-deer loses his horns in spring. Both Hoffberg and dhnatkTinfllT 18 nataralIy removed from the ameliorating
BufFon indeed assert the coMJy, yet, as"^! “ten ^ngetaTeX^/dSn^ m°re eXtende<1 ^ ^
Cst Let^deXL0^^ c -areely do more than name the wapiti or
may add, that his account is more consistent with’the^ct u [Ce/Vus,^ade^ Gmelin, C. strongylo-
l.n.'!i"teli:,a drcTstanc.e als0 reco''de<l by several of those
207
very compilers who at the same time, with characteristic
inconsistency, deny the animal its antlers during that in¬
clement season. Leems, however, expressly says that the
rein-deer procures the lichen by means of its feet. He
adds, that it also kills a great quantity of mice, of which it
devours the heads with great avidity,—a most singular pro-
pensity in a ruminating animal.1
Conti ary to the usual rule, the female rein-deer is pro¬
vided with horns, as well as the male,—a fact mentioned
by Julius Caesar, who records the species as an inhabitant
tail. According to Hearne, it is the most stupid of all
the deer tribe.
The fallow-deer (Cervus dama, Linn.) of our inclosed
parks, is now scarcely known except in the domestic state,
borne incline to regard it as originally an African species,
in consequence of an individual having been shot some
years ago, apparently wild, in a wood to the south of Tu¬
nis.. It is easily distinguished from our native red-deer
by its smaller size, its longer tail, and the palmation or
breadth of its antlers, a character which induced its ancient
horns are still found in the sandy banks of tbe Olenia, a Jter pX of *1 ktgXTe lo!
» ATth^^v bidy SlAt 0 ^ Menoir,, SAnucU, C m.
not refrain from here alluding t'o a curious point in Xat mav M llmits ^11 afford, we yet can-
up by the sagacity of Baron Cuvier, had greatly perplexed the naturalist Yfw?17 hlst.017 °f the sPecies> which, till it was cleared
deer had existed in France, at least in thf iArenfL as kte as the fonrtYm!, ^ ^TY61? generally received, that therein-
others regarding the changes of temperature which Inrl 1 • i? century ; which opinion brought along with it several
broached by BufFon, howefer conSvfi may leem to fiif own ?ls2mnJvTPe’ ^ ^ .f8™ f T"? fossil bones- ^ was first
globe. <• Quinze siecle,” says Buffon "(xii. 83) “ apres Jules-Cesar /I/1 /maintalll]s the gradually increasing coldness of our
comme d’un animal qui auroit exists de son temps dans nos fiSets de France s?a’ble f)arler renne sou« L nom de rangier,
Foix and Lord of Bearn, born in the year 1331 fnd author n/fw-, t Y, Y\,lhlS Past7on l ha£'bus was Gaston III. Count of
the rein-deer is described with tolerable accuracy As Gaston de ]•',,] Y / e>’ ^ M,lrolr d^ phehns des deduits de la Chasse, in which
ferred that he had there seen the animal YcmeSn • and on this errof eol Y 1?, !T tb.e Lvreneos, it was hence in-
proceeded in their history of the species. It first occurred to Cuvier to rm pp0S1 I011 Count de Melhn, Schreber, and others, have
thing could be thereby elicited; but the most beautiful, that of Antoine VerarY leinfit lnherffYthYtm^ IhanYve^0 S" Y"7
found the following passage : .Ten at veu en Morienne et Pueudeve oultre mer mats en Remain vam Jnl L 7 “ Y He there
existence of the rein-deer in Mauritania would have been still more extraordinarv than at Bean/ net-M Y ^ °f C0UrSe’ the
among the manuscripts of the royal library, where he fortunately found the ordinal of the work’in nuLlY recouis® a search
himself to Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy; and on referrin’sr to the nartienlnr mss-.n-n i f I110®110") as presented by Gaston
It is there clearly written, “ Jen ai veu* en No„mg„e et IX7et en hfonUreXf mes eifRenllin^11”1^ re,”0l'e',■
Itow Norway and Sweden were the very countries of which the rein.deer had been described a. an i.fkS"-?1?® e.Vy Je P?“ vu8-
loix as was usual for the cavaliers of the fourteenth century, had at an early a^e joined a crusade in f-Y a])PY,ed ,tbat Gast°n —
tonic knights against the Paynims of Lithuania; that he was passionately fmid o/huntimr nlnnllv Y YYdlSjreSSed Teu'
last died of fatigue in consequence of his exertions in pursuing a bear. Hence Cuvier natural! v iY ente[.tai.ned 1G,0.,) ^°gs> an(l at
Prussia, he had been induced, by curiosity or the love of sport, to cross the Baltic Sea and traveV™ Y'/p that at,er kis journey into
troops of reindeer could not have failed to attract the notice of “ a mio-hty hunter ” Therp L tP (,andinavia’ w here the numerous
posing that this species ever inhabited the mountains of the Pyrenees, or any of the south YyYY n° YY whate,ver for SIIP-
Note sur la pretendue existence du Renne en France dans le moyen aye, rend to the Institute and 'l /Y t° Yu,roP®‘ SeeGuviers
t vi. p. 119 (of the 4th edition, 1835). institute, and published in the Ossemens Fossiles,
Pecora.
208
MAMMALIA.
Pecora. bility, although it sometimes escapes by chance into the
—forests. It is said to be now frequent in the forests of Li¬
thuania, from whence, according to Raczinsky, the parks of
the Polish nobles were in use to be supplied. But it is
not included by Pallas in his Catalogue of Russian Ani¬
mals.1 In Livonia it requires to be sheltered during the
winter season. It abounds in Sardinia, and in several of
the Greek and other islands of the Mediterranean. The
evidence of its existence in the higher countries of Asia,
and onwards through the Chinese dominions, is too ob¬
scure to be depended on as truly applicable to this particu¬
lar species. If not indigenous to France and Spain, the
period of its introduction to these countries must have been
remote. Two permanent varieties seem to exist in Bri¬
tain, viz. a spotted kind supposed by Pennant to have
been transmitted from Bengal, and a kind of a dark brown
colour alleged to have been introduced by James I. from
Norway into Scotland, and thence transported to the
chaces of Enfield and Epping. It is possible that the
existence of the spotted species called Axis in India,
may have led to the first idea,—presumed to be erroneous
from the fact of the spotted buck being noticed in Gwillims’
Heraldry (4th edition, 1660), where it is quoted as being
borne on ancient coats of arms, at least anterior to British in¬
tercourse with the east; and it may perhaps militate against
the introduction from Norway of our darker brown variety,
that Pontoppidan, in his natural history of that country,
makes no mention of fallow-deer of any hue whatever.
The stag or red-deer (Cervus elephas, Linn.) is the
most stately and magnificent of all the wild animals still
indigenous to Britain. Vast herds continue to range the
mountains in various parts of Scotland, and the species is
not unfrequent in the larger of our western islands, such
as Mull and Jura. In the southern quarters of the island,
the breed is almost extinct in the wild state. It is a shy
and wary creature, finely endowed with the sense of smell,
not easily approached by the hunter, even from the leeward,
and extremely dangerous to encounter closely, from its
great strength and occasional courage. Many instances
are recorded of its having killed both men and dogs, and
one is known of its having beat off a tiger which was let
loose upon it in an inclosed area, at the instance of William
duke of Cumberland. Its flesh, though lauded by Dr
Johnston, and by no means to be despised by a hungry
sportsman in the wilds of Scotland, is in our opinion poorer
and less highly flavoured than that of the fallow-deer. Of
course it is not so easily selected, or in any other way ob¬
tained in prime condition, and the necessity of eating it
occasionally when lean and tough may possibly have proved
injurious to its culinary character. Both sexes of the red-
deer have obtuse canine teeth in the upper jaw. The age
of a stag may be pretty easily determined by the branches
of the antlers till its seventh or eighth year ; but after that
period the increase of those parts is not subjected to any fixed
rule. The oldest have seldom more than ten or twelve
branches, though an instance has occurred of there being
thirty-three on each antler.2 According to Cuvier, the older
the individual, the deeper are the furrows of the antlers.
I he only other British species of the deer tribe is the
roe (Cervus capreolus, Linn.). This beautiful animal, so
well known to the Scottish sportsmen, is believed to be now
extinct in the southern portions of the kingdom.3 It differs
from the generality of the deer kind in not being grega¬
rious, seldom more than a single family being found toge¬
ther. The roe rarely measures above two feet in height, Pecora.
with a length of about three feet four inches. The ant- v—
lers are about eight inches long, and are usually divided at
the top into three branches. The colours of the fur vary
with the season, being bright tawny-brown in summer, in
winter more grizzled and obscure. The hair is long, and
when inspected minutely, is found to be generally ash-co¬
lour at the base, black towards the point, with the point it¬
self yellow. The rump and lower parts are white. This
species is certainly confined to the Ancient World, although
by a misapplication of the name, it has been believed by
many to occur in America. It is common in Scotland, and
is found pretty generally, though not in great abundance,
in what may be called the Central Zone of Europe. It is
rare in France, and is known to have been almost entirely
extirpated from Burgundy during the cold winter of 1709-
The places where it loves to dwell are woody districts, va¬
ried by open glades, and broken in upon by land capable
of cultivation. It does not ascend those sterile mountain
tracts where the red-deer is so often found. According to
Captain Williamson, the roe occurs on the borders of Ben¬
gal, particularly among the crags and ravines of the west¬
ern frontier.
We shall now notice a very few of the more southern
foreign species. It has been observed in general, that few
of these change their colours with the season. Several
magnificent examples of this tribe of animals are to be
found on the southern sides of the Nepaul Mountains. Of
these we have here exhibited the Nepaul stag (Cervvs
Wallichii, Plate XIII., figure 1), a species which in
many respects exhibits a resemblance to the red-deer of
our native heath-clad mountains. We scarcely know, as
yet, of any other individual than that brought down by Dr
Wallich to Calcutta. A drawing was made of it in the
living state, by a native artist, and transmitted by M. Du-
vaucel to Paris, where it was published by M. F. Cuvier.
The horns are shorter and less magnificently branched
than in the Scottish species, but they have been supposed
to have been dwarfed, in the individual in question, by the
decrepitude of age. Each has a pair of small brow antlers
at the base, and somewhat more than half way up the
beam, a small snag turns forwards.
The Rusa group of stags is entirely Asiatic, and is dis¬
tinguished by rounded horns, with a brow antler, but with¬
out any median or besantler, and the beam terminates in a
single perch, with a snag more or less elongated, placed
midway or higher on its anterior or posterior edge. The
great Rusa (Cervus hippelaphus, Cuv.) almost equals the
height of a horse. It has trifurcated horns, and very coarse
fulvous brown hair, which changes to a greyer hue in win¬
ter. The tail is rather long, and there is no disk on the
buttock. This species seems to correspond to the great
axis of Pennant. It occurs in several of the Asiatic islands,
and in Continental India is found chiefly in the Jungleterry
district of Bengal. The exact nature of the animal de¬
scribed by Aristotle under the name of iTrTnXxtpo?, has been
a subject of some controversy. The term was formerly
applied to a species which occurs in the forests of Ger¬
many ; but, according to the researches of M. Duvaucel, it
is undoubtedly the black deer or black rusa of Bengal
(Cervus Aristotelis, Cuv.). Its horns are forked at the
extremity, and bear only a single branch at the base, simi¬
lar, as Aristotle expressed it, to those of a roe. It inhabits
the Prauss j ungles, and is known by the name of Saumer.
1 See the Ossemens Fossiles, t. iv. p. 29.
2 We allude to the animal killed by the king of Prussia in 1669, and presented to Augustus I. Elector of Saxony and King of
Poland. Accoiding to Pechstein, the head is still preserved at Moritzburg.
3 “The particular periods, therefore, when the wolf and wild boar became extinct in this country cannot with precision be accu-
rately ascertained ; but the history and fall of the roebuck are better known. It continued to be an inhabitant of England till within
the last century, and was not unfrequently met with on the wastes, a small distance from Hexham, in Northumberland. As the
breed, however, became gradually more scarce, it was sought for with greater eagerness; so that after enduring the united attacks of
the dog and gun for a few seasons, it at length dwindled away into one solitary animal, which about forty years since is said to have
been destroyed by  Whitfield, Esq of Whitfield, in Northumberland.” The Sportsman's Cabitiet, vol. ii. p. 172.
Pecora.
t rnale is nearly as large as an elk (which name, indeed,
is erroneously applied to it by many Anglo-Indians), and
is represented by British sportsmen in the east as extremely
vicious as well as strong. Its prevailing colour in summer
is dark brown, in winter nearly black. The abdomen, and
a ring around the mouth and nostrils, are whitish, the in¬
sides of the legs fawn colour. Captain Williamson de¬
scribes it as attaining to the dimensions of a Lincolnshire
cart-horse (fifteen or sixteen hands high), of a shining
black colour, with tan points ; the female mouse-coloured.
The spotted axis of India (Cervus axis') resembles the
mammalia.
209
Visclter, as the most experienced hunter, separated him- Pecm.
sell from us, and by a circuit took the animals in front, that—y-—
he might stop their way, while I was to attack them in the
rear. I had almost got within shot of them when they per¬
ceived me, and began to fly in the direction we expected.
ut t leir flight was beyond all idea so extraordinary, that
between laughter, astonishment, and delight, I almost for¬
got my designs upon the harmless creatures’ lives. From
the extravagant disproportion between the height of the
fore to that of the hinder parts, and of the height to the
ength or the animal, great obstacles are presented to its
fallow-deer, but is easily distinguished by the roundness of moving with any degreTof swiftnes? When Le V 'll t
its horns, and the want of a terminal palm. The female asserts that ho W ti ^ ^ L YailIant
however, greatly resembles the doe of our domesticated farther trouble in proving thaTth^ ’ SparGS me ^
species. This kind is most frequent in Bengal, and on the itself alive before him i guh ^hlsanimal never presented
banks cf the Ganges, although"* occurs throughout India! mafsod^porti inwi! ^"blnd^
as well in the Eastern Arch ipelasro. It has boon frpmipntlu- TPo n-;r.r,AVa J i n ® oeiore ano henina trot?
ind0Englannd.° S ^
c wi i ■» 1T-w-v.._ i. •  i • _
viously blown upon,—so at least states M. F. Cuvier,* re¬
garding the individual observed in the Paris garden. Its
disposition in the captive state is otherwise remarkably
mild and accommodating. J
Passing over the Muntjaks, which are numerous in India
and the Eastern Islands, we come to a very peculiar ani¬
mal, the Giraffe, constituting the
Genus Camelopardalis, Linn.
Incisives —,
O
canines
wanting molars ^g ; = 32. Head lengthened, with a
bony tubercle on the middle of the face, and two bony pro¬
jections on the forehead, covered by the fur, and termina-
so much labour, that in a distance of more than a hundred
paces, comparing the ground cleared with the size of the
animal and of the surrounding objects, it might almost be
said that a man goes faster on foot. The heaviness of the
movement is only compensated by the length of the steps,
each one of which clears, on a moderate computation, from
twelve to sixteen feet.” 2 A tolerably good horse overtakes
t e giraffe without difficulty, especially over rising ground.
. J . tflere 18 more than a single species of camelopard,
is a point rather surmised than demonstrated by our modern
naturalists. Some are inclined to infer, chiefly we presume
from the difference in their geographical position, that the
southern kind, so frequently alluded to in the travels of Le
ted by a tuft of longer hairs. The fore-quarters are very Vaillant Burchell and others ^re ° t? 11 . s °J Le
high in comparison with the hinder, and the dorsal line il those seen during the expedition of Denham andcf fr°m
consequently oblique. The neck is of extraordinary length, ton, and more recently described bv RupneT 1^ PPT
and the limbs are slender, and terminated by cloven hoofs were well knoJm to the ane enl Y ^ PP ' f amel?Par,ds
resembling those of the ordinary ruminants! There is a ThH " ^
callosity on the sternum. The mammae are four in number. Gordian afterwards^xhibited ten at a single shew • 3^0-
The giraffe or camelopard, the tallest, and m many other lerably accurate figures of thpQp PvtrQm^i* 9
'(See'piateSffig” KlteSy Sin^y^emlZve"l ^ Are,iV“‘ ^
mention that it measures from fifteen to twenty feet in but about th! middle of the sixteenth^enturv tbe°FeanS ?
height, including the lengthened neck. It Is a timid and rot of Germany, F^^Sl^ec^nf K
gentle animal, browsing habitually on the foliage of trees,
especially those of the Acacia and Mimosa tribes. Its gait
or mode of progression is thus described by Mr Lichten¬
stein : “ We had hardly travelled an hour when the Hot¬
tentots called our attention to some object on a hill not far
off on the left hand, which seemed to move. The head of
something appeared almost immediately after, feeding on
the other side of the hill, and it was concluded that it must
be that of a very large animal. This was confirmed, when,
after going scarcely a hundred steps further, two tall swan¬
necked giraffes stood almost directly before us. Our trans¬
ports were indescribable, particularly as the creatures them¬
selves did not perceive us, and therefore gave us full time
to examine them, and to prepare for an earnest and serious
chase. The one was smaller, and of a paler colour than
the other, which Vischer immediately pronounced to be a
colt, the child of the larger. Our horses were saddled, and
our guns loaded in an instant, when the chace commenced.
Since all the wild animals of Africa run against the wind,
so that we were pretty well assured which way the course
of these objects of our ardent wishes would be directed,
the Sultan of Babylon. Lorenzo de Medicis was also pre¬
sented with a live specimen by the Bey of Tunis. Nearer
our own times, the camelopard is described in a letter from
Captain Carteret to Dr Maty, as having been killed in a
journey from the Cape, in 1761 ;3 yet the first statements
ot the unfortunate but accurate Vaillant were almost dis¬
credited till he transmitted the giant spoils to Europe
Very recently several live specimens have been transmit¬
ted from Kordofan to the gardens of the Zoological Society
ot London, and they have since bred in England.
Genus Antilope, Cuv. Incisives canines wanting,
Bony nucleus of the horns solid like
Form light, and well adapted for great
molars
6 — 6
= 32.
6 — 6
those of deer,
swiftness.
This numerous and varied genus has been recently di-
yided mto many minor groups, chiefly in accordance with
the form of the horns. Of the far greater number Africa
is the native country. These creatures are by many re¬
garded as the most lively, graceful, and beautifully propor-
1 We have elsewhere observed, that it would have been more becoming and eouallv Wiral in .
rather that Le Vaillant misapplied the term which he made use of to desifnate the moJem!nts of Se Llch enste!n^
gined himself to have seen an animal alive which had never presented itself to him in that condition cameloI)ard> tha
Voyaffe an Cap de Bonne Esptrance. * See Phil. Tram. 1770 am°n*
VOL. XIV. "
have inferred
than that he ima-
2 D
210 MAMMALIA.
Pecora. tioned of the brute creation. They have indeed attracted the
■—admiration of mankind from the earliest ages, and the
beauty of their dark lustrous liquid eyes has afforded a
constant theme for the imagination of the eastern poets.
Their names are of frequent occurrence in the most an¬
cient mythologies, and their figures are represented among
the oldest of the astronomical symbols. Naturalists are
more or less acquainted with about sixty species,—a few of
which we shall here briefly notice.1
The antelope, commonly so called {Antilope cervicapra,
Pallas, Plate XIII., figure 5), is an eastern species, distin¬
guished by the triple curve of its annulated horns. These
parts are extremely sharp pointed, and in India offensive
weapons of great power are made, by joining two pair to¬
gether at their bases. “ Thus are they doubly armed.”
The female is hornless.
The gazelle, or Barbary antelope (A. dorcas, Linn.), is
somewhat less than our own roebuck. The horns are
black, round, lyrate, with numerous rings, and measure
about a foot in length. It is widely spread over northern
Africa, and occurs in Persia and the southern parts of Sy¬
ria. It is a gregarious species of great beauty, much es¬
teemed by lions and other beasts of prey, and although in
many respects well known to naturalists, it is yet difficult to
draw a precise distinctive line between it and several other
closely allied kinds, such as the kevel, the korin, and the
tzeiran of the Persians. The gazelle is accurately de¬
scribed by iElian under the title of dorcas, a name bestow¬
ed by other ancient writers on the roe. This is the spe¬
cies which, by reason of its exquisite grace and beauty,
affords so continued a subject of comparison, and is so
often used as a poetical image by eastern writers.
“ Her eyes dark charms ’twere vain to tell,
But look on those of the gazelle,
They will assist thy fancy well.”
We have figured the head (Plate XIII., figure 3), of a
closely allied species called the corinne {Ant. eorinna,
Gmelin). It differs from the gazelle chiefly in having more
slender horns. “ Ce n’est peut etre,” says Cuvier, “ qu’une
variete de sexe.”
The Chinese antelope, or Dzerin, of the Mongolian Tar¬
tars {A. gutturosa, Pallas), is of a heavier form than the
preceding, with short thick horns, reclining backwards, di¬
vergent, wavy, and the points turned inwards. One of its
chief characteristics is a large moveable protuberance on
the throat, occasioned by a dilatation of the larynx,—par¬
ticularly observable in the old males. This is the species
known in China by the name of Hoang-yang, or the yel¬
low goat. It occurs also in the deserts between the celes¬
tial empire and Thibet, and extends eastward into Siberia,
and over that vast expansion so vaguely known under the
name of the Desert of Gobi. It is said to avoid woody
places, and to prefer open plains and barren mountains. It is
an animal of great swiftness, and long endurance of fatigue.
The oryx or algazel (A. leucoryx, Lich. ? A. gazella,
Linn. Plate XIIL, figure 2) measures above three feet
and a half in height at the shoulder. The body is rather
bulky, the limbs slender, the horns of the male horizontal,
bent backwards, obliquely annulated, with smooth tips, and
nearly three feet long. It inhabits sandy districts in Per¬
sia and Arabia, and has been shot on the western side
of the Indus, in the deserts of the Mekran. We may here
notice a remarkable species called the chiru {A. kemas ?
Smith), an inhabitant of those inaccessible and piny regions
of Chandang which verge on the eternal snows of the Him-
maleh Mountains. It sometimes occurs with only a single
horn, and in that accidental or imperfect condition is sup- Pecora.
posed to have given rise to the belief in monocerotes or ^—
unicorns,—animals which all who are conversant with the
structure of skulls, and the position of the frontal sutures,
are well aware cannot exist in any accordance with the ge¬
neral laws of organic form. This species is remarkable also
for an abundant coating of wool,—a provision bountifully
connected with its position as a mountain dweller in a cold
and icy clime. The Caffrarian oryx {A. oryx) is not more
remarkable for beauty of form than for its great strength
and vigour. It dwells in elevated forests, and among rocky
regions in Southern Africa, and is exceedingly fierce du¬
ring the rutting season, especially when wounded. A friend
of Colonel Smith’s having fired at an individual of this spe¬
cies, it immediately turned upon his dogs, and transfixed
one of them upon the spot. They are said to afford the
best venison of any of the antelopes of Southern Africa.
The blue antelope {A. leucophced) though formerly an
inhabitant of the Cape colony, is now so rare in Southern
Africa, that it is said no specimen has been killed there
for more than thirty years. A very large species called the
roan antelope (A. equina) was found by Mr Burchell among
the mountainous plains in the vicinity of Lattakoo. The
springer antelope (A., euchore) is called spring-bock by the
Dutch. It inhabits the plains of Southern and Central
Africa, and, during its migratory movements, congregates
in such vast flocks as for a time utterly to destroy vegeta¬
tion. The lion has been observed to accompany their on¬
ward journey, walking like a grizzly tyrant in the midst of
a dense phalanx of these beautiful but fearful creatures,
and with only as much space between him and his victims
as the irrepressible terror of those immediately around him
could obtain by pressing outwards. Mr Pringle calculated
that he had sometimes within view not less than 20,000 at
a time.
Among the more remarkable of the African antelopes are
those called guevei (A. pygmcea,) which seem to consist of
two well-marked varieties, if two distinct species have not
been confounded under a single name. Of the smaller va¬
riety we remember a female in Mr Bullock’s museum which
scarcely exceeded the dimensions of a large rat, and its
legs were no thicker than a goose’s quill. The gueveis are
generally brought from the coast of Guinea, although they
have sometimes been observed to occur in the vicinity of
the Cape of Good Hope. In illustration of another beauti¬
ful form of this varied genus, we have represented the
species commonly called, from its peculiar markings, the
harnessed antelope {A. scripta, Pallas, see Plate XIV.,
figure 1). It was seen by M. Adanson in the interior of Se¬
negal, and few additions have been made to its subsequent
history.
In the forests of Hindustan we find the chickara or four¬
horned antelope (A. chickara, see Plate XIV., figure 4).
General Hardwicke informs us that this species inhabits
woody and hilly tracts along the western provinces of Ben¬
gal, Bahar, and Orissa. It is described as a wild and agile
creature, incapable of being tamed unless when taken
young. It is about twenty inches in height, and two feet
nine inches in length. The larger pair of horns are smooth,
erect, slightly inclined forwards, somewhat divergent, and
about three inches long. About an inch and a half in front
of these arise a short stumpy pair, about an inch and a half
in circumference, and scarcely an inch high.2 A nearly
allied, if not identical species, has been described by M. de
Blainville under the title of A. quadricornis?
The nyl-ghau {Ant. picta and tragocamelus, Gmel., Plate
XIV., figure 3) departs greatly from the form of the true
1 k or a summary of the species, with indications of the various sub-generic groups, by Colonel Hamilton Smith, see the Synopsis of
Mammalia, forming the fifth volume of Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, so frequently before referred to. For numerous important obser¬
vations, and a great deal of general information regarding the antelopes, consult also the fifth volume of the same work.
2 Linn. Trans, vol. xiv. 3 journai de Phys. Aout, 1818.
Pecorfc
MAMMALIA.
antelopes,andmergesonthatofthebovinetribes. Itseastern r.
name signifies blue ox, and it is in fact never considered as an Genus Capra, Linn. Incisives
antelope by native observers, though so classed by European 6 6
naturalists. TThis suppips wqc nnlm/viam ff 1a^^,1 lars _
0
naturalists. This species was unknown to the ancients, and
one of the first authentic notices of it is that by Dr Parsons.1
Lord Clive transmitted a pair to England from Bombay in
1767, and these bred regularly for several years. The nyl¬
ghau is not generally distributed over the Peninsula of Hin-
dostan, but it occurs in the districts of Kamaghur in Central
India, and is known to spread from thence to the foot of
canines wanting, mo-
6 ~6 ’ — 32* Horns directed upwards and backwards,
compressed, transversely furrowed, their nucleus communi¬
cating by means of cells with the frontal sinus. No lachry¬
mal sinus, nor inguinal pores. Chin generally bearded.
Outline of the face straight, or rarely convex. Two in¬
guinal mammae.
the Himmaleh MounteinT' Bemfe d«crSbe7it“aa ‘one of of less S®,,80** fT*’ °USh
the objects of the chace which delighted the Mogul Em- yet not undStinouM,ed hv7n Vl f i, Ti tr,be> “i6
peror Aurengzebe, during his progress from Delhi to Cash- ness of movement • and the rorkv^P’! Itf8 and Sr^ceful-
mere. It is a treacherous animal! vicious, and full of vi- are so often s"en ™ donh aL ?! .1 8 , °n 'lhlch
gour, and apt to prove a dangerous neighbour even in the posing aspect Although
domestic state. It may, however be comnletelv Hmpd P j v Aitnough extremely docile, and fond of
An antelope of a stiS’mr^omru7tmi7e1» reS 7^77 “o^S ^”7 7^ ^
(Ant. qnu. Gmel Plafp XIV z\ t* " .1 . n ciegree ot independence not observable m
if it were compounded of various other species, betngmmed stadonT the aiZlfSrf^ml'^Buffon hhey h°ld.ia ^
by whom it is arranged8 among heb“iM tribes ft s’ offhe eh ° y f °Ur tTticated sheeP and Soats>but
the European continent, the celebrated chamois, At. ra- tains. Me admits lm«-eve, , ! l ?t 7 Ca,lcaslan Moun-
p,capra, Linn. (See Plate XIV., figure 2.) This ani- rprotbtorfa^
rocky grounds m the vicinity of regions of perpetual snow, concretion sometimes find b AelnSes The mrfeU
sublimity, and not unattended by danger? from he rugged lour of the tod? b7V^^ aI’d theSe"eral
staassr-tthts-.-8- ^a~eH£2SS
As intermediate between the antelopes and the ensuing
genus, we shall here place a species which has been digni¬
fied by a great variety of names, we mean the Rocky Moun¬
tain goat (Aplocerus lanigera. Smith, Capra Americana,
breed, from the coat of which the celebrated shawls and
other articles are manufactured. The fleece is lono- and of
a silky texture, straight and white.. The most esteemed is
the produce of Thibet, from which country it is exported
great range of ^rth American S^ToTw^
has derived its best known name.. It is equal in size to a shawl, of a’rich ^"r"^ foS taSaHW
whole body, particu- making.* The Thibet variety is chiefly remarkable for the
large sheep, its colour white, and its whole body, particu¬
larly the back and hinder quarters, covered by an ample
coating of long fine wool, but greatly intermixed with
coarser hair. The importation of this species into the al
excessive length of its silky covering, which falls in ample
clusters from each side of the back, with a dorsal line of
pine or insular districts of Scodmid tosl^n^m^: mSuTlsZo^TiAtfe^^f and ,ItS gene-
ed as an interesting experiment, not likely to be attended The males of both these eastern fulvous.I"le-
by much difficulty, and which might probably lead to valu- flattened wavy horns THpv h* ed.s 1,a^e V(;ry large
able results.2 The precise extent of its territorial range has France and England; 7 * lntroduced ^ to
not yet been ascertained, but it is known to occur from the A heanfifnl Hwarf ^
40° to the 64° or 65° of north latitude. It is scarcely ever and commonly called thi r .°nginally fron? western Africa,
seen at any distance from the mountains, and is said to be this country. The eoat nf1^821 g°at’ 18 als° weI1 known in
less numerous on the eastern than the western slopes of its mere kind in its flowing fleece theffirk^nf^^L^ CaSh'
native range. Its flesh is rather hard and dry, and some- instead of beinp-sfrnJo-to ’ ^ l0^Kf’°f which, however,
what unsavoury from its musky odour. 7 Tl t? aSS“me th" f"rm of beautiful ^
1 In che Phil. Trans, vol. xliii.
* Spialegia Zoologica, fascic. xi.
i-irvcrUfc -r1! r o;-luiunn ueautuui spiral
r nglets The Jemlak goat, an inhabitant of the highest
* Wernerian Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 306.
4 Tour in the Upper Provinces of Ilindostan. By A. D.
211
Pecon.
P 187.
212
MAMMALIA.
Pecora. range of central Asia, and that called Jahral in the Nepaul
country, seem to present the characters of distinct species.
The latter is bold, capricious, and irascible, but it is easily
tamed, and thrives well when transported to other countries.1
The bouquetin of the European Alps (the stein-bock of
the Germans, Capra ibex, Linn.) is a large, powerful, and
extremely active animal, almost five feet in length, and
nearly three feet high. The colour is greyish fawn-colour
above, whitish below, with a deep brown line along the
dorsal region. The female resembles the male, except in
the diminished size of her horns. This species dwells
among the highest and most precipitous peaks of the Alps
of Switzerland, Spain, and other lofty ranges, far surpassing
the chamois in the boldness with which it bounds from crag
to crag, and ascending to perilous heights where even that
alpine species is never seen. It is said, when springing
from a great height, to bend its head between its fore-legs,
in such a manner as to break its fall by alighting on its
horns as well as hoofs. It is easily tamed when taken
young, and breeds freely with the domesticated goats. It
is alleged to do so, indeed, even in a state of nature,—for
it is the general opinion of the shepherds of the Alps and
the Pyrenees, that all the great he-goats which act as
leaders to the flocks are either genuine bouquetins, or im¬
mediately descended from that powerful species. We be¬
lieve that all that has been stated as to the occurrence of
the paseng or eegagrus (we mean the true wild-goat) in
Europe, owes its origin to the existence of a cross breed
between the goat and bouquetin. The latter is likewise an
Asiatic animal, and was seen by Pallas in the mountains of
Siberia,2 but the Caucasian ibex, described by Gulden-
staedt is a distinct species.3 The maned bouquetin of
Africa, erroneously so called, is undoubtedly an antelope,
figured by Mr Daniel under the title of TakhaitzeA
Genus Ovis, Linn. Teeth as in the preceding genus.
Horns thick, angular, transversely furrowed, spirally twist¬
ed in a lateral direction, the points more or less recurving
forwards. Chin seldom bearded. Outline of the face arched
or convex.
The leading fact in the geographical history of this ge¬
nus is, that it occurs both in the New and the Old World,
whereas the goat tribe are naturally unknown in America.
We cannot here enter into any detailed history of the
numerous varieties of the domestic sheep which have re¬
sulted from the almost immemorial subservience of this
animal to the human race, but must confine ourselves to a
slight sketch of the features and characteristic habits of
the several wild races which inhabit the different regions
of the earth. Although this invaluable species is usually
regarded by naturalists as being not only specifically but
generically distinguished from the goat, we incline to think
that the latter, or generic separation, is founded chiefly
upon characters which have arisen from the influential
power of man. In a state of nature, the sheep is scarcely
less active or energetic than the goat,—its dimensions are
fuily greater,—its muscular strength at least equal, both in
force and duration. It is also an alpine animal, fearless of
crag and cliff, and dwells indeed by preference among the
steepest and most inaccessible summits of lofty mountains.
Among its native fastnesses it is seen to bound from rock
to rock with inconceivable swiftness and agility.
, scarcely remind the reader of the very an¬
cient subservience of this species to the domestic uses of
mankind. It is the first recorded creature in the Holy
Scriptures, of such as owned the dominion of the human
ri^e‘ “ ^nd Abel was a keePer of sheep, but Cain was a
tiller of the ground. 5 Sheep-shearing is also mentioned
during very early times : “ And it was told Tamar, say¬
ing, Behold thy father-in-law goeth up to Timnath to shear Pecora.
his sheep;”6 while, at a later period, the festivities of the^—v—
season were taken advantage of by Absalom to slay his bro¬
ther Amnon : “ And it came to pass, after two full years,
that Absalom had sheep-shearers in Baal-hazor, which is
beside Ephraim ; and Absalom invited all the king’s sons.”7
The domestication of the sheep thus appears to have been
almost coeval with the creation of our own species, and
continuous with its progressive descent. We may here
mention that the goat appears to be the next in succession,
as applied to the purposes of the human race; then oxen,
asses, camels, and lastly horses. The first mention of the
mule, though prior to that of the horse, is of too casual a
kind to lead to any precise conclusion, as to its being then
known as a beast of burden: “ And these are the children
of Zibeon; both Ajah and Anah : this was that Anah that
found the mules in the wilderness, as he fed the asses of
Zibeon his father.”8
The most remarkable external change which domestica¬
tion has produced on sheep, is the conversion, as it is com¬
monly called, of hair into wool, or, to state the fact more
accurately, the prodigious development of one of the consti¬
tuent portions of the coat, and the decrease or disappearance
of the other. All animals inhabiting a cool or temperate
climate seem supplied with both a woolly and a hairy cover¬
ing,—the former being usually short and close, and entirely
concealed by the latter, on the length, colour, and texture of
which the external appearance of most animals in a great
measure depends. These two kinds of covering are very
observable in bears and wolves, and also in the more peace¬
ful races of wild sheep; and nothing like either a metamor¬
phosis or a new creation is necessary to produce the re¬
markable alteration in the domestic breeds. Of these we
here figure as an example the long-legged sheep of Africa.
(See Plate XV., figure 1.)
The principal unsubdued races of the sheep are the fol¬
lowing : the Mouflon or Musmon of Sardinia, Crete, and
Corsica ( Ovis musimon, Pall., O. ammon, Gmelin, O. aries,
Desm.),—the bearded sheep of Africa ( Ovis tragelaphus,
Cuv., Desm.),—the Argali, or wild sheep of Asia ( Ovis am¬
mon, Linn., Desm.), and the Rocky Mountain sheep of Ame¬
rica ( Ovis montana, Richardson). These four quadrupeds
differ greatly, in the first place, in their geographical posi¬
tion ; and, secondly, in several of their external characters.
The distinctive attributes of all the species have not been
detailed with sufficient fulness and precision to enable us to
say with certainty whether each differs specifically from
the other, or is rather its natural representative under a
different modification of climatic influences. However
this may be, it is probable that from one or other of these
unsubdued races our own domestic tribes have been deri¬
ved, and we shall therefore present the reader with a brief
sketch of their natural history.
Ovis musimon, Pallas. The Musmon.9 (See Plate
XV., figure 4.) This species measures about three feet
and a half in length, and its height, at the highest part of the
back, is about two feet six inches. The neck is large, the
body thick, muscular, and of a rounded form. The limbs
are robust, and the hoofs short. The horns of the male are
nearly two feet long. The body is protected by a short, fine,
grey-coloured wool, of which the filaments are spirally twist¬
ed, and by a stiffish silky hair of no great length, yet sufficient
to conceal the wool beneath. The Musmon (under which
name it was known to the ancients) inhabits the loftiest
parts of Crete, Corsica, and Sardinia, the western moun¬
tains of European Turkey, the isle of Cyprus, and probably
other islands of the Grecian Archipelago. It is not, how¬
ever, supposed to occur in more northern countries, unless
Proceedings of Zoological Society, part u. p. 10G. 2 Spicilegia Zoologica, fascic. xii. p. 31. 3 Acta Petropolitana, 1779.
* African Scenery, plate 24. s Genesis, ch. iv. v. 2. e Ibid, ch. xxxviii. v. 13.
7 2 Samuel, ch. xm. 23. 8 Genesis ch. xxxvi. v. 24.
9 Mouflon of Buffon and F. Cuvier,-—Oris aries (race sauvage consideree comme le type primatif) of Desm.
Pecora-
the identity of the species with the Siberian Argali should
in time be demonstrated. It is mentioned as an inhabitant
of Spain by Pliny, and according to Bory St Vincent, it
still occurs among the mountainous provinces of the ancient
kingdom of Murcia. It is gregarious in a state of nature,
and seldom descends from the highly elevated portions of
its insular mountains, of which the elevation and latitude,
however, do not admit perpetual snow. About the month
of December or January, the larger troops divide into less
numerous bands, each consisting of a male and a few females.
For a short time after this period, when the males encoun¬
ter each other, fierce battle ensues, and one of the com¬
batants is not unfrequently slain. The females carry their
young for five months, and usually produce twins in April.
We have said that the question is still undetermined re¬
garding the origin of our domestic breeds. The prevailing
sentiment, however, is certainly in favour of the species
just named. We know that the Corsican musmon brought
to Britain by General Paoli, became the parent of a mixed
progeny; and if Pliny is to be regarded in the light of an
authority, the wild sheep of Spain frequently intermingled
with the domestic race. The produce were known by the
name of We may observe that all wild sheep have
the chatfron greatly arched, and this peculiar form of the
nasal bones is found to increase with the degeneracy of the
domestic breeds.1 Colonel Hamilton Smith seems to suspect
that even the musmon itself may not be a genuine wild
animal, but an African domestic breed once imported, and
partially restored to its primitive characters, by the securi¬
ty afforded by its insular situation after it had accidentally
escaped from the influence of man.
Ovis tragelaphus, Cuv. The bearded sheep of Africa.2
The hair on the lower part of the cheeks and upper jaws
of this species is extremely long, and forms a double or di¬
vided beard. The hairs on the sides and body are short,
those on the top of the neck somewhat longer, and rather
erect. The whole under parts of the neck and shoulders
are covered by coarse hair, not less than fourteen inches
long; and beneath the hairs on every part there is a short
genuine wool,—the rudiments of a fleecy clothing. The
tail is very short. The horns approach each other at their
base, and are above two feet long, about eleven inches in
circumference at the thickest part, and diverge outwards,
the extremities being nineteen inches from each other.
The size of this animal is differently stated by different au¬
thors, and some confusion has arisen in its history and sy¬
nonymy from the want of accordance between figures and
descriptions. It inhabits the desert steeps of Barbary, and
the mountainous parts of Egypt. The specimen in the Pa¬
ris Museum was shot near Cairo.
Ovis ammon, Linn., Desm. The Argali or wild sheep of
Asia. The general colour of this species is fulvous grey,
and white beneath, with a whitish disk upon the buttock.
The wool lies as it were concealed beneath a close set hair.
The adult male measures about three feet in height at the
shoulder, and five feet in length. His horns are nearly
four feet long, and fourteen inches in circumference at the
base. They are placed on the summit of the head, so as to
cover the occiput, and nearly touch each other in front,
bending backwards and laterally, then forwards and out¬
wards, their base being triangular, and their surface wrin¬
kled. The female is of smaller size, and her horns are
nearly straight. This species seems to have been confound¬
ed by most writers of the earlier portion of last century
with the mouflon, a European species already noticed; and
even Pennant and Shaw, in compiling its history, have
MAMMALIA.
213
amalgamated the accounts of two distinct kinds. Gmelin Pecora.
(the traveller3) and Pallas4 have furnished us with the most—v—-
accurate as well as ample details of its actual characters.
It inhabits the mountains of Central Asia, and the elevated
Steppes of Siberia, from the banks of the Irtisch to Karats-
chatka. In the last named country, its flesh and fat are
much esteemed. The horns are sometimes so large as to ad¬
mit of young foxes taking shelter in their decaying cavities.
1 he name of Argali applied by Pallas to this species, is the
Mongolic title of the female. The male is called Guldschah.
It is the Weissarsch of the ancient Germans, and in more
modern times appears to have been first noticed by Father
Kubraquis in the thirteenth century. He calls it Artak,
most likely an erroneous reading for Kirtaka, which, ac¬
cording to Hamilton Smith, is one of its Tartaric names.
Ovis montana, Desm., Rich. The Rocky Mountain
sheep, or American Argali. (See Plate XV., figure 6.)
This animal exceeds the Asiatic kind in size, and is larger
than the largest varieties of our domestic breeds. The horns
of the male are of great dimensions, arising a short way
above the eyes, and occupying almost the entire space be¬
tween the ears, but without touching each other at their
bases. The horns of the female are much smaller, and but
slightly curved. The hair in this species resembles that
ot a deer. It is short, fine, and flexible, in its autumn
growth, but becomes coarse, dry, and brittle, as the winter
advances. The colours reside in the ends of the hair, and as
these are rubbed off during the progress of winter, the tints
become paler. The old rams are almost entirely white in
spring. The Rocky Mountain sheep inhabits that lofty and
extended chain of North America from which it derives its
name,—from its most northern point in latitude 68°, to at
least the 40th degree. Its flesh is delicious, exceeding, it
is said, in flavour that of the finest English mutton.
Genus Bos, Linn.
lars
C —6
= 32.
Incisives —, canines wanting, mo-
Body large, limbs robust, muzzle
6 — 6
broad, the facial outline nearly straight. Horns simple,
conical, lunate, directed laterally, the points raised. Tail
rather long, and terminated by a tuft of lengthened hair.
Four mammae.
Buffon appears to have admitted of only two kinds of
cattle—the bull and the buffalo. A wild bull, the source
of our domestic breeds, the aurochs of Europe, the bison
of America, and the zebu of Africa and Asia, were all re-
garded by him as varieties of one and the same species,
produced by climate, food, and domestication. The
humped backs of the bison and the zebu, according to
the imaginative views of the eloquent Frenchman, were
signs of slavery produced by grossness and excess of feed¬
ing ; and he sought to escape the dilemma presented by
the existence of wild cattle with humped backs, by at once
asserting that these were either an emancipated tribe, ori¬
ginally descended from an enslaved and deteriorated race,
or constituted in themselves a natural variety, of which the
hump was characteristic. According to the same autho¬
rity, it was a humped variety, which, passing from the
north of Europe to the American continent, gave rise to
the bison breed of that country,—a theory which he deems
strongly confirmed by the fact, that both the aurochs of
the Old World, and its representative in the New, smell
strongly of musk !3 So confused, indeed, were his notions
regaiding these animals, that he appears to have confound¬
ed the bison and the muskox, although Charlevoix, and
othei travellers to whom he had access, had previously de-
4 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iv. p. 323.
’ dAfnqm, Geof. St Hilaire. Bearded sheep, Pennant and Shaw. Bearded argali. Ham Smith
• 4 ^ ~ * A vSr
MAMMALIA.
214
Pecora. scribed the difference in their external characters, as well
s—*—v-'-'' as in their haunts and habits. He advances the northern
boundaries of the bison almost to the Pole itself; whereas,
in reality, it is only the musk ox that is found there : and
then, forgetting what he had just before stated, he locates
the race of aurochs in the Frigid Zone, and restricts the
bison to the temperate,—while he draws the general con¬
clusion that all domestic cattle without humps are descend¬
ed from the former, and all humped cattle from the latter.1
Though Pallas 2 refutes the mistake committed by Buf-
fon in supposing that the aurochs of Europe consisted of
two varieties—the urus and the bison—he himself falls in¬
to the equally gross error of confounding as identical the
American and European species. He maintains the pro¬
bability of the latter having passed from the Old World to
the New, when the great northern continents were con¬
nected together by vast and continuous tracts of land, of
which the shattered and sunken debris are still represented
by the snow-covered mountains of Iceland, and the isles of
Shetland and Feroe. He regards the aurochs as the ori¬
ginal source of'our domestic cattle, and both as synonymous
with the bison of America,—while the musk ox of the
New World, the grunting ox of the East, and the buffaloes
of Asia and of Africa, are viewed as distinct from those
just named, and from each other.
It thus appears that prior to the time of Cuvier the
larger kinds of horned cattle were considered as amounting
to jive in number, so far as living species were concerned.
But the great French anatomist speedily distinguished
eight species.3 He separated the aurochs from the bison,
and established two additional kinds, the arnee of Asia, and
the domestic bull, the source of which he traced not to the
aurochs, of which the number of the ribs, the occipital
arch, and the inter-orbital distances of the forehead, are
dissimilar, but to a fossil species (probably by this time ex¬
tinct in the living state), of which the bones occur in va¬
rious alluvial soils of Europe. We shall here briefly no¬
tice the principal species of taurine animals.
Bos taurus, Plin. Bos taurus, domesticus, Linn. The
domestic bull and cow. The most permanent and essen¬
tial specific characters of this animal are the following:
Forehead flat, higher than broad ; horns round, placed at
the two extremities of a projecting line, which separates
the front from the occiput; ribs amounting to thirteen
pair ; teats disposed in the form of a square ; hair of the
anterior parts of the body not more bushy than that of the
other portions. The original of this invaluable species is
supposed to have been the Urus of ancient writers,—the
Thur of the Polish nation, an animal which, from va¬
rious accounts, appears to have borne a much closer re¬
semblance to our domestic breeds, than do either the
modern aurochs (commonly called the European bison) or
the buffalo. It seems to have become almost extinct du¬
ring the middle ages, in consequence of the progress of
civilization among the western nations, and probably ceased
to exist in a living state about the fifteenth century, except
in a few of the royal forests of Poland. Herberstein and
Martin Cromer state that the thur was to be found only
in Massovia, near Warsaw, where it appears to have been
kept as a curiosity, just as (according to Gilibert) the zubr
or modern aurochs continues to be to this day. In the
fossil skulls which seem to represent the urus, the horns
are curved forwards and downwards; but in the countless
varieties which constitute the domestic breed, these parts as¬
sume a great diversity of form and direction, and are some- Pecora.
times altogether wanting. The ordinary races of the torrid
zone (supposing the so called zebus to be descended from
the same root) are generally distinguished by a hump or
large excrescence of fat and flesh upon the shoulders.
We cannot here inquire, however briefly, into the history
of our British cattle. The original introduction of “ horn¬
ed bestial” to our island, is neither known in history, nor
asserted by tradition. Whether they were derived from
abroad, or were descended from wild individuals of the
urus race, native to Britain in former ages, are questions
which the lapse of time will never solve, but rather tend
to shroud in deeper darkness. The climate of the British
Isles is, beyond most others, productive of a great variety
in the nature of our pastures, and of a corresponding variety
in the character and condition of such animals as depend
on those pastures for support. Caesar mentions the abun¬
dance of the British cattle, and adds, that we (that is the
then inhabitants, for the present races, like the descendants
of the animals in question, are a mingled breed) lived much
on milk and flesh, to the neglect of tillage. Strabo praises
our bountiful supply of milk, but denies to us the art of
making cheese. This preference of a pastoral life over one
of agriculture, was handed down to much more modern
times, and prevailed throughout the continuance of our
feudal government, the warlike services of which would
have proved in a great measure incompatible with the pro¬
longed and steady labours of tillage. In regard to the
wild white cattle, commonly so called, which still exist at
Chillingham Castle in Northumberland, at Wollaton in
Nottingham, at Gisburne in Craven, at Chartly in Stafford¬
shire, and at Hamilton in the county of Lanark, we shall
merely mention that no sufficient evidence has ever been
brought forward to prove that these are entitled to the
character of an aboriginal breed. Fitz-Stephen, who lived
in the twelfth century, speaks of the uri sylvestres, which
in his time inhabited great forests in the neighbourhood
of London, and at a later period (fourteenth century) King
Robert Bruce was nearly slain by a wild bull, which at¬
tacked him “ in the Great Caledon Wood,” but from which
he was rescued by an attendant, “ whom he endowed,”
says Hollinshed, “ with great possessions, and his lineage
is to this day called of the Turnbulls, because he overturn¬
ed the beast, and saved the King’s life by such great prowess
and manhood.”4 There is, however, a link wanting to con¬
nect these fierce creatures with the small and often horn¬
less breed of white cattle still existing in the parks alluded
to ; and although the straightness in the backs of the latter
animals, the fierceness of their dispositions, and their agree¬
ment in some particulars with the ancient unreclaimed
breed of Britain, may afford a reasonable ground for con¬
jecturing that they are identical with the primitive source
of our domestic cattle; yet we are rather inclined to re¬
gard them as descended from the same source, than as
constituting that source itself.
Bos urus, Gmelin, Bos taurus, var. urus, Linn. Euro¬
pean Bison, or Aurochs of the Germans.5 This species is
frequently, though erroneously, regarded as the origin of
our domestic cattle. “ There is, I believe, no doubt,” says
Mr Bingley, “ that the ox is a descendant of the bison, a
large and powerful animal which inhabits the marshy forests
and vales of Poland and Lithuania. In the lapse of many
centuries, however, its general appearance, as well as its
temperament and disposition, have undergone a radical
Bernard s Bvffon, t. v. p. 89. 2 Acta Petropotitana, t. ii.
Diction, des Sciences Nat. article Bceuf. The same amount of species (including the musk ox, Ovibos moschatw) is given in the
last edition of the Begne Animal, but the Arnee of Asia is not there admitted as distinct.
4 See a more detailed account in the Cosmographe and Description of Albion, prefixed to Bellenden’s Translation of Boethius’s His*
to'-y and Chronicles of Scotland. Tail’s reprint, chap. x. p. 39.
5 This is the bison of the ancients, the Bceuf aurochs of Desmarest. called Zubr by the Poles.
JPecora. change. The enormous strength of the body, the great
°f chest and shoulders, the shagginess and length of
hair which covers the head, neck, and other fore-parts of
the bison, as well as his savage and gloomy disposition, are
in the present animal so altered that the mere variety
would almost seem to constitute a distinct species.”1 This
mistaken view of the subject has arisen from ignorance of
the leading distinctive characters. The aurochs is distin¬
guished by its bulged or convex forehead, which is, more¬
over, broader than high, by the attachment of the horns
below the line of the occipital ridge, by an additional pair
ot ribs (fourteen instead of thirteen) by a sort of frizzled
wool, which covers the head and neck, and forms a kind of
beard or small mane upon the throat. The tone and ut¬
terance of its voice is also quite peculiar. It is a wild and
independent animal, now confined to the marshy forests of
Lithuania, of Carpathia, and the Caucasus, though formerly
an inhabitant of the temperate parts of Europe. It is the
largest of all the quadrupeds native to the European conti¬
nent, measuring six feet in height at the shoulder, and be¬
twixt ten and eleven feet in length, from the nose to the
insertion of the tail. According to Gilibert, it far surpasses
the largest of the Hungarian oxen. The horns are black,
and thicker and more compact than those of the domestic
buU. In both sexes the lips, gums, palate, and tongue, are
blue, and the last named part is very rough and tubercu-
lated. Certain portions of the hide have decidedly a musky
smell, especially during the winter season; and the name
of Bison is supposed to have been bestowed upon it in con¬
sequence of that peculiar odour,—from the German word
wisen or bisem, which signifies musk. The name of Au¬
rochs is probably synonymous with that of Urm, originally
applied to another species.
Ttos bison, Linn. Bos Americanus, Gmelin. (Plate
XV.. figure 3.) The Bison of the New World, or buf¬
falo of the Anglo-Americans. The head of this species
i esembles that of the preceding, and the anterior portions
of its body are in like manner covered by a curled woolly
hair, which becomes excessively long during the winter
season ; but its legs are shorter, its hinder extremities com •
paratively weaker, and its tail not nearly so long. It is
said to have fifteen pair of ribs. It inhabits a great extent
of territory throughout the temperate and northern parts of
North America, and its history is so fully described by many
modern authors, that we need not here dilate upon it.
Bos bubalus, Linn. The Buffalo properly so called.
(Plate XV., figure 5.) The forehead of this animal is
convex or bulging, higher than broad, the direction of the
horns is lateral, and they are marked in front by a longi¬
tudinal projecting line. It is originally a native of India,
from whence it was brought into Egypt and Greece. It
was introduced into Italy about the close of the sixth cen¬
tury, and now grazes in numerous herds among the Pon¬
tine Marshes. Its milk is excellent, its hide extremely
strong, its flesh but slightly esteemed.
Bosgavaus, Ham. Smith. Bos frontalis, Lambert. The
Gayal of the Hindoos. Nearly of the size and form of the
English bull, w ith a dull and heavy aspect, but in reality
almost equalling the wild buffalo in activity and strength.
Its horns are short, slightly compressed, thick though dis¬
tant at the base, and rise directly outwards and upwards
in a gentle curve. From the upper angles of the forehead
proceed two thick, short, horizontal processes of bone, co¬
vered by a tuft of light coloured hair. There is no hump
upon the back, but a sharp ridge runs along the hinder
MAMMALIA.
215
part of the neck and shoulders, and anterior portion of the Pecora.
dorsal region. This species inhabits the mountain forests
to the east of Burrampootra, Silhet, and Chatgoon. The
milk, though rich, is neither lasting nor abundant. The
gayal has been domesticated in India, and is venerated by
the Hindoos. The female has been known to produce
with a common zebu bull of the Deswali breed.
Bos grunmens, Pallas. The Yack, or grunting ox, 
Soora Goy of the Hindostanese. Occiput convex, and
covered with frizzled hair ; horns round, smooth, pointed,
lateral, bending forwards and upwards ; withers very high,
but not so decidedly hunched as in the zebus; mammae
four, placed transversely; fourteen pair of ribs; hair on
the neck and back woolly,—very long upon the tail. This
species dwells among the mountainous regions of Central
Asia, and produces the horse-tails (commonly so called),
used as standards by the Turks and Persians. The chow-
ries, or fly-drivers, made use of in India, are likewise formed
from the tail of the grunting-ox. It is dyed red by the
C hinese, and worn as a tuft to their summer bonnets.2
The animal is domesticated by the Mongolians and by the
Tartar tribes. Though not large boned, it looks bulky,
owing to its long and ample coat of hair. It has a downcast
heavy look, is sullen and suspicious, and usually exhibits
considerable impatience on the near approach of strangers.
It is sure-footed, and capable of carrying a great load as a
beast of burden, but is not employed in agriculture.3
Bos Gaffer, Sparmann. The Cape Buifalo,— Qu’Araho
of the Hottentots. This species is characterized by dark
rufous horns, spreading horizontally over the summit of the
head, with the beams bent down laterally, and the points
turned upwards. They measure from eight to ten inches
broad at the'base, and are divided from each other only by
a slight groove. They are extremely heavy, cellular near
the root, and measure five feet in extent, following the
curved line from tip to tip. The hide of the Cape buffalo
is black, and, especially in old animals, almost naked. Its
tail bears a tuft of bristles at the end. It is a gregarious
animal, dwellingin small herds in the brushwood and open
forests of Caffraria, and striking accounts of its strength
and ferocity are recorded in the writings of Sparmann and
1 hunberg. Like most of the genus, it is sometimes capa¬
ble of being excited almost to madness by any thing of a
red colour. It swims with surprising force and agility.
Bosmoschatus, Gm. The Musk Ox,— Ovibos moschatus,
He Blainville. This singular animal inhabits many districts
of America to the north of the sixtieth parallel. We owe
our first systematic knowledge of it to Pennant, who re¬
ceived a specimen of the skin from the traveller Hearne ;4
but it had been previously mentioned, though vaguely, by
several of the early English voyagers, and M. Jeremie had
imported a portion of its woolly covering into France, from
which stockings more beautiful than those of silk were ma¬
nufactured. When full-grown, the musk ox is about the
size of our small Highland breed of cattle. Its carcass, ex¬
clusive of the offal, weighs about 300 pounds. Its flesh
when in good condition, is well flavoured, resemblino- that
of the rein-deer but coarser grained, and smelling strongly
of musk. The horns are remarkably broad at their bases,
and cover the brow and crown of the head, where they
come m contact with each other. The nose is blunt, the
muzzle not naked as usual, but covered with short close-
set hairs, and the head is large and broad. The legs are
naturally rather short, and this dumpy character is increas¬
ed by the great length of the hair upon the body, which
1 British Quadrupeds, p. 391. ' '   — 
4 Turner s Account of an Embassy to Thibet, p. 86, pi. 10.
3 This species is no doubt the Poephagus of jElian. It is curinuslv
per. See The History of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents, collected by Edward Tonsel ^ f-« Q ^ English translation of Conrad Ge»-
* Arctic Zoology, vol. i. p. 11. ' a upsei, I0u«.
MAMMALIA.
216
Pecora. hangs down almost to the ground. The horns of the cow
'-"“'v—are smaller than those of the male, and do not touch each
other at their bases, and the hair on her throat and chest
is shorter. The musk ox spreads over a great extent of
the barren arctic regions. It visits Melville Island (north
lat. 75°) in the month of May, but does not, like the rein¬
deer, extend to Greenland and Spitzbergen.
Besides the eight species now enumerated, the Asiatic
arnee {Bos arnee), and several other animals, either dis¬
tinct in kind, or constituting well marked varieties of horn¬
ed cattle, have been described both by travellers and sys¬
tematic writers.1
The following is a summary of the geographical distri¬
bution of the principal species. Two are proper to North
America,—the musk ox {B. moschatus), which dwells within
the polar circle, and the bison {B. Americanus'), which in¬
habits from that circle southwards, till between the 40°
and 35° of north latitude. A like number is characteristic
of Europe, viz. the aurochs or European bison (B. bison),
called zubr by the Poles, and the genuine bull {B. taurus),
the thur of the middle ages, and urus of the ancients, now
extinct in the natural state. There are at least four spe¬
cies found in Asia,—the yak or grunting ox {B. grunni-
ens), the common buffalo (B. bubalus), the arnee {B. arnee),
and the gayal {B. gavceus). Only a single well-determin¬
ed species inhabits Africa, the Cape buffalo {B. caffer).
In relation, then, to the localities of species, it thus appears
that the zone inhabited by the genus Bos stretches oblique¬
ly across all climates ; and that each species, with the ex¬
ception of the bull and buffalo, now reduced to universal
slavery, and widely extended from their original centres
through the dominating influence of man, is confined within
certain circumscribed limits, in which it is retained as well
by natural barriers as by instinctive inclination. The dif¬
ference in the habits of life observable between the Ameri¬
can and European bisons would of itself have sufficed to
establish the specific distinction of these animals. Had
they been identical, the aurochs or European species would
have preserved in America that love of retirement which
induces it to dwell in the central solitudes of forests, where
(in that of Hercynia; it was found in the days of Caesar, as
it now is in those of Lithuania, or amid the loftier gloom of
the Carpathian Mountains. The American bison, on the
contrary, congregates in large troops, and delights to dwell
in those open plains or prairies which produce a thick and
abundant pasture. The musk ox, without avoiding such
stinted forests as the sterile regions to which it is native
are capable of producing, yet dwells for the greater portion
of the year among the rocky and almost ice-covered moun¬
tains of the extremest north, “ creating an appetite under
the ribs of death,” with, we fear, but little wherewithal to
appease that appetite after it has been created. The buf¬
falo (of Asiatic origin) is an animal of almost amphibious
habits, fond of the long, coarse, rank pasture which springs
up so speedily in moist and undrained lands. Hence its
love of the Pontine marshes, where, according to Scaliger,
it will lie for hours submerged almost to the muzzle,—an
instinctive propensity which it is seen equally to exhibit in
the Island of Timor. The yak inhabits elevated ranges,
and the cool and lofty table lands of central Asia, while the
buffalo of the Cape delights to dwell in the dense forests of
Southern Africa. All these species, with the exception
before named, may be regarded as the aboriginals of the
countries where they now occur.2
Order VIII—CETACEA, Cuv.
We now come, finally, to the Cetacea, or whale tribe,
which has usually been placed as the last in our systematic
works; and very naturally, as these animals differ greatly
from those of the preceding orders, in being inhabitants
not of the land, but solely of the water ; and though form¬
ed internally on the same general plan as quadrupeds, they
have yet been adapted alike admirably and wonderfully, to
all their exigencies as dwellers in the “ great deep.” The
naturalist knows that their structure distinguishes them
widely from the whole of the finny race (or fishes properly
so called), and allies them closely to quadrupeds, and with
these last, therefore, he associates them; whilst mankind
in general, judging from their external appearance, allies,
or rather identifies them with the class of fishes. Their
marked peculiarities, then, arising chiefly from the adapta¬
tion of their structure to the watery element they inhabit,
might well require from us more ample details than our
nearly exhausted space wifi now allow. The great interest,
however, as well as importance, of this branch of the sub¬
ject, and the acquisition of materials recently derived from
foreign sources, not yet available to the English reader, in¬
duce us to enter into some details. The scientific natu¬
ralist need scarcely be reminded of the extremely superfi¬
cial manner in which this extraordinary order has hitherto
been treated in all our compendiums of general know¬
ledge.
The Cetacea are characterized as Mammalia without
posterior extremities,—even the bones of the pelvis being
scarcely represented by two small rudimentary ones, which
hang suspended in the softer parts ; the body is pisciform,
with the tail cartilaginous and horizontal. The anterior
extremities assume the appearance of fins, or swimming
paws (as they have been more appropriately designated),
having the bones flattened and short. They reside con¬
stantly in the water ; but, as they breathe by lungs, they
are obliged to ascend to the surface at frequent intervals
for the purpose of respiration. Their blood is warm ; they
are viviparous ; their mammae are in some pectoral, though
in most abdominal.
The Cetacea are arranged in two great divisions, viz. the
Herbivorous and the Ordinary Cetacea.3
DIVISION I—CETACEA HERBIVORA.
The Herbivorous Cetacea of Cuvier ; also known as the
Sirenia,—and popularly as Tritons, Mermaids, Sea-cows,
&c.
The characters of this division are as follows:—Head
not distinguished from the body by a neck; no blow¬
holes on the head, but nostrils on the snout; body pisci¬
form ; no dorsal fin ; tail horizontal; pectoral fins resem¬
bling swimming paws ; mammae pectoral; skin nearly des¬
titute of hairs ; teeth very peculiar, but adapted only to a
herbivorous regimen.
Until the present century the herbivorous Cetacea were
intermingled with the seals or sea-dogs, and the walrus or
sea-horse ; but from these they are very decidedly distin¬
guished by the total absence of every vestige of posterior
extremities, so that the inferior half of the body is but little
different from the ordinary Cetacea. From these latter
again they differ in having no blow-holes on the summit of
2 ^ee Partl5J?^!T^ the Memoir by Col. H. Smith in Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, vol. iv.
Consii i M. Desmoulins Memoire sur la Distribution geographique des Animaux Vertebras, moins les Oiseaux, in Journal de Phy-
^rIue' *evr -: Baron Cuvier s Ossemens Fossiles, t. iv. the article Boeuf, in the Diction. Classique d'Hist. Nat.; and Mr Wilson’s
third Essay on Domestic Animals in the Quarterly Journal of Agriculture, No. viii.
* We owe much to the excellent work of Camper, entitled, Observations Anatomiques sur la Structure Interne et le Squelette de Cetaces, with
notes by Cuvier, 4to, Paris, 1820. The remarks of Dr Scoresby, in his various publications on the Arctic regions, have greatly enriched
this branch of zoology. The Histoire Naturelle of Lacepede contains good remarks, but the plates are generally execrable.
217
Cetacea, the head, hut nostrils much resembling those of several
V'—'quadrupeds. Although wholly aquatic, they do not, like
the majority of the other Cete, feed upon fish, and hunt
them through the wide ocean, but they live solely upon
vegetables, and these such as are supplied by the shal¬
lows of the sea, its estuaries, and the banks of rivers. Hence
it is, and also from a general resemblance in the upper
parts of the body, that they have so generally received the
names of sea-calves and sea-cows.
There can be no doubt that these Cete, in most in¬
stances, formed the type of those ideal objects of ancient
poetry, the tritons, half men and half fish, who had power
to calm the stormy surge; and probably too of the sirens,
those sea nymphs whose melody charmed the entranced
voyager to his destruction and death. Without, however,
dwelling on these well known figments, we shall, in a few
words, state the more modern fancies, especially those of the
northern races, regarding this peculiar group. “ Beneath
the depths of the ocean, an atmosphere exists adapted to the
respiring organs of certain beings resembling, in form, the
human race, who are possessed of surpassing beauty, of li¬
mited supernatural powers, and liable to the incident of
death. 1 hey dwell in a wide territory of the globe far be¬
low the region of fishes, over which the sea, like the cloudy
canopy of our sky, loftily rolls, and there they possess ha¬
bitations constructed of the pearly and coralline produc¬
tions of the ocean. Having lungs not adapted to a watery
medium, but to the nature of atmospheric air, it would be
impossible for them to pass through the volume of waters
that intervenes between the submarine and the suprama-
nne world, if it were not for the extraordinary power of
entering the skin of some animal capable of existing in the
sea. One shape that they put on, is that of an animal hu¬
man above the waist, yet terminating below in the tail of a
fish; and thus possessing an amphibious nature, they are
enabled not only to exist in the ocean, but to land on the
shores, where they frequently lighten themselves of their
sea dress, resume their proper shape, and with much curio¬
sity examine the nature of the upper world that belongs to
the human race.”1 °
A knowledge of the existence of such legends is almost
necessary to account for the effects which have been usually
produced by an encounter with these far. famed, but slight¬
ly known animals. We shall here adduce only a single re-
lation of the supposed appearance of a merman, and ano¬
ther of his fair companion. Three sailors being in a boat
about a mile from the coast of Denmark, near Landscrone!
observed “ something like a dead body floating in the wa-
ter, and rowed towards it. When they came within seven
or eight fathoms, it still appeared as at first, for it had not
stirred; but at that instant it sunk, and came up again al¬
most immediately in the same place. Upon this, out of
fear, they lay still, and then let the boat float, that they
might the better examine the monster, which, by the help
of the current, came nearer and nearer to them. He turned
his face, and stared at the men, which gave them a good
opportunity of examining him narrowly. He stood in the
same place for seven or eight minutes, and was seen above
the water breast-high: at last they grew apprehensive of
some danger, and began to retire; upon which the monster
blew up his cheeks, made a kind of roaring noise, and then
dived from their view. In regard to his form they declare,
in their affidavits, that he appeared like an old man, strong-
limbed, and with broad shoulders; but his arms they could
not see. His head was small in proportion to his body, and
had short curled black hair, which did not reach below his
ears; his eyes lay deep in his head. About the body, and
downwards, the merman was quite pointed like a fish.”2
MAMMALIA.
Again, i„ 1823,“ The crew of a fishing-boat, when at Cetacea
the deep-sea fishing, above thirty miles from land, upon,
drawing their lines, were not a little surprised to find that
they had hooked by the back of the neck, and brought
alongside, an animal of a singular aspect. They mustered
resolution enough to take it into the boat, and keep it for
some time : but on perceiving its pectoral mammae, and on
seeing it gasp, certain superstitious fears as to its being un¬
lucky to kill a mermaid prevailed, and in an evil moment
they slipped it overboard. On hearing of the circumstance,
fen Arthur Nicolson of Lochend, a most intelligent Shet¬
land proprietor, and justice of the peace, called the men,
three m number, put them on oath, and took down their de¬
scription of the animal. The animal seems to have been a
female, the mammae being described as prominent and full.
Ihe skin was smooth and slimy; light grey on the back, and
pure white on the belly. The swimming-paws terminated
in webbed fingers. The eyes were small and of a blue co¬
lour; the neck remarkably short. The length was esti¬
mated at more than three feet, the largest circumference
about two feet and a half. From the middle, the body ta¬
pered rapidly towards the tail, which was horizontal, and of
a semicircular shape.”3
Some of these animals have a voice, which, in certain
circumstances at least, is interesting. In proof of this we
shall allude to an incident mentioned by Captain Colnett
as having occurred in his voyage to the Pacific, off the coast
of Chili. “When in latitude 24° south,” he says, “ a very
singular circumstance happened, which, as it spread some
alarm among my people, and awakened their superstitious
apprehensions, I shall mention. About eight o’clock in the
evening, an animal rose alongside the ship, and uttered such
shrieks and tones of lamentation, so like those produced by
the female human voice when expressing the deepest distress,
as to occasion no small degree of alarm among those who
first heard it. These cries continued for upwards of three
hours, and seemed to increase as the ship sailed from it. I
never heard any noise whatever that approached so near
those sounds which proceed from the organs of utterance
in the human species.”4 It is, of course, such occurrences
as these that have given origin to the many poetical effusions
which we so often hear conjoined with all the charms of
sonsr.
‘ What fairy-like music steals over the sea,
Entrancing the senses with charm’d melody,
Tis the voice of the mermaid that floats o’er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier’s strain.”
Hibbert’s Shetland Islands, 4to, p. 566.
3 Edin. New Phil. Journal, voL vi. p. 57.
VOL. XIV
But it is now time to leave the regions of fiction and of
superstitious exaggeration, and to present a sober, and, so
far as ascertained, a correct view of this interesting group.
It is now divided into three genera, and about twice as many
T?iieS' T,rTherre ?• first Senus Manatus,—the manatee
of the West Indies ; then the Halicore, or Duo-ono- of
the East Indies ; and, thirdly, the Stellerus, an inhabitant
of the polar regions. Of each of these genera it is on good
ground supposed, that there are several species, which
however, still remain to be demonstrated. Of the Mana
tm there are not above two or three living species accu¬
rately ascertained and as many which belonged to a former
era of the worlds history. Of the Dugong, so highly
prized in the Eastern World, only one speciefis correct y
known -d thjs chKfly through the 2eal Pand energy of th>
ate .ir 1. S. Raff.es when Governor of Batavia. For our
knowledge of the manatus we are mainly indebted to the
Duke of Manchester, who held the coJsponSg statbn
theAnTf? M f t le Stferus also> a name derived from
the indefatigable naturalist of the expedition of the cele-
2 Pontoppiflau’s Nat. Hist, of Norway, p. 154.
A Voyage to the South Atlantic, §c. Lond. 1792.
2 K
MAMMALIA.
218
Cetacea, brated Behring, only one ascertained species is known.
—v"'—''' But let us proceed to the details.
Genus Manatus, Cuv. Trichechus, Linn. The mana-
tus, as its name implies, derives its principal generic charac¬
ter from its swimming paws. These, as in the other gene¬
ra, are formed of soft parts and a membrane, which enve¬
lope the bones of the hands and fingers ; but in the mana¬
tus four flat nails are also seen, which are attached to the
edge of the fin. The tail is no less characteristic; it is long,
extending to about one-fourth of the body, and oval-shaped,
which gives the animal some resemblance to an otter.
The first species we notice is the Man. Americanus of
Cuvier, Desmarest, &c. (See Plate XV., figure 1.) Head
conical; no neck; muzzle large and fleshy, semicircular at
its upper part, where are the nostrils; upper lip full and
cleft in the middle ; two tufts of stiff bristles are situated
at its sides ; lower lip much shorter; mouth not very large ;
skin of a greyish colour, with a few slender hairs scattered
here and there ; pectorals long, large, and oval, terminated
by four flat nails. Length twenty feet. Vertebrae, accord¬
ing to Baron Cuvier, six (cervical), sixteen (dorsal), twen¬
ty-four (lumbar and caudal), in all forty-six. According
to the late Sir E. Home, seven, seventeen, twenty-four,
in all forty-eight. There is a corresponding difference be¬
tween these authors as to the number of the ribs, which
are peculiar, being almost round, and very large and thick.
So also with the teeth, which, according to Cuvier, are
l) ~ll = ^ ’ anC* t0 ^ome ^ ~ g — Two incisives
appear in the very young, but speedily drop out.1
Their manners and dispositions are stated by voyagers to
be inoffensive, mild, and even amiable. Buffon states that
they are both intelligent and sociable, not naturally afraid
of man, but rather free to approach him, and to follow him
with confidence and promptitude. But they have especially
a kindly feeling for their fellows. They usually associate
in troops, and crowd together with the young in the centre,
as if to preserve them from all harm; and, when danger
besets them, each is willing to bear his share in mutual de¬
fence or attack. When one has been struck with the har¬
poon, it has been noticed that the others will attempt to
tear the dreadful weapon from the wounded flesh. When
the cubs are captured, the mother becomes careless of her
own preservation; and,' should the mother be the victim,
the young follow her fondly to the shore, where they are
speedily secured and slain. Buffon also tells us that Go-
mara reared one in a lake in St Domingo, and preserved it
for the long period of twenty-six years. It became so tame
and familiar as to answer to its name, and took pleasantly
whatever nourishment was offered.
The manatus is not found in deep waters. It trequents
the shallow bays among the West Indian islands, and the
sheltered creeks of the South American continent, particu¬
larly of Guiana and the Brazils. It was chiefly at the
mouths of those vast rivers the Oronooko and the Ama¬
zons, “ where ocean trembles for her green domain,” that
innumerable flocks of these cetacea were in use to dwell.
They also ascended the fresh-waters for many hundred
miles, entered many of their tributary streams, and peopled
the interior lakes with their fantastic forms. The histo¬
rian Binet has remarked, that, in his time, there were cer¬
tain places within ten or twelve leagues of Cayenne where
these creatures so abounded that a large boatful could be
procured in a day; and, according to Barbot, the inhabi¬
tants of Cayenne were in the habit of sending brigantines
to various localities to buy them from the Indians, who, for
beads and toys, and iron tools, would fill their vessels. But
the high estimation in which their flesh was generally held,
and the avidity with which they were pursued, led ere long Cetacea,
to a vast thinning of their numbers, in those countries which
are thickly inhabited. They have retreated before the tide
of population ; and, wherever men are numerous, there
they become scarce and shy, and, it is alleged, more fierce
and vindictive in their disposition.
M. Senegalensis, Adanson, Cuv., Desm. This species,
which frequents the rivers and shores of Western Africa,
so much resembles the former in general appearance, and
so little is explicitly known about its habits, that we shall
merely adduce its characters. The bony cranium is some¬
what shorter, in proportion to its breadth, than that of the
preceding. Breadth of nasal foramina three-fourths of their
length; the inferior margin of the lower jaw is curved, while
it is straight in the Americanus. Length seldom more than
eight feet. Dr Harlan published an account of what he
considered another Manatus (he names it latirostris\ the
bones of which were found in great numbers on the banks
of the rivers of the Floridas.2 Cuvier discovered several
fossil bones belonging to this genus, on which we do not
now insist; and shall only further add, that the best in¬
formed naturalists suppose that several other living species
still remain to be described.
Genus Halicore, Illiger, Cuvier, Desm. Dugungus,
Lacep. There seems little doubt that of this genus also
several species, inhabitants of the Eastern Seas, exist. It
is a popular belief of the Malays that two species frequent
their coasts ; and M. Fr. Cuvier states, that there are con¬
siderable differences between the Malay varieties, and one
which had been procured from the Philipines. It would
appear also that an analogous animal is known on the coast
of New Holland, which is supposed by MM. Quoy and
Gaimard to differ from those of the Indian Archipelago ;3
and finally, a species which has been recently observed by
Dr Ruppel in the Red Sea, does not agree with any of the
preceding. But concerning all these species (with one
exception), we have little, or rather no accurate informa¬
tion.
H. Indicus or Dugong, Desm.; Trichechus Dugong,
Linn.; Halicore dugong, Cuv. As late as the year 1820,
it was stated by Sir E. Home in the Royal Society, and
correctly, that no specimen of the Dugong of full size had
ever been seen by any one who was conversant with com¬
parative anatomy. In the year above named Sir Everard
read two papers upon it, and Sir Thomas S. Raffles trans¬
mitted an interesting memoir from Sumatra. About the
same time Messrs Diard and Duvaucel sent both accounts
and specimens to France, which brought it under the in¬
spection of Baron Cuvier, who gave the result of his ob¬
servations in his Oss. Fossil, t. v. p. 261. From these
sources we supply the following description.
The head is small; the nostrils are situated in the sum¬
mit of the upper jaw, where it makes a curvature down¬
wards, and they penetrate in such a manner that the upper
semilunar edge, pressing upon the lower surface, forms a per¬
fect valve, which is shut when the animal is feeding at the
bottom of the sea. The eye is very small, and is supplied
with a third eyelid ; the aperture of the ear is so minute
that it is with difficulty perceived. The upper lip is large,
forming a vertical kind of snout, like a short proboscis,
which is studded over with a few bristles ; the lower lip is
much smaller, and the interior of the cheeks is covered
wyith coarse hair. The skin is smooth and thick, and yields
no oil, the colour bluish above and white underneath. The
swimming-paws present no appearance of nails, but are
somewhat verrucose on their anterior margin. I he tail is
broad, horizontal and crescent-shaped. The total length
is twelve feet reaching to twenty when fully grown. The
1 See Ossemens Fossiles, t. v, and Phil. Trans, for 1821.
* See Philad. Journal of Nat. Sciences, vol. iii. 380, Lesson’s Manuel de Mammalogie, and Fred. Cuvier’s work entitled De I'llistoirc
Naturelle des Cetaces. Paris, 1836. 3 Zoologie du Voyage de I’Uranie.
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, skull is remarkable for the very peculiar manner in which
S,J^V the anterior part of the upper jaw is bent downwards, al¬
most at a right angle, so as to form a kind of beak; the
lower jaw is truncated so as to correspond with the upper.
These peculiarities are well seen in the skeleton, which
on this and other accounts is worthy of examination. (See
Plate XVI., figure 2.) The dental apparatus is very
peculiar. Besides the incisors and molars, there are two
great tusks in the upper jaw, which are scarcely covered
by the lip. Concerning the true history of the teeth, there
is still considerable discrepancy. It would appear that the
first incisors soon fall out, and that the second set remain
rudimentary, having their place supplied by an extremely
firm horny-looking substance in both jaws. The number of
molars varies from five or six in the young, to two in the old,
and these do not drop out and disappear as in most other
animals, but, on the contrary, those nearest the front are ne¬
cessarily pushed forward, and when nearly worn away, are
pushed out by those behind, as occurs in the elephant. The
vertebrae are seven cervical, eighteen dorsal, and twenty-
seven caudal, in all fifty-two ; ribs eighteen pair.
“ The greatest peculiarity,” says Sir E. Home, “ in the
structure of this animal, is that of the ventricles of the
heart being completely detached from one another. This
is not met with in any other animal.”1 Though this
last statement is not strictly true, yet the structure is so
peculiar that we have copied the excellent representation
of it which Sir E. supplied to the Royal Society. (See Plate
XVI., figure 4.) T.his sketch will represent the form
which is common to the Dugong and the Stellerus, as will
presently be seen; and which, so far as we know, has not
been observed in any other animals. The following con¬
siderations, supplied by Sir E., are also interesting. “ The
skeleton may be compared to a boat without a keel, with the
bottom uppermost, so that in the sea the middle part of
the back is the highest point in the water ; and as the lungs
are extended to a great length close to the spine, they make
the animal buoyant, so that when no muscular exertion is
made the body will naturally float in a horizontal position.
When we consider that this is the only animal yet known
(with its congeners) that browses at the bottom of the sea
unsupported by four legs, we must admit it will require a
particular mode of balancing its body over the weeds on
which it feeds; and in this way the centre of the back forms a
point of suspension, similar to the fulcrum of a pair of scales,
and the jaws are bent to correspond with this formation.”2
The food of the Dugong appears to consist exclusively
of the fuci and submarine algae, which it finds at the bot¬
tom of the inlets of the sea. It browses on these vege¬
tables precisely as a cow in a meadow, rising every now
and then to respire. Its flesh resembles young beef, and
is very delicate and palatable.
The Ikan Dugong is considered by the Malays as a royal
Jish, and the king is entitled to all that are taken. The
flesh is by them considered as superior to that of the buffalo
or ox. They distinguish two varieties. The breasts of
the adult females are said to be large. The affection of
219
the mother for its young is strongly marked ; and the Ma- Cetacea,
lays make frequent allusion to this animal as an example of
maternal affection. When they succeed in taking the off¬
spring they feel themselves certain of the mother. The young
have a short sharp cry, which they frequently repeat, and
it is said that they shed tears. These tears are carefully
preserved by the common people as a charm, the posses¬
sion of which is supposed to secure the affections of those
to whom they are attached, in the same manner as they
attract the mother to her young. This idea, says Sir T. S.
Raffles, is at least as poetical, and certainly more natural,
than the fable of the Siren’s Song.3
The last genus of the Herbivorous Cetacea is that called
Stellerus. The only known species was met with in the
Northern Pacific, and being regarded by Steller as a species
of Manatus, it received the appellation of TrichechusMana-
tus borealis. Cuvier, however, soon perceived that it was
necessary to distinguish it as a distinct and peculiar form.
Stellerus borealis, Cuv., Desm.; Manatus, Steller, Pen¬
nant ; Trichechus Manatus borealis, Linn.; Hytina, Illi-
ger. This is a huge animal, reaching to the length of 26
or 28 feet. The skin is black, like the bark of an old
oak ; the head is small, and of an elongated form, with
white moustaches, four or five inches long; the nostrils are
situate at the end of the snout; the swimming-paws are
beneath the neck, and serve for grasping as well as loco¬
motion ; they are terminated by a callosity, and have no
nails; the tail is very broad but not long; the eyes are
small, and can be covered by a cartilaginous membrane,
which forms a third eyelid; the mouth is small, and has no
proper teeth, but is furnished with two considerable bony-
looking, but really horny masses, in their nature approxi¬
mating to whalebone, one in the upper, the other in the
lower jaw, not implanted into the maxillaries, but adhering
to them. The vertebrae are 6, 19, 35, = in all 60.
The skin of this extraordinary creature is ragged and
knotty. In fact, according to Cuvier, the scarf-skin is a
kind of bark composed of fibres or tubes closely packed,
perpendicular to the skin. These fibres are implanted
into the true skin by small bulbs, so that when the epider¬
mis is pulled off, the skin is remarkably rough and almost
shaggy. As may be supposed, it has no hairs upon it, for
the fibres themselves are nothing less than the hairs solder¬
ed together, forming a kind of cuirass. In a word, the
animal is completely clad in a substance similar to the hoof
of cattle. This hide is an inch thick, and so hard as scarce¬
ly to be cut with an axe; and when cut, it appears in the
inside like ebony. This skin is of singular use to the ani¬
mal during the winter, in protecting it against the ice,
among which it feeds, and the sharp-pointed rocks, against
which it is often dashed by the dreary tempest; and, dur¬
ing summer, in screening it from the rays of the never
setting sun. The lips are double, that is to say, there
are external and internal lips ; and when approximated
the space they circumscribe is filled by a thick mass of
strong bristles, which are white, and an inch and a half
long. These bristles in their nature, and still more in their
1 Phil. Trans. 1820, p. 310. * Ibid. 1821, p. 2G9.
3 The Dugong of the Red Sea was observed by MM. Hemprich and Ehrenberg, but we owe its more detailed description to
Edward Ruppel—(Afwseww Senckenbergianum, i. i. tab. 6). He deems it different from that of the Indian Seas, and has named it
Halieore tabernaculus, in consequence of his historical researches having led him to the conclusion, that it was withthe skin of this spe¬
cies that the Jews of old were compelled by the Mosaic law to veil their tabernacle. The Hebrews named it Thaachasch. The Ara¬
bians still esteem it for its flesh, its teeth, and skin, and name it Naqua el baher. There can be little doubt that the strange de¬
scribed by Forskal under the name of Naqua, was in truth this very (Descrip. Animalium, §c. quce in itinere orientali ob-
servavit). Ruppel observed it swimming among the coral banks which border the Dalac Isles on the coast of Abyssinia between the
15° and 16° South Lat. The fishermen call it Dauila. They harpooned a female ten feet long, which our traveller’dissected and
described. He was further informed by the Arabs, that these Dugongs live in pairs or small families; that their voices are very
feeble; that they feed on algae; and that, in the months of February and March, bloody combats take place among the males. The
females produce in November and December. The former sex attains to the length of eighteen feet, the latter "never equals that
extent. We may add that M. Sommering (merely, however, from a comparison of the writings of Home with those of Ruppel),
doubts the fact that the supposed species of the Red Sea is specifically distinct from that of the Indian Archipelago.
220
Cetacea, function, agree with the baleen of the whalebone whales,
' ' serving as a sieve through which they can strain the water
in which they feed, whilst they retain the food itself. The
masticating apparatus is not less singular, and seems pecu¬
liar to this animal. It is not composed of teeth (of which
we have already said there are none), but of two large white
horny substances, forming dental masses, one of which ad¬
heres to the upper, and the other to the lower jaw. Even
their insertion is peculiar, for they are not implanted into
the bones beneath, after the manner ofteeth, but only adhere
to them by numerous pores and rugosities, corresponding
to other projections and cavities in these bones. The sub¬
stance itself has lately been discovered to be wholly horny,
or composed of fibres agglutinated to each other, like the
horn of the rhinoceros, and, when examined by the micro¬
scope, it is seen to consist of tubes. This structure is so
singular that we have exhibited on Plate XVI., figure 3,
the so styled tooth. A is the tooth itself, and a, b, c, d, e
are the fibres or hairs, variously magnified, and viewed hori¬
zontally and vertically. These investigations have been made
by M. Brandt, from a preparation in the Petersburg!! Mu¬
seum, and they are narrated in the Memoirs of its Academy,
sixth series, vol. ii. But we must conclude these interesting
details by ^teller's account of the heart. This organ does not
taper from the base to the apex, there to terminate in a single
point, but it ends in two distinct and separate apices, corres¬
ponding to the two ventricles; the separation reaches to about
one-third of their extent, at which place they unite, and then
assume the usual appearance exhibited by the organ.
The Stellers are most voracious creatures, and feed
with their heads under water, quite inattentive to boats or
whatever else may be passing around them. They swim
gently one after another, sometimes with a great portion of
the back out of the water, and every now and then they
elevate their muzzles for the sake of respiration, making a
noise like the snorting of a troop of horses. They were
captured at Behring’s Island by a great hook fastened to a
long rope. This was taken into a boat, which was rowed
amidst the herd. When struck into the animal, the rope
was conveyed on shore, where about thirty people took
hold, and drew it on shore with great difficulty. The poor
creatures made the strongest resistance, assisted by their
faithful and attached companions, and they clung to the
rocks with the greatest pertinacity.1
MAMMALIA.
DIVISION II.—ORDINARY CETACEA.
In passing from the herbivorous to the ordinary Cetacea,
we may remark, that the former take the precedence in
our systematic works, not from their superior importance
but merely because they approximate more closely to those
Mammalia which dwell upon the surface of the earth, and
thus link more continuously with our preceding orders.
T- his remark applies with equal force to the sequence in
which the more pisciform Cete are discussed. We are in
the habit of commencing not with those which are the
most imposing of the Order, and the most important in an
economical or national point of view, but with those wdiich
approach the nearest to the division we have left; and this
mot e oi progression, it must be admitted, possesses an in¬
terest peculiarly its own. We begin, accordingly, with the
ower am moie insignificant links of the scale, and gradually
ascend till we reach the great monarch of the deep, which, as
to dimensions at least, is the great monarch also of crea¬
tion.
Subdivision I—Delphinine. Head of ordinary proper- Cetacea,
tion, with numerous teeth. Blow-hole single. v—v^.
A. those which have a dorsal Jin.
This subdivision comprehends a very great number of
species and even genera, which it has been found neces¬
sary to distinguish from each other. Baron Cuvier threw
out the idea of employing the facial line in their arrange¬
ment, and this view has been further extended by M. de
Blainville. We regard the suggestion as valuable and con¬
venient, and shall therefore adopt it. Five distinctive va¬
riations of the line alluded to have already been selected
as useful in the classification of these lesser Cete. These we
have sketched on Plate XVL, at figures 6, 7, 8, 9, 10;
to which we shall have occasion subsequently to refer.
Genus (a.)- Inia, D’Orbigny. The beak is long like
that of the dolphin, but cylindrical, and bristled with strong
hairs; it has many teeth, incisives anteriorly, molars pos-
tei™rly- The temporal fossa and crest are also peculiar.
There is but one known species in the genus, the 7. Boli-
viensis, D’Orbigny and Fred. Cuv. (See Plate XVI.,
D.) It is to the first named of these eminent natura¬
lists that we are indebted for our acquaintance with this
curious animal (very properly made by him to constitute
a new genus), which establishes a link between the Stel-
lerm and the Soosoo. This last frequents the Ganges,
an hundred miles from the ocean ; but the 7. Boliviensis
is met with thousands of miles from the sea, and is an
inhabitant solely of rivers and ffesh-water lakes. It is
the only species of the whale tribe characterized by such
peculiar localities. M. D’Orbigny found it in the early tri¬
butaries of the Amazons, 2100 miles from the ocean, at
the foot of the Eastern Cordilleras, and was not a little
astonished at his discovery. We must condense his de¬
scription into the following formulary: Snout resembling
a prolonged and very slender beak, almost cylindrical, obtuse
at the point, and bristled with long strong coarse hair;
the commissure of the lips reaching very far back, so as to’
be over the pectorals; pectorals very far forward, broad,
long, and obtuse; dorsal-fin very low, two-thirds down the
back ; tail large, length 12 or 14 feet. Colour usually
pale-blue above, passing into a rosy hue beneath; the tail
and fins are bluish. Teeth ^ ~ = 134 ; many of
them marked with deep and interrupted grooves. The au¬
ditory opening is larger than in most of its congeners; and
we are not aware that the bristles on the beak have been
seen in any of the other Cetacea. The appearance of the
teeth is singular; they resemble incisors anteriorly, and
posteriorly have an irregular mammary shape. This pecu¬
liarity, illustrated on Plate XVI., figure 5, somewhat ap¬
proximates the Boliviensis to the herbivorous Cete, which
it also resembles in its brilliant colouring.
This Inia comes more frequently to the surface of the
water than its marine congeners, and appears less remark¬
able for agility and power. It habitually unites in little troops
ot three or four individuals, which are observed to raise
their snouts from the water whilst devouring their prey,
which appears to consist entirely of fish. In Bolivia they
are hunted for their oil.2 3
Genus (Z>.) Soosoo, Lesson. The bony frame-work,
more than any other part, forms the peculiarity of this genus,
especially the long symphysis, and the great maxillary crests
which rise above the walls of the spiracles. Besides, there
is no furrow between the head and beak ; the latter is very
long, and slender, compressed at the sides, and expanded
2 T^e^rabi"^figures'wMch'we^ha^e^rnad^?^' ^ N°a' C/>mment Acad- Pet™P; t- ii- P- in¬
hibited at paee 229, and which we hone wtiTrf a" precede the generic names of this extensive subdivision relate to the abstract
* See AW Ann. du Mus. t iiL °Ur arrangement more perspicuous.
MAMMALIA. 221
Cetacea, towards the extremity, so that it is broader at this part than
"■‘"''y—^ in the middle.
S' Ganffeticus, Less.; Delphinus Gangeticus, Lebeck,
Roxburgh j1 Platanista Gangeticus, Fr. Cuv. (See Plate
XVI., figure 13.) Of all the beaked dolphins, says the
Baron Cuvier, the most extraordinary, and that perhaps
which most merits being formed into a distinct genus, is the
Soosoo of the Ganges. Lesson accordingly formed it into a
genus distinguished by the name under which the only esta¬
blished species is known to the natives of Bengal. Cuvier
thinks it is probably \\\e Plata?iista of Pliny. The osteology
of the cranium, he states, approximates it to the sperm whales.
The length is about twelve feet; the head is obtuse,
suddenly tapering to a long and slender, but very strong
beak ; the jaws are nearly equal, amounting to about one-
sixth of the length of the whole animal. TL he pectorals are
of an oblique fan- shape ; there is no distinct dorsal fin, but
an angular projection nearer the tail than the snout. The
colour is a shining pearly white. Teeth —~ 30. = 120
30 — 30’
opiracle linear, of the shape of an J] running backwards.
Vertebrae, cervical 7, dorsal 11 or 12, lumbar 28. We may
add that the form of the spiracle is unlike that of most of
the lesser Cete, and corresponds with that of the Cachalot,
or sperm whale. The tail is curiously festooned, and the
pectoral fin scalloped. The eyes are stated to be exceed¬
ingly minute, only about a line in diameter, and of a bright
shining black colour.
The Soosoos, says Dr Roxburgh, are found in great
numbers in the Ganges, even so far up as it is navigable,
but seem to delight most in the slow moving labyrinth of
rivers and creeks, which intersect the Delta of that river,
to the south and east of Calcutta. When in pursuit of the
fish on which it feeds, it moves with great activity and un¬
common swiftness, but at all other times, so far as noticed
by the last named naturalist, its motions are slow and heavy;
and it often rises to the surface to breathe. Between the
skin and flesh is a coat of pale-coloured fat, more or less
thick, on which the Hindoos set a high value, as a remedy
of great efficacy in external pains. The flesh resembles
lean beef, but is never eaten by the natives. Though this
is the only known living species, it may be mentioned that
Baron Cuvier has established the existence of several fossil
kinds.
\Ve must now take our leave of those smaller Cetacea
which frequent only the shallow bays of the sea coast,
browsing upon marine vegetation, or inhabiting “ the rivers
of water, to follow the far more numerous groups which
revel throughout the vast depths of the unbounded ocean.
The haunts of many of these are of course less known;
and the facilities of capturing, and more especially of scien¬
tifically examining them, are greatly diminished. No won¬
der, then, need be excited by the avowal that a deep veil
of obscurity lies over the history of the great majority,
which all the bygone assiduity that has been exercised has
as yet but partially removed. Our best endeavours will
here be used to present the reader with whatever authentic
information the accumulated efforts of naturalists have hi¬
therto supplied, although, in the present embroiled condi¬
tion of the subject, we cannot ensure ourselves against the
chance of error.
Genus (c.) Delphinorhyncus. Snout prolonged, with a
beak not distinguishable from the forehead by a furrow, or
in other words, with the facial line almost continuous to
the extremity of the muzzle. (See Plate XVL, figure 7.)
A dorsal fin.
It was M. De Blainville who introduced this generic di¬
vision, and it has been adopted by Desmarest, tne Baron Cetacea.
Cuvier and his brother, M. Lesson, and others. Though v
the distinguishing characters are sufficiently precise, yet,
from the recent introduction of the generic term, and still
more from our want of knowledge of the species, most of
which have been only partially described, there is much
doubt as to the ascertained number comprehended in the
genus. Desmarest enumerated four, Lesson five, and M.
F. Cuvier in his Cetaccs only three. One of the last
named author’s species (Zh micropterus) we reject, because
it had many years before his proposed arrangement, been
elsewhere and more accurately placed. His other two cor¬
respond with two of M. Lesson’s. But of the five described
by M. L., we must reject his Malayanus, because it possesses
the characters of the genus Delphinus. Another of these
species (D. maculatus) must be received with hesitation,
because it has never been captured, nor of course examin¬
ed, though observed with care from a vessel’s deck. To
these four of M. Lesson we shall now direct our attention.
1). Bredanensis, Less.; D. rostratus, Cuv.,2 Fr. Cuv.
(in his Mem.);3 Delphinus rostratus, Cuv.,4 Desm. ;5Z). d
bee mince, Desm., Fr. Cuv., Less. (See Plate XVI., figure
14.) In this species, as in the rest of the genus, the pro¬
file of the cranium loses itself insensibly in that of the beak.
Length of the only specimen examined eight feet; dorsal
fin rising nearly from the middle of the back; pectorals
falciform; colour sooty-black above, rose-colour beneath.
rp | 21—21
^ ee^J gi 21 ’ — frefluently happens, the osteology,
and especially that of the cranium, has been known longer,
and more accurately, than any other part of the animal.
I he city of Brest supplied some crania for the investigation
of Baron Cuvier, as did M. Van Breda, Professor of Natural
History at Gand; and accurate drawings of an individual
thrown ashore on the coast of France, reached Paris, and re¬
moved all doubts as to its peculiar features. The colouring,
we may remark, is singularly beautiful. All the upper parts
aie of a deep sooty-black, and the lower of a rich rosy
hue. These portions are not separated by a distinct and
uniform line ; on the contrary, their junction is quite irre¬
gular, and many small black patches are figured upon the
fairer colour. Phis species would appear to be an inhabi¬
tant of the Atlantic ; but we believe it has not been seen
alive, and we are not aware that any more information has
been obtained regarding it than what has now been stated.
D. coronatus, Desm., Cuv.,6 Less., Fr. Cuv.; Delphi¬
nus coronatus, Fremenville. Head small; forehead con¬
vex, obtuse ; jaws prolonged into a pointed beak, the lower
the largest. Teeth —pointed and acute ; general
form elongated ; dorsal fin nearer the tail than the head;
pectorals of moderate size; tail crescent-shaped; length
from 30 to 36 feet; colour a uniform black, but having two
yellow concentric circles placed on the forehead, the
larger three inches diameter, the smaller about two. Hence
its specific appellation. On the authority of the preceding
noted names, we rank this very interesting species as a
Delphinorhyncus, though we cannot dismiss all doubts
upon the subject. Our knowledge of its existence rests
solely, strange to say, upon the authority of M. De Fre¬
menville, a distinguished naturalist, and officer of marine,
™/°™mful„ed expedition towards the North Pole in
a n ’ ^ nefly for the Purpose of geographical investigation.
subsequent accounts have been derived from that au-
. or‘e. remarks that the only kind of whale he can
esen e wit i confidence, is a species which appears to have
been previously unobserved. After supplying the description
1 Asiatic Researches, vol. vii. 170.
     vuj. vii. i * Meg. An, t. i. 289
3 We may note that in his Cetaces M. F. Cuvier has put this species back amoncr'thp tr-iP .u- i ,
.art long been regarded as the type of the DelphinorhyncL * Ann. du Mus 1 xbc d°¥»nS’—we think erroneously,-as it
6 Reg. An. 283. ^ ^ > 7 I ; , A^o. 764._ Description imperfect.
7 0 ,, 7 7 ~ tv*. jLfescnimon miner;
See Mem. de la Soo. Philom. for 1818, and Fr. Cuvier’s Cetacis.
222 MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, of its external characters, he adds, “ the coronatus is com-
mon in the Polar Seas. I first met with it about 74° N.,
but it is chiefly between 77° and 80°, among the ice-islands
near Spitzbergen, that it is found in numerous troops. Fre¬
quently during calms we were quite surrounded by it.
These animals were so little shy that the water which they
spouted fell on the deck. Their spouting was attended by
considerable noise, and was effected with such force, that
the water was immediately dispersed, and had the appear¬
ance only of a slight vapour; the jet itself did not rise
above six feet.”
„D. Geoffroyi ?, Desm., Less. ; Dclphinus Geoffroyi,
Blainv.; D. frontalis, Cuv. and F. Cuv. The fall of the
frontal convexity is rapid; the beak marked and compress¬
ed ; the specimen in Paris measured seven feet; the beak
about ten inches; the horns of the spiracle are pointed
backwards; the dorsal-fin very low; the pectorals well de¬
veloped, and inserted low in the side. The specimen is
painted grey on the back, white on the belly and round the
eyes, the fins rosy-white. These are thought to be the co¬
lours of the living animal. The only specimen now known
was brought from the Museum of Natural History of Lis¬
bon to Paris by M. Geoffroy, in 1810. The colours indi¬
cated cannot with certainty be depended upon. It is sup¬
posed to have been brought from the Brazils.
D. maculatus ?, Less.; Delphinus maculatus, Fr. Cuv.
Head slender, terminated by a long beak; body elongated,
reaching to about six feet; dorsal fin placed in the middle;
tail large. The colour in the water appeared a bright
green, but out of it, the tint of the back was azure, of the
belly grey, dappled with round spots bordered with red;
the edges of the jaws, and especially of the upper one, were
pure white. This species was seen, but not captured, in
18° S. and 137° W.
In advancing from the recently established genus Del-
phtnorhyncus to that which is the oldest, perhaps, of
any, viz. Delphinus, we wish we could inform our readers
that we leave a region of hesitation and doubt for one of
certainty and precision. This, however, is not the case ;
and the cause is evidently to be found in the many and
great difficulties by which the subject is encompassed.
These animals, residing in haunts so different from those
frequented by man, are but rarely encountered, and when
met with, are seen under circumstances in which examina¬
tion is difficult, and capture almost impracticable ; for they
pass us by, and vanish, almost like the vessel’s track upon
the rolling waves. It is only then, by some very fortuitous
circumstance, or by great and peculiar labour, that when
seen they are secured,—and the chances are still more re¬
mote of their being rendered available to the advancement
of science. But instead of dilating upon these difficulties,
we shall simply state a striking proof of their magnitude.
In 1822 Desmarest enumerated sixty-two species as be¬
longing to the whale order ; but he considered no fewer than
twenty-nine of them doubtful and not established; and
Lesson, in 1828, out of eighty-four species which he classi¬
fied, could vouch for the accuracy and existence of not
more than fifty. With regard, again, to the genus now
before us, M. Fred. Cuvier, in his history of the Cetacea,
published in 1836, while he regards sixteen species of
proper dolphins as pretty well ascertained, describes
seventeen, the existence of which is still doubtful. Lin¬
naeus had three species in his genus Delphinus ; the num¬
ber has now been multiplied more than tenfold. The
greatest discrimination, however, is required ; for, while
some are to be regarded as unquestionably established,
and others rest upon a high probability, or it may be,
on a very low one, yet even the slightest notice may be
valuable, and should not be lost to science. On the other
hand, there are instances in which species which were at Cetacea,
first erroneously admitted, have long passed current as
established in the records of Cetology, and some of these
can scarcely be excluded without a reason being assigned
for doing so. As the authors we have named indicated the
different degrees of probability on which the species rest,
we shall follow their example, and shall distinguish, 1st,
Those which appear to be established ; 2dly, Those which
are probable, though not free from doubt; and, 3dly,
Those which are not only doubtful, but highly question¬
able.
Genus (<7.) Delphinus, Cuv., Desm., Blain., Less., Fr.
Cuv., Gray. Forehead convex ; snout in the form of a beak,
and distinguished from the forehead by a marked furrow.
(See Plate XVI., figure 8.)
D. Delphis, Linn., Bon., Lacepede, Desm., Cuv., &c.,
popularly, Oie de Mer, or Dolphin. (See Plate XVI.,
fig. 12.) This animal is perhaps more generally known
through the fictions of ancient poetry, than by its soberer
name of goose of the sea. It is universally considered as the
dolphin of antiquity, or at least as the only actual origin
of that fabled being, though assuredly unendowed with
those extraordinary attributes and charms with which it
has been so fancifully clothed. It is the Hieros Ichthys,
or sacred fish of the heroic Greeks, and was awarded di¬
vine honours by that imaginative people. It was more
particularly sacred to their god Apollo; the reason as¬
signed for which is this,—that when Apollo appeared to
the Cretans, and obliged them to settle on the coast of
Delphis, where he founded that oracle so famous through¬
out antiquity, he did so under the form of a dolphin. Apollo
was thus, according to Visconti, adored not only in con¬
nection with the Delphine province, but with the Delphi¬
nus fish. He was worshipped at Delphi, with dolphins for
his symbols. The ancients respected the dolphin as a be¬
nefactor of mankind ; they cherished the tale of Phalanthus,
the founder of Tarentum, being carried ashore by a dolphin
when wrecked on the coast of Italy; and fondly believed
in the story of the musician Arion, who, when about to be
thrown overboard by the sailors that they might appropriate
his wealth, begged that he might be permitted to play some
melodious tune, and then throwing himself into the sea, was
received by one of the many dolphins which had been at¬
tracted by his music, and carried on its back in safety to
Tsenarus. It is also recorded, that the shield of Ulysses
bore an image of the dolphin, and it is certainly found on
very ancient coins and medals. It early appeared on the
shield of some of the princes of France ; and gave a name
to a fair province of that empire, and hence a title to the
heir-apparent of the crown.
Scarcely less fabulous are those other narratives which
have been transmitted on the testimony of early naturalists.
They tell us that the dolphin made itself familiar with man,
and conceived a warm attachment for him. Pliny narrates
that in Barbara, near the town of Hippo, a dolphin used to
frequent the shore, and accept of food from any hand which
supplied it; it would mix among those who were bathing,
would allow them to mount its back, would consign itself
with docility to their direction, and obey them with as much
celerity as precision.1 Still more extraordinary is that other
tale narrated to illustrate the assertion that the dolphin is
more partial to children than to adults. Thus, according
to Pliny, it was recorded in several chronicles that a dolphin
which had penetrated the Lake of Lucrinus, in Campania,
every day received bread from the hand of a child, answer¬
ed to his call, and transported him to the other side of the
lake, on its back, to school. This intimacy continued for
several years, when the boy dying, the affectionate dolphin,
overwhelmed with grief, sunk under its bereavement. But
1 Lib. ix. c. 48.
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, with such stories as these, which might easily be multiplied
' h'om Herodotus, Plutarch, and other ancients, we shall not
further tax our readers.
The common dolphin (D. delphis) is usually five or six
feet long, but sometimes measures eight or nine. For its
general appearance we refer to our representation in lieu
of many details. (See Plate XVI., figure 12.) The tints,
though not gay, are attractive. It is black on the back^
and white underneath, with a peculiar glistening when in,
or newly taken from, the water. It may be well, however,
to remark, that “ the dolphin, with its many dying hues,” as
mentioned in many books, and sung by modern poets, is
not this creature, but another of a different nature, belong¬
ing even to a separate great division of the animal kingdom.
It is a true fish, the beautifully coloured Coryphama Hip-
puris, the Dorado of the Portuguese, and it would be well
if its popular name (involving as it does a double application)
were entirely dropped. The eyes of the common dolphin
are small and supplied with eyelids: the pupil is in the
form of a heart. Mr Rapp has minutely described the
lachrymal gland, the peculiarities of which Mr Hunter, in¬
deed, had previously pointed out. There is no olfactory
neive, nor ethmoidal foramina. The meatus auditorius is
apparent, though very small. The jaws are equal; teeth
47 __47> — 188, pointed, slender, and somewhat curved, at
equal distances from each other, and locking together when
the mouth is closed. There are seven cervical, twelve
dorsal, and fifty-two other vertebrae. Finally, the brain
of the dolphin is very large, and developed to an extent
which is quite extraordinary among the lower animals. Its
weight, in relation to that of the whole body, has been
stated as one to twenty-five, which is the same as that in
man. Ihe average of four accounts given in Cuvier’s
comparative anatomy is one-fiftieth of the whole; and
Tiedemann, the highest modern authority in this depart¬
ment, remarks, “ that the brain of the dolphin, next to that
of the orang-outang, approaches nearest, in respect of size,
to the human brain.” This would lead to the supposition
that its intelligence and mental capacity are considerable,
and any indications which have been noticed are favourable
to such opinion.
I ew if any of the order appear to be more voracious than
the dolphins. They live upon medusae and fishes, espe¬
cially upon flat fish, and cod, mullets, pilchards, and her¬
rings. It used to be held that the common dolphin was an
inhabitant of every sea throughout the world. This ap¬
peared the more credible, since the strength of the animal,
and the velocity of its swimming, exceeding that of a ship
in full sail, would readily account for its appearance in all
seas, and even at the opposite poles.1 A very different opi¬
nion, however, is now gaining ground, confirmatory of a
sentiment of Buffon’s in relation to land animals, more than
once alluded to in the preceding portion of the present
treatise, viz. that every distinct species has a characteristic
and, with few exceptions, circumscribed locality. It is
more difficult, of course, to ascertain the truth of this pro¬
position, as it regards the inhabitants of the water, although
many facts would seem to establish its truth with regard
to the cetaceous tribes. The species now under review
frequents the European seas, the Atlantic, and the Medi¬
terranean ; and other species of the genus occur in the
seas of Africa, Asia, and America. They navigate the wa-
223
ters of the ocean in more or less numerous troops, and their Cetacea,
strange gambols and rapid natation, which are daily observ- 'y'~—^
ed by voyagers (with sometimes little else within their range
of vision), has long made them famous. The common dol¬
phin is peculiarly signalized by these qualities, which, how¬
ever, it enjoys only in common with the majority of its con¬
geners. To swim with the rapidity of an arrow, to shoot
ahead of vessels which are scudding before the breeze, to
spring out of the water and over the waves, are qualifica¬
tions possessed alike by all the smaller Cetacea which live
in the ocean.
Fhe one we shall next allude to is almost the most per¬
plexed of the genus. It is the
D. Tursio, Fab. 31, Bon., Desm. 761, Cuv., Less.; D.
Nesnarnak of the Greenlanders, Fab., Bon., Lacep., Fr.
Cuv.; D. Ondre, Belon, &c.; Grand Souffluer and Great
Dolphin of the French; Capidoglio of the Italians, and
Risso; Bottle-nosed Whale, Hunter, Plate 18, which he con¬
founded with D. Delphis. D. Orca ? Linn., Desm. 765.
Head and beak of the genus; the lower jaw somewhat longer,
and having a slight bend upwards ; dorsal near the middle;
pectorals oblong, pointed. Length stated from ten to twenty-
four feet. Colour black above, whitish beneath, mergino-
into each other on the sides. Vertebrae (six), seven, seven-
23 — 23
of
teen, twenty-seven 1= sixty (Hunter). Teeth 2J
one form, straight, cylindrical, and blunt at the summit.
Inhabits Northern Seas, Atlantic, and Mediterranean. The
account of the “ History of the natural history” of this spe¬
cies, would lead us into a very intricate and not very pro¬
fitable discussion. 1
D. Nesamak Cuv.3 Desm. 762. The principal alleg¬
ed difference dwelt upon by these eminent men is the
number and arrangement of the teeth. We are disposed
wholly to reject this as a distinct species.
D. Boryi, Desm. 757, Desmoulins,4 Less., Fr. Cuv.
Beak longish, much compressed, and very broad near the
head, which is rather elevated; dorsal in the centre ; length
about eight feet. Colour mouse-grey above, bright grey
beneath, and there striped with light blue. Known at once
by a band of ivory-white on the sides of the head, very dis¬
tinct from the grey underneath it.
Twice seen, near Madagascar, by Col. Bory de St Vin¬
cent, a learned and zealous naturalist, who communicated
the particulars to Desmarest. On being captured the blue
stripes underneath speedily disappeared.
D. frontalis, Dussumier, Cuv. ;5 D. duhius, Fr. Cuv.
Head and beak of the genus; length of the specimen ex¬
amined four and a half feet; dorsal somewhat behind the
middle ; pectorals attached one-fourth of the distance of the
whole length from the anterior extremitv, and one-sixth of
the whole length, pointed. All the upper part of the body,
sides, and tail a deep black; belly white, with a leaden-co¬
loured streak running from the angle of the mouth to the
base of the pectorals, which are quite black. Teeth about
3lnl6=:144.
36 — 36
This species was captured by M. Dussumier near the
Cape-de-Verd Islands. M. F. Cuvier has identified it in
his Mammiferes, and Cetaces with the Dubius; but so did
not the Baron, nor do we think sufficient reason has been
assigned for the step.
D. Pernettyi, Pernetty,6 Desm. No. 756, F. Cuv. Re-
1 Quoy les a vus souvent, dans le voyage de PUranie, precdder la fnWte filant de neuf i on^P npp„rL ,
chiens danois pre'ceder les equipages dans les rues el les promenades publiques. On voit ainsi deux frni? mi eUref’ co™me V0lt
quefois un tout seul s’exercer a lutter de vitesse, et par leurs zig-zags entrecroises sous la nointe rln hf (iuatre Bauphins, quel-
lournees antieres), fairequatre ou cinqfois plusde route que le vaisseau qui file de quatre a cinu lieues eaU,"l)re ^ c®la pendant des
d’/mt. Nat., t. v. p. 350. 1 4 quatre a cinq lieues par heure. '—Diction. Classique
i Wherever the mark of interrogation (?) follows the name of a species, we mean it to be undprstn-.,! .r, • . c .
species is extremely doubtful. * Ann. du Mus. t. xix. 9. < iS J ^ hat t.he„existence of that
* Voy.aux Malouines.. tlassique d Hut. Nat. * Jifyne Animal, 288.
224
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, garded as a variety of the Delphis by Bonnaterre and Baron
'—Cuvier. Head and beak of the genus ; lower jaw somewhat
longer than the upper; dorsal pointed, and placed behind
the middle; colour black above, pearly grey below, and
mottled with dark spots; teeth acute, and somewhat like
those of the pike.
The vessel of Bougainville, in which Pernetty sailed,
when near the Cape-de-Verd Islands was surrounded by
about 100 of these dolphins, which approached very near
it. They appeared, says Pernetty, to have come only for
the purpose of diverting us ; they made extraordinary leaps
out of the water, some of them vaulting four feet high, and
turning over two or three times in the air. The one taken
weighed 100 pounds. To the common characters, which
we have specified, Pernetty adds another, which we be¬
lieve may be referred to many of the order, viz. that it ex¬
haled an odour which was so strong and penetrating, that
whatever substance was once impregnated with it, retained
it for many days, in spite of all that could be done to over¬
come it.
D. Malay anus, Cuv.,1 F. Cuv.; Delphinorhyncm ma-
layanus, Lesson and Garnot. Head large, forehead con¬
vex, falling suddenly, and presenting a marked furrow at
the origin of the beak, which is prolonged and thin; upper
jaw somewhat larger than the lower; teeth numerous;
length of the specimen taken six feet; dorsal in the mid¬
dle ; of a uniform ash-colour. This species was taken in
the middle of the Indian Seas. In common with Mr F.
Cuvier, we do not understand how M. Lesson should have
ranked it with the Delphinorhynci. Baron Cuvier suspects
it may be the same with the following species.
D. plumbeus, Dussumier, F. Cuv. General proportions
of the genus; length eight feet; the dorsal starts from
about a third of the anterior extremity; colour uniform
leaden-grey, with the exception of the extremity and lower
portion of the beak, which are whitish ; teeth „9~ 3^, =
136. This species was detected off the Malabar coast by
M. Dussumier, who states that they frequent the shores,
and pursue the shoals of pilchards. Their motions are less
rapid than those of their congeners, which are found in the
midst of the ocean. The natives capture them in nets, but
with much difficulty, because they seem to suspect their
intentions, and very cautiously avoid the snare. The noise
of a musket makes them flee in all directions; and after
having sunk beneath, they take a direction different from
that which their plunge indicated. These circumstances
manifest something of that mental capacity with which the
dolphin is generally supposed to be endowed.
D. frcenatus, Duss., F. Cuv. Four and a half feet long;
dorsal in the middle,—its length one-fifth of the whole
body,—its form triangular and pointed ; pectorals long and
slender; colour black on the back, pale on the flanks, white
on the belly, as is the lower half of the tail, the upper half
being quite black ; head black above, and of an ash tint on
its sides, with a streak of a deeper hue, forming on the
cheek a kind of bridle, extending from the commissure of
the lips, under the eyes ; teeth numerous, but their precise
amount not ascertained. Taken by Dussumier to the south
of the Cape-de-Verd Islands.
-D. velox,' Duss., Cuv.,2 F. Cuv. ;3 D. leger, F. Cuv. ;4 the
swift dolphin. Head and beak of the genus ; beak long ;
length five feet; all the fins long and broad; dorsal over
the middle; colour wholly black; teeth 41 ~41, = 164.
Dussumier met this species between Ceylon and the Equa¬
tor. When one was harpooned the whole group instantly
disappeared. They swam with extraordinary rapidity;
hence their name.
D. longirostris, Duss., Cuv.5 Our only information re¬
garding this species is that in the Regne Animal taken
from Dussumier’s manuscripts. M.L Dussumier captured
it off the coast of Malabar. The number of its teeth ex¬
ceeds that of most of the genus ; the formulary is 60 ^
= 240. ~~
Cetacea.
D. superciliosus, Less, and Garnot, F. Cuv. Total
length between four and five feet; dorsal somewhat be¬
yond the middle; upper part of the body of a brilliant
bluish-black colour, sides and under parts of a silvery white¬
ness ; pectorals brown, on a white ground ; but what espe¬
cially characterizes this dolphin is a large white spot over
the eye in front; another long white mark occurs on the
sides of the body near the tail. Teeth, ; = 118.
It was captured by Garnot off Van Diemen’s Land.
D. Novce Zelandice, Quoy and Gaimard, F. Cuv. Head
and beak of the genus; lower jaw somewhat longer than
the upper ; dorsal large, triangular, rounded at top ; pec¬
torals of average size, falciform; tail small. Length be¬
tween five and six feet. Colour dark brown above, lower
part of beak and body dull white; a large yellow stripe
commences at the eye, and terminates, growing narrower
on the flanks, beneath the dorsal; tail of a slate colour,
pale underneath ; pectorals of the colour of white-lead, also
the dorsal, both tipt all round with black; there is a black
line over the snout, becoming larger towards the eye, which
it surrounds; this line is accompanied on either side with
a white line. Teeth, = 180.
D. cceruleo-albus, Meyen, F. Cuv. Facial line of the
genus; snout more curved and compressed than in the
common dolphin ; pectorals more pointed; colour above, a
deep steel -blue, as are the pectorals; a marking begins
large at the dorsal, descends towards the commissure of the
lips, and comes to a point half way between them ; another
commences at the pectorals and terminates in the black
marking which surrounds the eye ; this latter extends pos¬
teriorly, widening as far as the vent; the rest of the body
is of a pure and brilliant white. M. Meyen observed this
species on the east coast of South America. The specimen
he examined was taken at the mouth of the Plata.6
D. Capensis, Gray.7 The entire length of this animal is
81 inches; his widest girth 42. The back, lips, and fins
are black; the belly white. Teeth about —, = 100.
. 50
From the tip of the nose to the angle of the mouth he
measures 13 inches; to the angle of the forehead 7; to
the blower 7|; to the dorsal fin 38; to the pectoral 21.
The length of the dorsal fin is 12 ; along the curve 12, and
its perpendicular height 10 ; the length of the pectoral
along the curve 13 ; the breadth of its base 5. The breadth
of the tail is 18 ; and the length of each of its lobes along
the curve 13 inches. This dolphin, says Mr Gray, is at
once distinguished by the shortness of its beak. Its habi¬
tat is the Cape of Good Hope, whence it was sent to the
Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, London, by Cap¬
tain Heaviside. Considerable discrepancy exists between
the description and the plate by which it is accompanied.
D. dubius?, Cuv.,8 Desm., No. 760. Less., F. Cuv.
Cranium shaped like that of D. delphis, though somewhat
smaller; beak more slender and pointed; upper jaw slight-
1 Regne Animal, 288.
3 Cet. 154.
6 Nov. Act. Cur. Nat.
8 Mem. du Mus. t. xix.;
4 Mammifereg.
Regne Animal, 288.
2 Regne Animal, 288.
4 Regne Animal, 288.
7 Spic. Zool. part i. plate ii. fig. 1.
Cetacea, ty conical, but not bent upwards ; altogether smaller than
* ^he Cf)rnmon dolphin. Teeth ; =148. This spe¬
cies (still entitled to the name of dubius) was proposed
nV I .IIVIOT*   T n • l . L
MAMMALIA.
D. Canadensis? Desm., No. 767, Doliarael,3 niain., F.
Cuv.; Dauphin blanc, Desm. Head round, forehead ele¬
vated ; beak pointed, and clearly distinguished from the
by Cuvier from "the "examination "of'specimensT ehiefly'o'f referred t<, twelve feo,; colour
crania, transmitted from the western coast of France ' . D^h!;me * description of this more than tionbtful
D. niger?, Abel lUmusat! SpTDe m No 767 Xw ! n ^ f™n. Canada.
F. Cuv. Beak flat and very Iona; Sirsal very small and i D^ares! J « » Delphinus, Baron Cnvicr
nearer the tail than the pectorals f colour mostly black, but and F ofvie" to hlemift il witoT'r i%”<W Gmff'ro^
white on the commissures of the lips, and maJgin of the i) O hick < n F ^ „
pectorals, and part of the tail. Teeth more than 24 in F. Cnv word, Os£ f “n"’ m™- ^ 759>
each jaw. Introduced by Lacepede on the faith of Thinp^ , , i • v" , ,,of 0bbeck> ‘t was like the corn-
paintings procured in M A Sisat ThU m"n do,Ph!n’bllt wholly of a white shining colour.” He
speciesrequires confirmation? 7 lhlS Sfcfathls a.n™aI ^the China seas. Bonnaterre^con-
D. lunatus, Less., F. Cuv.; Funenas of the Chilians.
Massive m its form; about three feet in length; beak
slender; dorsal round at top; colour, a clear fawn shade
above, gradually passing into white beneath ; a brown and
sidered it a variety of D. delphis, Desmarest as a distinct
species, and Baron Cuvier was disposed to regard it as
a Delphinapterus.6
D Bertoni ? Desm. 768, Duhamel, Blain., F. Cuv.
forehead prominent; beak long and thick; upper jaw
accurately defined cross is seen on the back on a line with Prornment; beak l°ng and thick; upper jaw
&rirtn“ rir„yfrL™: zittr sf-in •• is
lc" ^Sd=:z ^ “ “SS
fasted, they devoted themselves to play, and seemed de
lighted while striving which should rise the highest. He
adds, that he saw this species only in the Bay of Talea-
huana, in the province of Concepcion, where, however, it
is extremely common.
D. minimus. Less., F. Cuv. About two fppt in lono-tL . u~n a i me tuast oi avow
colour generally brown, with a white spot on the snout,-I iTtngLrtris Gray^he ^ BritishfM.use,im-
the latter slender. This species was seen by Lesson near ^ ^ The existence of this our
the Moluccas, where they existed in thousands, frequently
following each other in a uniform course forming two lines,
m which they were arranged checquer-wise.
D. cruciger ? Quoy and Gaimard, Less., F. Cuv. The
flank is white, with a black line nearly throughout its whole
extent; the dorsal is acute; total length but a few feet.
This species was seen (but not taken) between New Hol¬
land and Cape Horn. It is suspected by M. F. Cuvier to
be the same as the Ph. bivittatus.
D. albigena ? Quoy and Gaimard, Less., F. Cuv. Colour
generally black, with a white band on each side of the
head, extending from the eyes as far back on the flanks as
the dorsal-fin, which was of small dimensions. Observ¬
ed (but notcaptured) by Quoy and Gaimard in the Antarctic
Seas, and often seen by M. Lesson in the neighbourhood
of New Holland.
♦j Baye?1 • Bisso> Less., F. Cuv. Head equal to one- jumn., con., cacep., uesm., &c. The Pornoi
turd the size of the whole body ; snout much prolonged, pess of the English ; also Pel loch or Sea pork The Su
as inVe dolphin ^Th^on “ 5 °f ^ ^ fbrm ™W’ and SPringwhal, and Tumbler of tlfe Danes. Maris
as in the ^dolphin. The opening of the mouth very large ; AW.-the Martino? the French. (See Plate XVI.?
*eedl 34 34’ =: 136; pectorals very broad; dorsal small i 'r,'1^10 Head typical of^thatof the genus ; lower jaw
and triangular; length forty-two feet; colour dull blue
, • . p i , i 1 J nictA.iua, wiu^ii ticiiires
the point of the blowers; the cavity of the cranium more
globular, and the blower more anterior ; teeth -orl0 9 or 10
small conical and recurved.” Obtained on the coast of New
Holland, and sent by Captain King to the British Museum.
depressed than that of the D. Delphis; the palate-bone is
more strongly keeled; and the elevated central process of
the upper surface of the beak is broad and convex. The
length of the head is 6 inches; the beak 1 U; breadth of
the latter, at the base, 3 inches. Teeth 48 to 50 in each
jaw.
The Por poises, to which we now proceed, in their habits
and dispositions very closely resemble the dolphins ; and it
is for the convenience of classification only that distinction
is desirable.
Genus (e.) Phoc^ena, Cuv., Less., Gray. Head and snout
s lort and gibbous, no beak, the facial line descending in a
uniform connexity to the end of the snout; numerous teeth
in both jaws; a dorsal fin. (See Plate XVI., figure 9.)
P. communis, Cuv., Less., &c.; Delphinus ptiocama,
Linn.^Bon.^Lacep., Desm., &c. The Porpoisey or Por-
above, and whitish below. This species is doubtful and re¬
quires renewed examination. It was first noticed by Bayer,
who considered it a cachalot ;2 but Risso having procured
a drawing of what he believed to be the same animal,
stranded at Nice in 1726, described it anew, and gave it
Bayer’s name. The characters stated above are from Risso’s
description. Baron Cuvier and his brother, with their eye
fixed on Bayer’s description, lean to the opinion that it was
a cachalot.
somewhat more projecting than the upper ; dorsal nearly
in the middle of the body, triangular; pectorals oblong;
length from four to five feet ; colour bluish-black above,’
fading on the sides to white underneath ; pectorals dark
brown; vertebrae, according to Lesson, 7, 14, 45, = (jg.
Tyson numbers them 60. Ribs, according to Lacepede’
Tyson, Cuvier, and Lesson, 13, according to Hunter and
Jacob,11 16; teeth = 96. Tyson.
The porpoise is found in all the seas of Europe, and in
the Atlantic. In some parts of North America its skin, like
A/m. du M~a. iv. Act. C*s. Leap. Cur. Nat , t. iii. 3 7V. des Pcches, Part ii. Plate X fin- 4 4 xr ,
[EncycMeth. 6 O,,. Foss., tom. v. 1st part, ‘289. 7 CW
Phis name is most unfortunately chosen, and should certainly be changed by the learned authar I 2?'
» L?T"ier and the Anlmal <*“ P- '»«) “h:d' H to maintain
“ n'uiUnni'jcu^yoLL 0riSinal a”d ,er,r C°rm:t rcPreKnlalion *» “>« late Dr Maagilli.r.,.
VOL. XIV.
225
Cetacea.
2 F
226
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea,
that of the Beluga, is tanned and dressed with considerable
> care. It is shaved down from its natural thickness till it
becomes transpareat, and is. then manufactured into articles
of wearing apparel; it also affords excellent coverings for
carriages. In a report of a committee of the House of
Commons on the public works of Ireland, it is stated “that
porpoises abound in almost innumerable shoals on the wes¬
tern shores of Ireland.” It is desirable that they should be
converted to the same economic purposes as in Canada.
P. Grampus;1 Delphinus grampus, Desm. 774, Hun¬
ter ; D. Orca, Fab., Linn., Bon., Lacep., Shaw; also the
D. Gladiator of Bon. and Lacep.; the Grampus of the
English; Epaulardoithe French; especially XkxeButtskoff
of northern nations ; the Killer and Thrasher of the Ame¬
ricans ; the Sword-Jish of the Greenlander ; Epee de Mer
of Bon., &c.; conjectured to be the Aries marinus of the
ancients ; Cuv. Oss. Fossil, t. v. p. 282. Head and snout of
the genus; upper jaw somewhat larger than the lower; lower
rather broader than upper; body elongated ; from twenty
to thirty feet in length ; dorsal-fin central and very large,
—four feet high; pectorals also very large, broad, and
oval; colour black above, and white beneath, with a well
marked line of junction ; a white mark over the eye, and
a black streak running forwards from the tail into the white
11 — 11
portion; teeth
= 44. Inhabits high northern la-
11—IT
titudes, descending frequently into the Atlantic and Ger¬
man Ocean, and frequenting the coasts and friths.2
The grampus has the character of being exceedingly
voracious and warlike. It devours vast quantities of fishes
of all sizes, especially the larger ones. When pressed
with hunger it is said to throw itself on every thing it
meets with, not sparing the smaller Cetacea. Hunter found
a portion of a porpoise in one which he examined. It is
also said to make war on seals, and that when it espies
them on the ice, it endeavours to drive them into the sea,
where they become an easy prey. This species is often
seen in small herds of six or eight, apparently amusing
themselves, and chasing each other; and it is alleged, that
when thus assembled they frequently attack the great Green¬
land whale. During this unprovoked and outrageous onset
they are said to resemble so many furious mastiffs fighting
with a wild bull: some seizing the tail and endeavouring to
impede its murderous blows, whilst others attack the head,
lay hold of the lips, or tear away the tongue. They have
thus received the appellation of Balcenarum tyrannus from
the accurate Fabricius ; and hence too the popular names of
Thrasher and Killer? We apprehend, however, that these
bloody fights, recorded with such minute accuracy in many
works on the Cetacea, stand in need of confirmation.
P. ventricosus ? Hunter’s “ second species of grampus.”
Plate 18. Delphinus ventricosus, Bon., Lacep., Blain.,
Desm., F. Cuv. Head and snout of the genus ; jaws pro¬
jecting equally ; dorsal fin of moderate size, situate some¬
what behind the middle ; pectorals long, not remarkably
broad. Hunter’s specimen was eighteen feet long ; colour
black above and whitish underneath, gradually merging in¬
to each other ; no white' or black markings. Cuvier and
others have conjoined this with the preceding, and perhaps
correctly; but, from the differences above indicated, we
prefer for the present to follow the respectable authorities
just named, and to keep it distinct. Hunter’s specimen
was caught in the Thames.
P. griseus, Less,, F. Cuv.; Delphinus griseus, Cuv.4
Desm., No. 775 ; Paimpolporpoise of Less.; 2>’ Orhigmjs
porpoise of F. Cuv. Head and snout of the genus, though
prominent; dorsal very elevated and pointed; pectorals
enormously developed ; total length ten feet; upper parts
of the body and fins of a deep bluish-black, fading as it de¬
scends the sides, and giving place beneath to a dull white ;
no mark over the eye ; vertebrae 7, 12, 42, = 61; ribs
12; teeth   truncated ; has been frequently strand¬
ed on the west coast of France.
P. compressicauda, Less, and Garnot, F. Cuv. Head round
and prominent, terminating in a short obtuse point; upper
jaw projecting slightly beyond the lower; length eight feet;
dorsal somewhat behind the middle, triangular; pectorals
small, attached low, form rather straight, and terminating
in a point; tail rather small; leaden colour above, and
22 22
whitish beneath; teeth——-,=90; lining of the mouth
black. Captured by the crew of the Coquille, in latitude.'
4° S., longitude 26° W.
P.truncatus, Delphinus truncatus, Montague,5 F. Cuv.
Length twelve feet, circumference eight; black above, a
purplish tinge gradually becoming dusky on the flanks, and
sullied white beneath; lower law somewhat larger than the
. 20 —20 oe , J !
upper; teeth 9- ir>, = 8b, placed close together, circu¬
lar, perfectly flat; some of the teeth nearly double the size
of others, with no spaces between them ; they were much
truncated, some obliquely, and some at right angles. This
species was taken in July, five miles up the Dart. Dr
Fleming identifies it with the Tursio of Fabricius. We
think his opinion is erroneous.
P. Capensis, Duss., Cuv.,6 F. Cuv.7 Head and snout
of the genus, though somewhat flat; length four feet;
dorsal somewhat beyond the centre, more than half a foot
high; pectorals six inches long, three broad, rounded at
their extremity ; colour all over black, with exception of a
white spot on each side, somewhat behind the dorsal;
28 — 28
teeth, according to Baron Cuvier,
28 — 28’
= 112; accord¬
ing to F. Cuvier,
26—26
Mr Gray has made this species the type of a new genus We do not, however, perceive the necessity or propriety of this.
Delphinus orcal. Desmarest, besides the grampus abo.e described, names a D. Orca (No. 765), noticed by Belon, and regarded
by some as the Orca of the ancients. According to Cuvier, it has the facial line of a Delphinus. This opinion, however, rests upon a
fr<uentenCe an4 b;s existence is very doubtful. It is said to inhabit the Mediterranean.
3 The term Thrasher is also not unfrequently applied to a species of fox-shark (Carcharias vulpes), which, in common with the
sword-fish, often attacks the whale.
* Ann. du Mus., t. 9. . ■ s JVern. Mem. vo\.\i\. 6 R&gnr Animal, 289.
Cetacea.
= 98 ; cylindrical, pointed, and
M. F. Cuvier
23 — 23’
not compressed as in the common porpoise,
names it D. cephalorhyncus,—apparently an unnecessary
innovation.
P. Homeii, Gray.8 Colour above pure black ; sides of
the head and body clouded black and white; belly white ;
on each side an indistinct band commences immediately
under the dorsal fin, and descends obliquely and backwards;
till it terminates on the under and posterior part of the
body ; a dusky-coloured circle also surrounds the eye ; be¬
low, the anterior part of the jaw, and a space of nearly a foot
and a half before the tail, dusky ; snout thick, pointed, and
not readily distinguished from the anterior part of the head;
40 40
teeth ——= 152, slightly curved with the convexity
outwards; pectorals long and pointed; dorsal fin placed
behind the centre, large, high, and pointed, its hinder edge
falciform ; tail semilunar ; usual length six feet. Mr Gray
states that this species is often caught in Table Bay. Is it
distinct from the preceding ?
P. (Grampus') Heavisidii, Gray ;9 Delphinus hastatus,
Mammiferes.
5 JVern. Mem., vol. iii.
8 Zoological Journal, iv.
s Spic. Zool. part i, plate ii.
'—v moderate length,“and ™gejaws equally‘nr,TccTine- S*,-a "''"‘v lateral, streak passing from the commissure of
“teeth 26 in upper and 25 in fewer jaw;” dorsad mudj before dm d T tha ‘’“‘“t’ and another commencing
pecS fc Len^hlbtrfivefcet”'1''1!6! *f ; "'ar<ls the -igin of ^hefoT 8 °bIi,Uely t0-
black, head of a slate-colour, four markin’^underSh1 J Tiff sned T*”' 5 F' u'k' '• ^dp/umts intermedins. Gray.*
one m front of the pectorals, Iozenge-shap?d, two oval on« Jf» c? • 'S p,;0Poe.d by Mr Gray fr“m a" examination
immediatelybehind them,and thenamiichlargmone,cover- hf h'*'5’ Mu,seT’ ofthe origin of which
•\aATl,,,I,art oftbe abdomen. The specimen which fur Pb remarks that the cranium is very
Koval CdWoft*thiS de?cr;Ptio,n is in *e Museum ofthe I,ke tllat of P- 9™eus. The teeth, however, are Azi1
by%Sfefvfe^^eWM A042’ ^ Has seldom mo^
exommed the species, in the cabinet of^M^ Verveaux^ a mer fo pT1: ^ rTHis approximates the fo "
naturalist /settled in southern Africa ThcV all e- ’ t0 , e °rca of Fabncms, from which, however it dif
generally accord, though n^in ^ SS fte fo^orT^ 0ttemp“ral f«^ ^ Sh ^
Good t0 be the -ishboufhood of the Caperf the ^ ^
S endTthe8;^ ^ oonicJlTdSfl^rS Z i7)Uth tWardS;the pOT«»" (siSte^Vl'
part of the head "black, the flanks^aifd lotrer^iarts^of the'Sody No nf-S^T CuV-”
hi!!?’ W?h the excePtion of two bands running obliquely whale of V? ’ Scoresby ?
backwards,—one proceeding from the sides ofthe head and Feroe • h ’ e ^yea whale, Neill; Grind tchak of
terminating upon the pectorals, the other from underthe rbw if the Danes- (See Plate, XVI.,
sal, and terminating upon the belly. It is singular that hndvthi , d obtuse’ uPPer Part very much rounded;
these markings vary in different individuals, and a e more colour fenLaUvhl^ ’ Pect°raIs '’Cry long and narrow;
apparent upon young than old animals. Mi Gray drew hi! Sending afoZ ,1 f K n h f "'T rrk under the ‘H™3*’
description of this species also from a specimen hTthe eXten jff j40ng the belIy 5 length about twenty-two feet;
fromathe°CaSe of Con? Hn8’ Tt h-d been Sent teGdl,14314’ “ 56’ conical’ sharP> somewhat curved at
insgnce, found it in Mr Ve^veaux’s museum.m thef°rmer ™n very ^ to disappear; vertebrm 7
P. Feres? Helphinus feres, Bon., Lacep. Desm of F,,™ ?U ^ j r?S 12' , InbabitS the northern short
Bie^ummi^and^sudclenly^skjping^vray^nteriorly1'where
terminat by a short round snout; jaws equal, covered of "nTCZ^SC^
with membranous lips; teeth = 40, some large, fjf a fi^re of one taken at Havre, under the name of
others small,—the former about an inch long, the proiect irave ?e Sn0uL” In 1806 Dr NeiU
mg portion oval, round at the summit, arufasit were di" ffcs amoreextended and interesting account ofthe spe-
vided info tw, inKocs  mit’ a"a as l1 were dl- fes’ ' nder the name ofUyea Sound or Ca’ing whale, than
vided into two lobes by a groovrextendinrthrSout' C™'<><Uyea Sound ov Co! ing whale, thar
their whole length,—the smaller teeth about3half the size d/Traill miblishfd appeared ;7 and tbree years aftei
of the others. Length about fifteen feet • Hie xvlmlo n i ^ 1 raiH published its first accurate description, under the
covered with a fine black skin ’ ^ Whole body "a™ fwi* a drawingf afterward re!
This species rests solely on the authoritv of BnnmtPrrA o'le - V!lth addltlonal details in Scoresby’s work.9 In
by'thfprev^1.00 Wer<! CaptUred’ afler “ hard Stm®le OfalltheCeto?eXwo0uid^peartobethemostsociable,
P. bivittatus? Lesson, F. Cuv. Snout short and coni “ ™ ncr<l'r>g togethi r in innumerable nocks. Wemaysup-
cal; dorsal moderately high, black, and placed over the reL „f I T f7S?bIlsh this Poinl- From an old his-
middle of the animal; pectorals thin white with the nr. ^ ° i "' Feroe Islands, quoted by Mr Scoresby, it would
terior edge black; tail Lown sloped in I,; rnddfo! two' aPPf *e'nbabllaate bad W been in the habit of
feet and a half long; slender in its form - upper part of the 1664 6 7 caPturln? thera ” *r“t "umbers. In the year
body ofadeep shining black; belly and lower iaw white the ve»r , vis S'TT k™"d about 1000^ in
there is a large slash of satiny white running- iw each 748,40 mdmdlials fthlssPecieswere seen in Tor
side of the body, but interrupted in the middle opposite ‘.hmu 9on SeyentePn PeeJ long was captured ; in 1799,
the dorsal, where the two portions of the band thus^sena and in 1 so? ashore..m Ffder’ one of tbe Shetland Isles ;
rated are enlarged Suspected by F. Cuvier tobe the same a^d’iS
C^Hore^ Seen by LeSS°n ” great ',UmberS °ff ashore in Uyea Sound, in Un^lntsofi, 92
P.Agluk? Pallas, Chamisso, Less. Length thirteen of Bay’1°Fk"ey5 in 1809 and 181°, H00
feet; dorsal large ; teeth small and numerous; colour black, and were capture^r!^^
lr,fucpPrd^uu!^ ^ hy«, Gray, and
° IT1** fUr choice> and on thls principle we have given due weight to the name of //’ 4be Priority of publication ought
&"»hed by Mr Cray ; ihe descrip^
l P- 357. ‘ Ann"dumc?taC‘S’ P’ 162'
Jucolson s Journal, 1809. 9 Account of the Arctic demons. 10 A°Z. TulitTlZ ^
228 MAMM
Cetacea- the village of Bloubalzbance, on the coast of Bretagne;
and, in 1814. 150 were driven into Balta Sound, Shet¬
land, and were there despatched. 1 hese are only a few
of the instances in which, in modern times, an extensive
capture of the Deductor has taken place ; and we may add,
that it is alleged to have been seen both off the American
coast, and in high latitudes in the Pacific.
It would be interesting to ascertain from what mental
peculiarity it results that this animal is so frequently strand¬
ed, so easily hunted, and so readily made a prey. We have
seen enough to demonstrate that they are most sociable in
their habits ; and we may now remark that they seem
moreover to be endowed by an instinct very useful, doubt¬
less, on the whole, whereby they are almost irresistibly in¬
duced to follow the guidance of the oldest and most ex¬
perienced of their number. In the words of Dr Traill, they
seem generally to follow one as a leader with blind confi¬
dence ; and Dr Neill remarks, that the main body of the
drove follows the leading whales as a flock of sheep follows
the wedders. Hence the natives of Shetland well know
that if they are able to guide the leaders, they are sure like¬
wise of entangling multitudes of their followers. This trait
is strikingly illustrated by a circumstance of which Dr
Traill was a witness. “ I once,” says he, “ was in a boat
when an attempt was made to drive a shoal of them ashore ;
but when they had approached very near the land, the fore¬
most turned round with a sudden leap, and the whole rush¬
ed past the boat.” It is from this peculiarity in their men¬
tal constitution, that Dr Traill, it would appear, applied to
them the appellation of deductor.
G. Rissoanus, Less. Delphinus Rissoanus, Cuv. Head
large and round, upper jaw longer than the lower, dorsal
high, in form of a sealine triangle, situated near the middle;
pectorals large, broad and thick. Length nine or ten feet.
Colour of the males a bluish-white, of the females a uniform
brown, and both marked with irregular white lines, and
brown spots. It inhabits the Mediterranean. (See Plate
XVL, figure 8.) • .
G. leucocephalus ? Less., Fr. Cuv. Head short, coni¬
cal and truncated; dorsal very narrow, and acute at the
summit. Length about six feet; body of a deep grey co¬
lour ; head and neck of a dazzling whiteness. Lesson saw
this species in the Archipelago of Pomotous, but did not
capture any of the shoal.1 He likewise mentions another
observed in similar circumstances. It may be called the
G. fuscus ? Less. Head completely truncated ; dorsal
high, falciform. Length ten or twelve feet. Colour a uni¬
form brownish-black. The French naturalist was inform¬
ed by the captain of an English whaler, that this was the
black fish of the whalers, which, though very active, they
were anxious to catch, because they found in its head a
matter analogous to spermaceti.
We now proceed to a genus as yet but slightly known,
though interesting and peculiar. It consists of those Ce¬
tacea which have two dorsal fins. This character, more
curious than important, does probably not produce any
marked difference between the habits of this little group
and those of its congeners. It was established by M. Ra-
finesque Smaltz, and contains at present only two species.
B. Those which have two dorsal Jins.
Genus (<7.) Oxypterus, Rafinesque Smaltz, Less., F.
Cuv. Two dorsal fins.
O. Mongitori, Rafinesque Smaltz, F. Cuv. Named but
not described by Smaltz in his Precis de Semiologie, p. 13.
He observed the animal in the Sicilian seas.
O. Rhinoceros ,■ Delphinus Rhinoceros, Quoy and Gai-
mard, Less., F. Cuv. (See Plate XVI., figure 18.) A
fin on the head iuclined backwards, like that on the back ;
ALIA.
length ten or twelve feet; upper part of the body as far Cetacctw ‘
as the dorsal fin spotted with black and white.
“ In 1819,” say these interesting writers (Quoy and
Gaiirard), “ in going from the Sandwich Islands to New
South Wales, many dolphins, in troops, performed rapid
evolutions about our vessel. Every one on board was sur¬
prised to perceive that they had a fin upon their head, bent
backwards, the same as that on their backs. The size of
this animal was about double the size of the common por¬
poise ; and the upper part of its body to the dorsal fin was
spotted black and white. We did our best to examine
them all the time they accompanied us ; but although they
often passed the prow of the vessel, with the highest part
of the back out of water, yet their head was so submerged,
that neither M. Arago nor we could discover whether their
snout was long or short; and their habits did not assist us
on this point, because they never sprang above the wave,
as is common with other species. From this very singular
structure we have given them the name of Rhinoceros?’1
Though, from the circumstances detailed, our authors could
not supply an accurate drawing, yet Messrs Quoy and
Gaimard have furnished a sketch of the appearance of the
species, which we copy from their atlas.
C. Those which have no dorsal Jin.
Genus (^.) Beluga, Less. Gray. The osteology of the
cranium, according to Baron Cuvier, supplies generic charac¬
ters which distinguish this from the neighbouring genera.
The form of the head is obtuse, conical, and rounded.
The genus is moreover distinguished from the Globice-
phalus by having no dorsal fin ; and from the Delphinap-
terus by having no prolonged snout-like flattened beak.
Beluga arctica, Less. Delphinapterus beluga, Lacep.
Beluga, Shaw. D. Leucas, Linn. D. albicans. Fab. Bon.
White whale of English whalers. (See Plate XVI., figure
17. Head obtuse and rounded; mouth small; teeth short and
9 9
blunt   jj; no dorsal fin ; pectorals large, thick, and
oval; tail large and powerful. Total length from twelve
to eighteen feet. Colour, of a light cream-colour. The
shape of this animal rs highly symmetrical, and at once sug¬
gests the idea of perfect adaptation to rapid progressive
motion in water. Its head is small and somewhat lengthened,
and over the forehead there is a thick cushion of fat; the
body continues to swell as far as the pectoral fins, and from
this point gradually diminishes to the setting on of the tail.
The tail is powerful, bent under the body in swimming, and
worked with such force that it impels the beluga forward,
says Giesecke, with the velocity of an arrow. The colour is
usually a uniform and beautiful cream-colour, whilst the
younger ones are marked with brownish spots, and are
somewhat of a blue or slaty colour. Dr Scoresby remarks,
that he has seen some of a yellowish hue, approaching to
orange; and this agrees with the statement of Fabricius,
who says they are white, sometimes tinged with red. Many
contradictory accounts are given of the number of teeth,
in consequence, no doubt, of the fact, that in the beluga,
as in most of the other whales, these parts have the greatest
tendency to drop out as the animal becomes aged. An¬
derson states that it has no teeth in the upper jaw, and that
this is the universal opinion of the Greenland fishers, while
. 0 — 0
there are eight on each side in the lower;—thus, ^ g.
g 9 8 — 9 „
Dr Neill gives (r=-^ and Crantz ^37.- Cuvier, however,
states them as = 36; so agreeing with Fabricius.
But if we are so slow in arriving at certainty respecting
* Voyage de la Coquxlle, t. i. p. 184.
Voyage de M. Freycinet. Zoologie, p. 8G.
Cetacea, the dental apparatus of the beluga, when are we, by this
means, to determine species in any of the other Cetacea ?
feir Charles Giesecke describes the white whale as a mi¬
natory animal, which visits Greenland every year regular-
y about the end of November. He remarks that, next to
the seal, it is the most useful animal captured by the na¬
tives, as it comes at a season when their provisions are ex¬
tremely scanty. It arrives in herds, in stormy weather. It
is taken by harpoons and strong nets ; in the latter case the
nets are extended across the narrow sounds between the
islands, and when a shoal is thus interrupted in its course
seaward, the individuals are attacked with lances, and sreat
numbers are frequently killed. The flesh is somewhat si¬
milar to that of beef, of a bright red colour, though some¬
what oily. According to Hans Egede, “ when it is mari¬
nated with vinegar and salt, it is as well tasted as any pork
w atever; the hns also, and the tail, pickled or sauced, are
very good eating, so that he is very <;ood cheer. The oil
is of the whitest, best, and finest quality.”1 Some of the in¬
ternal membranes are used for windows, and some as bed-
curtains ; the sinews furnish the best sort of strong thread.
Genus (^ ) Delphinapterus, Cuv. Less. Distinguished
from the dolphins by having no dorsal-fin, and from the be¬
luga by having a slender beak, flattened transversely, and
separated from the head by a marked furrow.
n P^on^> C»1V- Less. Delphinus Peronii, Lacep.
-Uesm., I\o. 771, 1). Leuco-grampus, Peron. D. Chilii of
Kotzebue. (See Plate XVI., figure 19.) Snout obtuse,
depressed at the extremities and edge, thus forming a short
beak ; pectora!8 and tail large; colour above of' a deep
b uish-black, beneath brilliant white, except the edge of the
pectorals, which is black. Length between five and six
feet. Teeth _ ;W = 156, all slender and very pointed.
High southern latitudes are the resort of this species. The
historian of the voyage of Baudin met with them to the
south of Van Diemen’s Land; Dr Quoy saw them near
fi G u „l]ineJa’Ta,s ^d M. Lesson, off Magellan’s Straits and
the Falkland Islands. Many of them, according to the last
named author, surrounded the corvette in January 1823
on the vessel entering the Southern Ocean, and one was
harpooned by the sailors, which enabled him to give a more
accurate account than any previously supplied. It is elegant
in its form, regular in its proportions, sleek, and especially
remarkable from appearing to be covered with a black cloak.
Its snout, as far as the eye, is of a silky and silvery whiteness,
so are the sides and pectorals, the abdomen, and part of the
tail. A large scapulary of a deep bluish-black colour, ris¬
ing at the eyes, where the white appears like a cross, is
pointed and bent on the flanks so as to cover the upper
Par^°L^^e kack only. The iris is of an emerald-green.
t v '^nmerS(mili Cuv. Less. Delphinus Commersonii,
Lacep. Desm. 772. The Jacobite of the French. Snout flat
and slender; body generally silvery-white ; the snout, tail,
and pectorals tipt with black; about the size of the com¬
mon porpoise. . Commerson, who regards this as one of the
most beautiful inhabitants of the ocean, encountered it in
the Straits of Magellan. Lesson met with it at the Falk¬
land Islands.
D. Senedetta ? Lacep. This species is rejected by Cu¬
vier.2
D. Epiodon ? Rafinesque Smaltz, Desm., 786, F. Cuv.
Body elongated, attenuated posteriorly ; snout rounded;
lower jaw shorter than the upper ; many obtuse teeth, which
are all alike in the upper jaw ; none in the lower. No dor¬
sal-fin. This animal was taken in the Sicilian Seas in 1790,
and Rafinesque seems to have described it from a drawing!
We have no further information respecting it.
It may here be remarked, that we have now discussed
MAMMALIA.
to the extent our limits will allow our first subdivision, con¬
sisting of Cete with ordinarily proportioned heads, and nu¬
merous teeth ; it includes nine genera, and about fifty
species. The direction of the facial line has chiefly, though
not solely, regulated us in this avowedly artificial, and, it
should not be forgotten, not very important arrangement
o genera. We shall here supply a tabular view of the
classification of the whole of the preceding subdivision
•^4 includes those which have a dorsal fin.
Genus a. Beak long, cylindrical, with molar-like
. teeth, . . . Inia.
o. racial line of nearly uniform
slope, beak peculiarly long, Soosoo.
c. Facial line of nearly uniform
slope, beak or snout short, Delphinorhyncus.
a. racial line marked by a sud-
den fall, beak short, . Delphinus.
e. racial line of uniform slope,
s no keak> snout short, . Phocoena.
f. Head globe-shaped. No beak,
no snout, . . . Globicephalus.
B Those which have two dorsal fins.
$ Oxypterus.
C Those which have no dorsal fin.
h. Head globe-shape (from only
• tt^ s.'n^e species, called) . Beluga.
i. Having a beak, from
without a fin.” . . Delphinapterus.
Subdivision IL—Heterodontes. Head of ordinary pro-
wantino1 f T’ and f V&rioUS forms,—sometimes
wanting. Blow-hole single.
229
Cetacea.
Ever since Cetology has been studied as a science, the
teeth, as in the other orders of Mammalia, have received the
most marked attention. The two great orders into which
Lacepede divides the ordinary Cete (which alone he con-
siders), are founded on the fact, that some possess teeth,
while others want them; and three of his ten genera re¬
pose solely on the peculiarities of the dentition. Since his
time increased attention has been paid to these important
Parts: LLinville introduced the term Heterodon,—in
which subdivision he includes those genera of which the
teeth, in number, form, and situation, are various and in
some respects anomalous. Sometimes, as in the Narwhal
they are scarcely in the mouth at all; and several genera
are believed to be still more destitute of teeth. Desmarest
and Lesson have followed in Blainville’s track, and pursuing
the same course we shall now discuss, under the name of
Heterodontes, a perplexing and somewhat anomalous
group. It includes the Narwhal, the Diodon, the Ey.
peroodon, the Aodon, and the Ziphias,—which last com¬
prehends some of the most important fossils which have
been discovered.
Genus Narwhalos, Lacep Cuv., Deem. Monodon,
Lin., Bon. Sea Unicorn of whalers. This genu« has no
teeth properly so called, but only two long tusks “straight
and pointed, implanted into the outer maxillary bones, and
Sorfal fing ^ ^ ^ °f the body- * "0
This long established genus was formerly made to in¬
clude several species. Bonnaterre had two, and Lacep^de
and Desmarest three; the first and last of these, viz.—iV.
pafT' LavP” Pe,sm- No- 707, Monodon monoceros,
l aci’n d";’ r'tl130"-5 and the N> Andersoniif
Lacep., Desm. No. 789, are now rejected as having been
Description, of Greenland.
* Ilcgne Animal, 291.
MAMMALIA.
230
Cetacea, introduced on insufficient grounds. There remains, there-
fore, only one species, viz.
N. microcephalus, Lacep., Desm. No. 788, Dr Fleming.
Monodon monoceros, Linn., Cuv., &c. Sea Unicorn. (See
Plate XVII., figure 2.) This singular creature has rarely
two tusks developed at the same time ; the single tusk or
horn (as it is called) has usually spiral markings, though
these are sometimes absent; its length is from seven to ten
feet; and that of the whole animal twice or thrice as much.
The head is round and suddenly truncated; body slender;
no dorsal fin ; pectorals short; eye small; colour generally
light-grey, variegated with darker spots. Vertebrae 7, 12,
35, = 54 (Scoresby); ribs twelve pair. The length of the
narwhal is usually stated to be about fifteen or sixteen feet,
which is to be understood exclusive of the tusk; so that,
with this striking appendage, it reaches to from twenty to
twenty-seven feet. Besides the elongated tusk, like a spi¬
rally twisted spear, there is literally no other teeth. When
very young, the germ of a tooth can be discovered on each
side of the mesial line, the subsequent elongation of one
of which produces the sharp weapon of the adult. Some¬
times both germs are developed, and produce two horizon¬
tal and diverging spears. Among a considerable number
of instances which might be adduced, we mention only one
of this more perfect development, which is preserved in
the Museum of Roeding at Hamburgh. In this specimen,
when they start from the bone (see Plate XVII., figure
I), the tusks are only two inches apart; but they stea¬
dily diverge till their points are thirteen inches asunder.
The left tusk is seven feet five inches and the right seven
feet long. It much more frequently happens, however, that
only one of the germs grows, while the other becomes al¬
most obliterated, or remains shut up in the bone, like an
inert osseous nut. It is curious that the tusk is usually
found on the left side,—a fact for which we believe that
no sufficient reason has yet been assigned. At one time it
was stated that the tusks were peculiar to the males ; this,
however, is now found to be incorrect, and it seems doubt¬
ful whether they are not as common in the one sex as the
other. Fabricius’ account is probably the correct one,
“ Cceterum, tarn femince, quam mares dentatce.” Two uses
of .the horn may be inferred from the statements of Dr
Scoresby :* one, that it is occasionally employed in breaking
the thinner ice, whereby the narwhal can more easily carry
on respiration than it otherwise could; and the other, that,
by the horn, it attacks its prey, first killing the great fish
on which it is to feed, because, from the smallness of the
mouth, it could not possibly devour them until it had put an
end to all resistance.
The sea-unicorn is regarded by the Greenlanders as a
migrating animal. Its favourite resorts seem to be among
the ice-islands of the pole, and the creeks and bays of Green¬
land, Davis’ Straits, and Iceland. The natives regard it as
the precursor of the great Mysticetus, and, as soon as it is
noticed, they prepare in earnest for the fishing of that vast
monster. Narwhals are quick, active, usually inoffensive
animals, which swim with considerable velocity. When har¬
pooned they dive in the same manner, and almost with as
much rapidity, as the true whale, but not to the same depth.
They generally descend about 200 fathoms, then return to the
surface, and are despatched with the lance in a few minutes.
The blubber supplies about half a ton of oil, which is re¬
garded of first-rate quality. The Greenlanders consider
both the oil and flesh as very delicious nourishment. At
a time when the origin of the horns of these animals was
less known, and when they were more rare than now, they
were considered as invaluable. The physician, and still Cetacea,
more the charlatan, employed them, and superstition con-—v—-
verted them to its use; for it is stated that the monks in
various convents procured the true horn of the unicorn,
which was believed to be endowed with unheard-of powers,
and obtained for them far and near the credit of curing the
most inveterate diseases. The ivory is esteemed superior
to that of the elephant; in the words of Giesecke, it far
surpasses it in all its qualities. It is said that the kings of
Denmark possess a magnificent throne made of these pre¬
cious horns, which is preserved with great care in the cas¬
tle of Rosenberg. They still form a highly valued article
of trade.
Anarnacus, ? Lacep. We shall here notice the An-
arnak, the fourth genus of Lacepede, the fifth of Lesson,
the nineteenth species of Fabricius,—a kind of Monodon
according to Bonnaterre, and of Heterodon according to
Desmarest. The characters are, two small teeth at the ex¬
tremity of the upper jaw, and no traces of any other teeth
in either jaw.
Anarnacus Groenlandicus ? Lacep. Less. Monodon
spurius, Fab. Bon. Delphinus Anarnak, Desm. No. 780.
The two teeth are scarcely an inch in length, obtusely coni¬
cal, slender, and curved at their summit; body elongated ;
whole size inconsiderable ; a dorsal-fin; colour black ; the
flesh said to possess a laxative property. This genus rests
solely upon the authority of Fabricius. He says it frequents
the high northern seas, and seldom approaches the coast.
Genus Diodon, Lesson. The lower jaw supplied with
two teeth only, the upper having none ; the lower jaw the
longer and stronger, somewhat convex; forehead depressed.
D. Sowerbyi, Less. Delphinus Sowerbyi, Blain., Desm.,
No. 785, Fr. Cuv. Physeter bidens, Sowerby. (See Plate
XVII-j figure 5.) Lower jaw longer than the upper and
stronger, with two short lateral teeth ; upper jaw sharp, let
into the lower, having two impressions corresponding to the
teeth ; eye small; spiracle lunated, horns pointed forward ;
colour black above, nearly white beneath, marked with
streaks. Sowerby’s specimen was sixteen feet long and eleven
in circumference at the thickest part. Dorsal fin over the
vent. This animal was cast ashore near Brodie-House,
Elginshire.2 Its ordinary habitat and habits are wholly
unknown.
D. Desmaresti, Risso. Less. Fr. Cuv. Upper jaw short
and without teeth, lower much longer, convex, and having
near its extremity two large conical teeth, three inches
long, one broad; eye small; pectorals short; dorsal fin
over the vent; tail large and festooned ; upper portion of
the body of the colour of polished steel, with a number
of white streaks arranged without regularity ; belly white ;
inside of the mouth bluish-black. Risso’s specimen was
fifteen feet long. According to the naturalist of Nice, who
alone has described and drawn this animal,3 it affects the
deep waters of the Mediterranean, and comes towards the
coast in the months of May and September. It very much
resembles the preceding.
Genus Hyperoodon, Lacep. Cuv. Less. Fr. Cuv. Three
great bony maxillary and occipital crests, separated by deep
furrows, which rise over the cranium and occasion a remark¬
ably rounded and prominent forehead ; beak short and very
strong ; palate supplied icith a number of small false and
tuberculated, teeth ? blow-hole crescent-shaped, horns point¬
ing forward.
H. Honjloriensis, Less. Delphinus Hyperoodon, Desm.
No. 784. H. Butskof Bon. Lacep.; including also
D. bidentatus, Bonnat. D. Diodons, Lacep. D. Hunterii,
See some interesting remarks in a JownaJ of a Voyage to the Northern Whale-Fishery, 1823.
Sowerby s Brit. Miscel. 1806. We beg to observe that the generic title of Diodon is extremely ill-chosen,—seeing that it has
been long ago applied by all naturalists to a genus of plectnognathous fishes.
5 Hist. Naturelle de VEurope Merid. Nice. 1826. T. iii. pL 3.
Desm. 782: called Bottle-nosed whale by Hunter, plate
fin wha!e of Dale- (See pl«le XVII,
%. S). False teeth in the upper jaw, and, allowinj these
have no existence still the name hj been affixed by cSv er o
ncUc,d V “^“btedly exists,and which possesses mark”
thePsb„ “ ',Vhe Promi"““ of the forehead, and
the shortness and flatness of the beak, produced bv the
maxdlary crest. The head is higher than it is broad^ the
pectorals are very small; the dorsal fin, but little develop-
brmvnilh hk k h °f the length fr0m the tail* Col°™
k ab?V6’ VerginS towards white beneath.
Usual drmensions from sixteen to forty feet. Vertebrae
/, 9, 2b, in al 42 (Jacob) ; ribs 9 pair. Two strong teeth
at the extremity of the lower jaw. g
sard hHnSnffiUS admitted "P°n the authority of M. Baus-
mntl’ ” °^cer marine, who examined two individuals
mother and cub, which were stranded near Honfleur and
Bi^Vrar^rSQ ^^Tl631, •published an account of them in
me year 178J. The circumstance on which rested the
Swan ,SVPMClraeM 1° b? C°"sidered goneric ™ Z
total want of teeth m either jaw, and their having the un-
per jaw and palate furnished with small unequal and hard
points, which were about half an inch long in the cub and
nearer! t^ arger i” tbe, mot!ier' ^aussard’s memoir ap-
« A W T°fyeorSi at?r than Mr Hunter’s description of his
tfrre LaSSe't1 w 8 admitted aS distinct by Bonna-
the nnkS p 1 &C*- Hur?tcr says nothing of false teeth in
the palate, and mentions that two strong and robust teeth
existed at the extremity of the lower jkw. These then
bin? Bmg reg,fded as two sPecies* Bonnaterre, in descri-
them ^aUSfrd s specimens, very unaccountably assigned to
them two teeth in the lower jaw,3 and thus very nSurallv
misled Lacepede, Ilhger, and for a time even Baron cZ
• It was probably when holding this opinion, that
the he:;dm„fT-‘n|wMr HlmtefS muse™> a„dPexaSinT„g
e head of his Btdentatus, came to the conclusion that
specSr<beImd'HUI|Ier’S sPecimens "’ere or"- and the same
Xrs He JSS, lTVe-’,t0ca,?enus distinct from “11
jj 'rh attached the title of Hyperoodon to both.
T n • Chemmtzianus ? D. Chemnitzianus, Desm., Blainv
Length twenty-five feet; two teeth at the extremity of the
moveable or lower (but Desmarest has it upper) iaw^unner
jaw, much less thick and strong; body wholly black/ il
o"16 qUintLty of sPermaceti was taken from the head
Itkihp wT8 WhlCh WaS caPtured near Spitzbergen in 1777.
D«marefrwTX?0fChTnitZ’''ldchBli‘i"«|fe""d
esmarest have classed among the Heterodons, and which
±T «tTh^ ?6tter Unit6d w^th the present
S sathfar/n. UthK he dfscnPtion is so short that no-
ming satistactory can be made of it.5
palate^ no? hDl°t,’ P'ess1'an' teetb; no tubercles on the
faw na Pom eb°nf5 body Iusiform; forehead prominent;
jaw in a continuous line with the forehead.
n’jsf HSS: 5 ■DelPhinus Dalei, Blain., F. Cuv. -6
D. edentulus, Schreber, Desm. 783; Delphinorhvncus
mcropterus, Cuv/ (See Plate XVIL, figufe flT &
spirlcl? ;SOme/PPearar;ce °f a neck; forehead prominent^
spiracle curved forwards ; jaws prolonged in form of a
subcyhndncal beak, and m the same plane with the facial
line, the upper somewhat shorter than the lower; no teeth,
M A M MALTA.
or only rudimentary; no rugosities on tire palate: necto-
( dors“l i tail broad; colour shining-grey,
Sen fiT; !B f beneath 1 vertebras seven, nine, and from
htteen to twenty more; ribs nine; maxillary and inter-
maxillary bones rising high above the frontal. This beau-
tful animal stranded itself hear Havre; its resorts, ha.
fontvd are.;vho'1y nnknoivn. The species was originally
founded on the Bottlchead of Dale, and designated as T)
edentulm by Schreber, Blainville, and Desmarest The
vreTnTsk^11? ^ ? t Spedmen landed near Ha!
Tf LTLf82 ’ d ^xa!nined by Drs Surirray and Blainville.
sameTDaTe’s 't' fi ^ that Ms was the
n / i i i' ,’:, !11'1 he a>'l ’ors last quoted were incorrect
in assocmting that name with the Havre specimen. This
C™.8 opmion, who says (in Bey. An.) that the name
as tres impropre.” Nevertheless we retain it, as we be-
designation.eCleS ’aS be<!n accuratcly described under that
SXXT3 ZlP",A3 ,'1t;inS fossil, we omit. Cuvier
tTLX X r,an""nS H'y them t0 *o Cachalots, and
skc“s alUf Wb bype ns'v Hf has distinguished three
species, all of which appear to be destitute of teeth.
Subdivision III. Great-headed Whales.
whUVwrf'"T’ ?° ‘he lost subdivision of the ordinary
whales, which is distinguished from the others by having
ing to oneTnrt ,arSCr “ ‘he USUal ProP°ttions, amount?
_>g to one-fourth, or even to one-third of the whole bulk
mK1 the S T110" inc,ludes by far the most important ani-
‘ * , 7' yet the number it contains is small, ex¬
tending to but three genera, and about twice as many as
certamed species. All of these, from their eXTcK
magnitude, and the majority from their extreme value, have
nerTl rr:TeT al engased the liveIiest and most ge?
e al interest, and hence, notwithstanding their gigantic
size, their structure is better known, and their habitf and
thXce?11 h611" asberlained, than those of most others ol
Genus Cachalot,* Bon. Desm. Cuv. Physeter I inn
Saleen ^nTt' 1,1bd of tl,e,whole i blowhole single!
no baleen, no teeth, or only rudimentary, in the unner
jaw; lower jaw narrow elongated, received into a furrow
teeth ^p01,!0116’ Ted °n each Side with a range of strong
merce. Pr°duCeS the spermaceti and ambergris of com!
d™ ^acrocePh-al^ Cuv. Bon. Lacep. Physeter cato-
don Linn. Jhe Spermaceti Whale. (See Plate XVII.,
.11.) One or more humps on the back; lower jaw
having from 20 to 23 teeth on each side, a few rudimtm
tary ones hid under the gums in the upper jaw; length 80
tebri^^H^S6 =h59laCk ab°Ve’ Whitish beneath- Vor-
Some of our readers may perhaps be surprised, that un¬
der the generic term Cachalot we introduce to their notice
only a single species. This we do, not because we deny
the existence of others, but because these have not hitherto
been accurately described or established. Desmarest some
years ago admitted three sub genera and eight spedeT
and Lacepede has three genera and eight species including
his cachalots, physalus, and physeter.9 Every ohe who, pn!
1 Journal de Physique, 1789. 2 — —
^fec^hp0.“fbo!hiS“Cle*r,7aS’er‘ed by w* <i» a»t Sh/mLnc in lhe Emyel.
: a toothfin uSiLfue tougfe^ ^ ‘
I.eGenushCac^SlblLrthe-0ldKir cla.ssiIficatioIn b7 copying that of Lacepede.
i J!,i Lachalot- Having blow-hole al the extremity of the snout.
2* S!.hgenUS‘ Tbose which have a bump or bumps on their back Istsn <7 mnr j, 7
2. Subgenus. 4th sp. C. albus. ’ 1 Sp' C‘ macr°oephalus. zu, c. Trumpo.
' un'XS:'”- Havtog How-bole on the head, not at the extremity of tire snout 6th ,p. P.
III. Genua Phyneurm. A fin on the back. 6tii ,p. p. A/tavpi. Jth, P. M, p. ^
It is very apparent in
Regne Animal, t. i. 288.
2d, C. Trumpo. 3d, C.Swimchal.
Having a bump
232 MAM M
Cetacea, vious to our own days, had attempted to reconcile the
* *~V'—' many contradictory a* counts which have been given of this
extraordinary animal, seems in his turn to have been foiled;
and it was reserved for Cuvier to cut at all events, if not
to unravel, the entangled knot. He remarks : “ The his¬
tory of this animal is so perplexed, so many beings have
been confounded with it, and the species have been so
wantonly multiplied, that to obtain more precision on the
subject, I have been obliged to review, chronologically, every
thing that naturalists have written concerning it.” And
after making this review, he concludes, “ Will it now be
regarded as great temerity in me, after having produced
the ideas of so many learned men, to maintain that up to
the present time, there is no ground to suppose that there
is more than a single species of Cachalot ?”
We take our description very much from that supplied
by Cuvier.1 It is one of the largest Cetacea, attaining the
length of 70 and 80 feet; its head is very large in all its
dimensions, and the length of that part does not appear to
have been much exaggerated when stated to be about a
third of the whole body ; the snout is very obtuse, and
apparently truncated; the lower jaw, very narrow, is re¬
ceived between the upper lips as in a furrow, the teeth en¬
tering, when the mouth is shut, into cavities on the edge
of the palate. The blow-hole, 12 inches long, in the form
of an f, is on the anterior extremity of the head, in the
centre of a round protuberance, formed of thick fibres,
which act as a sphincter. The pectorals are small and ob¬
tuse ; there is a small dorsal protuberance only, far down
the back, and sometimes two or three smaller ones; the
tail is very large. The colour above is a blackish and
somewhat greenish-grey ; below it is whitish, as also round
the eyes. The immense cavity at the upper part of the
head, covered only by a tendinous but very resisting inte¬
gument, is divided interiorly into compartments, also ten¬
dinous, which communicate with one another, and into great
cells filled with oil, which is fluid when the animal is alive,
but after death assumes the concrete form with which we
are familiar under the name of spermaceti. This substance
was long absurdly regarded as the brain, which, in truth,
occupies a very small space in the interior of the cranium.
The ambergris again, is found in the intestinal canal, but
in what precise part, and under what exact circumstances,
has not yet been ascertained.2
From the popular and highly interesting statement of Mr
Beale,3 we learn that the blubber on the breast of a large
whale is about 14 inches thick, and on most other parts of the
body from 8 to 11. This covering the southern whalers call
the blanket; it is of a yellow colour, and when melted down
yields the sperm oil. He states, that the opening of the ear is
of sufficient size to admit a small quill. The throat is capa¬
cious enough to give passage to the body of a man, in this re¬
spect presenting a strong contrast to the contracted gullet of
the Greenland whale. According to Mr Beale, the peculiarity
of the sperm-whale which strikes every beholder, is the un¬
wieldy bulk of the head ; but this, instead of being an im¬
pediment, is conducive to its agility, for the greatest part
of it containing oil, the head receives a tendency to rise so
far above the surface, as to elevate the blow-hole for the
purposes of respiration ; and should the animal wish to in¬
crease its speed to the utmost, the narrow lower portion of
the head, which bears some resemblance to the cut-water
of a ship, is the only part exposed to the resistance of the
water, and it is thus enabled to press its ponderous way,
with the greatest ease, along the ocean. “ Lord, how
manifold are thy works ! in wisdom thou hast made them
ALIA.
all.” “ They that go down to the sea in ships, that do Cetar.ei.
business in the great waters; these see the works of the
Lord, and his wonders in the deep.”
Mr Beale’s observations on the swimming of this whale
are curious. He states that, when undisturbed, it passes
tranquilly along, just below the surface of the water, at the
rate of about three or four miles an hour, its progress being
effected by a gentle oblique motion of the tail from side to
side. When proceeding at this rate, the body lies horizon¬
tally ; the water, somewhat disturbed by its progress, is
known by the whalers under the name of “ white-water,”
and from its appearance, an experienced eye can, from a
distance of several miles, judge of the rate at which the
whale is advancing. In this mode of swimming, it is able
to attain a velocity of about seven miles an hour. When
it swims at a more rapid rate, the action of the tail is alter¬
ed, the water is struck directly upwards and downwards,
and each time the blow is made with the lower surface, the
head sinks down eight or ten feet; and when the blow is
reversed, it rises out of the water, presenting to it only the
sharp cut-water portion. This mode of swimming is what
is called going-head-out, and in this way the whale can at¬
tain a speed of 10 or 12 miles an hour, which is probably
its greatest velocity.
The sperm-whale is remarkably distinguished from its
congeners by its blowing. If the water is smooth, the first
part observed is the hump, projecting two or three feet
above the surface; at very regular intervals of time, the snout
emerges, at the distance of forty or fifty feet; from the
extremity of the snout the jet is thrown up, and when seen
from a distance, appears thick, low, bushy, and of a white
colour. It is formed, according to Mr Beale, by the air
expelled forcibly through the spiracle, acquiring its white
colour from minute particles of water previously lodged in
the external fissure. It is projected at an angle of 45°, in a
slow and continuous manner, for about three seconds, and
may be discovered at the distance of 4 or 5 miles. This le¬
viathan is, like the mysticetus, remarkably timid, and is rea¬
dily alarmed by the approach of any unlooked-for object.
When frightened it is said by the sailors to be “ gallied,”
probably galled ; and in this state it performs many actions
in a manner very different from the usual mode. One of
these is what is called “ sweeping,” which consists in mov¬
ing the tail slowly from side to side on the surface of the*
water, as if feeling for any object that might be near..
This whale has also an extraordinary fashion of rolling over
and over on the surface, especially when harpooned; in
which case it will occasionally coil an amazing length of
rope around it. But one of its most surprising feats—as
it is of those of all the larger genera—is leaping completely
out of the water, or “ breaching,” as it is called ;—a prac¬
tice which, from its dangerous results to those around, is
regarded by mariners as far “ more honoured in the breach
than the observance.” The mode in which this appears
to be done is by descending to a certain depth, and then
making several powerful strokes with its tail, thus impart¬
ing great velocity to the body before it reaches the surface,
when it darts completely out of the water. It seldom
breaches more than twice or thrice at a time, and in quick
succession j the performance may be seen at the distance
of six miles from the mast head. We once witnessed a
Scotch whale performing a similar feat in Loch-fine, be¬
tween the loved shores of Minard and Castle Lachlan.
The sperm-whale seems now to have nearly vanished
from the northern hemisphere, though it is frequent in nu¬
merous places in the southern. In the year 1791, seventy-
1 Om. Fossil, t. v. p. 339.
* For a somewhat minute and valuable account of the anatomy of a sperm-whale, which was cast ashore on the Yorkshire coast in
April 1325, see a paper by James Alderson, Esq. in the second vol. of the Trans, of the Cambridge Phil. Soc.
• Observations on the Natural History of the Sperm-Whale. Lond 1835.
MAMM
Cetacea, five vessels belonging to Britain were engaged in the trade,
whilst in 1830 only thirty-one ships were sent out, all from
the port of London, with an aggregate burden of 11,000
tons, and 937 men. On its introduction into commerce
spermaceti was chiefly employed in medicine, in which its
use is still continued ; and it is also freely used in the cos¬
metic art. Its largest and most valuable application, how¬
ever, has long been in the manufacture of candles, in which
it maintains a rivalry with wax, as cheaper and not less ele¬
gant.
Ambergris, according to its quantity, is a peculiarly va¬
luable product of the sperm-whale. The majority of sperm-
whales, however, do not yield it. Sometimes it sells in Lon¬
don at about L.l an ounce, but frequently two or three voya¬
ges are accomplished, and successfully too, without any am¬
bergris being obtained. It is seldom or never found in young
fish, but only in those of full size, or rather of great age. It
is generally considered the result of some diseased process
in the intestinal canal; the quantity obtained, therefore, is
very various. Sometimes 50 lb. have been extracted from
a single individual. Ambergris is frequently found in con¬
siderable quantities on the sea-shore, especially in the In¬
dian seas. It is highly esteemed by the orientalists. With
us its use is confined almost wholly to the perfumer.
C. sulcatus ? Abel Remusat. Lacepede. Reported to
have a furrow below the lower jaw, and to frequent the
Chinese seas.1
Aggadachgik ? Tschicduk ? Tschumtschugagah ? Pal¬
las and Chamisso. These are alleged Kamtschatkan va¬
rieties. See Less, and Fr. Cuv.
Genus Bal^ena, Lacep. Cuv. Less. The right-whale
of northern fishers. No teeth; blow-holes double; no
dorsal fin ; long whalebone or baleen in the upper jaw;
blubber thick and highly productive of oil.
B. mysticetus, Linn. Desm. (No. 798.) True whale,
Bon. Lacep. Greenland whale of Fab. and of fishers.
B. borealis, Klein. (See Plate XVII., figure 12.)
Length about 60 feet; body of vast circumference ; fanons
more than 300 on each side of upper jaw, extending from
10 to 15 feet in length; colour black above, and partly
white beneath. Vertebrae 7, 13,— ? 5
In former times there was much exaggeration as to the
dimensions of this whale, 80 and 100 feet being assigned
as a frequent size, and 150 and 200 feet as not uncommon.
Some of the ancients stated, that it attained even a much
greater length. From the researches, however, of Dr
Scoresby, it seems irrefragably established, that the mys-
ticetus never exceeds nor has exceeded 65 or 70 feet.3
That excellent observer was personally concerned in the cap¬
ture of 322 whales, not one of which exceeded 60 feet. It is
thickest a little behind the fins, whence it gradually tapers in
a conical form towards the tail, and slightly towards the head.
The head is remarkably large, forming nearly one-third of
the whole bulk. Its under part is flat, and measures from
16 to 20 feet in length, and from 10 to 12 in breadth.
When the mouth is open it presents a cavity as large as a
small apartment, and capable of containing a ship’s jolly-
boat full of men.
The mysticetus has no dorsal, fin, the pectoral fins are
about nine feet long and five broad. The tail is semilunar,
indented in the middle. On the most elevated part of the
head, about sixteen feet from the extremity of the jaw, are
situated the blow-holes, consisting of two longitudinal aper¬
tures, similar to the holes in the body of a violin, from eight
to twelve inches in length. The mouth, in place of teeth,
contains two extensive rows of baleen, commonly called
whalebone, suspended from the upper jaw and sides of the
crown bone. The plates are generally curved longitudi-
1 See Mem. du Museum, t. iv.
VOL. XIV.
ALIA. 233
nally, and give to the roof of the mouth the form of an Cetacea,
arch. They inclose the tongue between their lower ex- ——v——^
tremities, and are themselves covered by the lower lip.
There are upwards of 300 of these plates on each side of
the jaw; they are longest in the middle, whence they gra¬
dually diminish away to nothing both in front and behind.
The tongue is incapable of protrusion ; and the throat is
remarkably narrow,—according to Sir C. Giesecke, not ex¬
ceeding an inch and a half in width. The colour of the
true whale is mostly velvet-black, with white in some parts
underneath, and a tinge of yellow. The blubber, consti¬
tuting the most valuable part of the animal, forms a com¬
plete wrapper round the whole body from eight to twenty
inches thick.
Being somewhat lighter than the medium in which it
swims, the Greenland whale can remain on the surface with
its spiracles above water, without any effort or motion ; and
it is thus sometimes found asleep upon the waves. Though
bulky and clumsy, it is capable of making great exertion.
A whale extended motionless on the surface can sink, in
the space of five or six seconds, beyond the reach of its
human enemies. Dr Scoresby has observed a whale de¬
scending, after it had been harpooned, to the depth of a
quarter of a mile, with the average velocity of seven or
eight miles an hour. The usual rate, however, at which
they swim when on their passage from one station to ano¬
ther, seldom exceeds four miles an hour. Sometimes they
leap entirely out of the water, and sometimes they throw
themselves into a perpendicular position, with their heads
downwards, and waving their tremendous tails on high in
the air, beat the water with awful violence,—the sound re¬
verberating to the distance of two or three miles. This
feat is denominated “ lob-tailing.” They usually remain
at the surface to breathe, about two minutes—seldom longer;
and during this time they blow eight or nine times, and
then descend for an interval usually of five or ten minutes,
although sometimes, when feeding, of fifteen or twenty.
When harpooned or apprehending danger, the period is
greatly prolonged. The food of these animals, so vast and
strong, is too remarkable not to claim a moment’s attention.
They have no teeth, and hence we at once perceive that
they cannot prey either on the smaller of their own kind
or on fishes ; and their throat is so narrow that they could
scarcely dispose of such a morsel as might be swallowed
by an ox. Their well provided pasture grounds, however,
exhibit to the contemplation of the curious one of the most
wonderful manifestations of beneficence and power. Vast
portions of those spaces in which the whale is found, con¬
sist of what is called green-water ; as there is yellow and red
water, in other parts of the ocean. This was examined by
Captain Scoresby in 1816, and to his astonishment he
found that it obtained its colour from the presence of
countless millions of animalcules, most of them invisible
without the aid of the microscope, and of which the greater
number consisted of a species of medusa. These minute
creatures are not the immediate food of the whale ; they
form, however, the prey of the various shrimps, small Crusta¬
cea, cuttle-fish, &c. upon which the-monster of the deep is
supported. When this whale feeds it swims with considerable
velocity below the surface, with its jaws widely extended.
A stream of water consequently enters its mouth, and along
with it large quantities of minute crustaceous and mollus¬
cous animals; the water flows out again at the sides, but
the food is entangled by the baleen or whalebone, which,
from its compact arrangement, and thick internal covering
of hair, does not allow a particle to escape, even of the size
of the smallest grain. The mysticetus, though often found
in great numbers, can scarcely be said to be gregarious ;
* Giesecke.
3 Edin. Phil. Journ. vol. i.
2 G
234 MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, for it generally occurs either solitary or in pairs, except
-v-'-'' when attracted to the same spot by an abundance of pala¬
table food, or a choice situation among polar icebergs.1
B. Nordcaper ?, Anderson, Bon., Lacep., Desm.
(No. 799.) B. glacialis ?, Klein. We reject this species,
as established by mistake on insufficient grounds.2
B. antarctica, Delalande, Cuv., Desmoul., Lacep., Fr.
Cuv. Usually from forty to fifty feet long ; colour wholly
black; line of the forehead more depressed than in the
mysticetus ; pectorals longer and more pointed. Vertebrae
7, cervical, all anchylosed, 15 dorsal, others 37, in all 59.
This species, nearly up to the present period, has been con¬
founded with the preceding and probably we might have
been still ignorant of the difference, had not M. Delalande,
during his residence at the Cape of Good Hope, prepared
one of these animals, and transmitted its skeleton to France,
where Cuvier soon detected its specific characters. The
whale of the Southern Seas is decidedly smaller than that
of the north, measuring only from thirty-five to forty-five
feet, though sometimes extending to fifty. Its baleen, owing
to the great curve of the upper jaw, appears to be relatively
longer, usually reaching to about nine feet in a fish of forty
feet. Whilst the pectoral fins appear longer and more
pointed, the lobes of the tail are less marked than in the
preceding species. This whale is found in the bays of
Terra del Fuego, and on the western coast of South Ame¬
rica ; it also occurs around New Holland, as well as along
the African shore. It visits the Cape of Good principally
in June. Its capture is more easily achieved than that of
the great Greenland species.
The ensuing quotations seem to us to indicate the exist¬
ence of other still undetermined species in the Arctic Re¬
gions. “ The whales,” says Dr Scoresby, “ seen in the
spring in lat. 80° N., which are usually full grown animals,
disappear generally by the end of April. Those in 78°
are of a mixed size; such as resort to fields in May and
June are generally young animals. Those seen in 76° are
almost always of a very large kind. In some the head
measures four-tenths of the whole length, in others scarce¬
ly three-tenths ; in some the circumference is upwards of
seven-tenths of the length, in others less than six-tenths.
It is probable the difference in the appearance of the heads,
and the difference of proportion existing between the heads
and bodies of some mysticetae, are characteristic of differ¬
ent species or subspecies. Those inhabiting lower lati¬
tudes have commonly long heads and bodies compared to
their circumference, moderately thick blubber and long
whalebone; those of the mean fishing latitudes, that is
78° or 79°> have more commonly short broad heads, com¬
pared with the size of the body.”3 “ It is certain,” ob¬
serves M. Fremenville, “ that the fishers confound many
species which are still unknown. On my expedition to¬
wards the North Pole, in 1806, I remarked there were
great differences in the shape of the tails of the whales
which were taken, and which, without doubt, belonged to
species not yet accurately ascertained.” It is also more
than probable that another occurs in the southern seas.
“ I am certain,” says Baron Cuvier, “ that at least a third
species exists at the Cape of Good Hope, seeing we have
satisfactory knowledge of vertebrae, which, with the cha¬
racters of the subgenus (without dorsal-fin), present also
distinct specific characters.”4
B. Gibbosa? Bon., Lacep., Desm., No. 801. Scrag-
whale and Hunchback of Dudley and the English; B. a „~^tacoa-
bosses of the French; Knoten-jisch of the Germans, and ' ^
of Anderson.
B. Nodosa ? Gmel., Bon., Lacep., Desm., No. 800.
Humpback whale of Dudley and the English ; Bjlachfisch,
Anderson, Crantz, &c.
We cannot pass by these alleged species, so long and
widely recognised, without a few remarks. They are
classed together as subgenera of the true whale by Lace-
pede, Desmarest, and many others, whilst Bonnaterre asso¬
ciates them with the Gibbar. Cuvier throws doubts on the
existence of all these species, remarking that their right to
a place is founded upon some obscure passages of Mr Dud¬
ley’s paper in the Philosophical Transactions. The hump¬
back of Dudley (B. nodosa) should evidently be removed
from the true whales, because, according to Dudley him¬
self, it is a rorqual: “ the humpbacks have longitudinal
reeves from head to tail on their bodies and sides, as far as
their fins, half way down their body.” 5 The Gibbosa, again,
he remarks, comes nearest the true whale in figure and for
quantity of oil; and, according to Anderson, it produces as
much oil as the Greenland whale. Though we cannot ac¬
curately characterize this Gibbosa, neither can we alto¬
gether reject it; and the following facts supply something
like additional evidence of its existence. Captain Day, a
most respectable southern fisher, mentions that he occa¬
sionally took humpbacks as well as sperm whales and fin-
ners ;6 and Captain Weddell also states that he met with
humpbacks, besides sperm whales and finners.7 Captain
Colnett, likewise, whose voyage was undertaken to increase
our knowledge of the southern fishery, and who had many
whalers among his crew, familiarly speaks of the hump¬
back, as well as of the other kinds; and humps are describ¬
ed by M. Abel Remusat and Lacepede as occurring on
the heads of the Punctata and Nigra, two alleged Japanese
species. We hence infer that attention should still be di¬
rected to the kind called Gibbosa.
B. Japonica? Remus., Lacep., Desm., No. 802. Less.
B. Lunulata? Remus., Lacep., Desm., No. 803. Less.
These species are described by Lacepede in a paper read
to the Institute in 1818, from Japanese designs communi¬
cated by Remusat, and the characters are detailed in the
Mem. de Mus. cCHist. Nat. t. iv. 473. Their existence,
however, is very doubtful.
B. Kulcomoch ? Pallas, Chamisso, Less., Fr. Cuv.
B. Ischikagluch ? Pallas, Chamisso, Less., Fr. Cuv.
Pallas describes these species of the Kamschatkan Seas
with apparent accuracy in his Zoograph. Rosso Asiatica,
as does also Chamisso, the naturalist of the Rurick.8 They
are, however, far from being satisfactorily established.
B. Physalus? Lin. B. Gibbar, Bon., Desm., No. 804-
Physalis, Scoresby. Balamoptera Gibbar, Lacepede.
Finjisch, Anderson; Razor-back of whalers. Fin on
the back, and no pectoral folds. There are no sufficient
grounds for the admission of this supposed species* which
seems to have arisen from some confusion with the ror¬
quals.9
Genus Robqualus,10 Cuvier., Less., F. Cuv. (See
Plate XVII., figure 13.) No teeth; a dorsal-fin; folds
under the throat and chest; fanons in upper jaw, but short;
nri .u- . 1*m,?s these slight notices of this important species, without referring the reader to Dr Scoresby’s elaborate trea-
first -mil,mo nf tv, " contains a most interesting history and description of the northern whale-fishery. Consult also the
hrst volume ot the Edinburgh Cabinet Library, entitled Narrative of Discovery and Adventure in the Polar Seas and Regions. Fourth
Edition, IbciO. We may further add, that the first tolerable figure of B. Mysticetus ever published was the capital one of Scoresby.
I 0». Fossil, t v. p. 360.5 3 Scoresb L m yf211. 4 0„. Fossil, t. v., p. 368.
I PhlL 3W. No. 387, p. 258. 6 Scoresby, ii. 530. » Voyage to the South Pole, pp. 29, 34, 182.
Kotzebue t Expedition. 3 Os$. Foss. v. 363-4. 10 Rorqual in the Norwegian tongue means whale with folds.
Cetacea.
double*1 n0t thick> n°r yieldinS much oilj blow-hole
R. borealis, Less. R. Boops, Fr. Cuv. The Great
Northern Rorqual, Balama Rorqualus. Bon., Desm. No
806. The general form of the body is that of an im¬
mense cylinder, largest at the head, and gradually dimi¬
nishing to the tail; dorsal small, obtuse at the summit,
placed opposite the vent; pectorals thin, straight, and point¬
ed at the extremity; blow-holes not situated on the most
elevated part of the head, but in advance of the perpen-
dicmar over the eye ; the upper jaw descends rapidly to¬
wards the lower, is not so long, and much weaker; the
baleen much shorter than in the mysticetus. Nume¬
rous folds cover the throat and chest, and extend to the
abdomen. Colour black above, whitish underneath ; inside
ot the folds pale red. Length from 100 to 110 feet. Ver¬
tebras 7, 15, 42; = 64.
The northern rorqual is the largest of the whale tribe,
the mightiest giant of the “ great deep,” and probably the
most powerful and bulky of all created beings. Its head is
to its entire length as one to four. It differs from the mys-
ticetus in its body being proportionably longer and more
slender, in its form being less cylindrical, in possessing a
dorsal-fin, m its skm or blubber being much thinner (sel¬
dom exceeding six inches), and in its speed being greater
its action quicker, and more restless, and its conduct bolder!
Ihe blowing also is more violent, and its baleen much
shorter and less valuable. The cause of this last import-
ant difference is very plain, and may be best illustrat-
yv/t x gance .at the accompanying engraving (see Plate
A VII.), m which there is given a side view (figure 9) of
the cranium of the mysticetus and (figure 10) of that of the
rorqual. It will at once be seen that the upper jaw of the
former is relatively larger, and much more curved; the in¬
tervening space in both is filled with baleen, which accord¬
ingly must be long in the mysticetus, and short in the ror¬
qual, the longest laminae seldom measuring four feet.
In Mr F. Knox’s account of the great rorqual, we are
informed that 314 plates were counted on each side; and
that, on further examination, it was found that these inva¬
riably extended mesially only about fifteen inches, and were
then succeeded by a vast number of smaller plates, which
gradually became less and less, till finally they were con-
verted into bristles ; so that, correctly speaking, there were
probaMy not fewer than 4000 or 5000 distinct plates of
whalebone. This baleen, when recent, was highly elastic
and soft, the fringed edge being as pliable as the hair on
the human head, and thus forming a sieve of the most per-
feet kind. From the same source we also learn that the
posterior arch of the palate was so large that it could ad¬
mit a man, being thus like a great vestibule to the wind¬
pipe and gullet, which last was quite closed when first seen,
and appeared as if it would admit with difficulty even the
human hand.
The proper nourishment of this genus is not only the
small medusae, shrimps, &c. which form the food of the
mysticetus, but also the medusae of larger size, and sub¬
stantial fishes such as herring, cod, and salmon. There
seems no ground to question, that these whales often follow
MAMMALIA.
235
m the tract of various fishes, and devour them in quantities Cetacea,
which it would not be easy to conceive. Thus M. Desmou¬
lins states that six hundred great cod, and an immense
quantity of pilchards, have been found in the stomach of
a single rorqual.
The plicae or folds from which the genus derives its
constitute a singular structure, the precise use of
which has not hitherto been very clearly stated. John
Hunter described it with his usual accuracy, and observed
that it must increase the elasticity of the integuments of
the part, but confessed he could not perceive wherefore
this should be, or how it was made useful. Lacepede also
particularly describes it, and it has since been generally
noticed by subsequent authors. It consists of a number of
longitudinal folds, nearly parallel, which commence under
the lower lip, occupying the space between the two branches
of the jaw, pass down the throat, covering the whole ex¬
tent of the chest from one fin to the other, and terminate
far down the abdomen. The external portion of these
folds is of the colour of the neighbouring skin, whilst the
parts which are infolded are of a more delicate hue, gene¬
rally of a pale white, and in some species of a beautiful red
colour. The simplest and probably the true account of
the use of these folds is this : The rorqual has not, in the
upper jaw, that large segment of a circle in which the mus-
ticetus collects its food ; but to compensate for this it has
it in the lower; for, when it opens its prodigious mouth,
the water rushing in opens these folds, and so forms a vast
well, in which its supplies are collected. On shutting its
mouth and contracting the folds the water is expelled,
whilst the strainer formed by the baleen retains the cap¬
tured fish, which, entangled as it were within the folds of
an enormous net, become an easy prey.
This animal attains the vast length of from 100 to 110
feet, Sir A. de Capel Brooke says 120,2—with a circum¬
ference of between 30 and 40, which is the same as that of
the mysticetus. Dr Scoresby remarks, “ that it seems ap-
parently of the length of a ship, that is, from 90 to 110
in* c tS m0re than once been actually measured
at 105 feet. Its blowing is very violent, and may be heard
m calm weather at a great distance. Though the species
of this genus are sometimes at a distance mistaken for the
mysticetus, yet their appearance and action are so different
that they may be generally distinguished. They seldom
he quietly on the water when breathing, but usually move
with a velocity of four or five miles an hour, and when they
descend they very rarely throw up their tails into the air,
which is the general practice of the other.
The rorqual occurs in great numbers in the Arctic Seas,
especially along the edge of the ice between Cherie Island
and Nova Zembla. Persons trading to Archangel have
often mistaken it for the right whale. It is seldom seen
amid much ice, and seems to be avoided by the mysticetus;
and the whalers accordingly view its appearance with con¬
cern. It swims with a velocity, at the greatest, of about
twelve miles an hour. It is by no means a timid animal.
When closely pursued by boats it manifests little fear does
ftot attempt to outstrip them in the race, and merely en
deavours to avoid them by diving or changingits direction
1 The prevailing arrangement of the individuals included under this eenus has for m™,, k 77 ~   ——
LacSpede. It contained, genus aas tor man3r years been that of Bonnaterre and
1. B. Jubartes, Klein., Bon.; Balanopler. Jubart, Lacep., Desm., 805; B. Boops Lin
2. B. Rorqualus, Bon.; Baltsnopter. Rorqual, Lacep., Desm. 806; B. Musculus ’Lin
3. B. Rostrata, Fab., Hunter: Balcenopter. Acuto-rostrata,Lac<7n., Desm, No 807
Cuvier considers these three, along with the Physalus (above alluded to), as one snecies F™-
pear, we retain the Rostrata as distinct; but Cuvier’s remarks in reference^ to the otbpr* ‘ „,ra?s Wlll presently ap-
examine the figures and descriptions on which these species rest, it will be found that ther? nrp ^tremely judicious. “ When we
them distinctive characters. When we come also to examine in detail the testimonies resnerti™ means by which we can assign
seen more than one of them, I do not say at the same time, but even in succession - and phpVi ^nd no person who has
upon the testimony of another. Almost the only distinction we can make out is the size whipb^^0!. ia obll£ed to support himself
are disposed to doubt and denv their existence as distinct.” Oss. Fossil t v 365 6 C1 may be tbe resu^ °f age; so that we
1 Travels in Lapland, p. HI. ' ’ «
Thomson’s Annals of Phil. vL 3H.
236
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea. If harpooned, or otherwise wounded, it exerts all its ener-
—v—''gies, flies off with the utmost velocity, and usually escapes.
This great speed and activity render it a dangerous object
of attack, whilst the small quantity of oil it yields makes it un¬
worthy of the particular attention of the fishers. But though
regular whalers usually decline the encounter, it is not so
with the natives of the polar regions, whose wants compel
them to make every exertion which promises the least suc¬
cess, and whose opportunities are frequently peculiarly fa¬
vourable. Sir C. Giesecke states, in regard to the Green¬
landers, that both men and women engage in the adven¬
ture, the former in their keyacks, the latter in their bo-
miaks. The men in their light skiffs pursue the whale as
closely as possible, and continue to throw as many har¬
poons and lances into him as they can, until he dies of loss
of blood; and then all join their canoes, fasten to their
spoil, and carry it home, when it is faithfully divided. In
the words of the poet:
Trained with inimitable art to float,
Each balanced in his bubble of a boat;
With dexterous paddle steering through the spray,
With poised harpoon to strike his plunging prey;
As if the skiff, the seaman, oar, and dart,
Were one compacted body, by one heart
With instinct, motion, pulse, empow’red to ride
A human Nautilus upon the tide.
R. rostratus (see Plate XVII., figure 13), Knox.
Lesson. Balccna Rostrata, Fab., Lin., Hunter, Des., 807,
Balamoptera acuto-rostrata, Lacep., Scoresby.
This is the smallest of the genus, twenty-five feet being
assigned as its extreme limits ; fanons short and white,
pectorals ovate, margins obtuse ; dorsal over the vent;
many deep folds under the throat and chest; colour black
above, white beneath ; interior of the folds red. For the
undisputed establishment of this species we are indebted to
the zeal and assiduity of Dr Knox. It is true that Fabri-
cius described it with his accustomed elegance and preci¬
sion ; that Mr Hunter likewise met with and delineated it;
and that Dr Scoresby’s work contains an exact represen¬
tation, supplied through Dr Traill. But notwithstanding all
this, the details which wTere collected were so slight and
meagre, that not only were much ignorance and error pre¬
valent concerning it, but many naturalists (of whom Ba¬
ron Cuvier, in 1823, was one, and Mr F. Cuvier, in 1836,
was another) wrere led to doubt even its existence.
Dr Knox’s specimen was taken in February 1834, near
Queensferry, Frith of Forth. It was a young one, measur¬
ing only ten feet. On obtaining possession of it, Dr K.
filled the blowing canals, which are drawn from them at Cetacea,
the moment of breathing, by muscles provided for that pur- s-—“v'-*-'
pose; the mechanism is admirable, and would sustain a
pressure from above, though the animal were to descend
thousands of fathoms.” Again : “ The cavity of the cra¬
nium, besides containing the brain and its membranes, in¬
closed also a very large mass of a vascular substance, close¬
ly resembling the erectile tissue : it filled a very large pro¬
portion of the interior of the cranium, extending from thence
into the interior of the spinal column, three-fourths of
whose cavity it also occupied, surrounding the spinal mar¬
row and nerves." The olfactory nerves “ were at least as
large as those of man.”
The R. rostratus frequents the rocky bays of Greenland,
especially during summer, and also the coasts of Iceland
and Norway ; sometimes, though rarely, coming into lower
latitudes. In its habits it is very active, and its food con¬
sists of arctic salmon and of other fishes-
R. Medi terra n iensis, Cuv.; Baltmoptera Mediterraniensis,
Less.; R. musculus, Linn-, Lacep. Head remarkably round¬
ed ; upper jaw shorter than the lower; dorsal fin smaller,
situated four-fifths down the body, and much beyond the
vent; the folds extend to the vent; upper parts of the
body bluish-black, gradually declining on the flanks, and
giving place to a dull white beneath. Vertebrae, 7. 14. 40 ?
= 61 ? For the specific character drawn from the osteo¬
logy, see Oss. Fossil, t. v. 370. This species is not uncom¬
mon in the Mediterranean. One, seventy-five feet long,
was stranded near St. Cyprien, Eastern Pyrenees, in 1828.
R. antarcticus, Cuv., Fr. Cuv., Delalande; Balcenop-
iera australis, Less.; Poeskop of the Dutch at the Cape.
Dorsal long and situated directly over the pectorals; a
hump upon the occiput; the colour black above, and pure
white beneath ; the furrows under the throat and chest of
a lively rosy hue. Vertebrae. 7, 14, 31 ; = 52. For spe¬
cific characters of bones of the cranium, see Oss. Fossil,
v. 372.
As we have seen that there is a mysticetus of the south¬
ern as well as northern seas, so within the last few years it
has been established that there is an antarctic as well as an
arctic rorqual. These discoveries recall to mind an obser¬
vation of Buffon’s, already more than once referred to, that
every great division of the globe has animals peculiar to itself.
It is true this law has not often been demonstrated in re¬
ference to the inhabitants of the ocean, although it has
been alleged that the intertropical zone includes the same
species throughout its whole circumference, and that as we
remove from it, both northwards and southwards, each
thought of suspending it horizontally, as in the posture of para]je| peculiar kinds, of which the limits are ter-
swimming. “ By this means, he remarks, “ the proper mjnate(j by the different meridians of the globe. In the
character of the head and mouth were given, and this so present state of our knowledge, it would be going too far
“    a,,tW to affirm that none of the Cetacea plough their watery way
through every clime ; but Dr Scoresby decidedly states
that the true Greenland whale has never been seen in Eu¬
ropean seas ; and since the time that this startling statement
was made, all later discoveries have greatly tended to
confirm the views of the eloquent though not always accu¬
rate Buffon.
The southern rorqual but rarely approaches the coasts
at the Cape, since it is stated that only two or three are
observed there during the year; nor does any one think
of pursuing it, since its great power and velocity make it
not only difficult but dangerous of capture, and its produce
by no means repavs either the risk or labour.
Balcenoptera Abugulich ?; B. Mangidach ? ; B. Aga-
mackthick ? ; B. Aliomoch ? Pallas and Chamisso. These
four are alleged species of Kamtschatka. See Lesson and
Fr. Cuvier’s works.
much altered the appearance of the animal, that the author
thinks all previous views extremely incorrect, besides tend¬
ing to mislead the naturalist as to the real capacity of the
mouth of the genus, which is really very great. The lower
part of the mouth is an enormous pouch or bag which, in
the great northern rorqual, must at times contain an in¬
credible volume of water.”1 We have yet to state how Dr
Knox established the fact that the lesser rorqual ought to
be considered as distinct. It was by means of the com¬
parative osteology of the two species, which exhibited the
following discrepancies:—
Great rorqual,
Lesser do.
VERTEB&iE.
Cervical. Dorsal.
7 15
7 11
Remaining. Total.
43 65
30 48
Before laying aside Dr K.’s brief notice, we must intro¬
duce a few of his remarks. “ Two bolster-like substances
1 Proceedings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, 1834.
MAMMALIA.
BoLxnoptera pvnctulata ?; B. nigra?; B. ccerules-
tens ?; B. maculata ? Remusat, Lacep. The species
just named are supposed Japanese whales, of which we cer¬
tainly know little else than the names.1 Less., Fr. Cuv.
e hare now reviewed forty-nine species which appear
to be established, eighteen which are probable, and thirty-
three which are extremely doubtful; and having thus com¬
pleted our proposed summary of the Cetaceous tribes, we
shall conclude by presenting such observations on their
comparative anatomy as may not be inconsistent with the
plan of the present treatise. We shall confine ourselves
to a few of the most important and peculiar parts of struc¬
ture.2
The most striking feature in the economy of the Cetacea
is, that they are Mammalia, and yet inhabitants of the
ocean. We do not now refer solely to their being vivipa¬
rous, whilst fish on the contrary are oviparous, though this,
unquestionably, forms a very marked distinction; but, more
especially, to their being warm-blooded animals, and to
their discharging the all-important functions of the sangui¬
ferous system not through branchiae, but by means of lungs,
—thus breathing like quadrupeds, whilst their appropriate
element is the watery deep. Hence it is that they occupy
so singular a position in the classification of the animal king¬
dom. Whilst they inhabit the water like fishes, and while
in their mode of progression through their common element,
and in some of their more obvious external characters, they
seem to claim kindred with the other inhabitants of the
deep, yet in every essential respect they are unequivocally
marked as members, not of the last clas’s of the Vertebrate
—that of fish, but of the first and most remote class that
of the Mammalia. Fish are produced from spawn, and after
the lapse of weeks or months, emerge from their slimy beds
of weed or gravel, where they had long lain neglected by
their oblivious parents; but whales are brought alive into
the world, and the cub is nourished for months by its mo¬
ther’s milk, and disports itself around her in plaj'ful affec¬
tion, gambolling through the green translucent sea, like the
fawn or the lambkin rejoicing in their sunny glades. Fish,
again, are cold-blooded, their circulating fluid being only
exposed to the water through the medium of the gills; but
the whale has no gills, nor any thing resembling these or¬
gans; on the contrary, it has true lungs, in a great bony
chest, into which the air is freely admitted, not indeed by
the mouth, but by a peculiar apparatus to be presently ex¬
plained, and through which it breathes the pure air of hea¬
ven like other Mammalia, and is thus enabled to maintain
an extremely high temperature of body even in the midst
of icy seas. Finally, fish never breathe, and if removed
from water, and brought into air, they almost immediately
expire; whereas the Cetacea, if deprived of air, and confined
beneath the surface, are speedily and literally drowned.
It is this constant demand for vital air, and the conse¬
quent necessity under which they labour of coming to the
surface to perform the function of respiration, which have
procured for them the distinctive appellation of Blowers :
and it is this same necessity which affords, in fact, the ex¬
planation of all the peculiarities of their structure. In most
of the Mammalia, the inhalations succeed each other with
great rapidity, and cannot be suspended for more than a
few instants. In man, for example, even when at rest,
they occur every three seconds, whilst the interval in the
Cetacea is augmented many hundred and even thousand
fold; for nearly all the w hales can remain under water for
a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, and the larger
genera for an hour and sometimes nearer two. But re¬
spiration is subservient mainly to the circulation of the
blood; and the singular and anomalous fact just alluded to,
is enough to prove that there must be some grand peculia¬
rity in their sanguiferous system. This peculiarity has in¬
deed for many years been recognised, but without its true
use having been stated or understood. We may remark, then,
that in the Cete there exists a great reservoir for arterial
blood; and that when they come to respire on the surface,
besides simply filling the chest with air, they likewise fill
this reservoir with highly purified and arterialized blood.
This reservoir consists of an innumerable congeries, a vast
plexus of great arteries, which is lodged beneath the pleurae,
between the ribs, all round the spinal column, and even
within it, as within the cranium itself. The vessels form¬
ing this plexus rise chiefly from the upper intercostal, and
other great vessels near the heart; and they are found not
connected by close and frequent ramifications, which anas¬
tomose freely with each other, but to a great extent they
may generally be followed out and unravelled, as if they
were a set of vessels twisted a thousand times upon them¬
selves : nor do they appear to communicate directly with
any veins; and hence it is inferred that after the blood
from the lungs is vitiated, the pure fluid from this reservoir
finds its way gradually into the general circulation, and thus
for a long period maintains life. This structure was first
noticed and accurately described by John Hunter.3 Dr
Barclay then described it as existing within the spinal canal
of the beluga,4 and Dr Knox more recently observed it
within the cranial cavity itself of the rorqual ;5 Messrs Des¬
moulins and Breschet have since noticed it in France; and
to these latter naturalists, we believe, belongs the merit of
associating this very peculiar structure with the no less ex¬
traordinary anomaly in the respiratory function of the or¬
der, in the manner we have now attempted to explain.6
Desmoulins likewise states that the temperature of the
blood in whales is 104°, which is considerably higher than
in most of the Mammalia.7
But while the Cetacea breathe on the surface of the wa¬
ter, it is equally true that they feed beneath it, and as the
access of water into the lungs wrould be as destructive to
them as to ourselves, we at once perceive that some pecu¬
liar apparatus is required whereby, when freely swallowing,
water may be prevented from entering the lungs. This is
effected by the peculiar structure of the wind-pipe. In man
and the other Mammalia, the mouth and nostrils terminate
posteriorly in a common pouch or bag, called the pharynx,
from which both the windpipe and gullet take their orfgin;
—the former and anterior, through an aperture called the
glottis, covered by the epiglottis as a valve, w’hich usually
stands erect, but upon the passage of the food shuts down
like a lid, and so leaves the posterior opening free. In
the Cete, the blow-holes admit free ingress and egress of
air into and from the lungs; but as the mouth is at the
same time usually filled with water, a mechanism is pro¬
vided to prevent the fluid from rushing with the air into
the chest. The epiglottis, then, instead of being a simple
and usually unshut lid, is in the Cetacea a projecting tube.
In the shape of this tube there is great variety in the indi-
vidual species; and as an example merely, we refer to
sketches (Plate XVII., figures 3 and 4), which exhibit
the larynx m the common dolphin (as shewn in the En-
cyclop- Methodique), and in the narwhal (as represented by
Dr Fleming) j6 in both of which it will be observed that the
rima g ottidis is on the summit of a projecting cone or
237
Cetacea.
I du Mus iv. Desmarest’s Mammalogie, No. 808, 809, 810, 811, and Lesson’s Cetaces
P01-°ther details the reader is again referred to the article Compakativf A VA-rnur,. i ....
the works noted at page 133 of the present treatise. atomx of this Encyclopaedia (voL iii. p. 74), and to
3 Phil. Tram. 1787. 4 Werru Mem. vol. iii. 5 »• „ .
Proceedings of Royal Society of Edinlurgh, 1834.
Stem, de VAcad, des Sciences.
Diet. Class. (fUisi. \ai., art. Cetaces.
s Wern. Mem. vol. i.
238
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea-, pyramid. This cone is received into the lower end of the
blowing-fwie, a circular aperture, surrounded with a strong
sphincter muscle which includes the glottis in its grasp,
thus uniting the wind-pipe and blow-tube, which cross the
fauces and divide it into a kind of double vestibule. This
union, however, does not appear to be fixed and perma¬
nent, so that we see no reason to conclude, as has been
done, that the parts are not under the power of the will,
and that the larynx cannot at pleasure be withdrawn from
the blowing canal.
This is a physiological point of considerable importance,
as on it depends the solution of the question now agitated
regarding what forms the proper substance of the jets (Teau
of the whale. We have already stated that the larynx en¬
ters into the lower aperture of the blowing-tube, the spiracle
considerably enlarges immediately above this aperture, and
proceeds upwards and forwards, through the bones and soft
parts, till it reaches the summit of the head. The tube is
usually divided by a septum into two canals, which in the
greatest whales open by two blow-holes, whilst in all the
smaller the septum ceases, and the spiracle terminates as
it begins by a single aperture. It was long supposed that
the liquid discharge of the spouting, was chiefly owing
to the water which the Cete take in with their food, and
which, if swallowed, would only incommode them. But in
opposition to this, it has recently been maintained, that
the proper egress of the water is the same as its ingress,
and that by contracting the surrounding muscles, the throat
and mouth can easily be cleared of fluid- The spiracles,
moreover, have a secretion peculiar to themselves, and it is
now the prevailing opinion among naturalists, that it is
chiefly this secretion, together with the superfluous vapour
of the lungs, which, along with the expired breath, forms
the proper substance of the projected column. We venture,
however, to express our doubts whether this point is either
definitely or satisfactorily established. It would appear that
there is an allowed difficulty arising from the great quantity
of the fluid frequently expelled. This is met by the state¬
ment, that sometimes the ejected air comes in contact with
the supernatant water, and raises quantities along with it.
With perfect cognisance of these opinions, however, we find
that M. Lesson, from much personal observation, dissented
from the previously prevailing view, and, as late as 1828,
maintained the old and now often-scouted opinion. He stated
that from having often seen the phenomenon, and frequent¬
ly within the distance of a few yards, he felt constrained to
oppose the modem hypothesis. Drs Quoy and Gaimard,
though they allow that sometimes no water "is expelled dur¬
ing expiration, yet having often observed that during stormy
weather the jets took place both more frequently and more
abundantly, account for the fact on the supposition that, as
it is then the Cetacea feed most freely, the projection of
the water takes place chiefly when they are engaged in this
important process. Desmoulins expresses his opinion thus:
“ It is not water, but mucosity, which is expelled by the
blow-holes during expiration ; the animal spouts water only
after deglutition, or in moments of rage.” This twofold
view of the matter we are disposed to consider as rather fea¬
sible; and m the meanwhile we may remark, that as the
mechanism is different in almost every genus, so the cha¬
racter of the blowing also differs greatly,—indeed to such
an extent, that an experienced observer can, we believe,
even at a distance determine the species at any tune during
day-light; the utility of which to the whalers" need not b!
insisted upon.
The blow-holes are very extensive apertures, being not
less in the larger genera than a foot in length. This £ not
more than sufficient when the animal is breathing upon the Cetacea,
surface of the water; but a new train of thought is suggested
when we reflect that the whale often descends to the depths
of the ocean, and thus endures a pressure which can scarcely
be conceived, amounting according to Dr Scoresby to 154
atmospheres, or about a ton upon every square inch. How
then is this pressure to be resisted, and the water prevented
from entering the lungs, and thus destroying life ? This is
effected mainly by a set of valves which act upon the same
principle in all the genera, but which are varied in each by
a number of contrivances equally beautiful and efficient.
^ e shall illustrate this remark, by epitomizing a short por¬
tion of Pallas’s excellent account of the apparatus in the
white whale. The blow-hole opens in the most elevated
part of the head, and this opening is circumscribed by a
double arch. The skm is drawn towards the orifice, and
forms upon it a soft papillary valve, which prevents the en¬
trance of all foreign matters. The skin over the valve is
scarcely two lines thick, but internally it envelopes a pro¬
jecting body, which is about two inches thick, and is com¬
posed of a net-work of tendinous fibres hard as wood,
and scarcely capable of being cut with a knife. A similar
net-work of tendinous fibres, arranged in circles, forms, in
this situation, the external wall of the spiracle; and two
strong muscles rising from the frontal bone, and peculiar
to the tube, acting on these bodies, most effectually shut
them down, and so secure the canal. A similar valvular
apparatus exists over the meatus auditorius in those species
in which it is open, and not covered, as it is in most, with
a strong and impenetrable membrane.
This leads to a few remarks on the skin, or general ex¬
ternal covering, which is often subjected to such inconcei¬
vable pressure. The integuments, though soft and flexible
like the finest velvet, are so curiously constructed as to en¬
able them to present the most effectual resistance. We say
nothing of the epidermis, with its mucous-oily covering, nor
of the rete mucosum, but proceed to what are regarded as
two layers, viz. the cutis vera and the lard or blubber, the for¬
mer of which is represented as thick and strong, and the lat¬
ter is held to correspond with the subcutaneous fat in other
animals. This is the view that naturalists in general, influ¬
enced probably by analogy, have taken; it is espoused
by Ray, Tyson, Pennant, Hunter, Scoresby, Cuvier, &c.
But we believe that, according to this account, the great
peculiarity of the structure is disregarded, and the essen¬
tial character, so much desiderated, is overlooked. Ac¬
cording to Pallas, Giesecke, and Professor Jacob, there is
no distinction between the true skin and the blubber, and
the whole is nothing more than modified skin. The struc¬
ture, upon close examination, is found to consist through¬
out of an interlacement of tough fibres, crossing each other
in every direction, as in the cutis vera, but having a some¬
what more open texture, to afford room for the oil. Had
the integuments consisted chiefly, as is usually stated, of a
soft wrapper of common fat, though it had been double in
thickness to that usually found in whales, yet it could not
have so well resisted the superincumbent pressure; whereas,
by its being wholly a modification of the true skin, always firm
and elastic, and in this case never less than several inches,
and sometimes between one and two feet thick, it operates
like so much caoutchouc, and possesses such density and
elasticity that the more it is pressed it resists the more.1
Other uses of this peculiarity of the skin will readily sug¬
gest themselves. The order is warm-blooded, and yet is
exposed to the keenest cold, in the most remote recesses of
the frozen seas. Hence this wrapper or blanket, as it is ap¬
propriately called, being a bad conductor of caloric, will at
and fio/anyfvoL ^p. I8L ^ ^0usset s accouiit of the minute structure of the integuments of the whale, see Magazine of Zoology
MAMMALIA.
Cetacea, once resist the surrounding cold, and retain the animal heat.
On fhi3 account such an integument would seem to be es¬
sential ; but its bulk and quantity are enormous,—sometimes
weighing thirty tons. This might appear sufficient to over¬
whelm the animal; but, on the contrary, the fatty mass
being specifically lighter than water, instead of oppressing
its owmer, buoys it up,—thus making it relatively lighter
and more active.
But we must conclude these interesting generalities by
a short reference to the brain. It would appear that the
observations made on this organ are by much too few to
enable us to come to anything like general results; and
in systematic writers we meet with the utmost contrariety
of statement. Thus Cuvier, judging from the limited op¬
portunities he had then enjoyed, speaks of the brain of the
Cetacea generally as distinguished for its great breadth
and height whilst M. Lesson, on the other hand, states
that it is always very small in relation to the size of the
animals. . Dr Scoresby states, that in a young B. mysticetus
which weighed 11,200 lb., the brain weighed only 3 lb. 12
ounces, which is only g^Vffth part of the whole animal. In
a young R. rostratus which measured 17 feet, Mr Hunter
found that the brain weighed 4 lb. 8 ounces; and M. De-
lalande stated that in a Rorqual nearly 80 feet long, the
bram measured only 13 inches by 9. On the other hand,
239
Cuvier states, from five examinations of the porpoise and Cetacea,
dolphin, that, on the average, the brain weighed ^d part
of the whole. This statement regarding these smaller
groups is corroborated by Tyson and Ray; and Tiede-
mann, the highest modern authority in this department,
remarks: “ That the brain of the dolphin is distinguished
from that of monkeys by its great size and development,
and next to the brain of the orang-outang, approaches
nearest in this respect to that of man.” From these data
it would follow, that the organ is very large in the smaller
groups, and very small in the larger. We insert (Plate
X V II., figure 7) a sketch of Tiedemann’s plate of the
base of the brain in the dolphin; and may add that, con¬
sidering the marked effect which the relative size of thk jm.
portant organ generally produces on the character of the
animal, it seems desirable that every opportunity should be
embraced to accumulate accurate information on the sub¬
ject.
Let it be borne in mind by the rising race, that in rela¬
tion to the cetaceous tribes, an enterprising naturalist of
accurate habits, well versed in the recorded observations of
is predecessors, and at the same time inclined to original
investigation, has still before him a vast, and in several of
its departments, an almost unexamined field. We here
close our account of the class Mammalia. (j. w.)
INDEX.
Achius.....
Agoutis 
At. 
Ailurus....
Algazel 
Alouattes..
Alpaca 
Amphibia.
Anarnacos.
Ant-eaters..
Antelojye 
Antilope...
Aodon 
Apts 
Arctomyg...
Argali.  
Armadillo..
Arnee 
Arvicola....
Aihkoko 
Ass 
Ateles 
Atherora...
Auchenia...
Aurochs.....
Ajris  
Aye~aye 
Baboons 
Babyrussa...
Badger 
Balaena......
Bats 
Bathiergus..
Bear 
Beaver 
Beluga 
Bison... 
Blowers 
Bobac  
Bos 
Bouquttin...
Bradypus 
Buffalo 
Bull 
Cachalot 
ra6°' Pare.
190 Callithnx     140
  189 Camel  204
  190 Camelus  204
  154 Camelopard  209
  210 Camelopardalis  209
  142 Canis  159
  205 Cape-cavy  199
  171 Capromys  180
  230 Capybara  188
.191, 192 Caracal  171
  210 Cabnivoea  153
  209 Castor  185
  231 Cat  170
  137 Cavia  188
..~ 179 Cavy  189
.... 213 Cebus  142
  191 Centenes  152
.... 216 Cephalotes  143
  183 Cercocebus  140
.... 199 Cercopithecus  139
.... 201 Cervus  205
  141 CETACEA  216
  187 Anatomy of.  237
  205 Blow-holes of.  238
.... 214 Bhibberof.  238
.... 209 Chamois  211
.... 179 Chati  170
Cheiromys  178
.... 141 Cheiroptera  146
.... 197 Chickara  210
.... 155 Chimpanzee  137
.... 233 Chinchilla 183, 189
.... 146 Chiru  210
.... 185 Chittah  109
.... 153 Chlamyphorus  191
.... 185 Chrysochloris  151
.... 228 Civets  166
.... 214 Coatis  155
... 231 Coipu    186
... 189 Condylura  152
... 213 Cow  214
... 212 Cricetus  182
... 189 Cynocephalus  141
... 215
... 208 Daman.....    199
Dasyprocta  189
... 231 Dasypus  191
■n •“‘sc-
Dasyurus  175
Deer 205, 206
Delundung  166
Delphini^   220
Delphinorhynchus  221
Delphinapterus  229
Delphinus  222
Didelphis  174
Digitigrada  156
Diodon  230
Diplostoma  185
Dipus  184
Dogs  160
Dolphin  222
Dormouse  180
Dromedary  205
Duck-billed Platypus  193
Dycoteles  197
Dynops  143
Dziggithai  200
Dugong  218
Echidna  193
Echimys   180
EDENTATA  189
Effodentia  190
Elephants   195
Elephas    194
Elk  206
Encoubert   191
Erinaceus    150
Equus  199
Ereteson  185
Fallow-deer  208
Felis   168
Fennec  165
FERA2  146
Ferret  157
■Piter  183
Flying Lemur  150
Dox  164
Foumart  157
Galago  145
Galeopitheciimb  150
Galeopithecus    150
Gayal  215
Gazelle  210
Gennets   166
Genetta  166
Georychus  183
Geomys  185
Gerbillus   182
Gibbons   139
Giraffe  209
GLIRES  177
Globicephalus   227
Glossophaga  149
Glutton   156
GNAWERS  177
Gnu  211
Goats  211
Grampus  226
Greenland Whale   235
Orison   150
Guenon  140
Guinea-pig  188
Guevei   210
Gulo  150
Halicore    218
Hamster  too
Hart*  187
Hedgehogs  159
Herpestes   166
Heterodoxies  229
Hippopotamus   195
Dogs  197
Hor*e  200
  167
Hydrochaerus    188
Hydromys  igo
Hylobates  139
Hyperoodontes  230
Hypoderma  143
Hyra*  199
Hystrix  137
Ichneumon  166
Ictides   155
Indris  135
Inia  220
Innuus  141
1 Lee. d'Anat. Compares, ii. 265.
Hut. Fat. des Cetaces, 23.
MAMMALIA.
Insectiyora
Page.
150
Jacchus  134
Jackals   134
Jaguar  1^9
Jerboa  1®4
Kangaroos  1^3
Koala   1^7
Kinkajou  133
Lagomys  188
Lagothrix  142
Lama  205
Lemming  183
LEMURID.E  144
Lemur  145
Lemurs  145
Leopard  169
Lepus  187
Lerot  180
Lion    169
Loris  145
Lutra  159
Lynx  171
Macacus  141
Macroglossus  148
Macropus  176
Macrorhinus  172
Malbrouc  140
MAMMALIA,—
Definition of the term 121
History of the science 122
Linnaeus’s arrangement
of  126
Illiger’s do  128
Temminck’s do  130
Cuvier’s do  135
Manatus  218
Mandrills    141
Mangouste  167
Manis  192
Marimonda  142
Marmots  179
MARSUPIALIA  173
Marten  157
Megaderma  149
Megalotis  165
Meles  155
Mephitis  157
Meriones  182
Mice  181
Mink  157
Moles  152
Molossus  148
Monkeys  140
Monotrema  192
Morse  173
Papre.
Moschus  205
Mus  180
Muscardine    180
Musk-deer  205
Musk-ox  215
Muntjaks  209
Musmon  212
Mustela  157
Mycetes  142
Mydaus  158
Mygale   151
Myopotamus  187
Myopteris  149
Myoxis    180
Myrmecophaga  191
Narwhalus  229
Narwhal  130
Nasua  155
Noctilio  148
Hycteris  149
Nyctonomus  148
Nyl-ghau  210
Ocelot  170
Opossums  174
Orang-outang  138
Ornithorhynchus  193
Orycteropus  191
Oryx  210
Otaria  172
Ouistitis  144
Otters  159
Ovis  212
Ox  215
Oxypterus  228
Pacas  189
Pachysoma  148
PACHYDERMATA  194
Panther  169
Pangolins  192
Paradoxurus  166
Peccaries  198
PECORA  202
Pedetes  185
Pekan  157
Pelagius  172
Perameles  175
Petaurus  176
Phacochoerus  197
Phalangers  176
Phalangista  175
Pascogale  175
Phoca  171
Phocaena  225
Phyllostoma  148
Pika    188
Pilori  181
Page.
Pinnipedia  153
Pithecus  138
Pithecia  144
Plantigrada  153
Polecats  157
Porcupine  187
Porpoise...  225
Potaroo  176
Potos  155
Priodontes  191
Prionodon  166
Proboscidea  194
Procyon  154
Pteromys  178
Pteropus  147
Puma  170
QUADRUMANA  136
Quagga  201
Rabbit  188
Racoon  154
Raise    166
Rats  181
Ratel  156
Red-deer  208
Rein-deer  205
Rhinoceros  198
Rhinopoma  149
Rhinolophus  149
RODENTIA  177
Roe  218
Rorqual  234
Rorqual us  234
Roussettcs  147
RUMINATING ANI¬
MALS  202
Rusa  218
Ryzaena  167
Sable  157
Sagouins  143
Saguinus ;  143
Saimiri    143
Saki  144
Sapajous 141-143
Scalops  151
Scaly-lizards  192
Sciurus  178
Sea-lion  172
Sea-horse  169
Sea-unicorn  229
Seals  171
Semnopithecus  140
Sheep  212
Shrews  150
SIMIADJ2  137
SIMI.E CATARRHINI  137
SlMIiE PLATYRRHINI  141
Sloths  190
SOLIDUNGULA  199
Soosoo  220
Sorex  150
Spalanx  185
Spectre bat  148
Spermaceti whale  231
Squirrels  178
Stag  208
Stein-bock  212
Stellers  220
Stellerus  219
Stenorhynchus  172
Surikate  167
Sus  197
Swine  197
Synatheres  187
Talpa  152
Tamandua  192
Tamarins  144
Tanrecs  153
Taphozous  149
Tapir  199
Tardigrada  190
Tarsius  145
Teledu  158
Thrasher  226
Thylacinus  175
Tiger  169
Trichechus  173
Troglodytes  137
Tupaia  151
Jinan  190
Ursus  153
Urns  214
Vampires  148
Vespertilio  149
Vespertilionid^e  146
Vigogna  205
Viverra  166
Wander ou  141
Walrus  173
Wapiti  207
Whales  230
Wild boar  197
Wolverine....  156
Wolves  163
Wombat  177
Yack  215
Youze  169
Zebra  202
Ziphias   231
PRINCIPAL WORKS ON MAMMALIA PUBLISHED SINCE 1842.
Audubon (J. J.), and Bachman (Dr), The Viviparous Quadrupeds
of North America. New York, 1843, &c.
Bachman (Dr), Various Papers on the Quadrupeds of North Ame¬
rica, in Silliman’s Journal and the Philadelphia Journal. See
Audubon.
Bianconi (J.), Specimina Zoologies Mosambicana, in the Memorie
della Academia delle Scienze dell’ Instit. di Bologna, 1854.
Blainville (Prof. De), Osteographie, ou Description Iconogra-
phique Comparee du Squelette et du Systeme Dentaire des Cinq
Classes d’Animaux Vertebres Recens et Possiles. Continued by
Professor Gervais of Montpellier. 4to and folio. Paris.
Blyth (E.), Mammalia of India, in various volumes of the Journal
of the Asiatic Society of Bengal.
Bonaparte, Iconografia della Fauna Italica. Rome, 1832-42. 3
vols. 4to. Vol. i., Mammalia and Birds.
Brandt (Prof. J. F.), on Rodentia, particularly on the Squirrel
family. Bulletin de 1’Academie de St Petersbourg, 1844.
Browne (A. P.), Trichologia Mammalium ; or, a Treatise on the
Organization, Properties, and Uses of Hair and Wool. Phila¬
delphia, 1853.
Burmeister (Prof.), on Genus Tarsius. Berlin, 1846. . Professor
B. has also published elaborate Memoirs on Brazilian Quad¬
rupeds.
Cantor (Dr Th.), Mammalia of Malayan Peninsula and Islands,
in Journal of Asiatic Society, 1846.
Castelnau (Francis De), Expedition dans les Parties Centrales
de 1’Amerique du Sud. (Not yet completed.) Plates and descrip¬
tions of many Mammalia.
Dekay (James E.), Natural History of New York. Part L, Mam¬
malia. New York, 1842.
D'Urville, Voyage au Pole Sud, et dans 1’Oceanie. Atlas, folio;
texte, 8vo. Paris, 1841-53.
Eschricht (D. F.), Zoologisch-Anatomisch - Physiologische Un-
tersuchungen fiber die Nordischen Wallthiere. This learned na-
MAMMALIA.
Index. turalist has also published in the Danish Transactions his Obser-
j vations on the Cetacea—“ Untersuchungen iiber die Wallthiere.”
1848.
Falconer (Dr Hugh), and Cautley (Major P.T.), Fauna Antiqua
Sivalensis; Fossil Elephants, Sivatherium, &c., found in the
Sewalik Hills in North India.
Fraser (L.), Zoologia Typica ; or, figures of New and Rare Mam¬
mals and Birds described in the Proceedings, or exhibited in the
collection^, of the Zoological Society of London. 28 of the plates
are of Mammalia. London, 1849.
Gay (C.), Historia Fisica y Politica de Chile. Paris, 1847-54.
Texte, 8vo.
Gould (John), Monograph of the Macropodidae or Kangaroos;
The Mammals of Australia. London, 1854-56.
Gray (Dr J. E.), Gleanings from the Menagerie and Aviary at
Knowsley. 2 vols. folio. 1.1846; II. Hoofed Quadrupeds, 1850.
Private works distributed by the Earl of Derby and Dr Gray.
" Mammalia, in his Zoology of the Voyage of H.M.SS.
Erebus and Terror, commanded by Captain Sir James Clarke
Ross, C.B. (Chiefly on the Seals of the Southern Hemisphere,
and on Cetacea.) London, 1844-46.
Mammalia of the Voyage of H.M.S. Sulphur, under
the command of Captain Sir Edward Belcher, C.B.
~ Catalogue of Mammalia in British Museum. Part I.
Cetacea, 1850; Part II. Seals, 1850; Part III. Ungulata Furci-
peda, 1852.
Hist of the Specimens of Mammalia in the collection
of the British Museum. London, 1843.
' T-; Osteological Specimens in the collection of the
British Museum. London, 1847. At that time there were 1766
specimens of 742 species ; a number greatly added to during the
ten years which have elapsed since the publication of this cata¬
logue.
" Descriptions of New Species of Mammalia of all
Orders, in various volumes of the Annals of Natural History and
Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London ; the latter often
illustrated with figures.
Hew Genera, and Fifty Unrecorded Species of
Mammalia. Ann. and Mag. Nat. Hist., vol. x. Appendix of
Australian Mammalia, in Governor Grey’s Journals of Two Ex¬
peditions in West Australia.
Harris (W. C.), Portraits of the Game and Wild Animals of
South Africa.
Hodgson (B. H.), many different Papers on the Mammalia of
Northern India, in the Calcutta Journal of Natural History, the
Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, and the Asiatic Re¬
searches.
Horsfield (Dr T.), Catalogue of Mammalia in the Museum of
the Hon. East India Company, 1851.
Jacquemont, Voyagedans ITnde. Mammalia, by Isidore StHilaire.
Krauss (F.), Das Thierreich in Bildern nach seinem Familien und
Gattungen dargestellt. Eight parts devoted to Mammalia.
Muller (S.), and Schlegel (H.), Mammalia of Borneo and the
East India Archipelago, in the great Dutch work, Verhande-
lingen over de Natuurlijke Geschiedenis der Nederlandsche
overzeesche Bezittingen door de Leden der Natuurkundige Com-
missie in Indie en andere Schrijvers. Leiden.
Le Conte (John), New Species of American Rodentia, in the Pro¬
ceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia,
vol. vi. 1 ’
Leidy (Dr J.), On various North American Fossil Mammalia, in
Smithsonian Contributions to Knowledge. 1853.
Lund, On the Fossil Mammalia of Brazil, in the Transactions of
the Danish Royal Academy.
Owen (Prof.), A History of British Fossil Mammalia and Birds.
London, 1844-46.
  Description of the Skeleton of an extinct gigantic Sloth
(Mylodon robustus), &c. 1842.
■  Many Memoirs on the Anatomy of different Mammalia
(such as the Giraffe, &c.), in the Transactions of the Zoological
Society of London.
 Osteological Contributions to the Natural History of the
Chimpanzees. Transactions of Zoological Society of London,
vols. in., iv., 1848, &c.
  Odontographic Treatise on the Comparative Anatomy of
the Teeth of Vertebrate Animals, iv., royal 8vo. London, 1840-45.
241
Peale (Titian R.), Mammalia found during the Voyage of the Index.
United States Exploring Expedition, during the years 1838-42 i _ t
under the command of Captain Wilkes. 1 vol. 4to. >
Peters (Dr), Naturwissenschaftliche Reise nach Mosambique.
Zoologie, I. Mammalia. Berlin, 1852, with 46 plates.
  Mammalia of Mozambique, in the Journal of the Berlin
Academy and other German natural history journals.
Pictet (Prof.), New Mammalia from Brazil, &c., in Memoires
de la Societe de Physique et d’Histoire Naturelle de Geneve,
vol. 10, &c.
  Animaux Nouveaux ou peu connus du Musee de Geneve.
Geneva, 1841-44. 4to.
Pucheran (Dr), Various Species and Orders of Mammalia in Ar¬
chives du Museum d’Histoire Naturelle de Paris.
Rapp (W ilhelm von), Anatomische Untersuchungen viber die Eden-
taten. Tflbingen, 1852.
Richardson (Sir John), Fossil Mammals; Zoology of the Voyages
of H.M.S. Herald, under the command of Captain H. Kellett.
4to. 1852.
Ruppell (Dr E.), Many Papers on different Genera of Mammalia
in Museum Senckenbergianum—“ Beschreibung mehrerer neuer
Saugethiere, in der Zoologischen Sammlung der Senckenber-
^ gischers Naturforschers Gesellschaft.” 4to. Franckfort, 1842.
Schinz (Dr IL), Monographien der Saugethiere. Zurich, 1843-53.
4 to.
■  Synopsis of Mammalia Solothur. 1844.
Schlegel (IL). See Temminck and Muller.
Schreber (J. C.), Naturgeschichte der Saugethiere. With Supple¬
ment by Dr Wagner. Erlangen, 1843, &c. 4to.
Smitii (Dr Andrew), Illustrations of the Zoology of South Africa ;
consisting chiefly of figures and descriptions of the objects of
Natural History collected during an Expedition into the In¬
terior of South Africa, in the years 1834-36. 4 vols. 4to. Lon¬
don, 1838-49.
Straus-Durckheim (H.), Anatomie Descriptive et Comparative
du Chat, type des Mammiferes en general et des Carnivores en
parti culier. Paris, 1846.
St Hilaire (Isidore), Articles on Mammalia (e. <l, Monograph of
Species of Cercopithecus), in D’Orbigny’s Dictionnaire d’Histoire
Naturelle.
 7   Hew or imperfectly characterized Mammalia in the
Paris Museum, described in Archives du Mus. d’Hist. Naturelle
de Paris.
Sundevall (Prof.), Mammalia of all Orders, particularly Ru-
minantia, in the Transactions of the Royal Academy of Stock¬
holm.
Temminck (C. J.), Esquisses Zoologiques sur la Cote de Guine.
Leyden, 1853.
 0n various Genera of Chiroptera, in the fifth volume
of Van derHoeven’s Tijdschrift.
 7— and Schlegel (H.), Mammalia portions of Fauna
Japonica, sive descriptio Animalium quae in Itinere per Japo-
niam annis 1823-30 collegit, &c., Ph. Fr. de Siebold. Leyden,
1842. J
Tomes (R. F.), Many Papers on Chiroptera, in the recent volumes
of the Illustrated Proceedings of the Zoological Society of Lon¬
don.
Tschudi (Dr J. J. von), Mammalia in Fauna Peruana. St Gall,
1844-46.
Turner (H. N.), On the Osteology of various Orders of Mammalia,
in Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London.
Van der Hoeven (Prof.), Monograph of Lemuridas, in the eighth
volume of his “ Tijdschrift voor Natuurlyke Geschiedens en
Physiologic.”
Vrolik (W.), On the Comparative Anatomy of the Chimpanzee.
Amsterdam, 1842.
Wagner (Dr A.), New Species of Brazilian and other Mammalia
in Wiegmann’s “ Archiv fur Naturgeschichte.” 1842.
 Berieht fiber die Leistungen in der Naturgeschichte
der Saugthiere. An extremely valuable annual report on the pro¬
gress of knowledge of Mammalia, published in the “ Archiv fur
Naturgeschichte.”
Waterhouse (G. R.), Natural History of Mammalia. 2 vols. 8vo
{Rodentia and Marsupialia). 1846-48.
' _   Mammalia of the Voyage of H.M.S. Beagle, collected
by C. Darwin, Esq.
2 n
VOL. XIV.
242 M A N
Man MAN, the noblest of all earthly creatures, stands related,
U on the one hand, through his body, to the world of matter,
Isleof anc* on t^ie ot^er’ through mind, to the world of spirit.
v For until it can be established inductively that the modes
0p ext;ension ancj the modes of thought are alike ultimately
referable, as some have alleged, to one common substance,
the laws of a sound philosophy demand the ascription of
the one class of phenomena to one substance termed matter,
and of the other class of phenomena to another substance
termed mind. With his sensuous nature binding him fast
to the present world, and his moral and religious nature rais¬
ing him towards God,—at the verge of the animal kingdom
most remote from its point of contact with the kingdom of
organic life, yet the occupant of that other kingdom of pure
intelligence where the conscience asserts its authority and
dispenses its awards,—man, the only representative of the
order Bimana, the the voice-dividing, the creature
of speech, and possessor of the higher reason, stands really
where he was first placed—at the head of all earthly crea¬
tures, the sole lord of the creation. From this duality of
man’s nature there results the two-fold division of the human
sciences into mental and physical. In the former we con¬
sider man as a being capable of knowing and doing; in the
latter, as a portion of organized animal matter. The mental
sciences are distributed into Logic, Metaphysics, Lan¬
guage, Moral Philosophy, and Theology. In Logic we
study the laws of thought as thought; in Metaphysics we
either study the faculties, operations, and laws of the mind,
viz., Psychology, or inquire into the nature of being as dis¬
tinguished from phenomenon, viz., Ontology; in Language
we view man as capable of speech, of forming articulate
sounds expressive of his thoughts and feelings; in Moral
Philosophy, or Ethics, we regard him as a responsible agent,
and inquire into the nature of human duty in all its rela¬
tionships ; in Theology and Mythology, again, we deal
with man as a creature endowed with a religious sense—as
a being capable of worship. The physical sciences which
refer directly to man are Ethnology, Anatomy, and Phy¬
siology. In the first we consider man as an object of
natural history; in the second we investigate the structure
of his body; and in the third we study the doctrine of its
vital phenomena.
These branches of knowledge regard man chiefly in his
normal condition. For the abnormal or diseased state of
man’s mind, see Mental Diseases ; and for the abnormal
or diseased state of his body, see Medicine, &c.
MAN, Isle of, lies between N. Lat. 54. and 55., W.
Long. 4. and 5.; the centre of the island being in N. Lat.
54. 16., and W. Long. 4. 30. It extends lengthwise in a
N.N.E. and S.S.W. direction about 31 miles, and varies in
breadth from 8 to 12 miles. Its circumference, without
following the indentations of a very irregular shore, is about
75 miles; its area contains 209 square miles, or 140,447
statute acres, 30,000 of which are mountains and com¬
mons. The island is situate nearly mid-channel in the Irish
Sea, about equidistant from England, Scotland, and Ireland.
Ihe outline and aspect of the island is thus described by
the Rev. J. G. Gumming of LichfieldThe northern
view is a narrow track of almost level land (which is an
almost plane area of 50 square miles), surrounded by an ab¬
rupt pile of mountains, rent in chasms, forming the lovely
glens of Ravensdale, Sulby Glen, Glen Aldyn, and Ballure.
The western view is that of an extended pile of mountains,
descending rapidly to the sea on the nearer side, distinctly
precipitous at the south-western extremity, intersected at
right angles by the two valleys of Port Erin and Peel.
The southern view is that of a gradual slope from the sea-
level to the highest points, without any distinct valleys,
but occupied by towns, villages, villas, cottages, corn fields,
and pastures. The eastern view (as presented on approach¬
ing from Liverpool) is that of a succession of bold cliffs and
M A N
headlands, backed at a distance of 7 or 8 miles by moun- Man,
tains, ranging from 1500 to 2000 feet high, between which Isle of.
and the cliffs the slope is generally easy, and clothed with
verdure. From the intersection of the Douglas valley at the
centre, and the Straits of Kitterland at its southern extre¬
mity, separating the Calf Isle from the mainland, it appears
as if divided into three distinct portions. Another peculi¬
arity is, that as the vessel approaches the island, it appears
suddenly lengthened to the extent of 6 miles at its northern
extremity. This is caused by the low, level tract of land
extending from the foot of the mountain chain to the Point
of Ayre; and being only a few feet above the sea-level, it
is the last portion to appear and the first to disappear, ac¬
cording as the spectator may approach or recede.”
The mountain chain, which forms the most prominent
feature on its surface, intersects the island in an oblique
direction, and extends from Marughold Head to the Calf
Islet, comprising within its range Sneafield, North and
South Barrule, Bein-y-Phot, Greebah, and many others.
The highest summits are Sneafield and North Barrule, the
former being 2036, and the latter 1854 feet above the level
of the sea. The sides of the mountains are clothed with
turbary, moss, and heath. The whole chain, beginning
with North Barrule, consists of clay schist (lower Silurian),
which is also the prevailing formation in South Barrule
(1592 feet), the latter being varied on the eastern side with
large masses of granite containing silvery mica, red and
white felspar, and grey quartz. Greebah is 1600 feet
above the sea-level, and is rugged and precipitous, espe¬
cially on its southern side, towards the Douglas and Peel
road. Bein-y-Phot (1784 feet) is marshy, and even in
summer the ascent is tedious. The other mountains of
lesser note are,—Slieau-ny-Fraughane (1598 feet), Irey-ny-
Lhaa (1445 feet), Slieau-ny-Carnaane (1449 feet), Slieu-
Dhoo (1139 feet), Slieau-Whallin (1068 feet), and Sartel,
Slieau-Hearn, Slieau-Chiarn, &c. From Sneafield, which
rises in the southern extremity of Ayre, in clear weather,
one can descry the mountains of Cumberland and Lanca¬
shire in England, of Carnarvon and Anglesea in Wales, of
Arklow and Morne in Ireland, and of Galloway and Dum¬
friesshire in Scotland.
The rivers of the island, though numerous, are all small
in size. The Sulby, the largest, rises in the mountain
group around Sneafield, and, after running 9 miles, dis¬
charges itself into the sea at Ramsey. The Neb, or Great
River, has one portion of its tributary streams on South
Baroole, and after being joined at Slieau-Aalin by a branch
issuing from the western side of the mountains of Kirk
German and Kirk Michael, joins the Irish Sea at Peel.
The Silverburn, or Castletown River, has also two branches,
the principal of which rises in the S. side of South Barrule,
and, uniting with the other a little below Athollbridge,
terminates its course in Castletown Bay. The Dhu, or
Black River, takes its rise in the W. side of Mount Gar-
rahan, and at about a mile from Douglas it receives the
waters of the Glass, or Grey River, which rises in the
mountain group of which Bein-y-Phot is the centre. The
Laxey River descends from the eastern declivity of Snea¬
field, and terminates its course in Laxey Bay.
The following remarks on the natural history of the island
were contributed by the late Professor Edward Forbes to
KerruisKs Guide to the Isle of Man .—
((In common with Ireland, this island is exempt from ven¬
omous reptiles and toads, as neither serpents nor toads are
found in it; but frogs are abundant, though they are popu¬
larly believed to have been imported, an idea for which
there is no foundation. Lacerta stirpium (sand lizard), is
common in the N.; and Lacerta agihs (common lizard),
abounds in old hedges and dry banks in every part of the
island. Triton palustris (warty eft), and Triton punctatus,
(common eft), are by no means rare in their different habitats
MAN, I!
Man, everywhere. Several of the more common of the four-
is eon footed English annoyances are absent, such as foxes, badgers,
and otters. It is said that deer formerly inhabited the
mountains, but they, like their great prototype, the fossil
elk, have long since passed away. The only remarkable
quadruped peculiar to the island, and of which it can boast,
is the tailless cat, an accidental variety of the common
species Felis catus, frequently showing no traces of caudal
vertebra, and others a merely rudimental substitute for it.
Of game birds, a few of the partridge and quail remain,
but grouse is no longer to be found. Snipes are abundant,
That rare bird the Manx puffin (Procellaria anglo rum),
formerly an inhabitant of the Calf, is now rarely found
there. Of the rarer British land birds, the red-legged crow
is common; the king-fisher scarce; and the hoopoe, the
goatsucker, the shrike, the cross-bill, and the roller, have
been killed on the island. Of sea-birds there is great va¬
riety. Many rare fishes, as might be expected, are found
in the neighbouring sea. The entomology of the island is
not attractive, though a few of the rarer coleoptera may be
found on the sandy district of the N. Many scarce shell¬
fish abound on the coast, and on the banks which surround
the island. It is not remarkably rich in plants, and proba¬
bly does not contain more than five hundred species of the
flowering kinds. Nevertheless, among them are several
scarce species.”
The following brief summary of the geology of the
island was also furnished to the same work by the Rev.
J. G. Gumming:—
“ It is only of late years that the geology of the Isle of
Man has attracted attention, and yet it is full of interest.
The very large development of mineral resources, espe¬
cially in the mining districts of Foxdale and Laxey; the
value also of the quarries of granite, limestone, flagstone,
ironstone, and marble;—gives a particular importance to the
determination of the geological age of the strata of which
the island is composed. Fire, water, ice, have each in turn
played their part and exerted their distinctive power in
• fashioning and moulding this little gem of the ocean into
its present shape. The rounded form of the mountain
summits which must strike every visitor when he first
catches sight of Mona, is due to the fact, that, having been
in vast bygone ages elevated by volcanic agency from the
depths of ocean, they were at a subsequent period sub¬
merged into a sea of an arctic character; and standing in
the midst of a current charged with icefloes and icebergs,
were ground down, rounded off, and polished. And yet
that a much milder climate here also once prevailed, we
have evidence in the carboniferous deposits charged with
remains of nautili, corals, and tree ferns, the present deni¬
zens of seas and lands mostly within the tropics. The rocks
of the Isle of Man belong to the palaeozoic and to the
pleistocene periods. All rocks of the mesozoic and kaino-
zoic periods up to the pliocene strata inclusive, are want¬
ing ; and even the uppermost palaeozoic beds, viz., the coal
measures and the permian sandstones and limestones, are
not to be found. The lower palaeozoic series is by far the
most largely developed, forming the main body of the island.
From the Calf of Man to Maughold Head we have a series
of schists, forming a mountain range in a rather irregular
curved line, whose general direction is from S.W. to
N.E., which may be regarded also as the general line of
strike. In the almost total absence, as far as yet ex¬
amined, of any characteristic fossils in these beds, it may
be convenient to regard them as lower silurian. They
have been disturbed and elevated by the intrusion of
granites and porphyritic greenstones. The greenstones
may be observed sometimes intrusive, at others apparently
imbedded at various points along the mountain ridge from
the Sound of the Calf to Maughold Head, more especially
at Brada Head, at Rock Mount, near the Tynwald Hill,
5 L E OF.
and at the head of Craig Willis, near the church of St
John the Evangelist. They may also be traced along the
coast from Langness to Douglas. The granite rises in
an enormous dome on the south-eastern side of South Bar-
rule, near the mining district of Foxdale. It also appears at
the Dhun River to the N.E. of the Laxey Mines. No
doubt the value of these mining districts is greatly enhanced
thereby. It has always been found that the metalliferous
veins increase in richness as they approach the granitic
nuclei. At Foxdale the lead ore in contact with the gra¬
nite, and in the granite, has yielded more than one hun¬
dred ounces of silver to the ton. Where the schists repose
upon the granite bosses they are highly metamorphic, and
pass by various stages from clay-schist through grauwacke-
schist, and mica-schist with garnets, into gneissose-schist
and gneiss. No true slate has yet been discovered on the
island. The flagstone used for slate seems to have been
split in lines of bedding and not of cleavage. At Spanish
Head masses of a deep blue clay-schist, slightly elastic, are
procured and used largely for lintels. The old red sand¬
stone and conglomerate occurs on the north-western side of
the island, at Peel, and also on the south-eastern in the
neighbourhood of Castletown, where it crops out around
the eastern and northern edge of a basin-shaped depression,
occupied by the limestones and shales of the carboniferous
eia. It rests unconformably upon the upturned edges of
the schists, and passes upwards by almost insensible degrees
into the beds of limestone. We notice a gradual abstrac¬
tion of the red matrix around the quartz pebbles of the
conglomerate, and a substitution of a grey calcareous ma¬
trix instead, with a few of the lower limestone fossils im¬
bedded ; ultimately the quartz pebbles die out, and we reach
the regular dark limestone beds. The carboniferous series
of the Isle of Man may be subdivided into lower dark
limestones and shales, comparable to the carboniferous beds
of Hook Point in Ireland, and those near Dent and Ulver-
stone in England; then the upper light-coloured and highly
fossiliferous limestones of Poolvash, the equivalents of the
scar limestone of Yorkshire and Bolland; and thirdly, the
Posidonia schist of Poolvash, the nearest approach in the
Isle of Man to the coal measures. This last division con¬
tains the so-called Manx black marble, and has been largely
wrought into chimney-pieces. It forms the steps of St
I aul s Cathedral, London, which were presented by the
Venerable Bishop Thomas Wilson. It contains abun¬
dantly the peculiar fossil Posidonia (whence the name), and
some traces of Calamites, Lepidodendra, and tree ferns.
All these beds are greatly intersected and broken up by
trap dykes between Langness and Poolvash, the pheno¬
mena connected with which may be best observed between
the Stack of Scarlett (itself a basaltic pile) and the black
marble quarries at Poolvash, and thence along the shore to
Kentraugh. The Posidonia schist is actually intercalated
with beds of trappean ash; this ash also containing the
fossil remains of the animals living in the neighbouring sea
at the time when the volcanic eruption took place. A great
fault, running from Perwick Bay, Near Port St Mary, in
the direction for 5 miles of the granitic boss on South Bar-
i ule, cuts off all the beds of the old red sandstone and the
carboniferous limestone, the up-cast being on the N.W.
side. The whole country on both sides of tins fault has sub¬
sequently been planed down to one level, and then over-
spreadby the boulder-clay and sands of the pleistocene se¬
nes. The pleistocene series of the island consists of boulder-
clay, drift-gravel, and sands, which are largely spread out
over all the other rocks, and reach far up the mountain¬
sides, the boulders being found even on the summits of some
of the loftiest southern mountains. A large tract of nearly
50 square miles, in the north of the island, is wholly occu¬
pied by these beds, for the most part forming a large plain, in
which are basin-shaped depressions, covered with beds of
243
Man,
Isle of.
244 MAN, ISLE OF.
Man, peat, tnit rising also between Point Cranstal, Blue Head,
1,10 of- and Jurby Point, to hills upwards of 300 feet in height.
—Jn former times (as appears by old maps and records) lakes
existed in the depressions in the north of the island, which
have since been drained. In still more ancient lakes shell-
marl was deposited, and in them we find the remains of the
Megaceros Hibernicus, or great fossil elk, a fine specimen
of which, discovered many years since near Ballaugh, was
presented to the Edinburgh Museum by the Duke of Athol.
As this was the first almost entire skeleton of the animal
discovered and described, it ought rather to have been called
Manx than Irish elk. There is no doubt but that the
pleistocene series occupied at onetime the whole bed of the
Irish Sea, and united the Isle of Man with the surrounding
countries. The rocks immediately under the boulder-clay,
where they can be discovered, are distinctly grooved, fur¬
rowed, and scratched in a direction generally parallel to
the mountain chain ; and the boulders consist chiefly of
masses of the immediately subjacent rock, themselves
scratched and grooved: they have every appearance of
having been pushed along in an icy stream. Ihe true
boulder clay is very deficient in fossils, and such as occur
are, as might be expected, in a very broken and comminuted
condition. In hollows in the boulder-clay we find masses
of sand and gravel, where the fossils are in a more perfect
condition, and present very much of an arctic or sub-arctic
character. The drift gravel which overlies the boulder-
clay seems to consist of its re-formed material, rounded and
worn. If we consider the boulder-clay to have been de¬
posited (as is most probable) during a period of general sub¬
sidence of this area, then the drift-gravel marks the period
of re-elevation. At certain periods, both of the depres¬
sion and re-elevation, the present Isle of Man would have
exhibited the appearance of a cluster of five or six islands,
with strong ice-charged currents flowing between them.
The drift-gravel contains pebbles of foreign rock, chiefly
Scotch, with some chalk flints, probably derived from the
north of Ireland. The most remarkable phenomenon of
the boulder-clay which can be noticed, is the occurrence
of boulders of undoubted South Barrule granite which
have been raised several hundred feet, within the space of
2 miles from the parent source, and perched on the tops of
South Barrule, Cronk-na-Irey-Lhaa, and other southern
mountains, as well as carried over the ridge in great abun¬
dance to the western side of the island. It is not un¬
likely that being frozen into shore ice, as the mountains
were gradually submerged they were stranded higher
and higher each succeeding year, and the highest of them
will mark the extent to which at least that submergence
took place.”
The principal minerals are lead and copper ore. The
Laxey Mines, near the banks of the Laxey River, produce
oresof lead and copper, with much blende (sulphuretof zinc).
At Foxdale, between Castletown and St John’s, the Isle of
Man Mining Company carry on operations to a considerable
extent. Lead ore and sulphuret of copper are also found
and wrought by the South Manx Mining Company at
Brada Head. The mines are rented from the Queen, as
lady of the manor, the lessees paying one-tenth part of the
produce. The quantities of lead ore, lead, and silver pro¬
duced in 1852 are as follow:—
Tons lead ore. Tons lead.
Isle of Man Mining Company  1600 1224
Laxey Mining Company  800 600
South Manx Mining Company  15 HJ
The average yield of silver from each ton of lead ore is
20 oz., and the produce for the year above named was
36,700 oz.; the value of which, at 4s. 2d. per ounce, was
L.7646.
Besides the mines proper, the lime and marble quarries of
the S. are worked to a considerable extent; the lime being Man,
very valuable, not only for building purposes, but also for Isle of.
agriculture. There is a valuable granite quarry in the
region of Foxdale. Rotten-stone and ochre are obtained
in the S., near Ballasalla, and a considerable foreign trade is
carried on in them. The white spar raised in the Laxey
lead mines is valuable.
The climate of the island is noted not only for its mild¬
ness but also for its general equality. The mean tempera¬
ture of the year is 490,84 ; of summer, 58°‘98 ; of winter,
410,57 ; of July it is 60o-33, and of January 40°'52;—giving
the difference between the hottest and the coldest months
as 190,81 ; between summer and winter as 170,41.
Before the time of the revestment of the sovereignty of
Man in the British Crown, in 1765, agriculture was almost
entirely neglected. The herring fishery formed the chief
occupation of the peasantry, whilst the women and children
cultivated just as much land as would supply the wants of
the family and pay the lord’s rent.
For the present highly improved state of agriculture, the
island has been mostly indebted to the enterprise of Eng¬
lish and Scotch farmers, who set a good example in the cul¬
tivation of apparently barren land. The dormant energies of
the people being thus called forth, they, in many instances,
have not been slow to imitate their instructors, and have
been amply rewarded with success. Generally speaking,
land in a good situation, well cultivated, will give a return
in oats of 36 to 45 bushels per acre, barley in the same
proportion, and wheat from 25 to 30. In the neighbour¬
hood of the towns, land is let from L.4 to L.5 per acre.
The mode of agriculture comprises a succession of crops in
the following order:—First, grain crop ; second, green crop
or summer fallow; third, clover and hay ; fourth and fifth,
pasture. The proportions of grain sown are,—oats, one-
half ; wheat, one-fourth; barley one-fourth. Previous to
1845 potatoes were cultivated to a very great extent, and
constituted a considerable item of export. Turnips, for
which the soil appears to be very favourable, are produced
in great quantities ; and, from an improved method of cul¬
tivation, are allowed, even by the Yorkshire farmers, to be
superior to those grown in their own favoured county.
Most of the artificial grasses thrive well; the white and red
clover, and the common grasses, yield generally good crops,
and large quantities of hay are stacked in most of the agri¬
cultural districts. The commons, or uncultivated lands,
are estimated to form about one-third of the island, includ¬
ing the whole of the mountain-chain. Upon these wastes
horses, cattle, and sheep are turned to graze, particularly by
the upland farmers. The principal food of these animals
during the winter season is the evergreen furze. The native
breed of horses is of a small kind, but hardy, useful, and
patient of labour, being somewhat similar to those of North
Wales. Horned cattle are numerous, but the native breed,
being much neglected, have degenerated. Lately, however,
the farmers have been improving the breed by the importa¬
tion of Ayrshire and short-horned cattle. The native breed
of sheep is very small, but hardy; their wool is not very
long, nor of the finest quality. In the low lands a larger
breed has been introduced. There is also a peculiar breed,
which is now rapidly disappearing, called, from its mouse-
brown colour, the Loaghtyn, or Lugh-doan. Pigs are bred
in considerable numbers.
With respect to the size of farms, the largest portion of
cultivated land is held by yeomen, farming from 10 to 150
acres, their own property. In the vicinity of the towns the
occupations are generally small. Rent varies from 10s.
to L.5 per acre, depending upon the quality of the soil, the
means of communication with the town, &c. Though the
north possesses an excellent soil, yet the convenience of lime
and sea-weed is wholly in favour of the south. Since the
abolition of the corn laws in England, little more grain is
Man,
Isle of
grown than will suffice for home consumption. Large num-
^ bers of cattle, however, are bred for exportation, and are
conveyed by steamers to England.
The manufactures and trade of the island are limited, the
want of coals being assigned as the principal reason. The
staple article of commerce is the products of the fishery;
and perhaps the next to that is the mineral treasure.
The peculiar fiscal privileges of the island, as also its in¬
flux of visitors, and the large circulation of money they in-
uce, contribute materially to its prosperity and progress;
to which may be added the frequent retirement ^to its
shores of opulent residents from the sister isles. Spirited
attempts to promote manufactures have, however, been
made, and there are now several mills for the manufacture
of canvas, woollen cloths, nets, ropes, twine, &c. There
are also breweries, tanneries, and soap factories; iron
foundries, gas and water companies, &c. Apart from the
herring fleet, consisting of about 400 smacks or luggers,
the island has a number of small coasting vessels, which
are chiefly used for the exportation of grain, ore, &c.
and the importation of coals. The latter class of vessels
are being gradually superseded by steamers, which ply
cSletow^61^60 Liverp°o1 and Doughs, Ramsey, and
The roads of the island are excellent, and are maintained
m, by a system of licenses on innkeepers, grocers,
hawkers, &c.; 2d, by an impost on carts, carriages, and
T !, i ’Lby a PrescriPtive labour duty on housekeepers ;
and Ath, by a like duty on the quarterlands. The annual
tund trom all these sources is between L.4000 and L.5000
and it is most ample for the support of all the roads, which
are under the management of a highway committee, a sur¬
veyor-general, and parochial overseers. Although surveys
6 by twotcompanies during the railway mania of
1845, the proposed railway lines for the connection of the
four towns of the island were never commenced. Surveys
have again been made, with a view to the opening 0f a
railway communication between Douglas and Peel °
The civil government of the Isle of Man is vested in
three estates—the Queen in Council, the Governor and
Council, and the House of Keys. These last two estates
together constitute a court of Tynwald; but the concur¬
rence of the three is essential to every legislative enact¬
ment. Acts of the British legislature do not affect the
island except it be therein specially included.
The Governor is captain-general of all the troops on the
island, and also of the constabulary force. He presides in
the councd, in all courts of Tynwald or legislature, in all
staff of government courts, courts of general gaol delivery
courts5 ^ °^iCW 80 6 •’Udge in Chancery an(1 Exchequer
The Council, or staff of government, consists of the lord
bishop of the diocese, the attorney-general, the receiver-
general, the two deemsters, the clerk of the rolls, the water-
bailiff the archdeacon, and the vicar-general, who are also
ex officio justices of the peace for the island. One or both
of the deemsters, the clerk of the rolls, and the water-
bailiff, generally sit as assessors in the courts in which the
governor presides. 1 he act of the governor and three of
his temporal officers is considered a valid act of the go¬
vernor and council. °
The House of Keys consists of twenty-four represen¬
tatives, who are not elected by suffrage, but are selected
by their own body, vacancies being filled up by the House
presenting to the governor “ two of the eldest and worthiest
u tbe Dand of Mann,” one of whom he nominates
vv o then takes his seat for life. To them an appeal may
be made against verdicts of juries at common law in all
cases; and against their decision there is no appeal but to
the Queen in Council.
In matters of property the Court of Chancery has the
MAN, ISLE OF.
most extensive jurisdiction of any in the island, and is both
a court of law and equity. The governor presides, and is
assisted by the clerk of the rolls, the deemsters, and the
water-bad(ff. Like the English Court of Chancery, the
proceedings are conducted without the intervention of a
conntcte^whh1 der C°Urt takeS co°nisance of all matters
connected with the revenue: proceedings are here carried
on or the recovery of all penalties and forfeitures due to
he crown, incurred by frauds upon the customs. It passes
vSvof K lCOnVTl,‘-etl crimi“ls’ »"d “1“ decides the
valid ty Of all titles. This court also determines the rmht
o^stssifr;rtofi777’ras«
Ramsey, once m three months. These take cognisance of
all actions, rea. personal, and mixed, and of all civil matters
i t o^rm be determined by a J'ury- The j-ies con
mid • L agamSt whose verdict an appeal can be
mado, in the first instance, to the House of Keys who
vercfict at'cemmonTaw.^affirming’ °r alterin- a
at rb!tWUrtS °^Geferal Gao1 Delivery are held twice a-year
offence! Z"’ f°r t G tna °f]'priS0ners indicted for criminal
offences. the governor presides, attended by the deemsters
and the clerk of the rolls. The execution of the senTnce
tffs court in cases of treason, murder, or other capital
offences, is never carried into effect until the royal pleasure
can be ascertained. ^ Plt;di>uie
, ?jhe Deemsters’ Courts are of great antiquity. They are
eld weekly, alternately at Douglas and Castletown, by the
PeeTT Am6 fU?lrn divisi°u; and at Ramsey and
divLion K^pMl^ae1’ deemster for the northern
division. The judge in tins court, by his sole authority
determines ,n cases of trespass, slander, assault, batte y
debts and contracts; but an appeal can be made agaS
his judgment to the staff of government. The deemsters
possess very extensive jurisdiction and high authority • they
are the chief justices and the ancient popular magistrates7
butfli^ iS limited by laW to their IvS^
but they have concurrent jurisdiction over the island. They
aie appointed by the crown, each having a salary of L.800
per annum. On the deemsters every department of the
legislature and government depends for advice and direc¬
tion in all difficult points of law. They take cognisance in
a summary manner of all breaches of the peace, and can
hold courts instantly on all criminal informations.
I he herring fishery, and the boats employed in it are
placed under the charge of the water-bailiff, and he usually
holds a court once a-week, to redress grievances, and enforce
the regulations of the fishery. He appoints, with a small
salary, two intelligent fishermen, who are called admirals
to assist m preserving order. The water-bailiff has also
civil jurisdiction in questions of salvage, and takes coo-ni-
sance of suits in maritime matters, similar to the admiralty
anTpeeTforl;^ !" W’
under forty shillings’ ’ 'ecovery of debts
whIbetheKefSti“lf0U“S are’ die consistorial court, in
w Iich the bishop, or his vicar-general, or registrar presides
ligsr iee,fa" rrs relati"="pSe „f
, g anting letters ol administration, alimonv chureli
assessments, &c ; and the vicar-general's court wllicli mkes
thfffTerest0 fal!l°ffereSiagainSt reliSion> good morals, and
bv thp m ° i16 cburc i’ and op aP cases not cognisable
arettldZ ^ The chapter or
are 1 del for regulating all matters connected with the see,
and the general affairs of the diocese.
245
Man,
Isle of.
246
MAN, ISLE OF.
Man,
Isle of.
The magistrates hold regular courts in Douglas fort¬
nightly, and monthly in each of the other towns, for the
summary trial of offences for breach of the peace and mis¬
demeanours. These gentlemen are appointed by commis¬
sion under the Great Seal of England, but their powers are
regulated by an insular act of Tynwald. The members of
the council and the four high bailiffs are also ex officio
magistrates, and their clerk is a member of the bar. ap¬
pointed also by the crown. _ .
A coroner, anciently termed a moar, is appointed by the
governor to each of the six sheadings or districts of the
island, at the Tynwald Court, on the 5th July, annually.
He unites in his office the powers possessed by an English
coroner, constable, and sheriff’s officer. He is both a
ministerial officer and a conservator of the peace, and, ac¬
cording to ancient statute, holds his office for one year only.
The laws of the island still retain much of their ancient
peculiarity of character, though modified by occasional acts
of Tynwald, and rendered in some respects more in unison
with those of England. By acts of Tynwald, passed in
1777 and 1813, the criminal code was greatly altered and
amended. , ,. , . .
The general tenure is a customary freehold devolving
from each possessor to his next heir-at-law. The right of
primogeniture extends to females as well as males. The
interest of a widow or widower, being the first wife or hus¬
band of a person deceased, is a life estate in one-half of the
lands which have descended hereditarily, and is forfeited
by a second marriage ; a second husband or second wife is
only entitled to a life interest in one quarter. Of the land
purchased by the husband, the wife surviving him is entitled
to an absolute moiety. By a statute of the year 1777, pro¬
prietors of lands are empowered “ to grant leases ^for any
term not exceeding twenty-one years in possession.”
The annexed Table exhibits the Population of each Parish,
and its Relative Increase from 1726 to 1851.
Sheadings.
Parishes and
Towns.
Rushen.. <
Middle...
Glenfaba ^
Garff 
Ayre ^
Michael. •(
p. Malew 
t. Castle- 1
TOWN... J
p. Arborey....
p. Rushen 
p. Santon 
p. Braddan ..
t. Douglas..
p. Onchan 
p. Marown....
p. Germain..
t. Peel 
p. Patrick 
p. Lonan 
p. Maughold.,
t. Ramsey ..
p. Lezayre...
p. Bride 
p. Andreas...
p. Jurby 
P. Ballaugh..
p. Michael....
Population.
890
785
661
813
376
780
810
370
499
510
475
745
547
529
460
1,309
612
967
483
806
643
175*.
1,466
915
1785
,007
507
1,121
1,814
434
658
925
805
954
869
759
882
1,481
629
1,057
467
773
1,826
Total 14,070 20,134 40,087 48,001 52,116
2,649
2,036
1,455
2,568
800
1)754
6,054
1,457
1,201
1,849
1,909
2,031
1,846
1,514
1,523
2,209
1,001
2,229
1,108
1,467
1,427
1841.
3,085
2,283
1,615
3,079
769
2,122
8,647
2,589
1,318
1,896
2,133
2,768
2,230
1,585
2,104
2,323
1,153
2,332
1,068
1,516
1,376
1851.
3,232
2,501
1,593
3,262
714
2,407
9,653
3,478
1,363
2,168
2,329
2,923
2,605
1,764
2,660
2,455
1,053
2,165
983
1,392
1,416
The number of houses in 1841 was 8393, and in 1851,
9108; of the latter number 8611 were inhabited.
Language.—The Manx language is a sub-dialect of the
Gaelic or ancient Celtic, and it has great affinity to the
Erse or ancient Irish language. The natives of the south
and west of Ireland, of the Highlands of Scotland, and of
the Isle of Man, have but little difficulty in understanding
and conversing with each other. This, however, applies
only to the pronunciation, for their differences in ortho¬
graphy are such as to perplex even the most learned lin¬
guists. The Manx is now only spoken in the north¬
western parishes, and at a few localities along the western ^
coast, though, with few exceptions, the natives aie able to
converse in the English language. I he services in the
parish churches are given alternately in the Manx and
English languages, though the Manx is not taught in any
of the parochial schools; and it is very probable that in the
course of the next generation it will become utterly extinct.
All religious sects are tolerated in Man; but its esta¬
blishment is connected with the Church of England. It is
a diocese in the province ot York; but its bishop has not a
seat in the House of Peers. His double title of Sodor and
Man has its origin in one of those ages so fertile in mate¬
rials for antiquarian guesswork. Some will have it that
Sodor is derived from Sotor, the ancient name of a village
in Iona; others allege that it is a contraction of the Danish
word Sudoroe, significant of the Hebrides, which the Scan¬
dinavian rovers approached generally from the N., and which
are said to have been at one time under the spiritual juris¬
diction of the Manx bishops; whilst some, with equal pro¬
priety, maintain that it was applicable only to a little island
off Peel, and formerly called Sodor, on which a lordly castle
once stood, containing the cathedral in which many of its
bishops were consecrated, and the cemetery where the dust
of most of the wise, and the brave, and the noble of the
land was deposited. The bishop is assisted in ecclesiastical
matters by an archdeacon, a vicar-general, a registrar, and
a sumnar-general. The livings ot the clergy arise chiefly
from tithes; the patronage, from the bishopric downwards,
with the exception of three in the gift of the diocesan, is
vested in the Crown. The revenue of the church of Man
is a good one, and amply sufficient to maintain all its clergy
comfortably, were it only a little more equitably divided*
In no part of the world is religious toleration better esta¬
blished than in this island,—not even Britain, with all her
boasted religious liberty, excepted, no license being re¬
quired, either for the preacher or the place in which he minis¬
ters, and liberty of conscience is enjoyed by all. Man is
well supplied with the appliances ot education. Besides
King William’s College, there are academies of the very
highest class. Its parochial schools have likewise consider¬
ably improved during the last few years.
Previous to the Actof Revestment in l76o,the commerce
of the island consisted principally of the importing and ex¬
porting of contraband goods, the average returns of which
exceeded half a million sterling per annum. During that
period the island was the grand refuge and storehouse for
smugglers, who, as occasion offered, shipped their goods to
England, Scotland, and Ireland, to the great injury of the
British revenue; the loss to which was then estimated at
L.300,000 per annum. After this period the customs ot
the isle became vested in the British crown, and were
placed under the control of a receiver-general, and subse¬
quently, by an act (50th Geo. III.) the regulation and
management were transferred to the commissioners of cus¬
toms in England, which have since remained under their
superintendence; and this little island, instead of be^ng ^
burden to the mother country, now remits about D.t5U,uuu
annually to the consolidated fund, after all expenses are
deBvthde act 7th and 8th Viet, chap, xlin, passed 19th
July 1844, commonly called “ The Fiscal Bill, the entire
revenue of the island is regulated, and has been relieved
from many vexatious restrictions.
In 1853-54 several fiscal changes were made by the
Lords of the Treasury. Previous to this period British
gin and whisky of any description were absolutely prohi¬
bited but they are now admitted, entitled to an inland
revenue drawback of T^d per gallon. Brandy, Geneva or
Hollands, and rum, were imported under special license
Man,
Isle of.
MAN, ISLE OF.
Man, in the undermentioned restricted quantities per annum; and
8 6 °J t following table will show the difference between the
old and new tariffs:—
247
History.
Brandy  
Geneva 
Rum 
Liqueurs  
Eau-de-Cologne 
Tobacco 1
Do. manufactured J
Cigars 
Annual
Limitation.
Gallons.
20,000
20,000
70,000
50
50
55,000 lb.
5,000 „
former
Duty.
10 0
10 0
Present
Duty.
s. d.
6 0
10 0
10 0
Without
limit or
restriction
as to quan¬
tity im¬
ported.
To counterbalance the above increase of duties on the
luxuries, the following reductions were made on the neces¬
saries of life:—
Former Duty. Present reduced Duty.
^ea"  ; ls- per lb 6d. per lb.
►sugar (Muscovado....Is. 6d. per cwt Is. per cwt.
... (Refined) 9s. per cwt 3s. per cwt.
. tliat is known of the early history of the Isle of Man
is derived from tradition, from the annals of the surrounding coun¬
tries, from the Norse and Erse Sagas, and from a record by the
monks of Rushen Abbey called the Chronicon Mannice.
The earliest personage mentioned by tradition and history is
Mannanan-Beg-Mac-y-Lheirr, from whom the Manx believe the
island to have derived its name. He is thus described in the Statute-
Rook of the island“ Mannanan-Beg-Mac-y-Lheirr, the first per¬
son who held Man, was the ruler thereof, and after whom the land
was named, reigned many years, and was a Paynim—he kept the
land under mist by his necromancy. If he dreaded an enemy, he
would cause one man to seem as a hundred, and that by art-magic ”
He was reputed to be a son of a king of Ulster, and by others a
son of Alladius; but both ideas are irreconcilable with history.
He appears to be identical with Mainus, the son of Fergus I of
Scotland, who ascended the throne of Scotland 290 b.c. The ancient
English historian Nennius, and also Camden, state that Brule or
Brude, a Scot, governed the Isle of Man in the reigns of Emperors
Aurelius and Honorius, a.D. 395. In 517 Maelgwyn, King of
North Wales, who proved a formidable foe to the Saxons in Eng¬
land and the Scots in Man, expelled the Scots, and annexed the
island to his Welsh dominions. For this exploit Maelgwyn, who
was nephew to the renowned King Arthur, was created a Knio-ht
of the Round Table. He was succeeded by his son Rhun-ap-
Maelgwyn in 560, from whom in 581 the island was reconquered
by Aydun M£Gabhran, King of Scotland, who appointed his sister’s
son Brennus his viceroy, with the title of “ Thane of Man.” The
Isle of Man appears to have been under the Scotch vice-royalty
until about the year 611, when Cadwallon, the Welsh king, appears
to have recovered it from the Scots, and to have retained possession
of it until 630. Having invaded Northumberland, he was defeated
with immense loss, at the battle of Weddington, by Edwin, the
king of the Saxon province of Deira, who, following up his victory
subjugated the isles of Anglesey and Man. Some years afterwards’
Cadwallon, obtaining aid from France and Scotland, reconquered
the territory which had been overrun by Edwin. Towards the
end of the ninth century Harold Harfagra, the son of Halfdan
Ivart the Black, the most powerful of the Norse Vikingr, overran
and devastated with indiscriminate slaughter the whole of the
Western Isles and Man. He appointed as lieutenant of Man and
the Isles the jarl Ketil Flatnefr, or Flatnose, who afterwards threw
off his allegiance and assumed the sovereignty. He soon after¬
wards died, and was succeeded by his sons Helgi and Thorstein the
Red, the last of whom was expelled in 894. The next king, Mai,
was succeeded by his nephew Amlaf or Olave, whose reign was of
short duration. In the meantime Harold Harfagra had resolved
on uniting the petty kingdoms of Norway into one sovereignty, and
after many years of warfare, he effectually succeeded in his object.
There is reason to suppose that this act, and his subsequent tyranny,
induced the simultaneous emigration of Rollo and his companions
to Normandy, of Ingolf to Iceland, and of Orry to the Isle of Man,
where they all established independent kingdoms.
After subjugating most of the Western Isles, King Orry arrived
in Man, and succeeded in establishing his sway over the island.
He was a wise and politic prince, and during his reign the
Manx enjoyed undisturbed tranquillity. To him the Manx are
indebted for a legislative government. He first divided the island
into six sheadings, each of which sent its representatives to the
court at Tynwald Hill which was formed in his reign. His de¬
scendants continued to rule over Man till 1077, when Godred IV.
(Crovan), at the head of a horde of Norwegians, routed the island¬
ers and slew their king, Fingal II. He established himself in the
southern district of the island; the remainder he granted to the
inhabitants, on the absolute condition of their holding it under him
as lord of the whole.
On the death of Godred in 1093, Magnus Barefoot succeeded in
obtaining possession of Man, over which he placed the Norwegian
jarl Octtar as governor. The inhabitants of the southern district
becoming displeased with Octtar, elected Macmarus in his place ;
a battle in consequence ensued at Santwart (or Sainthill), in the’
parish of Jurby, and victory was inclining to the party of Macma¬
rus, when the women of the north, rushing to the scene of action,
totally changed the issue of the fight, although not till both leaders
were slain.
On the death of Magnus, the right of Godred Crovan’s line to
the kingdom of the Isles was recognised, and Lagman, the son of
that conqueror, succeeded to the government; but, from his exces-
sive tyranny, he became detestable to his subjects. He at length
abdicated the throne, and undertook a pilgrimage to Palestine,
whence he never returned. Olave II. (surnamed Kleining, or the
Dwarf), the only surviving son of Godred IV., being then a minor
a regent was appointed, who, by his acts of tyranny and oppres¬
sion rendered himself so obnoxious to the people, that he was
expelled from the kingdom in the third year of his government.
Olave II., who had attained his majority, ascended the throne of
ms father, and prudently secured peace to his dominions by enter¬
ing into alliance with the kings of England and Ireland, and by
contracting a marriage with Alfrida, daughter of Fergus, lord of
Galloway, and grand-daughter of Henry I. of England. His pre¬
viously quiet reign was disturbed by the pretensions of three na¬
tural sons of his brother Harold, by one of whom he was treacher¬
ously slain at a conference in 1154. The triumph of the three rebel¬
lious nephews was not of long continuance. Godred V. (the Black),
Olave s only legitimate son, was recalled from Norway, where he
was receiving his education; the whole of the Isles submitted to
his authority ; and the sons of Harold were delivered to condign
punishment. Several attempts were made during his reign to ob-
tain possession of the island, one of which by Somerled, surnamed
the Surly, Thane of Argyle, was successful, and Godred had to take
refuge in Norway, where he remained till the death of the usurper,
on which he regained possession of his throne. His death took
place m 1187, in the thirty-third year of his reign. Olave III., his
only legitimate son, being then a minor, Reginald, another son,
was appointed to the government during his minority. The latter
endeavoured to secure to himself the throne by doing homage to
ohn of England, and afterwards by acknowledging the superiority
of the pope ; but all these efforts were unavailing, and a series of
struggles was the consequence, till at length Reginald was slain in
a sanguinary engagement in 1229. In A.D. 1237 Olave died in
Peel Castle, leaving three sons,—Harold, Reginald, and Magnus;
an was succeeded by his son Harold II., who, with his queen and a
numerous retinue of nobility, in 1248, were drowned on their re-
^orway) where they had been celebrating his marriage
with Cecilia, daughter of Hakon, the Norwegian king. His brother
Reginald III. assumed the government, and was afterwards slain,
with all his party, by the Knight Ivar, a natural son of Godred V.
(and brother of the illegitimate Reginald II. the usurper), in 1249.
On the death of Reginald III., who left only an infant daughter,
his brother Magnus was chosen king. According to usual custom
he went over to Norway, and after two years’ attendance at that
court, was declared King of the Isles, and had the title confirmed
to himself and his heirs. In 1250 John, King of England, landed
With an army at Ronaldsway, and proclaimed himself King of Man
and the Isles; but his army was defeated and compelled to retreat.
from this time the power of the Norwegian kings began to de¬
cline, and that of the Scottish sovereigns to revive. Magnus
threatened by an invasion, did homage to Alexander III. of Scot¬
land, and received from him a charter, by which he held the island
from the crown of Scotland. He died in 1265, without issue. In
the meantime, Magnus VI. of Norway, as the legitimate sovereign
of Man, ceded in 1266 to Alexander III. all his claims and interest
in the sovereignty and episcopacy of Man for the sum of 4000
marks, and an annual pension of 100 marks. The widow of Maunus
however (the late King of Man), a woman of LugTty anfS
brother^n1^ ’RUC-eeSd gettinS Ivar> the assassinator of her
andtr 7n I’i-D Eeglnald’ Placed on the vacant throne; and Alex-
Stnartnf p"-0! SeDt/r army> under the command of Alexander
of nliprlion aiS Comyn, to reduce the island to a state
L-ivon • Ce’ip i. dec's^ve battle at Ronaldsway, near Derby-
i . ’ ,ln. ^ ^ of the Manx, with their leader Ivar, were
• 1.’ e „ om was entirely subjugated and annexed to the do¬
minions of Alexander. This monarch, in token of his conquest,
Man,
Isle of.
248
^ 1 'vmuwwwLMmm' t
MAN, ISLE 0 F.
Man, substituted the quaint device of “ the three legs,” which still con-
isle of. stitutes the national emblem, for the ancient armorial ensign of
the island—a ship in full sail, with the motto, “ Rex Mannice
et Insularum.” He placed the island under the government of his
nobles or thanes, whose repeated acts of tyrannical oppression at
length inspired the inhabitants to throw off the Scottish yoke.
Bishop Mark (Marcus Galvadiensis), a Scotchman, however, being
informed of their determination, obtained their mutual consent to
decide the contest by thirty champions selected from each party.
The Manx champions were all killed in the contest that took place,
and twenty-five of the Scottish warriors shared the same fate.
This victory confirmed the conquest of the Scots; the ancient regal
government was abolished, and a military despotism established.
During the contentions of Bruce and Baliol, Edward I. of Eng¬
land took possession of the island for a period, while two rival
claimants for the throne appeared. One of these was Mary, the
daughter of Reginald III.; the other Affrica or Alfrida, a daughter
of Olave III., the “ Black King of Man,” and sister of Magnus (and
aunt to Mary, the other claimant). The latter was successful; and
she in 1305 conveyed by a deed of gift her right and interest in the
island to her husband, Sir Simon de Montacute, whose son Sir Wil¬
liam afterwards mortgaged its revenues to Anthony Beck, Bishop
of Durham and Patriarch of Jerusalem, to whom the king made a
grant of it for life. In 1313 Bruce made a descent on the island,
and succeeded in driving out the English. He granted it to his
nephew Randolph, Earl of Murray, during whose sway it was over¬
run and plundered by a numerous body of Irish under Richard de
Mandeville.
In the reign of Edward III. Mary Waldebeof, daughter of the
previous claimant, and grand-daughter of Reginald III., presented
her claims to the sovereignty of the island, and solicited the pro¬
tection and assistance of that monarch. The king allowed her title,
and by giving her in marriage to William Montacute, Earl of
Salisbury (the grandson of Sir Simon Montacute and Alfrida), thus
united in their persons the rights of the two lines of descendants of
Olave the Black to the kingdom of Man. With the aid of the
English king, the earl was enabled to expel the Randolphs from
the island ; and in the year 1344 he was with much pomp crown¬
ed King of Man. Thus, to the great joy of the people, was the
government restored to its rightful possessors. In the year 1393
the Earl of Salisbury sold to Sir William le Scroop “ the Isle of
Man, with the title of king, and the right of being crowned with a
golden crown.”
Sir William le Scroop, afterwards Earl of Wiltshire, being at¬
tainted and beheaded for high treason, the island in 1399 was
bestowed on Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, but he having
been attainted and banished, Henry IY. made a grant of it to Sir
John Stanley for life. This deed was cancelled, and a new patent
passed the Great Seal in 1406, bestowing the island, Peel Castle,
and lordship of Man, and the isles appertaining thereto, with all the
royalties, regalities, and franchises, with the patronage of the see, on
him and his heirs, to be held of the crown of Great Britain, per ho-
tnagium legum, paying to the king a cast of falcons at his coronation.
The lords of the House of Stanley made frequent visits to the
island, but governed it chiefly by lieutenants, who occupied the
castles of Peel and Rushen, having them fortified with strong gar¬
risons. Various tumults arose, occasioned by the infraction of
ancient customs and popular liberty; and in 1422 fourteen per¬
sons were drawn by wild horses, quartered and beheaded. Even¬
tually authority was delegated to Henry Byron, whose penetration
and policy soon restored order. He remodelled the House of Keys,
relieved the people of many oppressive enactments, and by his
wisdom and circumspection rendered his regency one of the most
popular in the insular history. John Stanley died in 1432, and
was succeeded by his son Thomas, who was created Baron Stanley
by Henry VI., and died in 1459. Thomas his son succeeded him,
and was created Earl of Derby by Henry VII. for the aid he
rendered to him with his forces at Bosworth ; and he is remark-
able in English history as having crowned Henry on that memo-
battle-field. This nobleman’s son Thomas, the second Earl
of Derby, relinquished the title of King of Man, as he preferred
“ being a great ior*!, to a p^y ” He died in 1522. Edward,
* *rc* earl> S0It of the last-named Thomas, was a great favourite
W1 enry ^ HI-) and was reputed to have been very rich and
muni cent; during his time the revenues were confiscated, and the
^ ce d*®lnant|ed, the venerable abbey of Rushen, which was
t e as o all the monasteries dissolved by the rapacious and san-
guinary Henry VIII. He died in 1572, and was succeeded by his
son Henry, the fourth Earl of Derby. He died in 1594, leaving
two sons, Ferdinand and AVilliam, who in time became lords of
Man.^ The title of AA illiam was disputed by the three daughters of
I erdinand . with these, however, he effected a compromise j and
in 1610 obtained an “ act for assuring and establishing the Isle of
Man in the name and blood of AVilliam, Earl of Derby.” He, jtfan
in 1637, being tired of public life, resigned his dignities to his jsie 0f
son James, so celebrated in history as “ the great Earl of Derby.”
During the civil war the island remained steadily attached to
the interests of the king, and was one of the last places that yielded
to the authority of Cromwell. After the relief of Lathom House
and the battle of Bolton, the noble earl retired to the Isle of Man,
where he continued to reside, actively engaged in protecting his
interests, until 1651. In that year he again proceeded to England,
where he raised a force, joined the royal army, was defeated and
taken prisoner at AVorcester, and beheaded at Bolton, October 16,
1651. The defence of the island was undertaken by the heroic
Lady Derby, who was then in Castle Rushen; but AVilliam Chris¬
tian, the receiver-general, on the appearance of a hostile fleet, sur¬
rendered the castle without resistance, to which act of treachery
there is little doubt that he had been bribed.
On the decapitation of Earl James, the Parliament granted th#
island to General Fairfax in consideration of his services, who
held it until the Restoration, when it was restored to Charles,
the eighth earl (the son of Earl James), in 1660. On the death
of Earl Charles in 1672, he was succeeded by his son AVilliam,
the ninth earl, who took but little interest in his Manx pro-
perty, and dying without issue in 1702, was succeeded by his
nephew James (a younger son of Charles, the eighth earl). At
this time the lordship of Man was approaching to dissolution. The
leases, which had been granted for three lives, having nearly ex¬
pired, and no provision having been made relative to their renewal,
the neglect of agriculture became so general that repeated seasons
of scarcity and famine occurred, and the people were wholly given
up to the fishery and the pursuit of the contraband trade. Bishop
AVilson energetically drew attention to this injurious system,
and his powerful efforts being seconded by a firm but respectful
remonstrance from the insular legislature, prevailed upon his lord-
ship to confer in 1703 upon his Manx subjects the Act of Settle¬
ment (very justly called the Manx Magna Charta), and which may
be considered one of the most important occurrences in the civil
history of the island, as by it the lessees of estates were finally-
established in their possession, and their descent assigned in per¬
petuity, on the payment of certain fines, rents, and dues to the
lords. James died in 1736 without issue, and was the tenth and
last earl of the noble and illustrious House of Stanley, who had been
sovereigns of the isle for more than 300 years.
The lordship of Man then devolved on James, second Duke of
Athol, a descendant of the Lady Amelia Sophia Stanley (the
youngest daughter of the noble James, the seventh Earl of Derby).
In 1726, in order to put an end to the contraband trade of the
island, which had become so extensive as materially to affect the
revenue of Great Britain, an act of Parliament was passed author¬
izing the purchase of all the royalties and revenues of the island;
but though many overtures were made by the government, no re¬
sult followed till after the death of the duke, whose only daughter
Charlotte, the Baroness Strange, being married to her cousin John,
the next male heir to the dukedom, conveyed to him the lordship of
Man in her own right. Proposals for the purchase were revived
in 1765, and measures having been introduced into Parliament for
the more effectual prevention of the illicit trade of the island, the
duke and duchess agreed to surrender the sovereignty and its
revenues for L.70,000. They reserved the manorial rights, the
patronage of the see, and some emoluments and perquisites, respect¬
ing which a misunderstanding arose in consequence of the British
government claiming more than the duke and duchess intended by
the treaty to relinquish, and therefore a further sum of L.2000
per annum was granted as an annuity to the duchess out of the
Irish revenue : the sovereignty of the island thus became vested in
the crown of England. By the Act of Revestment the island was
more closely united to the parent country, and its prosperity has
ever since been progressively advancing, though its original and
independent form of government has not experienced any material
change. On the ground of inadequate compensation, their son
John (the fourth duke) presented petitions to Parliament and the
Privy Council in 1781 and 1790, but unsuccessfully, until the year
1805, when an act was passed assigning to him and his heirs, as
an additional grant, one-fourth of the revenues of the island, which
was afterwards commuted for L.3000 per annum for ever.
In 1825 an act passed both houses of Parliament, at the instance
of the lords of the Treasury, authorizing the lords of the Trea¬
sury to treat with the duke for the purchase of his remaining in¬
terest in the island. The duke being very unpopular at the time,
and much dissatisfied with his position in the island, willingly em¬
braced the proposal, and the valuation was left to arbitrators ap¬
pointed on both sides. These in the year 1829 awarded him the
further sum if L.416,114 for his rights in and over the soil, as lord
of the manor, as follows :—
MAN
Manaar For the customs revenue    L.150 000
|J Kents and alienation lines  34,000
Manayunk. Tithes, mines, and quarries  132114
^ ^ v ^ 1 Patronage of the bishopric, with fourteen advow-
sons, the aggregate value of which was L.6000... 100,000
Total  L.416,114
Thus was the island, with all its privileges and immunities,
ceded to the British government.
MANAAR, an island situate on the N.W. coast of
Ceylon, giving name to the gulf which separates Hindustan
from Ceylon. The island, which is about 15 miles in
length by 3 in average breadth, is separated from Ceylon
by an arm of the sea about 2 miles broad, and at low water
almost dry, excepting a small channel in the middle, of no
greater breadth than about 30 or 40 yards. The distance
from the western point of this island to that of Ramiseram
is 12 leagues, and the intervening space is occupied by a
line of sandbanks called Adam’s Bridge, but which, ac¬
cording to a tradition of the Hindus, was constructed by
their demigod Ram when he invaded Ceylon. Between
these two islands small boats constantly ply, and thus keep
open the communication between the two coasts. This
island, which was first occupied by the Portuguese in 1560,
was taken from them in 1658 by the Dutch, who banished
thither their refractory subjects. It was subsequently trans¬
ferred to the British. A survey of the gulf was completed
a few years since, and resulted in the formation of the
Paumbaum Passage, the particulars of which will be found
under that head. E. Long. 80., N. Lat. 9. 3.
MANACOR, a town in Majorca, is situate in a fertile
valley, 30 miles E. of Palma. It is substantially built, with
spacious streets and squares ; and the chief buildings are,—
the palace of the ancient kings of the island, a church, a cha¬
pel of ease, two schools, an hospital, &c. Brandy, wine, &c.,
are produced here, and there is a considerable trade in
corn, fruits, cattle, &c. Pop. (1845) 9642.
MANAGUA, or Leon, Lake of, a lake in Nicaragua,
Central America, between Lat. 12. 16. and 12. 40. N.,
Long. 85. 40. and 86. 30. W.; 156 feet above the Pacific,
and 176 feet above the Atlantic. Length,' between 50 and
60 miles ; greatest breadth, 35 miles. It is situated on the
northern slope of the ridge of hills which traverses Central
America, connecting the Rocky Mountains in the N. with
the Andes in the S. It is of an irregular shape, and the
depth varies from 2 to 40 fathoms. The town of Managua
is situate on the S.W. shore, 32 miles S.S.W. of Leon,
and consists for the most part of low huts and houses ar¬
ranged in long streets. It has two churches, one of which
stands in the middle of a large square, while the other is
distinguished by a white gateway in front. The inha¬
bitants are chiefly the aboriginal natives. They are very
industrious, and have great skill in imitating foreign articles.
Pop. 12,000.
MAN AH, a town of Northern Hindustan, in the dis¬
trict of Kumaon, on the north-eastern frontier. It con¬
tains 150 or 200 houses, with from 1400 to 1500 inha¬
bitants, who are above the middle size, stout, and well
formed, and seem to be of a race between those of Tartary
and Hindustan. The houses are two storeys in height, and
constructed of stone covered with small deal planks. Dur¬
ing the winters, which are very severe, the inhabitants
emigrate to the south. A considerable trade is carried on
between this place and Lahdak by means of sheep and
goats, which are accustomed to the bad roads on the moun¬
tains. They import saffron, borax, gold-dust, musk, &c.,
and export Benares manufactures, and a few light Euro¬
pean articles. E. Long. 79. 32., N. Lat. 30. 46.
MANAYUNK, a town in the county of Philadelphia,
state of Pennsylvania, North America, is situate on the left
bank of the Schuylkill River, 7 miles N.N.W. of Phila-
VOL. XIV.
MAN 249
delphia, and 89 miles W. by S. of Harrisburg. The town Mancha,
is irregularly built on the slope of a hill near the river, and La»
the upper part contains several fine houses and churches. II
It has six Protestant and two Roman Catholic places of Ma°che>
worship. There is abundance of water-power at Mana- i j
yunk, and the town contains about sixteen cotton factories, " v-*-
besides three paper-mills, and other manufactories. The
river is crossed by two bridges. Pop. (1853) about 7000.
MANCHA, La, a territory and province of Spain, in
New Castile. I he territory of La Mancha comprised part
of each of the four provinces of Toledo, Albacete, Cuenca,
and Ciudad-Real—the latter almost wholly, whence it is still
called the province of La Mancha. It is the second pro¬
vince of Spain in point of extent, containing 663 square
leagues of level country. From this circumstance, and the
apparent scarcity of water and the want of trees, and from
the population being concentrated at various points, instead
of covering the country,—the whole province presents to the
traveller the arid and cheerless aspect of a desert. The
principal river is the Guadiana, which rises about 2 leagues
fiom Villaiubia, and enters the province of Badajoz near
Castilblanco. Most of the other rivers of the province—the
Azuer% Jabalon, Giguela, &c.—flow into the Guadiana.
The Guadalmena has also a course of about 6 leagues
through part of La Mancha. No advantage, however, is
taken of these and the other streams in the province for
irrigation, the inhabitants depending entirely on the rain;
a neglect for which they have been frequently visited by
famine. Besides the numerous streams, there are few spots
where water may not be found a few yards beneath the
surface; but neither of these supplies has been turned to
good account. 1 his province abounds in valuable mines;
those of cinnabar in Almaden were well known to the
ancients. In 1844 there were thirty-seven of lead arid
twelve of copper, and a few of silver. There are, besides,
manufactures of saltpetre in several parts ; quarries of fine
stone at Santa Cruz and elsewhere: the white-chalk or tierra
del viso, is famous. The agricultural products are,—wheat,
barley, rye, various legumes, saffron, &c. A good deal of
wine and brandy, but not much oil, is made. Hemp is grown
in some districts. The mules reared in La Mancha are con¬
sidered the best in or out of Spain. There are manufactures
of woollen cloths, earthenware, saltpetre, gunpowder, and
some other articles. T.he lace of Almagro is exported to
all quarters of the kingdom. Grain is exported chiefly to
Murcia, Valencia, and Madrid, in which city also the wine
and oil of the province find a market. A so-called uni¬
versity existed in Almagro till 1824, since which time there
are only primary institutions in La Mancha; nor are these
numerous or well distributed. The province contains ten
partidos, with a population in 1847 of 277,788.
MANCHE, La, a department in the N. of France, form¬
ing part of the old province of Normandy, and lying be¬
tween N. Lat. 48. 35. and 49. 40., W. Long. 0. 43? and
1. 50. It is bounded on the W., N., andN.E. by the Manche
or English Channel, from which it derives its name ; on the
E. by the departments of Calvados and Orne; and on the
S. by those of Ille-et-\ilaine and Mayenne. Length, 90
miles, average breadth, 27 miles; area, 2291 square miles.
The department is traversed from S. to N. by a rano-e of
hills of small height called Cotentin, which branch off5from
the Armoric ridge, and slope gradually towards the sea on
either side. T.he coast is in some parts rugged and pre-
cipitous ; but in others there are large tracts of sandy beach.
I here are several pretty good harbours, of which Cher-
bourg, La Hougue, Granville, Regneville, Carteret, &c., are
the cmer. 1 he coast is skirted with many islands, single
and in groups, such as Mont St Michel, the Chaussey
group, Pelee, latihou, and St Marcoufj most of which are
fortified and garrisoned. The main island of the Chaussey
group is remarkable for its granite quarries, and, except by
2 i
250 MAN
Manches- the workmen in these, it is uninhabited. There are no
ter. large rivers in this district, the most considerable being
the Vire, which enters La Manche in the S.E., and, after
flowing in a northerly direction for about 50 miles, falls
into the channel at the boundary between this department
and that of Calvados. The greater part of the rocks here
are of primary formation; but towards the E., near the
banks of the Vire, there are to be found deposits of a more
recent origin, such as lias, sandstone, limestone, and slate.
The country is in general undulating, the soil rich, and the
climate moist and mild. La Manche is very extensively cul¬
tivated, and the produce of grain is more than sufficient to
supply the wants of the inhabitants. Potatoes, hemp, flax,
and fruits, are also among its productions, and more than
22,000,000 gallons of cider are made every year. A con¬
siderable portion of the land is laid out in pasturage, which
is excellent; and fine breeds of horses and cattle are reared,
the former being much prized for military purposes. The
quantity of live stock is estimated at 92,000 horses, 210,000
head of horned cattle, 320,000 sheep, and 85,000 pigs.
Game and fish also abound. Mining operations are carried
on to a large extent in iron, lead, and coal; and there are,
besides, quarries of granite, marble, slate, limestone, &c.,
MAN
as well as extensive salt marshes along the coast, which are Mancheg-
a source of much wealth. The principal manufacturino- ter.
employments of this department are the working of iron,
zinc, and copper, and the making of woollen and cotton
stuffs, of cloth, lace, paper, glass, leather, &c. In many of
the coast towns there is a good deal of ship-building; and
the commerce with the channel is considerable in the
agricultural produce of the country, as well as in the articles
of manufacture. The department is divided into six arron-
dissements, and contains six tribunals of primary instance,
and four of commerce ; six colleges, one normal school, five
superior, and 1225 elementary schools. It belongs to the
sixteenth military division, and sends four members to the
legislative body. The capital is St L6. The population
in 1851 of the various arrondissements was as follows:—
Cantons. Communes. Inhabitants.
St Lo  9 117 99,099
Coutances  10 138 130,475
Valognes  7 118 92,238
Cherbourg  5 73 85,397
Avra,nches   9 124 117,032
Mortain  8 73 76,641
Total  48 643 600,882
MANCHESTER,
The second town of the empire in point of population, and
the most important on account of its manufactures, is situate
almost at the south-eastern extremity of the county of
Lancaster, and is distant 186 miles N.W. by N. from
London. The site of the original town was early occupied
by a fort, which the Celts, migrating from the Continent,
and gradually spreading from the north, planted at Castle
Field, upon the bank of the River Irwell. Whitaker, the
learned historian of the ancient town, gives this station
the name of “ Mancenion, or the Place of Tents.” Pos¬
session was taken of it by the Romans about a century
after its formation (a.d. 72), and they continued masters
of it during three centuries, until their final departure from
the island. Several of the great Roman roads, traces of
which still remain, centred at this point. The fort sub¬
sequently fell into the hands of the Pictish invaders, but
after a lengthened struggle, was wrested from them by
the Saxons, who repaired the damage to the “ Aldport
Town,” brought the people into due subjection to the lord
or thegn, whose baronial hall covered the space of the
existing Chetham’s College, and built the churches of St
Mary and St Michael. “Manigceastre,” as Hollingworth
styles the town, was occupied by the Danes about the
year 870; and little is known of its succeeding history
until, in the apportionment of territory made by the Nor¬
man conqueror, Manchester was assigned to William of
Poictou, from whom the lordship of the manor has de¬
scended by marriage, hereditary succession, or purchase,
through the families of Grelley, De la Warre, West, and
De Lacey, to “ Mossley of the Hough,” whose successor,
Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart., was the possessor of the ma-
nonal lights and property; but on corporate powers and
privileges being obtained by Manchester in 1840, these
rights, and much valuable property, were sold by him to
the new corporation. The Grelleys, De la Warres, and
Wests, sat as barons in Parliament; and Thomas de Grel¬
ley granted in 1301 a “ great charter of Manchester,”
which, however, has no existing validity.
The Reformation was violently opposed in Manchester;
Collyer, the warden of the “ College of the Blessed Virmn ”
Bradford, and Pendlebury, were" zealots inTe religious
controversies it excited ; and Bradford died a martyr In
Elizabeth’s reign, Persons and Campion, the noted Je¬
suits, plotted in these districts; and from Ancoat’s Lane
now a densely peopled quarter of the town, one of the
Martin Marprelate presses sent forth its stirring missives.
The clergy were said to be so hostile to the progress of
the Reformation, that the “ college ” was dissolved in the
reign of Edward VI.; in Elizabeth’s reign a commissioner’s
court to promote the Reformation was established; and
the most severe measures were taken against recusants,
who swarmed in the dungeons of Manchester. In 1584
some were executed, one at Manchester, and their heads
exposed on the “ college.” In the “ great rebellion,”
Manchester took a very prominent part, the anti-monar¬
chical party having the ascendancy. A brawl, which arose
between the followers of Lord Strange (afterwards the ill-
fated Earl of Derby) and the inhabitants, was magnified
into a great battle, and proclaimed in the metropolis as
“ the beginning of civil warres in England, or terrible news
from the north; ” Lord Strange being impeached by the
Lower Llouse for his conduct in the affair. Subsequently
the town was formally besieged by his lordship’s forces,
but they were driven off; and the troops which had been
levied for the defence of the place were engaged in various
expeditions, one of which was the noted attack on Lathom
House. When the warfare had ceased in England, se¬
questrators were sent down, who alienated the revenues of
the college; presbyteries w'ere established throughout the
whole of Lancashire ; Manchester was the central point
of one “ classical division,” and the provincial synod met
there. In these troubled times the warden Heyrick, a
man of eminent endowments, acted a distinguished part.
Passing over another long interval, the people of Man¬
chester are found espousing the cause of the Chevalier
St George, for their devotion to whom five of the inhabi¬
tants were executed in the town. In 1745 they again
stood forth in favour of the young Prince Charles; one
of the localities in which the plans for his invasion of the
monarchy were concocted being in the immediate vicinity,
at Jackson’s Ferry, near Didsbury. In the summer previous
to his public appearance in Scotland, the prince secretly
visited Manchester, and was entertained for a considerable
time at Ancoat’s Hall, the seat of Sir Oswald Mosley, the
lord of the manor. The Pretender’s forces entered the
town on the 28th and 29th of November. They did not
receive a very cordial welcome; and when they marched
forward by Macclesfield towards Derby, the prince had en-
listed from the inhabitants only about 300 followers, and
these chiefly of the lower order. In his subsequent precipitate
retreat through Manchester, his reception was less agreeable
than before. The “Manchester regiment” were left to
gauison Carlisle, which place speedily surrendered to the
Duke of Cumberland, and they were made prisoners. Many
weie sent abroad; some of the leaders suffered decapita¬
tion, and their heads were exhibited on the top of the
Manchester Exchange.
The later history of the inhabitants is of a more loyal
character. 1 hey were very active in the American con¬
test, the war of the French revolution, and the more
recent struggle with Napoleon, raising many regiments of
volunteers, and otherwise affording their aid very freely.
The first Sir Robert Peel, then residing near Bury, but
who was virtually a Manchester manufacturer, his establish¬
ment being in that town, contributed money, and raised a
troop of volunteers; and in the year 1798, Peel and
Yates subscribed L.10,000 to the “voluntary contribution
for the defence of the country.” From this period to the
c ose of the war in 1815, the people of Lancashire suffered
torn dear food, high taxes, and by the abstraction of able-
bodied men who enlisted for soldiers; and when peace was
restored, the corn laws, and the redundancy of labour
consequent upon the disbanding of the army, fed to a con-
tmuance of distress, as also of dissatisfaction. The distress
thus engendered, and the political ferment of the times,
gave rise, in August 1819, to the noted “ Peterloo” affair’
in which a countless mass of people, having assembled for
the alleged object of petitioning the House of Commons
for a reform of Parliament, and the repeal of the corn laws,
was dispersed by the yeomanry and the troops of the line.
Phe Radicalism of these times has since cooled down into
a more mitigated species of Liberalism. In 1830-31 many
very numerous meetings were held in favour of the Reform
Bill; and when it became a law, the electors returned as
their representatives to Parliament the Right Honourable
C. Poulett Thomson, then vice-president of the Board of
Trade, and Mark Philips, Esq., both gentlemen of liberal
politics. Manchester had previously sent representatives
in eaily times. In the year 1366 the Sheriff of Lancashire,
being required to cause the return of burgesses to Parlia¬
ment from boroughs of sufficient importance to require
representation, reported there was no city or borough in
the county willing to accept the burdensome honour, “ by
reason of their inability, low condition, or poverty.” But
in Cromwell’s time, July 1654, Manchester sent Mr Charles
Worsley, and in the next year Mr R. Ratcliffe, to repre¬
sent her interests.
Manchester has been a place of trade from a very early
period. In the most remote antiquity the people traded
with the Greeks of Marseilles, and with other foreigners,
through Ribchester, then a considerable port on the Ribble,
which river is now no longer navigable so far inland. In
the reign of Henry VIII. a law was enacted to remove the
right of sanctuary from Manchester to Chester, on the ground
that it caused the resort hither of idle and dissolute persons,
to the injury of the “trade, both in linens and woollens,”
for which the place was “ distinguished,” and which gave
employment to “ many artificers and poor folks,” whose
masters, “ by their strict and true dealing,” caused “ the
resort of many strangers from Ireland and elsewhere, with
linen, yarn, wool, and other necessary wares for making of
cloth, to be sold there.” Camden speaks of the town as “ of
great account for certain woollen clothes there wrought;”
and in the year 1650 the people are described as “ the most
industrious in the northern parts of the kingdom.” The
disturbances in France and the Netherlands had tended
not a little to the growth of manufactures in the town, by
causing the settlement of French and Flemish artisans in
Lancashire. Early in the last century it was mentioned as
MANCHESTER.
251
a remarkable fact, that in Manchester and Bolton alone Manches-
goods to the amount of L.600,000 were annually manufac- ter-
tured. The trade appears, in fact, to have attained to as v—'
large a growth as was possible in the then confined state
of mechanical knowledge. It was not until an impulse was
given to invention, and that splendid series of machines
was produced, of which the effects have been so amazing,
that Manchester became really a place of commercial emi¬
nence and great resort.
1 he first of these inventions, in point of date, was the
water-frame, of which Arkwright, in 1769, claimed to be
the originator. In 1770 the spinning-jenny of James Har¬
greaves was first heard of; and in 1779 Crompton’s mule-
jenny was invented; while the “throstle” became an impor¬
tant modification and improvement of the water-frame. In
1*85 Arkwright took out a patent for improved carding,
drawing, and roving machines. The steam-engine of Watt
dates about the same time, although there were sundry mo¬
difications of it both before and afterwards. The power-
loom, for which Cartwright took out his last patent in 1787,
but which underwent many changes before it could be con¬
sidered as a practical maciiine, completes the list of early dis¬
coveries. There were, of course, various inventions subor¬
dinate to these. In the beginning of the present century, a
machine was constructed which outvied all others in import-
a.nce; it was the self-acting mule, the invention of Messrs
Sharp, Roberts, and Company, of Manchester. Their
last patent was taken out in 1830, and there are several
millions of spindles at work on the principle of spinning yarn
almost independently of human labour. Smith of Deanston,
and other inventors, have subsequently contrived self-act¬
ing mules, and now the self-acting principle of spinning is
fully established, and is applied universally to coarse yarns.
The history of this invention is fraught with instruction
to the working-classes. Attention was first directed to the
possibility of contriving a self-acting mule, in consequence
of the frequency of “ turns-out” amongst the spinners, and
the intolerable domination which they were enabled to ex¬
ercise, from the circumstance of a comparatively small class
of workmen having it in their power at any moment to sus¬
pend the whole trade of cotton-spinning. One “spinner”
had three or four young hands immediately dependent upon
himself; he had also four or five virtually dependent on
him, inasmuch as they being occupied in preparing the raw
cotton for him to spin, if he took a fit of idleness or insub¬
ordination, the preliminary processes were of course sus¬
pended. In the same way, if the spinners as a body be¬
came idle, the weavers, and eventually the bleachers, spin¬
ners, and printers, were brought to a stand ; in fact, the whole
cotton trade was locked up, and misery and privation were
the immediate and wide-spread results. These considera¬
tions induced master spinners to call into play the talent
of ingenious men, for the purpose of constructing such
machines as would give more stability and regularity to
the processes of spinning. The self-acting principle has
the virtue of being easily grafted on the older fashioned
mules, a third of the value of which is sacrificed in so
transforming them.
But the mere discovery of the early machines was of
little benefit to the country, so long as they could be re¬
stricted in their use at the caprice of the patentee. Accord¬
ingly, through the instrumentality of Mr Peel, an associa¬
tion of master manufacturers was formed, and a subscription
to take proceedings for setting aside Arkwright’s patents was
e1n.t1<r.re^ Int0’ uPon principle of each spinner paying a
shilling per spindle for as many as he used. The original
subscription list is still in existence ; the number of spindles
subscribed for was about 20,000, being not more than a
ourth of the number now employed by many large manu¬
facturers. In 1781 and 1785 Arkwright’s patents were an¬
nulled, and the cotton trade took a gigantic stride. The
252
MANCHESTER.
Manches- exports, which in 1701 were only to the value of L.23,253,
ter. and in 1780 only L.355,060, had risen in 1781 to L.l,101,457,
and in 1800 to L.5,406,501 ; but gradually expanding,
the whole exports of the cotton industry amounted in 1856
to upwards of L.38,000,000. The import of raw cotton,
which in 1751 was only 2,976,610 lb. weight, was in
1780 upwards of 6,700,000; in 1790, 31,500,000; in
1800, 56,000,000 lb.; and in 1856, 1,000,021,021,000
lb. weight. In 1787 it was estimated that there were in
Lancashire 41 cotton factories, in Derbyshire 22, and in
Nottinghamshire 17. In 1790 the number had increased;
and in 1817 Mr Kennedy of Manchester calculated that
there were 110,763 persons employed in cotton-spinning,
and 20,768 horses’ power. In 1832 Messrs Greg of
Manchester made a fresh estimate, giving the number of
operatives employed in the cotton-spinning and weaving
mills only of Great Britain, 160,000. In the year 1782
a great panic was excited in Manchester by the announce¬
ment that 7012 bags of cotton had been imported between
December and April.
In 1788 a meeting was held in Manchester to consider
the great depression under which the cotton manufacture
was labouring from the “ immense importation” of Indian
goods; and shortly afterwards the cotton manufacturers of
Lancashire, in conjunction with those of Scotland, appointed
deputies to obtain an interview with the king’s ministers,
and solicit permission to erect themselves into a company
of traders, with privileges similar to those enjoyed by the
East India Company. At this time it was estimated that
the cotton manufacture employed 159,000 men, 90,000
women, and 101,000 children,—an exaggerated number.
In truth, until the passing of the Factory Act, and the ap¬
pointment of inspectors and superintendents under its au¬
thority, there were no means of ascertaining the number of
hands employed either in the whole country or in districts.
The number of hands employed in Manchester in 1836 was
as follows:—
Parish of
Manchester.
IN COTTON MILLS.
Ardwick 
Beswick 
Droylsden 
Gorton 
Crnmpsall 
Levenshulme 
Collyhurst 
Manchester 
Chorlton-on- \
Medlock... / "•
Failsworth 
Newton 
Salford 
Hulme 
Total cotton.
Total silk 
WOOLLEN.
Salford 
WORSTED.
Manchester....
FLAX.
Broughton 
Droylsden 
Total Flax...
Grand total..
Under 13.
1832
404
2350
1275
880
2174
13 and
under 15.
M. F.
36
21
11
40
42
23
19
1999
480
14
40
242
66
5284
214
12
8
5594
34
21
98
37
23
26
1821
463
9
16
218
67
584
5610
15 and
under 18.
M.
30
16
14
73
18
11
4
1126
258
8
9
114
44
3043
114
4
4
25
25
82
28
31
94
40
9
22
1535
361
22
6
242
74
4349
520
4937
Above 18.
M. F.
194
127
39
176
66
33
30
5592
1102
35
35
539
219
14,288
48
14,821
180
94
70
260
102
42
76
7178
1323
20
36
997
303
18,546
829
69
19,512
M.
294
173
69
328
137
71
53
9525
2057
57
84
946
378
24,447
1158
60
33
104
8
112
25,810
375
168
127
467
191
80
124
11,095
2270
51
58
1497
476
29,210
2813
172
32,303
The following is a Teturn of the Hands not included in
the above Foivnships, which, added to the above, will give
the Complete Numbers for the Parish of Manchester :—
Cotton.
Silk 
Under 13.
M.
117
4
121
F.
127
13 and
under 15.
M.
517
13
F.
542
Under 18.
M.
280
5
285
F.
301
5
306
Above 18.
1553
41
1963
40
Total.
2467
63
2933
47
Numberless manufacturers had works on the borders of Manchos-
Cheshire, Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Staffordshire, whilst ter.
their warehouses were situate, and all their transactions
centred, in Manchester.
The following is a summary of mills in the county of
Lancaster, and the number of steam-engines and water¬
wheels, with the horse-power and the number of hands
employed in the year 1835 :—
Mills.
Cotton....
Woollen.
Worsted.
Flax 
Silk 
Total.
Of which
the parish of
Manchester.
a
6s
576
99
8
19
22
724
143
717
50
7
19
24
817
191
20,303J
747
123
550
387£
22,111
6,631
Water.
p£> <*_ O)
go®
231
95
5
4
3
338
2,851
761*
102
70
24
3,808*
86
cl O.
•§S
122.991
4,575
1,076
3,566
5,382
137,590
41,958
The number of power-looms employed was as follows:—
§2
Parishes.
Power-Looms.
Cotton.
Calico. Fustians.
66
1
2
45
35
1
1
1
16
8
4
5
2
1
7
6
201
Manchester, pt.of
Middleton, part of
Eccles 
Bury 
Whalley 
Rochdale, part of
Chorley 
Leyland 
Blackburn 
Preston 
Wigan 
Lancaster 
Prestwich, part of
Radcliffe 
Bolton 
Dean 
12,708
408
2,067
4,737
30
340
190
4,007
2,356
4,532
1,144
1,085
186
Totals....
Grand total.
2,381
416
6,954
287
249
111
72
546
602
545
20
280
457
306
iso
68
33,790 11,618 613
757
366
46,021
757
366
In addition to these, Mr Trimmer and M. Bates re¬
turned the following from their respective superintend-
encies:—
Districts.
In Mr Trimmer’s district of
Lancashire 
In Mr Bates’s ditto (Ash- 1
ton-under-Lyne) /
Total.
Cotton.
78
11
89
Number
of Power-
Looms.
14,137
4,018
18,155
Woollen.
Mills.
Num¬
ber of
Power-
Looms.
385
385
Of which about 485 were in the parish of Manchester.
MANCHESTER.
Weekly Earnings of Workers in Cotton Factories, Man¬
chester and Neighbourhood, 1857,/or sixty hours’ labour.
Occupations.
Scutching or cotton clean-1
ing overlookers, men J
  tenters, women
Carding overlookers, men 
... grinders,  
... strippers,  
Bobbin-frame or roving 1
overlookers, men J
Bobbin-frame first tenters, 1
women j
  second ...
  third
Comber tenters   
Drawing-frame tenters 
Mule-spinning overlookers, 1
men  f
Mule-spinners, men
In coarse Mills.
piecers, boys, 1
girls, men, and women... J
Throstle - spinning over- 1
lookers, men J
Throstle-spinners, girls and |
women J
Power-loom weaving over- 1
lookers, men j
Power-loom warpers, men 
... dressers, men 
... weavers, boys, 1
girls, men, and women... J
Beelers 
Boiler coverers 
Steam-engine tenters 
stokers 
Watchmen 
Mill mechanics 
Mill joiners 
d. s. d.
0 to 20 0
0 „ 9 0
0 „ 32 0
0 „ 18 0
0 „ 15 0
In fine Mills.
8 0 „ 9 6
0 „ 9
0 „ 9
o';; 9
0 „ 30
0 „ 22
0 „ 10
d. s. d.
0 to 21 0
6 „ 10 0
0 „ 40 0
0 „ 18 0
0 „ 15 0
25 0 „ 33 0
8 0
9 6
15 0 „ 30 0
5 0 „ 10 6
18 0 „ 36 0
0 „ 30
0 „ 30
0 „ 18
0 „ 11
0 „ 30
0 „ 40
0 „ 18
0 „ 21
0 „ 32
0 „ 28
8
8
8
8
22
25
5
0 „ 9 6
6 „ 10 0
6 „ 9 0
6 „ 9 6
0 „ 30 0
0 „ 50 0
0 „ 12 0
0 „ 12 0
0 „ 30 0
0 „ 40 0
0 „ 18 0
0 „ 21 0
0 „ 32 0
0 „ 28 0
Various local circumstances have combined to scatter the
cotton trade over Lancashire, Cheshire, and Derbyshire.
Thus, for example, Preston has become a large depot of the
cotton manufacture, the price of labour and local considera¬
tions uniting in its favour; Lancaster, for the same reason,
is also rising into manufacturing importance.
The subjoined table shows the difference in the price ot
labour at Manchester and Glasgow, the great centres of the
cotton trade in England and Scotland, in 1833:—
Age.
Below 11
11 to 16
16 to 21
21 to 26
26 to 31
31 to 36
36 to 41
41 to 46
46 to 51
51 to 56
56 to 61
'> 61 to 66
66 to 71
71 to 76
76 to 81
Number
'Employed.
Man- Glas-
chstr. gow.
246
1169
736
612
355
215
168
98
88
41
28
8
4
1
1
283
1519
881
541
358
331
279
159
117
69
45
17
15
11
5
Aver. Weekly
Wages.
Man- Glas-
cbstr. gow.
3770 4630
d.
li
2
2
4|
H
71
31
7*
4
61
7
10
0
Number
Employed.
Man-
chstr.
d.
Ilf 155
7
7
6
's1
?
2
9f
n
11
1123
1240
780
295
100
81
38
23
4
3
1
1
Glas¬
gow.
256
2162
2452
1252
674
255
218
92
41
18
16
7
2
Aver. Weekly
Wages.
Man¬
chester
3844 7445
s. d.
2 4|
4 3
7 34
8 5
8 7-
8 9;
9 8i
9 3;
8 10'
8 41
6 4
6 0
6 0
Glas¬
gow.
s. d.
1 104
3 81
6 6i
6 10
6 I
6 0
5 5
4 0
Amongst other subjects to which the factory commis¬
sioners directed their attention, the health of factory opera¬
tives occupied, of course, much of their time, and various
modes of test and comparison were adopted. Dr Mitchell,
one of the medical witnesses examined, made the subjoined
estimate of the amount of sickness yearly amongst various
classes of operatives:—
Days of Sickness.
In the Staffordshire potteries, to the age of 61 ...,9-3 per man.
In silk mills, to the age of 61  7'8
In woollen do 7-8
In flax do 5"9
In cotton mills in Glasgow 5‘6
East India Company’s servants 5-4
Labourers in Chatham dockyard 5'38
In Lancashire cotton mills1 5-35
Ditto ditto under 16 years of age 3T4
A number of children were also measured, and the result
was as under:—
Inches.
Boys in factories measured  55-28
Ditto not in factories ditto 55-56
Girls in factories measured 54-951
Ditto not in factories ditto 54-976
The commissioners also inquired into the state of educa¬
tion amongst manufacturing operatives, and gave the result
of an examination of 50,000 work-people as follow :—
Proportion in the Hundred.
Could Could not
read. read.
Lancashire  83 17
Cheshire  90 10
Yorkshire  85 15
Derbyshire  88 12
Staffordshire  83 17
Leicestershire   80 20
Notts  88 12
Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex   81 19
Wiltshire....   85 15
Somersetshire  89 11
Devon   96 4
Gloucestershire  92 8
Worcestershire 100
Warwickshire  88 12
Average  86 14
Average in Scotland  96 4
... Ireland  90 10
Could Could not
write. write.
38
47
48
43
61
40
42
26
38
26
51
40
77
38
43
53
44
62
53
52
57
39
60
57
74
62
74
49
60
23
32
57
47
56
Upon this subject a more elaborate and careful investi¬
gation was made in 1834 and 1835 by the Manchester
Statistical Society, from which it appeared that there were
in the borough of Manchester 43,304 children receiving
education, or 21'65 per cent, of the population ; and in the
borough of Salford 12,885 children, or 23‘4 per cent. Of
these there were in Manchester 10,108, and in Salford 3131,
who attended only day or evening schools; 10,011 in Man¬
chester, and 3410 in Salford, who attended both day and
Sunday schools; and 23,185 in Manchester, and 6344 in Sal¬
ford, who attended only Sunday schools. It further appears
that in Manchester two-thirds, and in Salford twenty-two
and a half per cent., of the children between five and fifteen
years of age were receiving instruction.
The total quantity of yarn spun in England in 1835 was
248,814,531 lb. Mr Burn estimated the number of spindles
employed in producing it at 11,152,990; and, calculating
the capital in the usual way, namely, at 1 7s. 6d. per spindle,
it would appear that L.9,758,864 was the amount embarked
in the cotton spinning, from the same excellent source
is derived an estimate of the value of the goods manufac¬
tured, and the yarn and thread spun in 1835.
. Evidence was given by three surgeons at Bolton and a physician at Stayley Bridge, to the effect that the high temperature of mills
is not injurious if there be proper ventilation; that scrofula is not frequent; that asthma and bronchitis are generated in the card-
rooms; that pulmonary complaints are of most frequent occurrence amongst factory operatives; but that they are not more liable to
sickness than out-door labourers. It is an established fact, that operatives in factories had an exemption from cholera when it raged
m Manchester, which was not experienced by other classes.
253
Manches¬
ter.
MANCHESTER.
254
Description.
Calicoes, printed, dyed 
Calicoes, plain 
Cambrics, &c 
Velveteens, &c 
Quiltings, &c 
Cotton and linen 
Ginghams, &c 
Ticks 
Dimities 
Damasks, &c 
Nankeens 
Lawns and lenos 
Imitation shawls 
Lace, &c 
Counterpanes, &c 
Shawls and handkerchiefs.
Tapes, bobbins, &c 
Hosiery 
Unenumerated 
No. of Yards, &c.,
of
each Description.
Yards.
212,529,356
234,164,513
10,509,055
7,362.538
273,736
2,980,159
1,200,009
207,481
147,449
40,700
2,230,465
19,893
293,858
73,522,896
232,199
816,611
41,898
394,354
L.167,440
Length
of
each
Piece.
Yards.
28
24
20
60
60
40
20
50
60
36
50
20
12
40
No.
Doz.
No. of Pieces,
&c., of each
Description.
No.
7,911,763
9,756,813
525,453
122,709
4,562
74,504
60,000
4,150
2,457
1,130
44,609
995
24,488
1,338,072
232,199
816,611
41,898
394,354
Total weight of yarn exported in manufactured goods in 1835.
Ditto „ yarn 
Ditto „ thread...,. 
Total weight of yarn.
Weight of
Yarn in
each
Piece.
Jb. oz.
4 0
20 0
18 0
8 0
3 0
20 0
12 0
10 0
8 0
2 8
2 8
0 8
10 0
Total Weight of
Yarn exported in
Goods.
lb.
31,647,052
53,662,471
1,576,359
2,454,180
82,166
596,032
180,000
85,000
28,484
11,300
396,872
2,487
61,220
669,036
1,625,393
2,041,526
41,898
985,885
1,674,400
97,821,761
82,457,885
1,842,124
182,121,771
Average
Price of
each
Piece, &c.
s. d.
14 0
9 0
11 8
60 0
56 6
13 4
11 8
28
28
27 0
18 9
11 8
7 0
11 8
11 0
Value of
Yarn per
lb. when
manufac¬
tured into
Goods.
s. d.
3 6
1 7J
3 lOf
3 0
3 1
1 8
3 10f
1
2
2
2
4
2
23
1
2
2
4
2
n
4f
4
8
n
4
0
n
0
5
0
2 6|- per lb.
1 5|- do.
2 4 do.
Total amount... L. 18,506,575
Total amount of
Goods exported in
1835.
L.
5,538,239
4,390,566
306,514
368,127
12,887
49,669
35,000
5,844
3,532
1,525
41,820
580
8,571
780,542
81,770
265,398
4,189
216,894
167,440
12,279,107
6,012,554
214,914
Manchea
ter.
In addition to the cotton manufacture, Manchester has
likewise a considerable and rapidly increasing trade in silk¬
throwing and weaving. The mill of Mr Vernon Royle,
celebrated throughout. England for its thrown silk was esta¬
blished in the years 1819-20, and was the first erected in
the district. In 1819 there were in Manchester about
1000 weavers of mixed silk and cotton goods, and 50 of
pure silk. In 1823 the number of the former had increased
to 3000, and of the latter to 2500. In 1828 there were
4000 of the former class and 8000 of the latter; and in
1832 from 12,000 to 14,000 looms were employed by Man¬
chester houses; and the throwing mills, 12 in number, but
of which 2 were not then in operation, gave occupation to
about 3600 hands. The state of the silk-throwing trade in
1836 was as follows:—
Summary of Silk Mills in Manchester and the County of
Lancaster, 1836.
Township.
Manchester....
Salford 
Broughton 
Newton 
Harpurhey 
Heaton Norris
Barton 
Caton 
Ellel 
Wray 
Ashton-un- 1
der-Lyne..)
Pennington....
Power.
Stm. Water.
none.
none.
none.
none.
none.
none.
none.
14
16
unkn.
none.
unkn.
12 and
under 15.
M. F.
311
131
73
99
178
14
10
4
623
370
303
140
67
292
9
10
9
15 and
under 18.
276
108
62
55
19
104
7
9
3
M. F.
142
236
17
31
444
136
76
127
46
97
30
62
12
Total.
M. F
521
396
93
148
286
102
89
32
1343
591
441
322
113
493
46
81
24
ervv!CU^ate,f ^ ^lle Manchester throwsters produced
about 8000 pounds of thrown silk weekly, but that the silk
looms consumed not less than 24,000 pounds, 8000 pounds
of which were derived from the Macclesfield throwsters,
and the remainder from Congleton, Sandbach, Newcastle
&c., very little foreign thrown being used in Manchester.
1 he sdk manufacturershaving their principal establishments
in Manchester, were estimated to employ not less than
18,500 looms in the weaving of pure or mixed silk <mods •
and, taking the usual trade average of four persons to a
loom, the silk trade of the district, in all its branches employed
not less than / 0,000 persons. By the returns already quoted,
it will be seen that throughout Lancashire only 366 power-
looms were employed in silk, of which number 306 were in
Manchester, and sixty in the adjoining parish of Eccles.
The foregoing statistical information, illustrative of the
great industry identified with Manchester and its tributaries
of trade, extending from the earliest records chiefly to the
year 1836, is retained as historical evidence of the period
referred to. From that time to the present (1857) a remark¬
able steadiness in trade and commerce has prevailed, though
distinguished by a most extraordinary increase in produc¬
tion, and consequently by greatly extended business rami¬
fications. The repeal of the corn laws in 1846 gave an
impulse to the cotton trade beyond all previous precedent.
Employment has since been uniform and abundant. Wages
have not been reduced, but on the contrary the earnings of
work-people have been generally increased, and especially
by the constant and unfluctuating employment afforded
them. Bread has been moderately cheap; sugar, tea, coffee,
and other necessaries and luxuries, have been abundant,
and sold at prices so reasonable that their consumption has
vastly extended; and though animal food, with butter,
cheese, and milk, may be regarded as comparatively dear,
yet to increased demand and consumption may be justly
attributed the higher prices which are now paid for these
latter articles. The general comforts of the labouring
classes have, during the last ten years, been fully equal to
any aggregate enjoyment ever previously experienced by
them. In factories the hours of labour are by acts of Par¬
liament essentially restricted to sixty per week, and are
confined, allowing time for meals, between six in the morn¬
ing and six in the evening, for five days, whilst at two
o’clock p.m. on Saturdays the week’s work terminates; the
average labour of each day for the whole week being ten
hours. This principle of limited labour is by voluntary
efforts rapidly extending; bankers, merchants, and traders
are closing their establishments at earlier hours than for¬
merly; and there is a general tendency to devote Saturday
afternoons to recreation. Wages are now, in the cotton
trade, paid very extensively on Fridays, to enable the workers
and their families to expend their earnings conveniently and ,
judiciously. With the progress, therefore, of the industry
of Manchester, opportunities are afforded to the superior
M A N C H E S T E R.
and working classes for recreative amusements, whereby
their physical health may be invigorated, and, by the in¬
crease of libraries and instructive institutions, their mental
faculties may be improved and developed.
Many new manufactures have been introduced into the
neighbourhood of Manchester. The production of the
textile fabrics in all their combinations of cotton, of silk,
of woollen, and of flax, has greatly increased ; and mixed
materials in various goods have thus formed new fields for
industry, and called forth the exercise of skill, taste, and
ingenuity in results alike fanciful and attractive. Messrs
Houldsworth have, with great advantage, skilfully applied
mechanical embroidery to all the fabrications of the manu¬
facturer. Glass-works have been established ; and the con¬
version of iron into steel has become an important addi¬
tion to the now multifarious sources of employment in this
255
district. With these increased sources of employment, Manches-
labour finds a steady market. But from the cotton in- teT>
dustry chiefly flow the profits which recompense the toil of’s—v—^
the labourer, and enhance the capital of the manufacturer
ami merchant. Manchester is unquestionably the metro¬
polis of this vast industry. Not only in this increasing
city are there extensive spinning mills and manufactories,
but it has become the general market for almost the whole
trade; palatial structures of great magnitude have been
erected in it as warehouses; manufacturers have entered
largely into mercantile operations; and the merchants
finding the mere freighting of vessels inadequate to their
business, have in many instances become shipowners. To
illustrate the progress of this trade, the following tables,
showing the imports and consumption of cotton, have been
prepared:—
Table of Imports of Cotton into the United Kingdom.
From United States of America Bags
... Brazil, or South America 
... Egypt 
... East Indies 
... West Indies and other Colonies... .
Total Bags for each year  261,638
124,939
51,934
7,787
77,978
166,077
123,450
30,670
49,235
369,432
1826.
395.852
55,590
47,621
64,699
18,188
581,950
764,707
148,715
34,953
219,493
33,506
1,201,374
1846.
932,000
84,000
59,600
49,500
9,000
1,134,100
1856.
1,758,300
121,600
113,000
463,000
11,400
2,467,300
Table of Consumption of Cotton in the United Kingdom.
Of each kind in the years—
Of American Bag!
Brazilian  
Egyptian 
East Indian 
West Indian, &c 
1806.
Total Bags for each year,
Per week of every kind..
Approximate.
120,000
50,000
7,000
75,000
252,000
4,846
209,352
82,628
10,764
34,112
336,856
6,478
1826.
356,980
61,776
50,700
25,428
16,016
510,900
9,825
1836.
747,240
130,416
33,488
77,584
22,776
1,011,504
19,452
1846.
1,280,396
106,496
69,576
113,828
15,600
1,585,896
30,498
1856.
1,657,132
145,496
127,764
269,412
13,520
2,213,324
42,563
The following valuable table will show manufacturing progress and results:—
Estimate of the Sums accruing to the Trade in Cotton Manufactures during the years from 1847 to 1856, to pay for
expenses of Fuel, Machinery, Drugs for Dyeing, Printing, Bleaching ; Interest of Capital, and ever/y hind of
Wages, Profits, dec.,—after deducting the Actual Cost of the Raw Material.
Cotton consumed in Great Britain....
Waste in Spinning this, 1J oz. per lb..
Production of Yarns   
Disposed of as follows :—
Exported in Yarns and Thread 
Exported Manufactured Goods reduced into\
weight of Yarn J
Consumed at home and not otherwise enumerated
As above.,
Average cost of Cotton each year. 
Declared value of exports, as per published state¬
ments.
Of Thread and Yarns   
,, Manufactured Goods  
Estimated home consumption in the same pro-')
portion as the declared value of the exported >
goods, plus J j
Total value of production.. 
Deduct the cost of Cotton as above 
Sums remaining to he distributed as stated above
1847.
lb.
421,385,238
46,089,038
375,296,200
lb.
119,422,254
191,969,597
63,904,349
375,296,200
at 6J ^1 ft
10,754,100
17,882,000
17,717,000
7,863,000
43,462,000
10,751,100
32,707,900
lb.
591,595,083
64,705,683
526,889,400
lb.
131,674,230
204,852,157
190,363,013
526,889,400
at 4 j’-g-'
L.
10,014,000
5,957,000
17,382,000
21,537,000
44,876,000
10,014,000
34,862,000
1849.
lb.
626,710,160
68,546,460
558,163,700
lb.
153,761,000
256,260,000
148,142,700
lb.
584,000,000
63,875,000
520,125,000
lb.
123,977,000
222,956,000
173,192,000
558,163,700 520,125,000
at4i-Jf>ft
12,838,850
7,129,000
19,761,000
15,230,000
42,120,000
12,833,850
29,281,150
1850.
atTl^ft
17,574,000
6,820,000
21,132,000
22,186,000
50,438,000
17,574,000
32,864,000
1851.
lb.
648,408,150
70,919,650
577.488.500
lb.
129,849,000
255,689,000
191.950.500
577,488,500
at 5J ^ ft
15,534,800
7,084,700
22,994,300
23,013,000
53,092,000
15,534,800
37,557,200
lb.
751,000,000
82,140,000
668,860,000
lb.
133,301,864
262,585,498
272,972,638
668,860,000
lb.
r34.623.000
80,349,000
654,274,000
lb.
136,666,000
285.116.500
232.491.500
654,274,000
lb.
780,000,000
85,312,500
694,687,500
lb.
133,764,100
319.383.700
241.539.700
694,687,500
1855.
lb.
836,000,000
91,437,000
744,563,000
lb.
142.715.500
358,578,000
243.269.500
44,563,000
1856.
]b.~
920,000,000
100,625,000
819,375,000
lb.
174,619,900
406,206,700
238,548,400
819,375,000
1852.
at E| ft
16,819,300
7,161,700
22,795,300
31,594,000
61,551,000
16,819,300
44,731,700
at 6 fft
18,365,000
7,449,50
25,259,80
24,040,000
56,749,300
18,365,000
38,384,300
1854.
at 5# 1ft
18,200,000
1855.
7,216,200
24,428,000
24,632,000
56,276,200
18,200,000
38,076,200
at 5? 1ft
19,739,000
7,785,900
27,025,900
24,446,000
59,257,800
19,739,000
39,518,800
Of the exact extent of the cotton industry in all its
branches no statistics exist. From returns made to govern¬
ment, and from the computations of experienced cotton spin¬
ateilft
L.
23,958,000
8,652,000
29,632,000
23,200,000
61,484,000
23,958,000
37,526^000
ners, the number of spindles in mule and throstle machinery
cannot be fewer than 28,000,000; to prepare for which an
immense number of scutchers, carding engines, bobbin and
256 M A N C II E S T E B
Manches- fly frames, and other auxiliary machines, are indispensable.
ter' The number of weaving looms, by hand and power, is
beyond the means of estimation ; but the spinning and
weaving machines give no idea of the supplemental ma¬
chinery, of the bleaching, printing, and dyeing works, and
other aids of this important trade. In addition to the
mills, steam-engines, and mechanism employed, there exist
multitudes of cottages and dwellings connected with those
establishments. And again, beyond these, the vast ware¬
houses containing manufacturing stores, and those to
receive and dispose of finished goods, represent in their
occupied state an immense investment. But in approxi¬
mating to an estimate of the fixed and floating capital
invested in this now national industry, the shipping re¬
quired to convey to our shores the requisite raw materials,
and that necessary for dispersing the manufactured products,
should be remembered. The working of mines, the traf¬
fic in minerals, and the banking operations for this
trade, are important items ; and the actual employment of
mercantile capital will altogether indicate a sum of ex¬
traordinary magnitude. So that, in naming one hundred
millions of pounds sterling as the total amount of fixed and
floating capital employed in connection with the cotton ma¬
nufacture, the truth will not be exceeded.
The trade and commerce of Manchester and the neigh¬
bourhood have been much promoted by the valuable ser¬
vices of the Chamber of Commerce. This institution was
founded in 1820, and from its commencement haa been a
consistent opponent of the corn laws, and of monopolies of
every kind. It was the first public body to repudiate pro¬
tection for manufactures—to call for the abolition of every
species of differential duties, and for the repeal of the navi¬
gation laws. All questions, however, of a purely political
complexion, are strictly forbidden to be entertained, either
at the meetings of the board of directors, or at a general
meeting of the members. The steady and firm course which
it has pursued has earned for it a respect and consideration
not surpassed—probably not equalled—by any similar asso¬
ciation in existence. Its proceedings attract attention in
every commercial community throughout the world. Pre¬
viously to the repeal of the corn laws the chamber had
contended for their entire abolition ; but there arose another
association, named the Commercial Association, which
pleaded only for a fixed duty upon foreign corn, though
now happily both these institutions are guided by free-
trade principles.
T-he Anti-Corn-Law League, which so essentially con¬
tributed to the recognition of free trade as the basis of do¬
mestic and international commercial legislation, was called
into existence in this city in 1838, and amongst its early,
constant, and most distinguished promoters, have been
Sir John Bowring, Richard Cobden, John Bright, George
Wilson, J. B. Smith, C. P. Villiers, and the late Sir William
Molesworth ; but, as a confederation, it ramified over the
whole United Kingdom. For the single purpose of over¬
throwing all obstacles to the free import of corn, its council
wisely rejected all overtures which would have diverted its
exertions to political or other objects; and greatly to the
honour and sagacity of the leaders of the council, the pro¬
positions made by the Chartists to induce a common orga¬
nization to be formed between these two bodies, to procure
radical changes in the constitution of the country, were not
entertained. At length, in 1846, the legislature, either
from truthful conviction of the injustice of those laws, or
impelled by the fear of denying the almost unanimous call
of t e people, finally erased them and the principle of pro¬
tection from the statutes of the realm. To that eminent
statesman, Sir Robert Peel, the people of this manufac¬
turing district, and of the United Kingdom, owe a debt of
gratitude for the patriotism and courage which he evinced
in assisting to annihilate class legislation; nor will this
example be lost upon those who direct the destinies of Manches.
other nations. With the fundamental changes thus effected ter.
in the economical laws of this country, the people at large ^
have enjoyed more prosperity than at any previous time;
they have become more attached to their institutions, and
their loyalty to their sovereign has never before been ex¬
ceeded.
Happily, with the extension of trade and commerce in
Manchester, there has been developed a desire to promote
educational, social, physical, and sanitary improvements.
Many attempts have originated here to obtain a national
system of elementary instruction for the young, but hitherto
without success. The diminution in the hours of labour
generally affords more time for self-improvement and kindly
intercourse amongst work-people. By the establishment of
public parks—the gifts of the rich to the poor—such as
the Queen’s, Peel’s, and Philip’s, healthful exercise is more
amply afforded, and a link of sympathy between the people
and their benefactors is hereby secured. A sanitary associa¬
tion has also been formed.
Grateful for the services of the Duke of Wellington and
of Sir Robert Peel, the inhabitants of Manchester have
erected to their memories suitable statues, which are placed
in the area of the Royal Infirmary. The former is repre¬
sented by the sculptor Noble as a warrior and senator;
and the latter by Calder Marshall as a statesman and
patron of the arts of life. As if to prove that commerce
still exists in alliance with the fine arts, there was opened
in Manchester, in May 1857, an exhibition of the treasures
of art, procured exclusively from the resources of the United
Kingdom. The Queen and Prince Albert have graciously
and generously contributed many of their gems of art, and
personally have expressed their warmest solicitude for the
success of the exhibition. Patrician and plebeian owners
of works of art have rivalled each other in the richness and
rarity of their contributions ; and a more refining, elevating,
and instructive source of gratification cannot be conceived
than will probably be afforded by this unique gathering of
the curious and beautiful stores of art.
The population of Manchester has had a most amazing
growth. The town comprehends several townships, viz.,
Manchester, Chorlton-upon-Medlock, Cheetham, Ardwick,
Hulme, Newton, Harpurhey, Bradford, and Beswick, which
form the borough of Manchester; Salford, Pendleton, and
Broughton, that of Salford; but they are physically, as well as
politically and commercially, one town, though having sepa¬
rate local governments. Of the townships of Manchester
and Salford, the population was as follows at the decennial
periods:—
Manchester. Salford.
1801   70,409 13,611
1811   79,459 19,114
1821  108,016 25,772
1831 142,026 40,786 1
1841 192,403 70,224
1851 228,437 87,514
It is calculated that the population of Manchester, Sal¬
ford, and their districts, is now not less than 500,000.
The township of Chorlton-upon-Medlock, now filled
with factories, was not many years since a desert, and the
population has sprung up in a way wholly unprecedented.
It was, in 1801, 675 persons; in 1811, 2581 ; in 1821,
8209; in 1831, 20,569; in 1841, 77,107; and in 1851,
123,806. Property has increased in the same rapid ratio.
In 1815 the annual value was L.19,830; in 1835 it was
L.58,844. A similar augmentation has taken place in other
townships. In Manchester in 1815 the annual value of pro¬
perty was only L.308,634; in 1835 it was L.573,085 ; and
in 1856, L.891,228. In Salford it was, in 1815, L.49,048 ;
in 1835, L.l 14,769; and in 1856, L.201,042. In Broughton
(a township without manufactures) the annual value of
MANCHESTER.
Manchea- lands and buildings was, in 1815, only L.5082; in 1835,
v _ter'_ i L*21,303. In Cheetham (also a township containing only
private residences) the value was, in 1815, L.8524; in°] 835,
L.28,541; and since, these townships have proportionately
increased.
Manchester ranks as the first manufacturing town in the
empire, and in population it is second only to London.
The county is divided into several hundreds, Manchester
being situated in the centre of that of Salford, in which there
has been an immense increase of population within the
present century. The total annual value of property in
Salford hundred was, in 1815, L.918,397, and in 1829,
L.1,554,314. Of these amounts, L.488,053 at the former
period, and L.751,200 at the latter, were comprised in the
parish of Manchester, which is divided into thirty-two
„ parishes.
In 1848 Manchester became a bishopric, and Dr James
Prince Lee was nominated the first bishop. Under this
learned and tolerant divine the church establishment has
been judiciously fostered, and its usefulness has been greatly
increased.
Manchester, as an old parish, has a parish church, said
to have been erected by a Lord Delaware in 1422, out
of two old churches built in 1300. It is a fine Gothic
structure, 216 feet in length from east to west, and 120 feet
in breadth, with a handsome tower. It is richly ornamented
in the cathedral style, having on the exterior numerous
grotesque figures projecting from the roof, in the taste of
the age in which it was built. It has of late years been
extensively repaired and beautified in conformity with the
original design, and affords accommodation, by its great
proportion of free seats, to a numerous congregation. It
was made collegiate by the founder, who amply endowed
it; and, by the increased value of the property, it became
a rich ecclesiastical establishment, with a warden, four fel¬
lows, and two chaplains; but since the creation of the
see of Manchester, the warden and fellows have been sub¬
stituted by a dean and four canons, the latter now having
each the care of a district church. The only churches more
than seventy years old are,—St Ann’s, in the square of that
name, consecrated in 1765 ; and St John’s, in Byrom Street,
opened in 1769. As the town has grown, more churches
have been built, and others are now being built. The
number of those edifices in which the established forms of
worship are observed is now very considerable. They are
all handsome, some of them elegant structures, and all in
the interior are neatly and appropriately finished. As in
other manufacturing towns, the number of those who dis¬
sent from the Established Church is very considerable.
There are six congregations belonging to the Presbyterian
Church, two to the United Presbyterian, and one to the
Scotch Church; but the largest division is the adherents
to the Roman Catholic Church, consisting for the most part
of Irish immigrants employed in the lowest kinds of labour.
They have seven places of worship, one of them, in Granby
Row, opened in 1820, very handsome and costly, in the
Gothic style; and in Salford has been erected a most splendid
257
ecclesiastical structure, which, in truth, may be regarded Manchea-
as a Roman Catholic cathedral. There are about thirty ^er*
chapels belonging to Wesleyan Methodists of different ^
shades of opinion; the Independents have nineteen places
of worship, the Baptists eight, the Unitarians four; and
there are several belonging to other smaller sects.
As to the religion of the inhabitants, there are other
ascertained facts of a more general nature. The church
accommodation in Manchester and Salford consists of about
40,000 sittings, exclusively of the Scotch Kirk; that in the
Wesleyan Methodist chapels of about 10,000; Roman
Catholic and all other dissenting chapels of about 25,000
sittings. The Sunday schools in Manchester and Salford
attached to the various religions communities, and the total
numbers instructed by each, are as follows:—
Sunday-Schools in Manchester and Salford.
Denominations.
Church of England 
Independents 
Wesleyans 
Wesleyan Association 
Primitive Methodists 
Baptists  
New Connexion 
Presbyterians 
Unitarians 
Bible Christians 
Scotch Church 
Congregational Methodists.
Welsh Calvinistic 
Homan Catholics 
Total  55,236
Number of Scholars.
Manchester. Salford
18,029
8,443
8,746
2,598
1,361
1,951
1,160
1,098
1,064
298
251
287
300
9,650
6,716
3,772
2,314
856
750
750
273
163
2,500
Total.
17,894
24,745
12,215
11,060
3,454
2,111
2,701
1,433
1,261
1,064
298
251
287
300
12,150
73,130
After London, Liverpool, and Dublin, the payments to
the post-office in Manchester exceed those of any town
in the kingdom. They were for the three years, 1832,
1833, and 1834, respectively, as followsL.53,510, 8s. 4d.
L.56,287, 16s. 1 Id., and L.60,621, 12s. 6d. Since that
peiiod, the beneficial change effected in the postal arrange¬
ments of the United Kingdom, by the introduction of a
universal penny postage, has rendered the money receipts
of this office no adequate comparative standard for record¬
ing the progress of the correspondence generally resulting
from the vast increase of trade and commerce in this city;
yet in 1856 postage stamps sold at the Manchester post-
office, and postages, &e\, paid, amounted to L.75,043. The
money-orders received and paid at this office in the same
year amounted to L.570,506, 15s. 4d.,—thus proving'the
immense advantage of this banking auxiliary to the poor,
as well as to all other classes of the community.
The state of the poor in Manchester, and throughout
Lancashire generally, is remarkably comfortable and pro¬
sperous. A reference to the returns of the expenditure of
poor s rate in Lancashire, and other counties, places this
fact quite beyond dispute:—
COUNTIES.
Lancashire 
Cheshire  
Derbyshire  
Kent 
Middlesex 
Staffordshire ....
Yorkshire, East.
North
West
1801.
Expendi¬
ture for
Mainten¬
ance of Poor
L.
148,282
66,627
54,459
206,508
349,200
83,411
41.388
48,702
186,469
Propor¬
tion to
Popula¬
tion.
s. d.
4 4
6 11
6 9
13 5
8 6
6 11
7 5
6 1
6 7
1811.
Expendi¬
ture for
Mainten¬
ance of Poor
L.
306,797
114.370
93,963
317,990
502.967
124,765
83,752
70,860
328,113
Propor¬
tion to
Popula¬
tion.
*. d.
7 4
10 0
10 1
17 0
10 6
8 5
10 4
8 4
10 0
Expendi¬
ture for
Mainten¬
ance of Poor
L.
249,585
104,081
84,756
320.711
582,055
133,702
97,522
82,638
273,301
Propor¬
tion to
Popula¬
tion.
s. d
4 8
7 8
8 1
17 4
10 2
7 10
10 6
8 9
6 9
1831.
Expendi¬
ture for
Mainten¬
ance of Poor
L.
293,226
103,572
78,717
345,512
681,567
132,887
100,976
83,931
274,586
Proper
tion to
Popula¬
tion.
1841.
s. d.
4 4
6 2
6 7
14 5
10 0
6 5
9 10
8 9
5 7
Expendi¬
ture for
Mainten¬
ance of Poor
L.
262 227
77,698
55,238
208,786
435,606
95,242
68,182
58,308
245,676
Propor¬
tion to
Popula¬
tion.
s. d.
3 If
3 11
4 0i
7 7
5 6£
3 8
6 Ilf
5 8
4 2i
1851.
Expendi¬
ture for
Mainten¬
ance of Poor
L.
365,767
79,442
49,874
187,204
530,062
101,356
65,127
56,425
243,432
Propor¬
tion to
Popula¬
tion.
s. d.
3 7
I'f
3 8
VOL. XIV.
258
M A N C H E S T E E.
Manches¬
ter.
In the township of Manchester, the expenditure exclu¬
sively for the poor (deducting the heavy payments to hun¬
dred and county rates, and for constables’ accounts), was,—
Per Head
on Population.
In 1800-1  ...6s. lOfd.
In 1811-12 6s. e^d.
In 1820-21 5s. 3d.
In 1830-31
In 1856 ...
Per Head
On Population.
.... 4s. 3£d.
....3s. 3^d.
And in this last year the in-door paupers cost 2s. 3d. per
head, whilst the out-door had relief to the amount of
Is. 2£d. for each person so relieved.
The population is taken in the month of April; and as
the making up of overseers’ accounts takes place on the
25th of March, it was thought better in each instance to
take the period nearest to the date of the census, which will
account for the years being put in this way.
In the township of Chorlton-on Medlock, almost exclu¬
sively a manufacturing suburb, the expenditure has been,—
Outlay for Proportion to
the Poor. the Population.
In 1826-27 L.317 9 2i 'l
In 1830-31  711 12 1 l 2s. 8ld.
In 1834-35  945 5 8 /
A striking and most important difference appeared in the
expenditure of another township (Broughton), in which
were few or no manufactures to employ the poor; showing
that the poor rates fell much heavier on an agricultural
than on a manufacturing population :—
Outlay for
the Poor.
1827 L.444 13 9
1831  320 1 4
1835  186 12 10
Total Expen¬
diture.
L.901 11 9J }
856 2 6 l
796 12 11
Proportion of
the former to
the Population.
4s. 0|d.
In connection with these statistics, which are intended
to communicate, in as concise a form as possible, a correct
view of the condition of the people of the principal manu¬
facturing town of Great Britain, it is important to exhibit
some data as to the state of crime in the district; and the
following table affords that information in an authentic
form.
Statement of the Number of Prisoners Tried and Convicted
at the New Bailey Court-House, Salford^ in the follow¬
ing Years:—
Years.
Male
Felons.
Con- Female,
victed. Felons.
Con¬
victed.
1794
1800
1805
1810
1815
1820
1825
1830
1835
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
92
164
80
114
254
589
677
599
723
1157
1328
1288
945
862
843
834
1007
1061
854
624
463
533
467
534
548
431
62
97
60
92
194
537
589
509
608
956
1073
1053
750
671
617
605
780
804
707
518
379
438
392
430
445
339
41
93
63
64
110
136
223
151
213
322
384
331
323
302
305
330
379
318
279
264
179
165
188
231
252
145
17
64
42
56
101
122
212
119
187
272
265
276
258
234
227
247
302
246
224
212
152
127
154
172
233
113
Misde¬
meanours.
17
184
109
55
133
181
93
92
123
191
280
402
170
162
127
127
165
164
188
92
62
87
85
105
111
73
Con¬
victed.
12
44
36
48
126
164
65
80
73
132
145
236
117
99
81
85
99
117
133
78
53
55
69
73
81
58
Total.
Tried.
150
441
252
233
497
906
993
842
1059
1670
1992
2021
1438
1326
1275
1291
1551
1543
1321
980
704
785
740
870
911
649
Total committed for felony since 1840    18,476 )
... committed for misdemeanours since 1840 2,591 J
... convicted for felony since 1840   14,671 )
... convicted for misdemeanours since 1840.. 17,11/
21,067. Manches-
v ter.
16,382.
Return of the Manchester Borough Court.
Taken into custody, 133,70.
Discharged  59,82(
73,876
of which 49,056 were summarily convicted,
11,059 were tried and convicted.
... 13,761 were committed for trial.
The towns of Manchester and Salford consist of two
boroughs, and are governed by two mayors and a number of
aldermen and councillors. The two corporations have dis¬
tinct municipal powers; but sometimes they co-operate for
a great and common object. Manchester has recently sup¬
plied itself with excellent water from Woodhead in Derby¬
shire, and Salford participates in the great advantage of
the acquisition. Manchester possesses large gas-works,
wrhich are important, inasmuch as the profits accruing from
them are expended upon those improvements which tend
so much to the health, the comfort, and the ornament of a
densely peopled town.
The gigantic undertakings of the celebrated Duke of
Bridgewater, who, and his engineer Brindley, may without
exaggeration be styled the parents of canal navigation in
England, had their centre in Manchester. In succeeding
years the example so nobly set was rapidly followed, and
Manchester has the advantage of a connection, as direct as
canal and river navigation conjoined can afford, with Liver¬
pool, Hull, Goole, London, Lancaster, and indeed all the
great seaports and inland commercial towns. It is re¬
markable that this district should have been the first to
manifest the immense importance of railway communi¬
cation. Ihe history of the Liverpool and Manchester
Railway, which was opened in 1830, is familiar to every
one; and now (1856) Manchester has complete commu¬
nication by railways with every part of the United King¬
dom.
Manchester has been the birthplace, or abode, or central
point of action, of many eminent men. In remoter times
the names of Hugh Oldham, Bradford, Booker, Dee (the
astrologer), Whitaker (the historian), Byrom (a poet, and
the inventor of a system of short-hand), Worthington, Per-
cival, Ogden, Hugh Manchester, Humphrey Chetham,
Heyrick, Lord Delamere, Bancroft, Barlow, and Crabtree,
hold a prominent place in the history of the town and its
connections. Amongst the illustrious of modern days, the
commercial metropolis may claim as her own the eccentric
Duke of Bridgewater. Mr Thomas Henry, though not
born in Manchester, spent his life there; and his attain-
ter.
MANCHESTEK.
Manches- ments as a chemist were brought into beneficial exercise
upon the cotton manufacture of the country, in the dis¬
covery of most important improvements in the art of
dyemg, through the operation of mordants, and by simpli-
fymg and applying practically to manufactures the discovery
° 'a * regard to the qualities of oxymuriatic
acui a Yi.scovery which the time occupied in the process
or bleaching calicoes has been reduced from days to hours.
1 he first Sir Robert Peel, though born near Blackburn, and
a resident of Bury, had his manufacturing establishment in
Manchester, and was probably the most extensive manufac¬
turer of his day, excepting perhaps Sir Richard Arkwright. Dr
Dalton also, though born in Cumberland, spent his life from
the age of twenty-six or thereabouts in Manchester, whither
he went originally from Kendal on his appointment to the
post of professor of mathematics and natural philosophy at
the Manchester New College,—an institution which was
subsequently moved to York, but has found a resting-place
in Manchester again. The doctor was many years presi-
dent of the Manchester Literary and Philosophical Society
through which many of his most valued discoveries have
been communicated to the world. He died in 1844; and
now in the infirmary area there is a beautiful bronze statue
after Chantrey, to commemorate his discoveries and the
esteem in which he was held by his friends and fellow-
citizens.
The municipal government of the township of Manches¬
ter was formerly committed to a boroughreeve and two
constables, who were elected at the court-leet of the lord
of the manor, Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart. The borough-
reeve exercised the power, without enjoying any of the
external distinctions, usually pertaining to a mayor. There
was an effective police establishment, under the direction
of 240 commissioners elected by the occupants of tene¬
ments of a certain annual value; 'but the local government
under the existing corporation is more satisfactory and
efficient. J
Manchester has a considerable number of associations
for the cultivation of science and literature, and the pro¬
motion of education. The Royal Manchester Institution
Female Day Classes. ■ ■ i . .
Morning and afternoon classes for reading, writing,
arithmetic, grammar, history, &c. ..’.At..* 155
French  ” os
Pianoforte.... \      oq
5anc1in^   63
Vocal music    yj
Dress-making    ^
Drawing   26
Wax modelling ’ ”. " 5
t ■ -1:  
Total number  342
Male Evening Classes.
Reading, writing, arithmetic, &c    220
Geography   44
Mechanical and architectural drawing  130
Landscape and figure drawing     32
Dancing     y,
French language   ^   
German  
Mathematics 
43
Commercial writing    ’ ^
Total number  733
There were also, at the above date, 148 members paying
-Is. per annum, but not taking advantage of the classes,
and 150 life members, having paid in past years L.10,10s.
Ccicn*
Very many respectable men,—civil engineers, working
mechanical engineers, managers of cotton mills, surveyors
and men holding important confidential offices as cashiers’
corresponding clerks, &c., were educated in the classes of
the institution.
dical exhibitions ^0 “ rf IectfrkP &c WsH ' that antique structure, Chet-
leaving themselves unhappily almost without the means of fn IIobP\ta1’ or the College (now so called), an mstitu-
fulfilling the purposes forwh^rtt^ffiM^ n founded two centuries ago by the man whose name
In 1825 a Mechanics’ Institution was laisejd- it bears, for the maintenance, education, and apprenticing
presidencv of Sh- Rentn!in a % f ed Unde,r the °f a number of b°ys> offspring of poor parents. Verf
738 yards! and the cist L 7000 * and 25^000 st^iT? however’ another free library has been established
Morpethd^t“bTdT by lhb’institutio"- *
Morpeth distributed the prizes of 1833, and Lord Brougham
was a visitor in 1835. This institution not being laro-e
enough, nor its rooms commodious, a new building was
An excellent natural history society is in a flourishing
state; the town boasts a concert hall having an income of
L.3000 per annum; there are two schools of medicine, the
elder of which (the Pine Street) has attained to consider-
w-n-Ce Cd)rd^’ and vvb'cb obtained the patronage of King
vY ilham I V.; and amongst the numerous public libraries is
one to which free access is afforded, and which has a large
nor
erected in 1855 to supersede the old one, and which was
opened by an exhibition of great interest in 1856, under
the patronage of Lord Palmerston.
The presidents of the Mechanics’ Institution have been
—Sir Benjamin Heywood, Richard Cobden, H. Day, the
Right Honourable the Earl of Ellesmere, J. A. Turner;
and Oliver Heywood, the son of the first president, is the’
chairman at the present time (1857). Among the palpable
benefits derived from this invaluable institution, the teach-
ing of young females has been of conspicuous advantage.
The area of the new building is 942 yards; and the cost
of ground, building, and furnishing the several rooms for the
use of the members, L.24,000; in diminution of which,
there will arise the proceeds of the old institution, valued
at, for ground and building, L.7000. The opening exhibi¬
tion will leave a clear profit of L.4300. It has been visited
by 300,000 persons.
The numbers attendin
1856) were as follows:—
the several classes (Christmas
Potter, and it is maintained by a municipal rate collected
under the act supported by Mr Ewart, M.P. In Salford,
also, under the same act of Parliament, has been provided
a museum and library, the access to which is likewise free.
The Grammar School is another of the ancient foundations
which do honour to the town; of late years its funds have
so fai increased as in 1855 to justify the erection of a se¬
cond school, in which a course of general education may
be gratuitously obtained, whilst the parent building is still
devoted to the diffusion of classical knowledge? The
school has the advantage of several “ exhibitions.” The
inquiry into the public charities of England includes a very
large return of charitable bequests still existent within the
bundled of Salford, and of these Manchester has its full
shaie. Ihe town also supports, with a most liberal hand,
medical institutions for the cure of almost every disease in¬
cident to humanity. At the head of these stands the Royal
Infirmary, established in 1752. There are also a Ladies’Ju¬
bilee charity a school for the deaf and dumb, and a blind
asylum, which had its foundation in a bequest of L.40,000,
made several years ago by Mr Henshaw, a wealthy inha-
t an o Oldham; the condition of its application to that
benevolent object being, that no part of the sum should be
259
Manches¬
ter.
260 MAN
Manches- expended in the erection or furnishing of the building, but
t®r that the latter should be provided by the inhabitants. Af-
Manchoo- ter cons‘derable delay, about L.9000 was subscribed, and
ria> the asylum has been erected in the outskirts of the city,
v Other institutions for the relief of the afflicted and the dis-
Manchester, a town in Hillsborough county, state of
New Hampshire, North America, is situated on the left
bank of the Merrimack River, 18 miles S.S.E. of Concord,
and 59 miles N.W. from Boston. The town is built on a
plain at the height of 90 feet above the river, and is regu¬
larly laid out. The principal street is wide, and is upwards
of a mile in length, parallel to the river. There are
four public squares in different parts of the towm, some
of which are handsomely ornamented. The houses are
mostly of brick, but there are many wooden houses, some
of which are tasteful structures. The slope from the pla¬
teau on which the town stands to the river is occupied by
the mills and houses of the workmen. Manchester possesses
twelve churches belonging to different denominations ; and
the educational establishments consist of a high school, two
grammar schools, besides others of an inferior class. Man¬
chester has risen into importance quite recently by reason
of the water power, which affords great advantages to the
manufactories here. Not far from the town the river has a
fall of 54 feet in a mile, which is taken advantage of by
means of dams and canals, so that it turns many thousand
spindles. The town is chiefly remarkable for its manufac¬
tures. One company possess four mills, which give em¬
ployment to 2500 hands, and weave daily 65,000 yards of
various stuffs. There are also at Manchester print-works,
paper-mills, machine-shops, foundries, and other esta¬
blishments. In the year 1839 this place only contained
fifty inhabitants, but it has rapidly increased since that
time. Manchester received its charter in 1846. Pop.
(1850) 13,932, (1853) 20,000.
MANCHOORIA, or Mandshuria, a large district in
the N.E. of Asia, constituting a government of the Chinese
Empire, and bounded on the N. by Siberia, on the E. by
the Gulf of Tartary and the Sea of Japan, on the S. by
Corea and the Yellow Sea, and on the W. by Mongolia.
It lies between N. Lat. 42. and 58., and E. Long. 120.
and 142., and has an area of between 650,000 and 780,000
square miles. This region is almost entirely surrounded by
mountains. The highest of these ranges is the Khing-
khan-ula, which separates this district from the table-lands
of Central Asia. Its highest summit, Pecha, is more than
15,000 feet above the level of the sea, and is situated near
the southern extremity of the range. On the N., Man-
chooria is separated from Siberia by a lower range, called
by the Russians Yablonoi Khrebet, and by the Chinese,
Khing-khan Tugwick. Along the eastern coast there ex¬
tends a very steep ridge, approaching in many places very
near to the sea, and which rises to an elevation of 5000 feet.
On the S., a prolongation of the Siolki range extends along
the frontiers and joins the eastern chain; while the only
part which is not surrounded by mountain barriers is
towards the S.W., where there is a tract of country of an
undulating and hilly character. The region included by
these mountains presents towards the S. the appearance
of a vast plain, chiefly sandy, but containing many grassy
spots which afford good pasturage, and abounding in salt
lakes. 1 he northern part of Manchooria, on the other
hand, is a country diversified with hills and valleys, almost
entirely covered with forests. The country is watered by
numerous rivers, of which the principal are,—the Amur and
its tributaries, the Seja, the Songari, the Ussuri-ula, &c.;
the Tumen-ula, and the Sira Muren, or Liao-ho. Of the
soil and mineral resouices of this region little is known,
since it has never, except in the southern parts, been visited
M A N
tressed, for the promotion of education and the spread of Mandar.
religion, abound in Manchester, which indeed exhibits a v ^
prominent example of the almost profuse expenditure of
wealth, hardly acquired, for philanthropic and useful pur¬
poses. (t. b—Y.)
by European travellers; and we are left to the doubtful
authority of the Chinese. Wheat, rye, barley, hemp, and
cotton, are produced in considerable quantities; and the
forests are composed of oak, lime, pine, birch, willow, maple,
&c. Rhubarb is also found in considerable abundance,
and forms one of the chief articles of export. The domes¬
tic animals of this country are for the most part the same
as those of Central Asia, with the addition of the rein-deer,
which inhabits the country to the N. of the Amur, and
the camel, which is found to the S. of that river. Among
the wild animals, sables, ermines, bears, wolves, and foxes
are the most numerous ; and the people are much occupied
in hunting them and trading with their skins. The wild
sheep and the wild ass are peculiar to this and the neigh¬
bouring countries. Tigers are said to occur in Manchooria.
Fish and pearls abound in the rivers, and of the latter
article the divers send a yearly tribute to the Emperor of
China. The climate of Manchooria is cold, and the win¬
ters severe, owing to its geographical position and its eleva¬
tion. The population, with the exception of some Mongo¬
lians, belong to a wide-spread race called Tunguses or
Tungusians, one subdivision of which comprises the Mand-
shurs. The Tungusians proper are most numerous to the
N. of the Amur, and they are also spread over a consider¬
able portion of Siberia. Their manner of life is erratic ; and
they subsist chiefly by hunting and by their large herds of
cattle. To the race of the Mandshurs the reigning family
of the Chinese empire belongs. They began their incur¬
sions in 1610, and in the year 1662 they had made such
progress as to set upon the throne a monarch of their own
nation. The Tungusian language dift'ers from the Mongo¬
lian, and though not supposed to have any connection with
any other dialect, exhibits a remarkable similarity in many
words and expressions to some of the languages of West¬
ern Europe ; which is the more remarkable as this is the
most easterly country in Asia. Manchooria is divided into
the three provinces of Shin-king, Kirin, and Tsi-tsi-har,
the first of which is governed in the same way as the rest
of the Chinese empire; while the other two are under a
military despotism. The capital is Kirinoola, or Ghirin-
ula, though Moukden, which was formerly the metropolis,
is still the most wealthy city ; and the other most important
towns are Saghalin-ula, Kin-chu, and Fung-whang-ching.
An invasion was made into Manchooria by the Russians in
the seventeenth century, but although they established
themselves for forty years on the Amur, they were at last
driven out by the Mandshurs. During the last ten years,
however, they have again resumed their attempts, and have
made incroachment in the north, having built a fort on the
Amur, and several others on the sea-coast. One of these
was unsuccessfully attacked by the British in 1855, and
another was attacked by some American ships. The po¬
pulation of Manchooria is uncertain, the estimates varying
from 2,000,000 to 4,500,000.
MANDAR, Michel Philippe, better known under the
name of Theophile, one of the most enthusiastic characters
of the French revolution, was born at Marine in 1759, and
studied at Juilly under his uncle J. F. Mandar, a priest of
the Oratoire, author of several pleasing poems in Latin and
French. Of an active disposition and an ardent imagina¬
tion, young Mandar embraced the cause of the revolution
with great warmth from the commencement, and was early
distinguished as a revolutionary orator. When the Swiss
regiments under Bezenval endeavoured to check the po-
MAN
Mandara. pulace of Paris in their attempt to seize the arms depo-
v'--sited at the Hotel des Invalides, on the attack of the Bas-
tile, Mandar, at the greatest personal risk, succeeded by a
dexterous stroke in persuading the Swiss commander to
withdraw his troops, which facilitated the capture of that
celebrated prison. Mandar’s name, moreover, deserves
honourable mention for the mild humanity which he dis¬
played amidst the unscrupulous violence of many of his
compeers. On the 3d September 1792, and during the
massacres of that memorable month, Mandar, at a meeting
in Danton’s house, where the chiefs of the revolution sat in
council, proposed and boldly stood out for the creation of a
clictator to prevent the further effusion of blood, but had
the misfortune to see mutual jealousy defeat his humane
suggestion. Robespierre exclaimed, “ Garde-ten bien,
Srissot serait dictateur !” Mandar survived the revolution,
but refused office under the imperial government. He oc¬
cupied his years of retirement with literature, and particu¬
larly with translations from the English. His works, poli¬
tical, historical, miscellaneous, and poetical, display great
force of thought and energy of expression. He died at
Paris in 1823.
MANDARA, an independent kingdom of Western
Ah ica, situated to the south of Bornou. It is overlooked
by the central range of the Mountains of the Moon, which
attain their greatest elevation to the southward of this ter¬
ritory. I hose parts of the mountains examined by Major
Denham consist of enormous blocks of granite, both de¬
tached and reclining on each other, and presenting the
most rugged faces and sides. The interstices and fissures
appeared to be filled with a yellow quartzose earth, in which
grow mosses and lichens, as well as trees of considerable
size. At the base of these mountains, and also at a con-
sideiable elevation on their sides, are incumbent masses of
decomposed fragments of primitive rocks, recompounded
by a species of natural cement. A number of petrified shells
were found confusedly mixed with fragments of granite,
quartz, sand, and clay, and in some instances imbedded in
the rocks. Mandara consists of a fine valley watered by
several springs. Amongst the various specimens of the
vegetable kingdom are numerous fig trees, and a tree bear¬
ing a white and fragrant blossom, resembling the seringi.
This kingdom was formerly comprehended within the ter¬
ritory of the Sultan of Karowa, a country bordering upon it
to the S.W., but which was wrested from the kerdy or
pagan sovereign by the neighbouring Fellatahs. His son,
however, recovered it from them, and succeeded in keepino-
possession of it, chiefly, it is said, in consequence of his
having embraced the Mohammedan faith. The principal
Mandara towns, eight in number, all stand in the valley.
-The inhabitants of these, as well as of the villages by which
they are suirounded, profess Islamism; but the pagans are
far more numerous, and their dwellings are seen every¬
where in clusters on the sides, and even on the tops, of the
hills which immediately overlook the capital. They hold
the sultan in great dread, and occasionally propitiate his
favour by presenting him with leopard-skins, honey, and
slaves, as peace-offerings, besides asses and goats, with
which their mountains abound. Mora, the capital of Man¬
dara, is situated in N. Lat. 10. 58. 38., and E. Long. 13. 22.,
nearly facing the N., under a semicircular ridge of very pic¬
turesque mountains. These natural barriers form a strong
rampart on every side but one, which, however, the sultan
is able so to defend as to bid defiance to the attacks of the
Fellatahs. When Major Denham visited this kingdom he
found the sultan surrounded by about 500 horsemen, posted
on a rising ground about a mile from Delow, the most
northern town in Mandara. These soldiers were finely
dressed in Soudan tobes of different colours (chiefly dark
blue, and striped with yellow and red), bornouses of coarse
scarlet cloth, and large turbans of white or dark-coloured
MAN
261
cotton. Their horses were beautiful, being larger and more Mandavee
powerful than any in Bornou, and they were managed with II
great dexterity. The country to the extreme S. is inha- Jfan^eviI1&
bited by the Musgow people, a rude and savage race.
During the visit of the traveller above named, he witnessed
the arrival of an embassy of between twenty and thirty in¬
dividuals of this tribe, mounted on horseback, and bringing
200 of their fellow-creatures, and fifty horses, besides other
presents, to the sultan. They were covered only with the
skin of a goat or leopard; and round the necks of each
were long strings of the teeth of the enemies whom they
had slain in battle. Teeth and pieces of bone were also
suspended from the clotted locks of their hair, and their
bodies were marked with red patches in various places.
DirkuIIah, a part of this mountain territory, is occupied by
Fellatahs, who have their villages strongly fortified, and
fight desperately with poisoned arrows, by means of which
they on one occasion put to flight the whole force of Bornou
and Mandara, though aided by a numerous and well-armed
body of Arabs. 1 hey are now, however, kept in subjection
by the bultan of Mandara. The common people of this
country paint their bodies, wrap themselves in the skins of
wild beasts, and subsist chiefly upon fruits, honey, and the
fish drawn from large lakes.
MANDAVEE, a large and fortified seaport of Hin¬
dustan, in the province of Cutch, situated on the Gulf of
Cutch. It trades to a considerable extent with Bombay,
Arabia, &c., and its chief articles of export consist of butter,
grain, and cotton, for which it receives sugar, pepper, spices,
raw silk, piece-goods, &c. E. Long. 69. 26., N. Lat. 22. 50.
Mandavee, in Hindustan, a town situated within the
presidency of Bombay, and the principal place of a feudal
dependency, which, on the demise of its native ruler in
1840, and the failure of heirs in the direct line, lapsed to
the paramount power, and was subsequently annexed to
the British dominions. It now forms part of the collectorate
of Surat. I he town is situated on the right bank of the
Taptee, in Lat. 21. 11., Long. 73. 20.
MANDEVILLE, Beknard de, an author of consider¬
able celebrity in his day, was born about the year 1670 at
Dort in Holland. After studying physic at Leyden, where
he took the degree of doctor in that faculty, Mandeville
came over to England, and commenced practising his pro¬
fession in London. His success as a physician was not
great; but taking to writing, he succeeded in gaining a
livelihood, and establishing for himself more than an ordi¬
nary share of notoriety. He published his first work in
1709—The Virgin Unmasked, or Female Dialogues be¬
twixt an Elderly Maiden Lady and Tier Niece on several
Diverting Discourses on Love, Marriage, Memoirs, and
Morals, &c. The work is characterized by anything but
delicacy ; and whatever may have been Mandeville’s design
in writing it, no one will be inclined to regard it as calcu¬
lated to promote female virtue and innocence. In 1711 he
published a work, in three dialogues, full of pungent remarks
on modern medical practice, entitled A Treatise on the
Hypochondriac and Hysteric Passions. His short poem
of 1 he Grumbling Hive, or I\.naves turned Honest, appeared
in 1714, and was afterwards expanded and published in
1723, under the well-known title of the Fable of the Bees,
or Private Vices Public Benefits. This work, erroneous
as it is in its views of morals and society, is much superior
to his first publication; and while written with apparent
honesty and sincerity of purpose, it nevertheless exposed
its author to no ordinary degree of obloquy, provoking
answers and attacks on all sides, and was finally; together
with the London Journal, a paper to which Mandeville
contimuted, denounced as immoral, and'proscribed by the
grand jury of Middlesex. He kept silent till 1728, when
e published a second part of the Fable of the Fees, to
illustiate the design and vindicate the intention of the first.
262
M A N
MAN
Mandeville
Handing.
He published also, in 1720, Free Thoughts on Religion,
the Church, and National Happiness; and in 1732, An
Inquiry into the Origin of Honour and the Usefulness of
Christianity in War, a work abounding in paradox. He
died on the 21st January 1733, in his sixty-third year. Sir
John Hawkins, in his Life of Dr Johnson, says, that Man¬
deville was partly supported by a pension from “ some
vulgar Dutch merchants,” and was a frequent guest at the
table of the first Earl of Macclesfield. The Fable of the Bees,
as a satire on men and manners, is just and pleasant, betray¬
ing powers of shrewd, happy, subtle observation, by no means
common ; but as a theory of society and national happiness, it
is altogether false and worthless, calculated—however its
author might disallow such an inference—to lower the
standard of morality, if not to encourage vice and irreligion.
It is his object to show that national greatness depends
on the prevalence of fraud and luxury. We find no dis¬
tinction in his system between luxury and vice ; he indeed
boldly contends that virtue and vice, and the feelings of
moral approbation and disapprobation, have been infused
into men by their several governments for the preservation
of society, and the maintenance of their own power. Of
the host of assailants who attacked Mandeville, the most
distinguished were,—William Law, whose remarks on the
Fable of the Bees have lately been republished, with an
introductory essay by F. D. Maurice; Hutcheson, author
of An Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty
and Virtue; and Bishop Berkeley in his Alciphron, or the
Minute Philosopher.
Mandeville, Sir John de, the first English prose
writer, was born at St Alban’s about the beginning of the
fourteenth century. Sprung from a good family, he re¬
ceived a liberal education, and seems to have practised for
some time as a physician. He set out on his travels in
1322, and repaired to the Holy Land. After serving suc¬
cessively under the Sultan of Egypt and the Khan of Cathay,
and journeying through Tartary, Persia, Armenia, India,
and other countries, he returned to England about 1355.
Not long after this he began to write a narrative of his
adventures, which he dedicated to Edward III. He is said
to have died at Liege in 1372. Mandeville’s work presents
a singular mixture of fact and fable. Minutely and can¬
didly he relates his own observations regarding the coun¬
tries he visited and the men whom he met. With the
same truthfulness, whenever an opportunity occurs, he copies
descriptions of monsters from Pliny, accounts of miracles
from legends, and fables from old romancers. His book,
written originally in Latin, was translated by himself into
French, and ultimately into English. The original manu¬
script of this last translation is in the Cotton Library. The
best edition is that published under the title of The Voiyage
and Travaile of Ser John Maundeville, knight, Bvo, London,
1725, and reprinted in 1839, “ with an introduction, ad¬
ditional notes, and a glossary by J. O. Halliwell, Esq.,
F.S.A., F.R.A.S.” 6 ' ^ ’ 45
MANDIN G, or Mandingo, a district in the W. of Africa,
bounded on the N. by Fouladou, on the E. by Bambarra,
on the S. by Gallonkadou, and on the W. by Gadou, lies
between 10^ and 14° N. Lat., and between 13° and 16°
W. Long. I his district is very mountainous, and contains
the sources, of the Senegal and Niger. The mountains
abound in iron, and a considerable quantity of gold-dust is
found in the rivers. The country is divided into a num¬
ber of small aristocratic republics, each village with the
territory aiound it being nearly independent of the rest.
The principal of these subordinate states are,—Manding,
Bambuk, Bondu, Dentilia, Salum, Barra, Wooly, Yarra,
&c. The chief towns are, Kamalia, the capital, inha¬
bited partly by Mohammedans and partly by Kafirs, Sil-
lidolloo, Kankaba, Dorita, &c. The inhabitants are dark,
well-proportioned, and strong ; in character, they are good-
natured, inquisitive, credulous, and truthful, but are much . Manes
addicted to thieving. They seldom attain to any great age; II
but they are not liable to many diseases. The dress of Manfredi.
the men consists of a coat, trousers, and sandals, while the
women wear pieces of cloth wrapped about their body.
Their dwellings are huts built of clay and thatched with
rushes. Polygamy is practised among the Mandingoes,
but each wife lives in a separate hut. A collection of huts
belonging to a single family is called a surk, and several of
these surks compose a village or town. Weddings are
celebrated among the Mandingoes with great festivities.
They are fond of music, dancing, and poetry; and they
have two classes of wandering bards, who are held in much
esteem. The chief occupations of these tribes are agricul¬
ture, hunting, fishing, wool-spinning, &c. They also trade
in gold, ivory, and slaves; and they are well acquainted
with the interior of Africa. In religion they are partly
Mohammedans and partly heathens. The marabouts, or
Mohammedan priests, make long journeys for the purpose
of trade, and they are in like manner visited by the priests
of other countries. The Mandingoes have spread abroad
from their original seat over all the banks of the Gambia,
Senegal, and Niger, and they are the most numerous of all
the tribes of Western Africa. Their language, which is the
richest of all the Negro dialects, is written in Arabic cha¬
racters, and may be considered the most widely spread, and
the most important in a commercial point of view, of all
those spoken in Africa.
MANES. See Manicheism.
MANETHO, the Sebennyte, an Egyptian priest and
historian, who flourished under the first Ptolemy, and pro¬
bably the second also. He wrote a history of Egypt of
which an epitome and some fragments remain, and, appa¬
rently, at least one other book. The epitome is given by
Syncellus from the chronological works of Julius Africanus
and Eusebius, of the latter of which there is extant an
Armenian version. It is a list of thirty-one dynasties, with
the number of kings in each, and generally their names,
and with some historical events not always from the .
original work. The two principal fragments are preserved
by Josephus (c. Apioni). The epitome does not contain
any distinct statement of the complete duration of the dy¬
nasties. Such a statement is given by Syncellus, but there
is strong reason to think it spurious. The dynasties are gene¬
rally held to have been partly contemporaneous: hence dif¬
ferent arrangements (for which see art. Egypt). Manetho’s
accuracy is established by the agreement of the monuments;
but much discredit was formerly cast on him by the fraud
of an early impostor, now called “ Pseudo-Manetho,”
who wrote the chronological Book of Sothis, apparently the
groundwork of several false chronologies. Other forgeries
seem to have been ascribed to the true Manetho. The ex¬
tant Apotelesmatica may, however, be by a later person
of the same name. The best editions of Manetho’s remains
are in Cory’s Ancient Fragments (second edition),—nearly
complete, but faulty in criticism ; in Bunsen’s Egypt's Place,
—a better text, but defaced by some conjectural readings;
and in the Fragmenta Historicorum Grcecorum (Didot),
where the arrangement is bad. (k. s. p.)
MANFREDI, King of the Too Sicilies, a natural son
of the Emperor Frederick II. and of a Lombard lady, was
born about 1234. His father dying in 1252, bequeathed
to him the principality of Tarentum, and appointed him
regent during the absence of his brother Conrad IV. No
sooner had Manfredi begun to rule, than the province of
Apulia, instigated by Pope Innocent IV., rose in open
insurrection. With promptness and vigour he suppressed
the rebels; and in the same year in which his government
had commenced, delivered into his brother’s hands an un¬
disputed sovereignty. He had now become a favourite
with the people, but from that very circumstance he was
MAN
Manfred!, disliked by his brother, and removed from all share in the
administration. Yet, in 1254, when the king died, leaving
his crown to his infant son Conrad, then in Germany, Man-
fredi was once more called to the regency. His enjoyment,
however, of this dignity was soon interrupted by the inve-
terate foe of his house, Pope Innocent IV., who forthwith
laid him under the ban of excommunication, and, backed
by the Guelphs and all the malcontents in the Two Sicilies,
advanced to strip him of his power. Deserted by his sub¬
jects, and destitute of all means of raising troops, Manfredi
was forced to free himself from the sentence of excommu¬
nication by agreeing to hold his possessions as an imme¬
diate fief of the Holy See. But the pope was unable to
rest as long as Manfredi retained any power. Accordintdy
he began to organize a conspiracy 'against the liberty and
satety of his vassal, which was only frustrated by the latter
fleeing from the papal court and repairing for assistance to
the Saracens of Lucera, the ever-faithful supporters of
his house. With these rallying around him, Manfredi
speedily recovered Apulia, and, aided by the death of Pope
Innocent IV. in 1254, he received in 1257 the submission
of the entire kingdom. In the same year the new pope,
Alexander IV., inheriting the hostile spirit of his predeces¬
sor, presented the kingdom of the Two Sicilies to Edmund,
second son of Henry HI. of England, a gift, however,
which that prince had not the courage to accept. A re-
port that his nephew Conrad had died in Germany, induced
Manfredi in 1258 to assume the title and insignia of kino-.
o soonei had he taken this bold step, than envoys arrived
from Conrad’s mother to contradict the report, and to de¬
mand the resignation of the crown in favour of her son.
But Manfredi refused to lay down the sceptre; and so much
had his brave defence of his country, his handsome person,
and his many accomplishments, endeared him to the hearts
of Ins people, that Conrad’s mother was fain to content
hei self with the promise that her son should be the next
occupant of the throne. The elevation of Manfredi only
stimulated the enduring enmity of Rome. On the acces-
sion of Pope Urban IV. in 1261, he was excommunicated,
and his kingdom was placed at the disposal of any European
prince who might have the strength to make it his own.
At last Charles, Count of Anjou, and brother to Louis
IX. of France, accepted the offer; but no sooner had he
concluded the bargain with the Roman See than Urban
died in 1264. Pope Clement IV. assumed the policy of
his predecessor, and after crowning the Count of Anjou
with great solemnity, sent him forth in January 1266 against
the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. Manfredi, in the Fe¬
bruary following, encountered the enemy at Benevento.
The Apulians passing over to the invaders at a critical
moment in the fight, threw the entire Sicilian army into
disorder. Manfredi, on seeing the desperate nature of his
cause, spurred into the thickest of the battle, and fell
covered with wounds. His mangled body was buried under
a heap of stones; but ecclesiastical enmity, denying it even
this poor resting-place, ordered it to be dragged^ out and
conveyed to a barren valley on the confines of Abruzzo.
There, in accordance with the sentence of excommunica¬
tion, it was interred without any burial rites. Manfredi
was the founder of the town of Manfredonia.
Manfkedi, Eustachio, an eminent mathematician and
astronomer, was born in 1674 at Bologna in Italy. At
first he studied philosophy and jurisprudence, and evinced
a strong love for poetry, but latterly he devoted most of his
time to mathematics and astronomy. He was appointed
mathematical professor in the university of his native city
in 1698, and surveyor-general of the rivers and waters in
1704. He was chosen regent of Montalto College during
the same year, an office which he resigned in 1711 for
that of astronomer to the newly established Institute of
Bologna. Manfredi was chosen a foreign member of the
M A jN
263
Academy of Sciences at Paris, and of the Royal Society of Manfre-
London. He died of the stone in 1739. The principal of donia
Manfredi’s works are,—Ephemerides Motuum Ccelestium ab II
an?io 1715 ad annum 1750, in 4 vols. 4to ; De Transitu Mangalore-
Mercurii per solem anno 1723, 4to, Bologna, 1724 ; and
De annuis Inerrantium Stellarum Aberrationibus. 4to
Bologna, 1729. ’
MANFREDONIA, a seaport-town of Naples, province
of Capitanata, stands at the head of a gulf of the same name,
19 miles S.W. of the promontory of Gargano, and 20 N.E.’
of Foggia; N. Eat. 41. 58., E. Long. 15. 56. This town
is lemarkable for its regularity and symmetry, and although
many of the houses are unfinished, and some in a ruinous
condition, it has an air of grandeur and uniformity seldom
to be met with. Ihe main thoroughfare is a long and
wide street, extending from one gate to another; for the
city is walled on all sides. Besides two gates to the land
side, there are two others leading to the harbour, which is
very safe, being protected towards the N. by a small break¬
water ; but on account of the little depth of water, it is
accessible only to the smallest vessels. The town is also
defended by round bastions, and by a strong castle, with a
ditch and drawbridge, which commands the harbour. The
inhabitants are cleanly and industrious, unlike the general
chaiacter of the Italians, but their numbers have been much
reduced by reason of the malaria arising from the neigh¬
bouring marshes. Since the recent draining of these marshes,
however, the town has become more healthy. A consider¬
able trade is carried on in salt, corn, and fruits, especially
oranges. At the distance of a mile to the S.W. stood the
ancient Sipontum, which was a Roman colony, and of which
the only remains are two ancient pillars and a Saracenic
church, which is still the cathedral of the archbishop. The
modern town was founded by King Manfredi in 1266
and though called by him Novum Sipontum, it afterwards
took the name of its founder, which it still bears. Pop.
5000. 1
MANGALORE, a seaport-town and fortress of Hin¬
dustan, on the eastern shore of the Indian Ocean, in the
province of Canara. It is large and well built, and is situated
on a salt-water lake, which is separated from the sea by a
beach of sand, but which communicates with a river. At
high water, and in fine weather, ships drawing less than 10
feet can enter it; and there is good anchorage off the
mouth of the river in from 5 to 7 fathoms water. The in¬
habitants are chiefly Mapillas or Moplas (Mohammedans),
said to be descended from a colony of Arabians who settled
in this place at a remote date. According to some tradi¬
tions, the first mosque in the country was founded as early
as 642, being only a short period after the commencement
of the Mohammedan era. More sober authorities, how¬
ever, refer this event to a period about two centuries later.
Fanatical outbreaks on the part of the Moplas have un¬
happily not been uncommon of late years. Mangalore
though an indifferent haven, was the principal seaport of
the territory of Hyder Ali and of his son Tippoo ; and here
were constructed the ships forming the maritime force of
tlmn- reaim, the teak forests on the slopes of the Ghauts
affording abundance of the best timber. The exports con¬
sist principally of rice, which is sent to Muscat in Arabia
to Goa, Bombay, and Malabar. The other articles of ex¬
port are,—betel-nut, black pepper, sandal-wood, cassia, and
turmeric; in exchange for which, sugar, salt, and cotton
piece-goods are imported. Mangalore was at an early
period a great mart of trade, and was resorted to for this
purpose by the Arabians. Here the Portuguese had also
a factory, which was destroyed by the Arabians. In 1763
• -TaS taken by Hyder Ali’then the Mysore general;
in 1 f 68 it was captured by a detachment from Bombay,
but was shortly afterwards retaken by Hyder. In 1783
Mangalore again surrendered to a force from Bombay; and
264 MAN
Manica after the destruction of General Matthews’ army, sustained
a long siege from Tippoo, and was gallantly defended by
Mani- Colonel Campbell. Upon the conclusion of the peace in
v chei8m- 1784, it was restored, and the fortifications were dismantled.
V In 1799, on the overthrow of Tippoo, it was finally taken
possession of by the British. The population, exclusive of
the military, has been returned at 11,548 persons. An
excellent road from this town to Mercara, a distance of
80 miles, was constructed a few years since, at a cost of
L.25,000. Distance from Bombay 440 miles ; Seringapa-
tam, 130. E. Long. 74. 54., N. Lat. 12. 52.
MANICA, a small state of Eastern Africa, in the terri¬
tory of Monomotapa. It is generally mountainous, but is
in many parts fertile, and affords pasturage to large herds of
cattle. A considerable trade is carried on with the Portu¬
guese, who exchange silk, linen, and iron, for gold, ivory,
and copper, which are the chief articles of native produce.
The capital of the same name is about eight days’ journey
W.N.W. from Sofala, in S. Lat. 18. 45., E. Long. 32. 50.
Here the Portuguese have a fort with a small garrison of
soldiers.
MANICHEISM, a scheme of religious eclecticism, which
sprung up in Persia during the third century a.d., and
rapidly spread through Syria and Palestine, Egypt and
North Africa, as far as Italy, Gaul, and Spain. To its en¬
snaring philosophy Augustine fell an early victim, but lived
to repent his error and to become its most vigorous assailant.
The founder of the system was a Persian of the name of
Mani, or Manes, a word derived by some from the Hebrew
Menahem, which signifies the comforter or paraclete, but
now generally regarded as from a Sanscrit root signifying
a jewel or treasure. The eastern accounts of his history
differ widely from the representations given by the writers
of the western church, who wrote, however, under the bias
of ecclesiastical dislike. From the oriental tradition we
learn that he sprang from the sacred race of the Magi,
that his family was among the most distinguished in Persia,
and that in pomp of dress he always preserved the dignity
of his house. He was a proficient in the mathematical
sciences, had studied geography, and was an adept in the
mysteries of music and painting. All these accomplish¬
ments he laid at the feet of the Christian church, and be¬
came a presbyter in one of the provinces bordering on
Babylonia. His love, however, for the Parseeism of his
country soon polluted his Christian teaching, and he was
at once excommunicated and exiled for his faith. This
latter calamity he owed to the rigour of Sapor L, to whom
he unfolded his new gospel of a universal religion, but who
was as little inclined to tolerate an inroad on Magianism as
the Persian presbyters were to allow the corruption of their
Christianity. Mani fled to the east, visiting India and even
China, where he studied the principles of Buddhism in
order to give a wider basis to his scheme. Returning to a
grotto in Turkestan, while his followers believed he had as¬
cended to heaven, he blended together the elements of his
religious experience into a gorgeous picture-book, called
afterwards the Ertenki-Mani, which became the sacred
writing of the sect. On the death of Sapor he returned to
Persia, when Hormisdas became his patron, and gave him
a splendid residence in Susiana. Here he continued to
spread his doctrines far and wide; but when Varanes suc¬
ceeded to the throne, the jealousy of the Magians wrought
his ruin. Mani was challenged to a conference, declared
to be defeated, and flayed alive as a religious impostor.
His skin, stuffed with straw, was suspended over the gate
of the city of Sapor as a warning to all his adherents.
In the western accounts there is less both of consistency
and romance. According to them, Manicheism owes its
origin to a Saracen tradesman named Scythianus, who
settled at Alexandria soon after the apostolic age, and be¬
queathed his doctrines to a pupil called Terebinthus. Soon
MAN
after the death of his master, Terebinthus went to Babylon* Mani-
where he assumed the name of Buddas, and pretended to cbeism.
have been born of a virgin, and to have been brought up
on a solitary mountain by an angel. An unlucky fall from
the roof of his house, however, cut short his days, and a
young slave, called Cubricus, decamping with his manuscripts,
and with them inheriting his wisdom, earned a more lasting
reputation under the assumed name of Manes. At the
court of Persia this impostor of the third generation suc¬
ceeded in forming a school of disciples, whom he instructed
and despatched abroad to disseminate his views. Having
been unsuccessful in his treatment of one of the princes
during a fatal illness, Manes was thrown into prison, and
his apostles speedily returned to him with the intelligence
that the Christians everywhere counterworked their charms.
In the solitude of his dungeon he is said to have studied
the Christian Scriptures; and, as soon as he was liberated,
he proclaimed himself the promised Paraclete, commissioned
to divulge and teach what Christ himself had left unspoken.
With this new gospel Manes regained his former favour at
the court; and from the Arabion, a castle on the borders of
Mesopotamia, he was permitted freely to promulgate his
views. A defeat which he suffered in open dispute with
the Bishop Archelaus at Cascar, was the signal for his de¬
struction (a.d. 277). Both accounts agree in the mode and
circumstances of his death.
Tragic as was the fate of the founder of Manicheism,
neither denunciation of divines nor tyranny of kings could
daunt the adherents of this intoxicating heresy. In vain
they were proscribed and trampled down. From Diocle¬
tian to Valentinian III. the severest statutes were framed
against them. They were banished from their homes, and
extruded from the common privileges of humanity ; but
after every wave of persecution, they reappeared to defend
their doctrines, and the controversy was prolonged far into
the middle ages. They are mentioned with as bitter hatred
in the Koran as in the pages of Augustine.
It is impossible to give a full account of the Manichean
system without expounding the systems from which it bor¬
rowed its constituent parts. These are given under sepa¬
rate heads in this work, and it is therefore only necessary
here to note the particular dogmas of different creeds which
were embraced within its vast eclecticism. These are ad¬
mirably summed up by Dean Milman :—“ From his native
Persia he derived his Dualism, his antagonist worlds of light
and darkness; and from Magianism, likewise, his contempt
of outward temple and splendid ceremonial. From Gnos¬
ticism, or rather from universal orientalism, he drew the
inseparable admixture of moral and physical notions, the
eternal hostility between mind and matter, the rejection of
Judaism, and the identification of the God of the Old Tes¬
tament with the evil spirit, the distinction between Jesus
and the Christ, with the Docetism or unreal death of the
incorporeal Christ. From Cabalism, through Gnosticism,
came the primal man, the Adam Caedmon of that system,
and (if that be a genuine part of this system) the assump¬
tion of beautiful human forms, those of graceful boys and
attractive virgins, by the powers of light and their union
with the male and female spirits of darkness. From India
he took the emanation theory (all light was a part of deity,
and in one sense the soul of the world), the metempsy¬
chosis, the triple division of human souls (the one the pure,
which reascended at once, and was reunited to the primal
light; the second the semi-pure, which, having passed
through a purgatorial process, returned to earth to pass a
second ordeal of life; the third of obstinate and irreclaim¬
able evil). From India, perhaps, came his Homophorus, as
the Greeks called it, his Atlas, who supported the earth
upon his shoulders, and his Splenditenens, the circum¬
ambient air. From Chaldea he borrowed the power of as¬
tral influences; and he approximated to the solar worship
M A N
Mamhus. 0f expiring Paganism. Christ the mediator, like the Mithra
ot his countrymen, dwelt in the sun. From his native
country Mam derived the simple diet of fruits and herbs •
rrom the Buddhism of India his respect for animal life which
was neither to be slain for food nor sacrifice; from all the
anti-materialist sects or religions, the abhorrence of all sen¬
sual indulgences, even the bath as well as the banquet,—and
the proscription, or at least the disparagement, of marriage.
nd the whole of these foreign and extraneous tenets his
creative imagination blended with his own form of Christi¬
anity ; for so completely are they mingled, that it is difficult
to decide whether Christianity or Magianism formed the
groundwork of the system.” (//^. Lat. Christ, ii. 322 ft'.)
1 his cumbrous and complex system had the strange
power of evoking a fanaticism as keen as any that the world
has ever w.tnessed; and the fanatical zeal of the sect was
stimulated by a severe asceticism and a rigid gradation of
ranks. Although the Mamchean worship was simple and
seldom, their daily life was tinged, in even the most trivial
acts, by the presence of superstition. The members of the
church were divided into the perfecti, or sacerdotal class
and the auditores, or catechumens. The head of the
priesthood was Mani and his successors in office ; and under
, him apostles, and seventy-two bishops, with presby¬
ters, deacons, and evangelists, formed a descending series of
dignitaries. From their founder they received neither
temple nor ceremonial. Prayers to the sun, and hymns to
the divine principle of light, constituted their vocal worship
1 hey observed the Lord’s day, baptized with oil, and cele¬
brated the Eucharist in water mingled with raisins. They
rejected animal food, and tolerated marriage only in the in¬
ferior orders. Christmas and Good Friday had to them no
meaning, as they denied the reality both of Christ’s birth
and death ; but they hallowed annually the day of Mani’s
martyrdom. The purity of their morals is conceded by
Augustine, and probably the eastern Manichees lono- con¬
tinued to retain their unblemished character; but in’ltaly
at least, they soon sank into hopeless degradation.
I he best special authorities on the subject of the Mani-
cheans are,—Is. de Beausobre, J/ist. Crit. de Manichee,
^34^ml,l7i9; Matter’s HisL du Gnosticisme;
F’ C.hr- Bfurs Mdmchaische Religions-System, Tiib.
1831 ; with Schneckenburger’s Review in the Studien und
MANILIUS, Marcus or Caius, a Latin poet, the au-
thor ot Astronomica, an astrological treatise in five books.
Regarding the facts of his life, and even his true name
great uncertainty prevails. In different MSS. he is called
Manlius and Malhus, and other names slightly varying from
each other. Different critics severally suppose him0to be
the senator Manilius; Manilius called the founder of astro¬
logy; and Manilius the mathematician; to all of whom allu¬
sion is made by Pliny in his Natural History. Yet all these
suppositions rest on no surer grounds than the identity of
the names, and the fact that all the persons mentioned must
have been in a greater or less degree acquainted with as¬
trology. From the internal evidence of his poem, it has
been argued that Manilius flourished in the age of Tiberius
although Bentley places him in the Augustan age. The
same great critic supposes him to have been a native of
Asia, a conjecture that is by no means refuted by the cir¬
cumstance, that Manilius talks in his poem as if he were a
Roman citizen, and were living at the period at which he
writes in the Roman capital.
The want of finish, and the abrupt conclusion of the As-
tronomica, evidently indicate that it was left incomplete.
As a philosopher, Manilius has shown great talent in usin°-
all the astronomical lore of his day in selecting the mos°
sagacious of conflicting opinions, and in starting some con¬
jectures which have been fully verified in modern times.
i et, as a poet, his imperfect taste, and his pointless and in-
VOL. xiy.
MAN
harmonious diction, fall far short of that genius which alone
can elevate a scientific subject into the sphere of true
poetry. I he Astronomica was first discovered in manu¬
script by Poggio in 1416. From this copy the editio prin-
CPTlQ \%re\0 r-v ^ t-A U. T>_* * A A. - . *
265
Manilla.
ceps was printed by Regiomontanus, 4to, Nuremberg, pro¬
bably about 1472 or 1473. The standard edition is that of
Bentley, 4to, London, 1739. A translation into English
1697’lb700lh°maS CieeCh’ ^ Publishcd’ 8vo> London,
MANILLA, capital of the island of Luzon, and of
the group 0f the Philippines, is situated on the E. shore
o the bay of the same name, on the S. bank, and near
he mouth of the River Pasig; N. Lat. 14. 36., E. Long.
, n a 1 r flt,y pr<?p?r is port'fied, being surrounded by
vails and a ditch, but it is not sufficiently strong to be able
to stand a siege. The walls are about 2 miles in circuit,
and the ditch is supplied with water from the River Pado-
ihe streets are regularly laid out and well paved, the car¬
riage-ways being formed of quartz mixed with loam. The
river js crossed by a bridge of ten arches, which leads to
the suburb of Bmondoc, in which most of the trade is car-
„ °n- Although m the town itself the houses are gene-
ra y. bui j of rteme, in the suburbs bamboo is almost solely
employed for building purposes. The houses have in
general balconies ; and the place of glass is supplied by
t in plates ot shell, which, though not transparent, are very
effectua! as a defence against the heat. In the suburb of
nT h l? ar® &enerally raised on wooden posts
to the height of 8 or 10 feet, and the suburb in general
presents more of an oriental appearance than the town,
which is entirely Spanish in character. Binondoc is not so
regular and well paved, but it affords a more agreeable
vanety of appearance. It is intersected by numerous canals,
n which boats are continually plying. In the centre of
the Spanish city there is a public square about 100 yards
in length and breadth, surrounded on three sides by the
governor s palace, the cathedral, and the government
r vc c r^e Squarf a 80 contains a bronze statue of Charles
1 ^hlch Was Presented to the town by Ferdi¬
nand VII. in 1824. The town possesses many churches
and convents, and a fine custom-house or Aduana. It has
also a university, royal college, nautical academy, commer¬
cial school, an hospital, and a number of other benevolent
institutions. Most of the buildings are of a substantial
nature, being composed for the most part of volcanic tufa.
Manilla, as seen from the bay, presents a grand and beau-
tiful appearance; it is surrounded by hills, covered with
verdure, which slope gradually down to the sea. On the
land side of the town there is a large plain, which is set
afart for military exercises, and round which there is a
fashionable drive called the Calzada. The Pasig is navi-
§a onnt0 SOrVe dlstance above the town for vessels of 200
Snth f°nSi ir, f ; huf there is a bar at its moutb ™th a
depth of only 13 feet at low water. The trade of Manilla is
considerable ; but it is repressed by the restrictions imposed
by the Spanish government. The principal articles of export
are sugar, hemp, rice, indigo, various kinds of woods, to¬
bacco, cigars, coffee, cotton, tortoise-shell, ebony &c. The
tobacco of the Philippines is of first-rate quality ;’ but bein<>-
veTE eT t ^a"dS 0f>rer,,mm’ itS F°‘luctio^
aK V 1 th roya tobaceo factory at Binondoc
about 5000 women and 600 men are employed The
handkerchiefs^&<f Th T0,,'1 and woolle" muslins,
r!’ , ' The ,rade ,s principally in the hands
of Bnttsh merchants. The number of the deT in Ae
town of Manilla .s very great; they are said to Exceed in
umber the garrison, which consists of 7000. The religion
s Homan Catholic. Manilla, which was formerly a nai ve
berreraTm •d bVhe Spanish “ It Z
1645 1760 r,<LSo1,njU1'.ed ^ earthquakes, especially in
1645, 1762, and 1824. In 1762 Manilla waL taken by the
2 L
266 MAN
Manisa British, but was restored in 1764 to Spain for a ransom of
!l L.1,000,000. Until the year 1809 no foreigners were al-
Manlii. ]owe(j t0 trac[e here; but at that time an English house was
allowed to be established, and in 1814 the same liberty was
^ranted to all other nations. It is still, however, the only
port in the Philippines at which vessels from Spain or the
rest of Europe are permitted to trade. The population of
the city itself is from 10,000 to 12,000, but, including the
suburbs, the whole number of inhabitants is about 150,000.
MANISA, Manissa, or Manika, a town of Asia Minor,
Anatolia, situated on the N. side of Mount Sipylus, 28
miles N.E. of Smyrna. This town was anciently called
Magnesia ad Sipylium, to distinguish it from another town
of the same name on the Maeander. It is chiefly celebrated
in ancient history for the victory gained there by the Ro¬
mans over Antioch us, in the year 190 b.c., after which it
fell into the hands of the former. In the reign of Tiberius,
it was much injured by an earthquake, but was restored by
a grant of money from the emperor. The town is situated
on the banks of the Hermus, and is noted as being one of
the neatest and cleanest cities in Asia Minor. It contains
about thirty mosques, two of which are adorned on the
exterior with double minarets, and in the inside with paint¬
ings and other articles. The Armenians, Greeks, and Jews,
have also their respective places of worship. There is also
a fine khan, and a citadel which stands on a lofty rock, and
commands an extensive view. The mountains near the
town are remarkable for their loadstones, and hence the
name “ magnet” is supposed to be derived. The surround¬
ing country is rich and productive, especially of saffron,
which is exported. The town is the seat of some consider¬
able trade, and many of the inhabitants are employed in
the manufacture of cotton and silk goods, and goats’ hair
shawls. Pop. about 20,000.
MANL1I, one of the most ancient and most illustrious
of the patrician gentes of Rome. Its most notable members
were the following:—
Cneius Manlius Vulso, who was curule mdile b.c. 197
(Liv. xxxiii. 25), praetor b.c. 195, and consul B.c. 189. Des¬
patched in this last capacity to settle the affairs of Asia, he
waged a successful war against the Galatians, and secured
much booty. After remaining in Asia as proconsul during
188 b.c., and effecting the object for which he had been
sent, Manlius Vulso set out with his army for Rome; but
on his march through Thrace, he was attacked by the na¬
tives and stripped of a great part of his plunder. Not with¬
out some opposition was he honoured with a triumph in
186 B.c. (Liv. xxxvii. xxxviii. xxxix.)
Marcus Manlius Capitolinus, the deliverer of the
Capitol, at an early age carried off the spoils of two enemies,
. was the first knight to win a mural crown, and gained six
civic crowns and thirty-seven marks of distinction. (PI. vii.)
He was consul along with L. Valerius Potitus in 392 b.c. ;
and two years afterwards he saved the Capitol when on the
eve of being captured by the Gauls. For this exploit, accord¬
ing to the ordinary opinion, he was honoured with the sur¬
name of Capitolinus. From this time Manlius seems to have
fostered a morbid appetite for public applause. Accord-
*n 385 b.c., he placed himself at the head of the ple¬
beians, then groaning under a burden of debts, and roused
them to so great a fury against his own order, the patri¬
cians, that it was necessary to appoint a dictator. A. Cor¬
nelius Cossus, who was raised to this office, threw Manlius
into prison, but owing to the clamours of the people, was
soon afterwards obliged to release him. In 381 b.c. Manlius
was arraigned before the people on the charge of aiming at
sovereign power. According to the ordinary account, he
overawed his judges during his trial by pointing to the Ca¬
pitol in the distance, and not until the assembly had ad¬
journed to a spot out of sight of that edifice was he con¬
victed, and sentenced to be thrown from the Tarpeian rock.
MAN
(Liv. vi. 11-20.) But another tradition represents him to Manna,
have seized upon the Capitol (Dion. Frag. 31); and after
holding it for some time, to have been captured and be¬
headed. (Gell.xvii.21.) His house was razed to the ground,
and the Manlian family decreed that none of its patrician
members should take the name of Marcus. Gellius says,
that in birth and valour Manlius Capitolinus was second
to none, and in personal beauty, exploits, eloquence, and
daring, superior to all (xvii. 2). (See Rowan History.)
Titus Manlius Imperiosus ToiiQUATuswas the son of
L. Manlius Imperiosus. When his father was on the eve
of being prosecuted for cruelty towards his soldiers and his
own son, Titus entered the house of his accuser, the tri¬
bune Pomponius, and pointing a dagger to his breast, threat¬
ened to strike him dead if he did not forthwith drop the
prosecution. In consequence of this bold deed of affection
lie speedily became popular, and was soon afterwards elected
a military tribune. But the greatest feat of Manlius was
achieved when he was serving in the army that repelled
the invasion of the Gauls in 361 b.c. In the sight of the
two hosts on the banks of the Anio, he accepted the chal¬
lenge of a gigantic Gaul, slew him, and spoiled him of his
armour. From a golden chain (torques) which he took from
the neck of his foe, he was henceforth surnamed Torquatos.
(Liv. vii. 4, 5, 10.) After this Manlius was twice raised to
the office of dictator, and thrice to that of consul. In his
last consulship he conducted a war against the Latins ; and
while the two armies stood facing each other, he forbade
any Roman, on pain of death, to engage one of the enemy
in single combat. FI is own son disobeyed, and suffered
the penalty by his father’s order. Owing to this extreme
severity, the triumph of Torquatus for his victory over the
Latins was not attended by the young Romans. (Liv. viii.
3-12.)
Titus Manlius Torquatus was consul along with C.
Atilius Bulbus in 235 b.c., when the temple of Janus was
closed for the second time. (Liv. i. 19.) His second con¬
sulship was in 224 b.c., when, along with his colleague
Q. Fulvius Flaccus, lie waged a successful war with the
Gauls, and was the first that led a Roman army across the
Po. (Polyb. ii. 31.) In 216 b.c. he opposed the proposal
to ransom the Romans captured at Cannae. (Liv. xxii. 60.)
Soon after this he defeated the Carthaginians in Sardinia,
and reduced that island. He was offered the consulship in
210 b.c., but refused it on account of the weakness of his
eyes. (Liv. xxvi. 22.)
MANNA, IP 5 Sept. gawd. The name given to the
miraculous food upon which the Israelites were fed for forty
years, during their wanderings in the desert, is first men¬
tioned in Exod. xvi. It is there described as being first
produced after the eighth encampment in the desert of Sin,
as white like hoar-frost (or of the colour of bdellium. Numb,
xi. 7), round, and of the bigness of coriander seed {gad).
“ When the children of Israel saw it, they said one to an¬
other, What is it ? for they knew not what it was.” (Exod.
xvi. 15.) In the authorized and some other versions, this
passage is inaccurately translated; which, indeed, is appa¬
rent from the two parts of the sentence contradicting each
other. In the Septuagint the substance is almost always
called manna instead of man. Josephus {Antiq. iii. 1, § 6),
as quoted by Dr Harris, says,—“ The Flebrews called this
food manna, for the particle man in our language is the
asking of a question, ‘ What is this? {man-hu). I hough
the manna of Scripture was so evidently miraculous, both
in the mode and in the quantities in which it was produced,
and though its properties were so different from anything
with which we are acquainted, yet because its taste is in
Exodus said to be like that of wafers made with honey,
many writers have thought that they recognised the manna
of Scripture in a sweetish exudation which is found on
several plants in Arabia and Persia. 1 he name man, or
MAN
Manna, manna, is applied to this substance by the Arab writers,
ar>d was probably so applied even before their time. But
the term is now almost entirely appropriated to the sweetish
exudation of the ash trees of Sicily and Italy {Ornus europcea
and Fraxinus rotundifoha'). These, however, have no re¬
lation to the supposed manna of Scripture. Of this one
kind is known to the Arabs by the name of guzunjbeen,
being the produce of a plant called guz, and which is ascer¬
tained to be a species of tamarisk. The same species seems
also to be called toorfa, and is common along different parts
of the coast of Arabia, and in the neighbourhood of Mount
<fr . ^urckhardt {Travels in Arabia, vol. ii., p. 51) says,
ii j i*S ^ °m toorfa the manna is obtained. It is
called by the Arabs mann. In the month of June it drops
from the thorns of the tamarisk upon the fallen twigs, leaves,
and thorns, which always cover the ground beneath the tree
in the natural state. The Arabs use it as they do honey,
to pour over their unleavened bread, or to dip their bread
into ; its taste is agreeable, somewhat aromatic, and as sweet
as honey. If eaten in any quantity it is said to be highly
purgative. Ehrenberg has examined and described this spe¬
cies of tamarisk, which he calls T. mannifera, but which is
considei ed to be only a variety of T. gallica. The manna
he considers to be produced by the puncture of an insect,
which he calls Coccus manniparus. Others have been of
the same opinion.”
Another kind of manna, which has been supposed to be
that of Scripture, is yielded by a thorny plant, very common
from the north of India to Syria, and which by the Arabs
is called al-haj; whence botanists have constructed the
name Alhagi. The two species have been called Alhagi
maurorum and A. desertorwn. Both species are also by
the Arabs called ooshter-khar, or “ camel’s thornand in
Mesopotamia, agool, according to some authorities; while
by others this is thought to be the name of another plant.
The Alhagi maurorum is remarkable for the exudation of
a sweetish juice, which concretes into small granular masses,
and which is usually distinguished by the name of Persian
manna. Professor Don was so confident that this was the
same substance as the manna of Scripture, that he proposed
calling the plant itself Manna hebraica. These two, from
the localities in which they are produced, have alone been
thought to be the manna of Scripture. But besides these,
there are several other kinds of manna. Burekhardt, during
his journey through El-Ghor, in the valley of the Jordan,
heard of the Beiruk honey. This is described as a sub¬
stance obtained from the leaves and branches of a tree called
Gharb or Garrab, of the size of an olive tree, and with
leaves like those of the poplar. When fresh, this greyish-
coloured exudation is sweet in taste, but in a few days it
becomes sour. The Arabs eat it like honey. One kind,
called Sheer-khisht, is said to be produced in the country
of the Uzbecs. A Caubul merchant informed the author
of this article that it was produced by a tree called Gun-
deleh, which grows in Candahar, and is about 12 feet high,
with jointed stems. A fifth kind is produced on Calotropis
procera, or the plant called Ashur. The sweet exudation
is by Arab authors ranked with sugars, and called Shukur-
al-ashur. It is described under this name by Avicenna, and
in the Latin translation it is called Zuccarum-al-husar. A
sixth kind, called Bed-khisht, is described in Persian works
on materia medica as being produced on a species of wil¬
low in Persian Khorassan. Another kind would appear to
be produced on a species of oak ; for Niebuhr says,—“ At
Merdin in Mesopotamia, it appears like a kind of pollen
on the leaves of the tree called Ballot and Afs (or, accord¬
ing to the Aleppo pronunciation, As), which I take to be of
the oak family. All are agreed, that between Merdin and
Diarbekir manna is obtained, and principally from those
trees which yield gall-nuts.” Besides these, there is a
sweetish exudation found on the larch, which is called
MAN 267
Manna brigantiaca, as there is also one kind found on the Mannert
cedar of Lebanon. Indeed, a sweetish secretion is found ||
on the leaves of many other plants, produced sometimes by Mannheim,
the plant itself, at others by the punctures of insects. It
has been supposed, also, that these sweetish exudations
being evaporated during the heat of the day in still wea¬
ther, may afterwards become deposited with the dew on
the ground, and on the leaves of plants, and thus explain
some of the phenomena which have been observed by tra¬
vellers and others. But none of these mannas explain, nor
can it be expected that they should explain, the miracle of
Scripture, by which abundance is stated to have been pro¬
duced for millions where hundreds cannot now be subsisted.
MANNERT, Conrad, a distinguished historian and
geographer, was born at Altdorf in Bavaria, in 1756. After
completing his studies at the venerable university of his
native town, he was appointed professor in the principal
educational institution of Niirnberg, a position which he
exchanged in 1788 for that of rector of the gymnasium of
St Gilles in the same city. In 1797 Mannert was elevated
to the chair of philosophy in the university of Altdorf; and
in 1808 he went to Landshut in the capacity of professor
in ordinary of history, with the title of Aulic Counsellor;
but this university being suppressed in 1826, he was ap¬
pointed professor of geography and statistics at Munich, a
situation which he held till his death in 1834.
As a historian Mannert is distinguished for accuracy
and critical exactness. He verified his facts with the
most scrupulous care, and he has become, in consequence,
a weighty authority on geographical and historical subjects.
His Geography of the Greeks and the Romans is his
most popular work, and is always referred to as a standard
authority on that subject. His works are:—Gesch. der
Vandalen, Leipz., 1785; Gesch. der Nachfolger Alexan¬
ders, Leipz., 1787; Miscellanea, Nurnberg, 1793; Geo¬
graphic der Griechen u. Rbmer, Leipz., 1788-1825; Com¬
pendium der deutschen Reichsgesch. Leipz., 1803; Statis-
tik des deutschen Reichs, Bamberg, 1806; Die dlteste
Gesch., Bojoariens, Nurnb., 1807; Kaiser Ludwig IV.,
Landshut, 1812; Handbuch der alien Geschichte, Berlin,
1818; Der Gesch. Baierns, 1826.
MANNHEIM, or Manheim, the capital of the circle of
Lower Rhine, in the grand duchy of Baden, is situated at
the confluence of the Neckar and the Rhine, 34 miles N.
of Carlsruhe, and 13 N.W. of Heidelberg. The town is
built with great regularity and uniformity, and consists of
eleven streets running in one direction, and crossed at right
angles by ten others. The town is thus divided into squares
of houses, which are distinguished not by names, but by
numbers and letters of the alphabet. The houses are all
two storeys in height, except those at the corners of the
streets, which rise to the height of three storeys. The prin¬
cipal thoroughfares are lined with trees, and thus form
agreeable promenades. The largest street, called Schrau-
ken, is scarcely half a mile in length. 1 he town was
formerly fortified, but the defences were destroyed, and
their site is now occupied by gardens and promenades.
Both the Rhine and the Neckar are here crossed by
bridges of boats, and the latter river has also a suspension
bridge. In some of the public places there are fountains,
which, however, are not supplied with water, as that is very
scarce at Mannheim. The most remarkable building in
the town IS the magnificent palace of the grand duke,&one
of the largest in Germany, completed in 1729. It has a
picture gallery, a gallery of copperplates, a collection of
plaster casts from the most famous ancient sculptures, a
collection of antiquities, and a museum of natural history,
together with a library containing 60,000 or 70,000 volumes.
Mannheim has several Roman Catholic and Lutheran
churches, of which that of the Jesuits is the finest. There
is a handsome observatory, with a tower 115 feet high,
268 M A N
Mannyng from which a fine view may be had; a theatre, merchants’
II hall, hospitals, &c. The principal educational institutions
Manresa. are a gymnasiumj a botanic garden, and a mercantile school.
v_n' There are also public baths, a club, and a reading-room.
In the neighbourhood of Mannheim there are numerous
gardens, and the park connected with the palace has an
extent of 200 acres. There are at Mannheim manufac¬
tories of tobacco, shawls, linen, and cards; and bleaching
and tanning are carried on to a considerable extent. The
commerce of this town has been recently very much in¬
creased ; the principle articles of trade are tobacco, corn,
Avine, VA^ood, hops, linen, cattle, &c. Its position on two
navigable rivers, and its connection by railway with most
of the principal cities of Germany, are very favourable to
its trade, and render it the first commercial city in the
duchy. Till the year 1606 Mannheim was only a village,
but at that time Frederick IV., the elector palatinate, en¬
larged and fortified it. During the Thirty Years’ War it
Avas taken by Tilly, Duke Bernhard of Weimar, the French,
and the Bavarians. It was afterwards taken by the French
in 1688; and in 1720 was made the seat of the electoral
court. On the reigning family of Bavaria becoming ex¬
tinct in 1777, the Elector Charles Theodore succeeded, and
removed his court from Mannheim to Munich. It was
taken by the French in 1795, by the Archduke Charles in
1799, was again occupied by the French, and finally in
1801, restored to Baden. Pop. (1852) 24,316.
MANNYNG, or Manning, or De Brunne, Robert,
one of the English rhyming chroniclers who flourished at
the end of the thirteenth and beginning of the fourteenth
century, was born at Brunne, or Bourne, in Lincolnshire.
He graduated at Cambridge, and lived as a Gilbertine
canon, first at Semperingham, and afterwards at Sixhill,
two priories in his native county. His first work was a
free paraphrase into English rhyme of the Manuel des
Peches (Manual of Sins), a Avork of William de Wadington,
in which the seven deadly sins are displayed in their most
uninviting aspect by the aid of moral precepts and legend¬
ary tales. Another work of Mannyng was the Medyta-
ciuns of the Soper of our Lorde Jhesu, and also of his Pas-
syun and eke of the Peynes of hys Swete Modyr Mayden
Marye, a metrical translation of Bonaventura’s prose treatise
De Ccena et Passione Domini, et Pcenis S. Marice Vir-
ginis. His chief translation, however, was his rhyming
chronicle of England, in two parts. The former part, treat¬
ing of that period of English history between the landing
of the Trojans and the death of the Welsh Prince Cadwal-
lader in 689, is translated from Wace’s Brut d’Angleterre,
and, like the original, is in the romance couplets of eight
syllables. The latter part, which continues the history
down to the death of Edward I., is taken from Peter de
Langtoft’s French Chronicle, and is translated into the
Alexandrines of the original. This part has been published
by Hearne under the title of Peter Langtoffs Chronicle,
2 vols. 8vo, Oxford, 1725. The first part is still in manu¬
script. Mannying gives indications in his works of untir¬
ing industry ; but a facility in rhyming was the sole poetical
faculty that he possessed. He is supposed by Hearne, but
lor no satisfactory reason, to be the author of the metrical
romance of Rycharde Cuer-de-Lyon.
MANRESA, a town of Spain, capital of the partido of
the same name in the province, and about 32 miles N.W.
of the toAvn of Barcelona. It lies on the left bank of the
Caidonero, and about two miles above the junction of that
river Avith the Llobregat. I he Cardonero is crossed near
the city by two bridges, one originally of Roman construc¬
tion, and consisting of eight arches, the other of nine arches,
erected in 1804. It is surrounded by walls, under which,
on the bank of the Cardonero, is the only public promenade
of the town. There are about 2300 houses of from three
to five storeys, mostly well built, and the streets are cause-
M A N
wayed and provided Avith covered sewers. The collegiate Mans, Le.
parish church, of semi-Gothic architecture, is capacious, and
remarkable for a fine and lofty spire of bold construction,
and for the fine sculpture and carving it contains. Also
of good architecture is the ex-convent of Carmelites, which
has some paintings of merit; that of the Dominicans has
lost almost all trace of its primitive construction, and now
serves as a barrack. There are several well-endowed and
Avell-attended schools; an hospital under the care of the
Sisters of Charity of St Vincent de Paul ; and a female
orphan asylum. The town is supplied with water from the
Llobregat by an aqueduct 4 leagues in length, and by the
wells, of which there are many within the walls. There are
manufactories of cotton, cotton thread, silk ribands, earth¬
enware, cutlery, leather, and superior brandy. The cot¬
ton factory is one of the largest in Spain. There are
also saltpetre and gunpowder works. In the neighbour¬
hood are quarries of building stone that might supply the
whole kingdom, and coal has been discovered, but re¬
mains unworked. Manresa suffered much in the war of
independence; in March 1811 it was almost completely
burnt to the ground by Marshal Macdonald. The popu¬
lation in 1845 amounted to 13,339.
MANS, Le, a town in France, formerly capital of the
province of Maine, and noAv of the department of Sarthe,
is situated on the W. bank of the River Sarthe, 50 miles
N.E. by N. of Angers, and 132 miles by railway S.W. of
Paris. It is built on the slope of a hill near the confluence
of the Sarthe and the Huisue, and consists of two parts, an
old and a neAv town. The former is situated at the foot of
the hill, and is irregularly built, with narrow, crooked, and
for the most part dirty streets and lanes, but possessing
many curious and interesting relics of ancient times, which
are now fast disappearing. The new town is on a higher
level, and is much better and more regularly built, having
several fine streets and a spacious square called Place des
Halles; but on the whole it is a dull and uninteresting place.
There are also two good promenades,—Des Jacobins and
Du Greffier, the latter of Avhich extends along the banks
of the Sarthe. Mans is chiefly remarkable for its ecclesias¬
tical edifices, of which the principal is the cathedral of St
Julien, comprising two styles of architecture, and dating
from two if not more periods. The nave, which is believed
to be of the twelfth century, is Romanesque, but it has
pointed arches, while the side aisles and walls, and the Avest
front, are at least as old as the eleventh century. The south
doorway is richly carved, but much mutilated ; while the
choir is remarkably beautiful, and has very fine stained-glass
windows. This church contains the tomb of Berengaria,
queen of Richard L, and also the monument of Charles of
Anjou, 1474, and of Langey du Bellay, distinguished as a
warrior and author in the time of Francis I. and Henri
II. The church of Notre Dame de la Couture, has a very
ancient choir, supposed to date from the tenth century, and
of rude construction. The conventual buildings were for¬
merly attached to the church, but these are now used for the
prefecture, a museum of natural history and antiquities,
and a library of 40,000 volumes. Besides these, there are
also the churches of St Pierre and Notre Dame du Pre.
The other chief buildings in Mans are the theatre, the
theological and communal colleges, and the corn-market
buildings. The manufactures of Mans consist of woollen
stuffs, linen, lace, soap, paper, and leather. The commerce,
which is considerable, is chiefly in these articles; and the
products of the vicinity, such as iron, salt, wine, brandy,
oil, corn, clover seed, cattle, pigs, poultry, &c. In the time
of the Romans a town of the name of Suindinum stood
here, and was the chief town in the district of the Ceni-
mani. In the fourth century the town took the name of
Cmomania, whence the present name. Its history, from
the most remote period, is a series of disasters and devas-
MAN
Mansaro- tations ; and before the twelfth century it had been taken
Wijir and pillaged twenty-six times. During the war of the
Mansart keaSue’ Mans was besieged and obliged to surrender by
, Jj Henri IV.; and in 1793 it was the scene of the destruction
v and final dispersion of the Vendean army, when upwards
of ten thousand persons were slaughtered. Pop. (1851) of
the town, 24,568; of arrondissement, 173,102.
MANSAROWAR, or Mansahror, a lake situated on
the northern side of the Himalaya Mountains, which divide
Hindustan from Thibet and Tartary. It is considered by
the Hindus as the most sacred of all the various places of
pilgrimage, and they evince their zeal by the hardships and
dangers which they endure in reaching it. It is also held
in great veneration by the Tartars, who carry a portion of
the ashes of their friends from a very great distance to be
thrown into it. It is situated on an elevated plain covered
with long grass ; and to the N. is a conical hill dedicated
to Mahadeva, and described as forming an irregular oval,
approaching to a circle. It is 11 miles in breadth from N.
to S., and 15 miles in length. It occupies the pilgrims five
days to go round the lake, which from its form appears as
if it had been the crater of a volcano. From this lake,
according to the notions of the Hindus, flow four of their
venerated rivers; but recent surveys have corrected this
mistake, and it has now been satisfactorily ascertained that
the only river which has its origin in this lake is the Sutlej.
Moorcroft, who visited Lake Mansarowar in 1812, was of
opinion that it had no considerable outlet. The water
is clear and well tasted, and is supposed to be deepest
in August and September, when it is replenished by the
melting of the mountain snows. In the adjoining coun¬
try are found wild horses, the yak of Tartary, and goats
which produce shawl wool. It is supposed to be situated
about 81. E. Long, and 31. N. Lat.
MANSART, Francois, a celebrated French architect,
descended from a family originally Italian, was born at
Paris in 1598. He was instructed in the principles of his
art by his uncle, Germain Gautier, architect to the king,
and first became known by his construction of several
chateaus and hotels. In 1632 he contributed the plan of
the Eglise des Filles Sainte Marie. Not long afterwards
Anne of Austria, the mother of Louis XIV., employed
him to construct the Val de Grace. After the structure
had been partially erected, however, Mansart proposed to
re-commence it on a new plan ; but as this step met with the
disapproval of the queen-mother, the completion of the edi¬
fice passed into other hands. The instability of purpose from
which this slight arose became the besetting infirmity of
Mansart, and afterwards prevented him from being in¬
trusted with the buildings of the Louvre. Two of his
masterpieces were the Eglise des Dames de Sainte Marie
of Chaillot, and the Chateau de Maisons near St Germain-
en-Laye. His last work was the facade of Eglise des
Minimes in the Place Royale. He died at Paris in 1666.
To him we owe the curb roof, which, after the name of its
inventor, is still called a mansard.
Mansart, Jules Hardouin, a celebrated French archi¬
tect, the son of Hardouin the painter, and of a sister of
the above-mentioned Franpois Mansart, was born at Paris
in 1645. He studied architecture under his uncle, and
afterwards assumed his name. Recommended to the notice
of Louis XIV., he was intrusted by that monarch with the
construction of many important edifices. His most notable
works are the Chateau de Versailles and the Hotel des
Invalides. He also planned the Chateau de Marly, Cha¬
teau du Grand Trianon, the Place Vendome, the Place
des Victoires, the Chateau de Dampierre, and the church
of Notre Dame at Versailles. As a reward for his services,
Mansart received from Louis XIV. the Order of St Michael.
He was also appointed chief architect and superintendent
of buildings, arts, and manufactures. The large fortune
M A N 269
which he reaped from these offices drew upon him much Mansfield
envy, and had he not been firmly fixed in the king’s favour, II
it might have caused his downfall. He died suddenly in ^antegnay‘
May 1708. Over his grave, in the church of St Paul at Paris,
a tomb, executed by the sculptor Coysevox, was erected.
MANSFIELD, a market-town of England, county of
Nottingham, pleasantly situated in Sherwood Forest, in a
valley near the small River Maun or Mann, from which
probably it takes its name, 14 miles N. by W. from Not¬
tingham, and 147 from London by railway. The town is
ancient, but contains also many good modern houses; and
is paved and lighted with gas. In the market-place stands
an elegant cross, recently erected in memory of Lord George
Bentinck. The principal buildings in the town are,—the
county hall, a theatre, and the parish church of St Peter,
built principally in the Norman style, but repaired at dif¬
ferent times in various styles. The other churches in the
town belong to the Presbyterians, the Wesleyan and Cal-
vinistic Methodists, and the Society of Friends. There is a
grammar school, founded by Queen Elizabeth in 1567, and
two charity schools, besides Sunday-schools attached to all
the churches, and several benevolent institutions. The
principal manufactures of Mansfield are cotton, hosiery,
and lace. The trade of Mansfield, consisting chiefly of
corn and malt, as well as in the building stone quarried
in the neighbourhood, is much favoured by a railway con¬
necting Mansfield with the Cromford Canal, and also by a
branch of the North Midland Railway, which has its ter¬
minus here. Petty sessions are held here, and also the
elections for the northern division of the county. The
market-day is Thursday; and large cattle fairs are held
three times a-year. Pop. (1851) 10,012.
MANSURAH, or El-Mansoorah, a town in Lower
Egypt, and capital of a province of the same name, is situated
on the right bank of the Damietta branch of the Nile, 34
miles S.W. of Damietta. It is one of the most considerable
towns in the delta, and holds the sixth rank among the
provincial towns in Egypt. The streets are narrow, and
the houses are built chiefly of brick. It possesses a govern¬
ment cotton factory, a public school, and six mosques.
There are no ancient ruins here or in the neighbourhood.
Its principal manufactures are a sort of crape sail-cloth, and
cotton and linen stuffs. (See Egypt.)
MANT, Richard, D.D., an eminent Irish prelate of the
present century, was born at Southampton, where his father
held a rectorship, on the 12th February 1776. He entered
Winchester College in 1789, and Trinity College, Oxford,
in 1793, where he took his bachelor’s degree in 1797.
He was elected a fellow of Oriel College during the following
year, and he began his ecclesiastical career in 1804, as
curate of Buriton in Hampshire. Mant was made vicar of
Coggeshall in Essex in 1810, and of St Butolph’s, Bishops-
gate, London, in 1815, when he received the degree of
D.D. from the university of Oxford. In 1820 he removed
to Ireland, and was elevated to the bishopric of Killaloe
and Kilfenora, where he remained till 1823, when he was
translated to the see of Down and Connor. He died at
Ballymoney in 1848, while actively pursuing the pious and
philanthropic labours to which so much of his life had been
devoted. Dr Mant is perhaps most generally known by
his valuable Commentary on the Bible, which he edited in
conjunction with Dr D’Oyley. Besides a vast number of
sermons and tracts, and several poetical pieces, Bishop
Mant is the author of Biographical Notices of the Apostles,
&c., 1 vol. 8vo, London, 1828; Scriptural Narratives of
Christs Life, 1 vol. 8vo, Oxford, 1830; History of the
Church of Ireland from the Reformation to the Union of
the Churches of England and Ireland in 1801, 2 vols. 8vo,
London, 1840.
MANTEGNA, Andrea, an eminent Florentine painter,
was born of poor parents in the vicinity of Mantua, in 1431.
270
MAN
Mantell. After a boyhood spent in tending flocks, he began the study
v-^ of painting under Francesco Squarcione, a famous artist
and teacher in Padua. So full of promise were his first
attempts in the art, that his master received him into his
own house, and adopted him as his son. At the age of
seventeen Mantegna was intrusted in Padua with two im¬
portant undertakings—the execution of an altar-piece for the
church of Santa Sofia, and the painting of the chapel of San
Christofano. While engaged in the latter work, he executed
an altar -piece, which is now in the Brera at Milan. Mantegna
sojourned for some time in Mantua, and there he secured
the patronage of the Marquis Ludovico Gonzaga, for w hom
he painted some of his most beautiful pictures. One of
these, “ The Triumph of Caesar,” is considered his master¬
piece, and is now seen at Hampton Court. His fame had
now reached the hearing of Pope Innocent VIII., and ac¬
cordingly he was summoned from Mantua to assist in the
adornment of the newly-finished building of the Belvedere
at Rome. Attended by the highest recommendations from
his patron the marquis, he was kindly received by the pope ;
and after he had decorated in a most finished and elaborate
style a small chapel in the palace, and had executed a pic¬
ture of Our Lady with the Child, he was dismissed with
much favour and honourable rewards. Mantegna was
scarcely less eminent for engraving than for painting; and
on his return to Mantua he executed on copper his famous
picture of the I riumph. One of his last paintings was a
representation of Michael the Archangel, St Andrew, St
M A N
Maurice, and St Longinus, all kneeling before the Virgin
with the Child, and commending to her care the Marquis
Gonzaga and his wife. This picture was carried off in 1797
by the French, and is now in the Louvre at Paris. By his
labours Mantegna had now earned a considerable fortune,
and could thus sustain with due dignity the rank of knight¬
hood, which had formerly been conferred upon him bv his
patron. He built for himself a handsome house in Mantua,
where he died in 1517. Mantegna is celebrated by his
contemporary Ariosto as one of the most illustrious painters
of that age. “ Phis master,” says Vasari in his Lives of the
Painters, “ taught a much improved method of executing
the foreshortening of figures from below upwards, which
was without doubt a remarkable and difficult invention.” He
was esteemed for his upright conduct, and his gentle dispo¬
sition, no less than for his great genius. (Lanzi, Star. Pittor.)
MAN I ELL, Gideon Algernon, a distinguished geo¬
logist and palaeontologist, was born at Lewes in Sussex in
1790. Having chosen the profession of a physician he
commenced his career in his native town, where he soon
established for himself an extensive practice, and began to
cultivate the literature of his profession by contributions to
medical journals. But it was as a man of science and as a
lecturer that Mantell was destined to become known, and
the accident of his position at Lewes, in the neighbourhood
of an unwrought mine, by attracting his quick observation,
and kindling his natural enthusiasm, directed his active
energies towards that study which he afterwards enriched
so greatly by discovery, and rendered so highly attractive
by ns happy talent for popular exposition. A richer field
for observation and for the exercise of scientific tastes
coukl scarcely have been found than that into which Dr
antell was thrown, and few could have seized the oppor¬
tunity with more zeal, or improved it with greater success.
Previous to the time that he commenced his labours little
was kno wn of the nature of the Wealden formation, or of the
fossils winch it contained Dr Mantell in a few years collected
together from the Wealden and the chalk a museum of
specimens of extinct reptiles, fishes, insects, and plants,
which the trustees of the British Museum have since at an
expense of L.5000 made the property of the nation, and
which alone would have been sufficient to have gained for
the collector a permanent position among the promoters
of geological science. The discovery and demonstration of Mantes
four out of five of the strange genera of extinct Dinosaurian 1|
reptiles—viz., the Iguanodon, Hijlceosuurus, Pelorosaurus, Mantineia,
and Reynosaurus—axe owing to Dr Mantell; and some of v—^
the most perfect existing remains of those singular nrea-
tures are to be found in the valuable collection of the
W ealden geologist. Dr Mantell was elected a member of
the Royal Society in 1825 ; and in recognition of his valu¬
able labours in the comparative anatomy of fossils, and in
his discovery of fossil reptiles, he was adjudged the Wol¬
laston medal and prize by the Geological Society in 1835.
During the same year he removed from Lewes to Brighton;
and four years afterwards he came to London, and resided
first at Clapham, and afterwards at Chester Square, still
continuing his medical practice, and prosecuting with un¬
flagging activity his favourite geological researches. In
1849 the council of the Royal Society presented Dr Man¬
tell with the Royal Medal in acknowledgment of his dis¬
coveries in palaeontology. He died at Chester Square,
London, on the 10th of November 1852, aged sixty-two.
Dr Mantell did not take the position of a great generalizer
or of the discoverer of new laws, yet his uncommon scienti¬
fic ardour, combined with the accident of his position, and
the requirements of the science, made him a great geolo¬
gist. His success as a public teacher, as a popular ex¬
pounder of geological facts, was unsurpassed during his
time. By his numerous writings he has made a valuable
addition to the geological literature of the British Islands,
from 1813, when he published his first paper on the organic
remains discovered in the environs of Lewes, to within a
short period of his death, his literary labours were unceas¬
ing. In the Biblwgraphia Zoologist et Geologice of the
Royal Society, the names of sixty-seven papers and works
are given from Dr Mantell’s pen. The most important of
his works are,—“On the Iguanodon, a newly discovered
fossil reptile, from the strata of Tilgate Forest, in Sussex,”
&c., Phil. Trans., cxv.; “ On the Discovery of the Hy-
laeosaurus,” &c., Proc. Geol. Soc. 1822; Illustrations of the
Geology of Sussex, Sec., London, 4to, 1827; The Geology
of the South-East of England, 8vo, London, 1838 ; The
Wonders of Geology, 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1838; The
Medals of Creation, or First Lessons in Geology, 2 vols.
8vo, London, 1844. The last two works, besides meeting
with a great degree of popularity in this country, have both
been translated into German.
MANTES, a town of France, capital of a cognominal
arrondissement in the department of Seine-et-Oise, is
pleasantly situated on the left bank of the Seine, and con¬
nected with Limay, on the opposite bank, by two bridges
and the island of Champion, which divides the river into
two streams; 30 miles W.N.W. of Paris. The principal
buildings are,—thechurch of Notre Dame, a Gothic edifice in
the pointed style, with two towers and a roof of coloured
tiles, which has been recently restored; the tower of St
Maclou, also a Gothic structure, and the only remains of a
church of the fourteenth century ; the court-house; and the
town-hall. It has flour-mills, tanneries, and breweries, and
some trade in corn, wine, leather, &c. Mantes was taken, and
reduced to ashes, by William the Conqueror, in 1087. Pop.
(1851) of the town, 4298; of the arrondissement, 58,483.
MANTINEIA, a city of ancient Greece, in Arcadia,
was situated on the River Ophis, near the confines of Argolis,
in the centre of the valley now called the Plain of Tripo-
litza. It was built for the inhabitants of four or five sepa¬
rate villages, who had coalesced into one community, and
is said to have taken its name from Mantineus, son of
Lycaon. Its soldiers were engaged in the Trojan war
(Horn. II. ii. 607). As allies of the Spartans, the Man-
tineians sent their contingent to the battle of Thermopylae,
Jealous of the tyrannical policy of the Spartans, they joined
the Athenian confederacy in the Peloponnesian war, but
MAN
Mantua, were defeated along with, their allies at the first battle of
—v/—^ Mantineia in 418 B.c. (Thucyd. v. 66-81). For some
time after this they yielded a reluctant submission to the
Spartans, until, on being commanded by the latter to raze
their walls, they rose once more to assert their freedom.
They were defeated, however, by Agesipolis, King of the
Spartans, in 385 B.c., and were driven within their city.
There, too, their invaders, by damming up the River Ophis
on its exit from the city, and thus sapping the walls, forced
them to submit. The Mantineians then retired to the hum¬
ble villages in which their forefathers had dwelt, and not until
the tyranny of Sparta had been broken at Leuctra (July
371 b.c.) did they return to the city, and, with the aid of
the Eleians and Arcadians, rebuild the walls. (Xen. Hell. vi.
5.) About six years after the completion of this work, an
alliance which the Mantineians had formed with their old
masters the Spartans, turned against them the hostility of
the Theban general Epaminondas. Accordingly, that great
man encountered them in 362 B.c. at the second battle of
Mantineia, and defeated them, though at the cost of his
own life. In 295 b.c. a third action was fought at this
city between Demetrius Poliorcetes and the Spartans
(Pint. Demetr.}; and in 242 b.c., a fourth, between the
Achseans and the Spartans (Pausan. viii. 10). A league
which the Mantineians formed with the Spartans in 228
B.c. once more brought them into disaster; and in 226
B.c., Aratus, leader of the Achaean confederacy, captured
and occupied their city. The garrison, however, which he
left was soon put to the sword, and the Mantineians con-
r tinued to resist the Achaeans until 222 b.c., when their
city was taken and pillaged, and themselves were sold for
slaves, by Antigonus Doson, King of Macedonia (Polyb. ii.
54, 58, 62). In honour of this monarch the city changed
its name into Antigoneia, and it did not recover its former
title until the time of Hadrian. In 207 b.c. the fifth battle
of Mantineia was fought between the Lacedaemonians and
Achaeans. The ruins of Mantineia are seen around Pale-
opoli, and have been described by Leake in his Travels in
the Morea.
MANTUA (Italian Mantovd), a fortified town of Aus¬
trian Italy, capital of the delegation of the same name in
the province of Lombardy, is situated on an island about 5
miles in circumference, standing in the middle of a lagune
formed by the Mincio, and joined to the mainland by
causeways perforated with arches; 21 miles S.S.W. of
Verona, and 37 E. by N. of Cremona. Of the causeways
the principal are the Ponte di Molini, leading to the Borgo
di Fortrezza on the N., and the Ponte di San Giorgio,
leading to the fortress and suburb of the same name. The
latter is considered a masterpiece, and is 800 yards in
length, crossing the entire lake. The city is very strongly
fortified ; for though the defences have not a very imposing
appearance, both nature and art contribute to render it a
place of very great strength. On the N. it is defended by
the Borgo di Fortrezza and the Borgo di San Giorgio,
the latter of which, along with the town, is surrounded by
strong walls; to the S.E. it is defended by the outwork
of Pradebba; and to the S. there lies the fortified island of
Cerese, which is in the shape of a T, and is about twice
the size of that on which the town is built. Many of the
streets and squares in Mantua are broad and elegant, with
well built houses; but for the most part the town is dirty
and ill built. The Piazza Virgiliana is a fine square,
planted with trees, and open on one side to the lake, and is
much used as a public promenade. The other principal
squares are,—the Piazza delle Erbe, where the market is
held; the Piazza de San Pietro; and the Piazza del Argine.
The principal public buildings are,—the cathedral, the work
of Giulio Romano, and richly ornamented; the church of
Sta. Andrea, considered one of the finest existing specimens
of the Italian style, and adorned with statues of Faith and
M A N 271
Hope by Canova; the ducal palace, an imposing building, Manuel,
remarkable for a fine floor of porcelain, and a room painted
in fresco by Giulio Romano; the Palazzo del Te, which,
though originally intended for the stables of the Gonzaga
family, was increased by Giulio Romano to a large palace,
and adorned by him with frescoes ; and the house of Giulio
Romano. There are also in Mantua numerous convents,
a synagogue, an hospital, two orphan asylums, and other
charitable institutions ; a museum, a public library, contain¬
ing 80,000 vols., as well as an arsenal, barracks, prison, &c.
Mantua was formerly a place of some importance as a
manufacturing town, and though now greatly decayed, still
carries on some manufactures, the chief of which are,—
leather, parchment, silk, linen and woollen stuffs, car¬
riages, and boats. The climate of Mantua is subject
to great extremes of heat and cold, and is rendered very
unhealthy by the exhalations from the marshes with
which it is surrounded. Recently, however, the Austrian
government has taken measures to obviate this by draining
the swamps and opening passages for the escape of the
stagnant water. The city of Mantua is believed to be as
old, if not older than Rome. It was not, however, distin¬
guished until the time of Virgil. That poet was born at
Andes, in the neighbourhood, which is reported to be the
same as the modern Pietola. After the fall of the Roman
empire, Mantua was possessed in turn by the Goths, the
Longobards, and the Franks. After the conquest of North
Italy by Charlemagne, Mantua became an independent
republic; but afterwards became subject to the Marquises
of Gonzaga, the last of whom was, in 1530, created, by the
Emperor Charles V., Duke of Mantua. In the war of the
succession Mantua was annexed to the Austrian dominions,
of which it remained a part till the French, under Bona¬
parte, having gained possession of it in 1797, it became a
part, first of the Cisalpine Republic, and then of the king¬
dom of Italy. It was finally restored to the Austrians in
1814. The delegation of Mantua is bounded on the N. by
Brescia and the Lake of Garda, on the E. by Verona and
Rovigo, on the S. by the duchies of Parma and Modena,
and on the W. by Brescia and Cremona. Length about
36 miles, breadth about 32; area 903 square miles. The
country is very fertile, and is watered by the Po, the Mincio,
and the Oglio, besides many smaller streams and canals.
The chief productions are<—wheat, silk, flax, hemp, fruits,
wines, &c.; and horses and cattle are reared in great num¬
bers. Pop. of the delegation (1850) 270,100, of the town
(1851) 29,909, comprising 2500 Jews.
MANUEL, Jacques Antoine, a famous member of
the French Chamber after the Restoration, was born at Bar-
celonette, in the department of Basses-Alpes, in 1775.
After receiving his education at Nimes, he entered the
battalions of the Requisition in 1793, and for his bravery
was soon promoted to the rank of captain. On the signing
of the treaty of Campo-Formio in 1797, he devoted himself
to the study of law, and practised at the bar, first at Digne,
and afterwards at Aix. Elected in 1815 to represent his
native department in the Chamber of Deputies summoned
by Napoleon, he gained his first notoriety by vehemently
opposing the restoration of the Bourbons. His patriotic
eloquence, though unsuccessful in attaining its object, was
probably the cause of his return to the Chamber in 1818.
Manuel then became an ardent defender of the benefits
that France had reaped from the revolution. Borne for¬
ward by his power of logic and his heroic firmness into the
front ranks of the Opposition, he soon incurred the dislike
of the ruling majority, and was destined to become an object
of their vengeance. During the violent debates on the
Spanish war in 1823, a remark in one of his speeches was
construed by his enemies into an apology for regicide.
His expulsion from the Chamber was decreed, and lie was
forced out by a body of soldiers, but was accompanied to
272
M A N
Manuel I. his house by the whole of his party. Manuel was re-elected
Manufac *n an(^ ^‘et^ 1^27.
turega ' Manuel I., Comnenus, Emperor of Constantinople, son
v of John II., was "born about 1120. The warlike disposition
M’hich he showed in an expedition against the Turks in¬
duced his father, at his death in 1143, to bequeath to him
the crown in preference to his elder brother Isaac. Through
the zealous policy of his faithful minister Axudi^and his
own popularity among the soldiers, Manuel was enabled to
secure his father’s gift. Fond of military glory, he imme¬
diately involved himself in that long series of wars which
continued, with few intermissions, till the end of his reign.
In 1144, by means of his general Demetrius Branas, lie
subdued his rebellious vassal Raymond, Prince of Antioch.
The next year was rendered illustrious by his expedition
into Isauria, during which he routed the invading Turks,
drove them to their own dominions, and forced them to
accept a truce on his own terms. Manuel, however, em¬
ployed a cowardly policy tOAvards Louis VII. of France
and Conrad III. of Germany, the leaders of the crusade of
1147. Granting them a passage through his dominions,
he yet secretly harassed them with every kind of annoyance,
and apprised the 1 urks of their approach. Meanwhile
Roger, the first King of Sicily, had declared war against
the Emperor of the East, had taken Corfu, and had devas¬
tated Greece. Manuel, however, did not make reprisals
until the Sicilian fleet, in 1148, had appeared before Con¬
stantinople, and had insulted the imperial city. He then
formed a league with Venice, and joining his own well-
equipped fleet with that of the republic, he swept the in¬
vaders from the Archipelago and the Ionian Sea, and cap¬
tured seventeen of their galleys. Disembarking a host at
Corfu before the year had ended, he invested that city both
by sea and land ; and by leading in person the most perilous
onsets, and encouraging his men by his own prodigies of
strength and valour, he compelled the inhabitants to sur¬
render after an obstinate siege. In the prosecution of the
same war Manuel subdued the Servians and Hungarians,
who had risen in arms at the instigation of Roger. An
expedition, which he had sent against Italy under Palaeo-
logus, was also successful. Bari, Brundusium, and many
other towns of Apulia and Calabria, surrendered, and Manuel
tures.
MAN
noAv formed the project of uniting the Eastern and Western Manuel II.
Empires, and of constituting himself sole Emperor of the II
Romans. By the aid of money he induced Pope Alexander Manufac-
III., and the free cities of Lombardy, to favour this design.
But the pontiff soon afterwards changed his opinions; the
free cities followed his example, and the republic of Venice,
offended at some injustice offered to her merchants, also
joined the foes of the Greek Empire. The death of Pa-
Iceologus, his lieutenant, and the accession of William the
Bad to the throne of Sicily, soon completed the sum of
Manuel’s misfortunes. His forces soon afterwards were
defeated by land and sea, and he was induced in 1155 to
conclude an honourable peace with William, King of
Sicily.
The next important war of Manuel’s reign was waged
against Geisa, King of Hungary. That prince, eager to
recover the military reputation he had lost in his former
battles with the Emperor of the East, crossed the Danube,
and met the Greek forces, under Andronicus Contoste-
phanus, near Zeugminum, where, after a stubborn and
sanguinary contest, the Hungarian army was almost annihi¬
lated, and Geisa compelled to sue for immediate peace.
Not so successful w7as the expedition which Manuel led in
person against the Turks in 1176. He lost his army among
the mountains of Pisidia, and was compelled by the Sultan
Az-ed-diu to sign a disadvantageous peace. This defeat,
although partially retrieved by a more successful expedition
in 1177, preyed upon the spirit of Manuel until he was
cut oft by a slow fever in 1181. The bravest warrior of
his time, Manuel was yet destitute of the prudence and the
stability of purpose proper alike to a great general and an
able ruler. No sooner had he brought a war to a close,
than he dismissed all thought of military enterprise, and in
the long-continued indulgence of every sensual pleasure
entirely forgot his former ambition. The exorbitant war
taxes, wrung from the reluctant grasp of his subjects, were
often expended for some unworthy purpose, while his soldiers
remained unpaid. Alexis II., his only son, succeeded him.
Manuel II., Palceologus, Emperor of Constantinople,
succeeded his father John VI. in 1391, died in 1425, at
the age of 77, and was succeeded by his son John VII.
(See CONSTANTINOPOLITAN HlSTOIlY.)
MANUFACTURES.
Definition. Manufactures (Latin, manus, a hand, and/ac^o, I make),
in political economy, a term employed to designate the
changes or modifications made by art and industry in the
form or substance of material articles, in the view of
rendering them capable of satisfying some want or desire
of man.
With the exception of fishing, hunting, mining, and such
branches of industry as have for their object to obtain
material products in the state in which they are fashioned
by nature, all other branches may legitimately be com¬
prised under the term Manufactures. Most commonly',
in eed, we include in them only those branches in which
t le raw material or substance to be modified or worked
upon is formed or converted into the desired articles by art
and industry, without the intervention of the soil or of the
vegetative powers of nature. But though this limitation of
the term manufactures be in many respects convenient, it
must not be supposed that by adopting it, we mean to in¬
sinuate that there is any real or substantial difference be¬
tween the various divisions of industry. Agriculture is
merely a peculiar variety of manufacture, in which the
husbandman so prepares the ground and disposes of the
seed, that, with the aid of the soil, and of die sun and
showers, he may obtain a plentiful harvest. Without the
assistance given by nature, his efforts would not be of
the smallest avail. But her bounty is not confined to
this or that department. It extends to, and is equally
great in them all. Without the pressure of the atmos-
pliere, the elasticity of steam, the influence of heat, and
the endless variety of natural powers by which he is con¬
stantly assisted, the manufacturer would be powerless,
and could not even make or mend a pen, or accomplish
the most trivial task. His art consists in so applying his
own labour and the natural powers at his command, that
they may bring about the required changes or modifications
in the articles subjected to their action in the best and
cheapest manner. At bottom all the branches of operative
industry rest on the same foundation. How much soever
one undertaking may differ from another, the co-operation
of genius and industry, of man and of natural agents, is
necessary in them all. And hence, also, it follows, that
they are all susceptible of indefinite improvement accord¬
ing as the progress of scientific discovery gives man
a greater mastery over these agents, and enables him
to employ them and his own energies with increased
effect.
MANUFACTURES.
Manufac¬
tures.
The value of manufactured articles may always be
resolved into the value of the raw material or mat¬
ter1 on which the skill and labour of the artisan is exerted,
and the value of that labour. These may, and, in fact, do
vary in almost every degree as compared with each other.
In some articles they approach near to equality; in others,
as in most descriptions of gold and silver wares, the value of
the raw material predominates very largely; and in others
the value of the workmanship is by far the greatest. The
value of the main-spring of a watch, or of a steel pen, is
some hundred times that of the iron of which it is made;
and the value of statuary, pictures, and other products of
the fine arts, is almost wholly owing to the genius and
labour of the artist.
In nothing, perhaps, is the transforming power of manu-
factuiing industry its ability to give to matter entirely
new forms and new qualities—more strikingly evinced than
in the production of glass and paper, It is impossible to
exaggeiate either the utility or the beauty of these fabrics.
I o the foi mer we are mainly indebted for the comfort of
our houses, and for that range and intensity of sight which
enables us to survey regions at an almost inconceivable
distance, and to detect and appreciate the minutest objects;
while to the latter we owe the means by which our corre¬
spondence is carried on, our books, and, in fact, the greater
part of our knowledge. And these inestimable commoda
vitcB are formed out of such despised materials as sand, soda,
and rags. In this case, and in that of many other articles,
the metamorphosis is so very complete, that none who saw
only the products, and knew nothing of their manufacture,
would ever conjecture whence they had been derived.
Though not productive of matter, industry is often produc¬
tive of everything which makes it either desirable or valuable.
In saying that the value of manufactured goods is made
up of the value of the raw material and the workmanship,
it may perhaps be objected that nothing is set down to the
account of natural agents. But though their co-operation
be of the utmost importance, and generally, indeed, quite
indispensable, yet as they are spontaneous gifts of nature,
which may be appropriated by every body, and cost nothing,
they have no exchangeable value, and cannot communicate
a quality of which they are destitute to any thing else. In
estimating, for example, the cost of importing a cargo of tea
from China, or the value of the work performed by a loco¬
motive engine, the buoyancy of the water, the action of
the wind, the polarity of the magnet, and the expansive
foice of heated aqueous vapour, though contributing in the
most essential manner to the results which, in fact, could
not be accomplished without their powerful aid, are as com-
pletely left out of view as if they did not even exist. This
pi inciple is of fundamental importance, and holds universally.
Whatever is useful or desirable in art and industry is a con¬
sequence or result of the labour or action of man, of capital,
or of natural agents, or of two or all three combined. But
in so far as the latter are concerned, their services are com¬
pletely gratuitous ; so that the cost or value of the result is
always measured, without any reference to them, by the
amount of labour or capital (the product of labour) or
both, necessarily expended in bringing it about.
In this article manufactures are considered in their
ordinary and limited sense, as comprising the processes
whereby the required changes or modifications are pro¬
duced, independently of vegetation, in existing substances
or materials. The latter usually give their names to the
peculiar departments wherein the processes to which they
273
are severally subjected are carried on. Thus the designa- Manufac-
tions of cotton, silk, and woollen manufactures, mean the tures.
working up of cotton-wool, raw silk, and sheep’s wool into ^ >
useful or desirable articles. Ship-building is the conversion
of iron and wood, or of either, into ships. The linen manu¬
facture is the conversion of flax into cloth ; and so on. The
knowledge of the modes in which particular businesses may
be most profitably conducted, forms the peculiar science,
craft, or mystery of those engaged in them.
It would far exceed our limits to enter into any details
in regard to the management of different businesses; but
there are certain circumstances or conditions which are
necessary, and others which eminently contribute to the
success of all varieties of manufacturing industry, and these
we shall endeavour shortly to state. We shall also take
leave to notice some of the peculiar drawbacks by which
the _ great extension of manufactures is said to be accom¬
panied, with the means by which they may be most effec¬
tually obviated, the economy and locality of factories, &c.
I. CIRCUMSTANCES FAVOURABLE TO THE PROGRESS OF
MANUFACTURING INDUSTRY.
These are partly of a moral and political, and partly of Circum.
a. physical description. Of the former class the most stances
important seem to be the security and free disposal of conducing
persons and property ; the absence of monopolies, and the to the PrO"
non-interference of government in industrious undertak-Sress of
ings; the freedom of commerce ; the diffusion of knowledge; jnanufac-
the cordial reception of foreigners; and the emulation and
energy inspired by inequality of fortune and the gradual
increase of taxation. A.mong the more prominent of the
physical circumstances conducive to their progress are,—
supplies of the raw material used in manufactures, with the
command of power ; that is, of coal, waterfalls, &c. A good
deal also of the progress of manufactures seems to depend
on the advantageous situation of a country for commerce,
and on the nature of its climate. We shall briefly notice
some of the more prominent of these circumstances.
a. Moral circumstances contributing to the Progress o/’Moral ‘
Manufactures.—-It is unnecessary to take up the reader’s cumstances
time by enlarging on the necessity7 of security, and of contribut-
the free disposal of property, to success in manufactur-ing <*> the
ing industry, and, indeed, in all laborious undertakings. Pro®ress of
Without security there can be neither industry nor inven- ^j.gUfac'
tion. No man will engage in any undertaking, or exert UleS’
either his bodily or mental powers, unless he be well con¬
vinced that he will be allowed to reap whatever advan- «
tage may accrue frorp the exertion of his labour, skill, or becunt^*
genius. Any doubt as to this is sure to paralyze his efforts.
And if, owing to the weakness or ignorance of government
the prevalence of a revolutionary spirit, or other cause>
the security of property were materially impaired, all sorts
of industrious undertakings that did not promise an imme¬
diate return would be forthwith abandoned, and every
person possessed of property would hasten to convey it
out of the country. I he want of security is the greatest
of public calamities. Without it we can have nothin^ but
the most abject poverty and barbarism. And supposing
other things to be equal, the wealth and civilization of
nations will be pretty nearly proportioned to the degree of
security they respectively enjoy. Though every other cir¬
cumstance conducive to the advancement of industry should
exist in a country, they cannot, without security, be of any
It is unnecessary for the purposes of this article to analyze the value of the raw material In i.
made up of the value of the labour required for its appropriation and conveyance to the place where t h ac ’ lfc 18 wllolly
Die matter of commodities costs nothing. What is commonly called raw material has freuuentlv a .rreet-'a °r manufactur®d-
manufacture, as in the case of pig or bar iron, cotton wool, raw silk, flax &c ? 3 eal °f labour expended on ite
VOL. XIV. J
2 M
274 MANUFACTURES.
Manufac- material service. It compensates for many deficiencies;
tures. vvhereas nothing can make up for its wants. It is a sine qua
non.
By the security indispensable to success in manufactures
is not, however, meant that degree of security which exists
in most countries that have made any progress in civiliza¬
tion, viz., the free enjoyment of the fruits of one’s labour
or ingenuity. Much more than this is required to make
industrious undertakings be prosecuted on a grand scale
with zeal and perseverance. Administration must be es¬
tablished on such a basis that the freedom and independence
of those by whom manufactures are carried on may be as
effectually secured as their property. The latter must be
guaranteed against all arbitrary proceedings, whether on the
part of government or of private parties. The standard of
money must be preserved inviolate; public burdens fairly
and equally imposed; justice speedily, cheaply, and
honestly administered ; and testators have full liberty to
dispose of their property as they may think fit. Wher¬
ever any of these things are wanting, there can be no
complete security ; and, therefore, none of that unhesitat¬
ing confidence which makes capitalists invest large sums,
of which posterity is to reap the principal or entire advan¬
tage ; and which also gives its fullest extension to private
and public enterprise and credit. That accumulation of
capital which has taken place in England during the last
hundred years, and which, besides enabling us to defray
with little difficulty the cost of so many protracted and
destructive wars, has covered the land with cities and all
sorts of improvements, and the ocean with ships, would
either not have taken place at all, or but in a very subor¬
dinate degree, had there been any serious doubt about
its present or future security, or about the ability of the
owner to employ it or bequeath it at pleasure. The
various circumstances that will be immediately mentioned
give us peculiar means and advantages for the production
of wealth. But the consciousness of security is required to
make these circumstances be turned to the best account,
and the produce of industry largely saved and accumulated.
And the more intense this consciousness becomes, the
greater, cceteris paribus, will be the progress of the society
in arts and industry.
Freedom of I he absence of monopolies, and the freedom to engage
industry, in industrious undertakings, conduce in no ordinary degree
to the advancement of the arts. Every man is always
exerting himself to find out how he may best extend his
command over necessaries and conveniences; and sound
policy requires that so long as he does not interfere with
the rights and privileges of others, he should be allowed to
pursue his own interest in his own way. Though human
reason is limited and fallible, and we are often swayed by
prejudices, and deceived by appearances, still it is sufficiently
certain that the desire to promote our own purposes contri¬
butes more than anything else to render us clear-sighted and
sagacious. li Nul sentiment dans l’homme” say sM..Sa.\, “ne
tient son intelligence eveillee autant que Vinteret personnel.
II donne de l esprit aux plus simples.” The principle
that individuals are, speaking generally, the best judges of
what is most beneficial for themselves, is now universally
admitted to be the only one that can be safely relied on.
o writer of authority has latterly ventured to maintain
t ie doctrine, once so popular, that governments may advan¬
tageously interfere to regulate the pursuits of their subjects,
t is their duty to preserve order; to prevent one from
injuring another ; to maintain, in short, the equal rights and
privileges of all But it is not possible for them to go one
step further without receding from the principle of non¬
interference, and laying themselves open to the charge of
acting partially by some and unjustly by others.
The most comprehensive experience confirms the truth
of these lein&rks. The natural order of things has been
less interfered with in Great Britain than in most other Manufac-
countries. Since the passing of the act of James I., in 1624, tures.
for the abolition of monopolies, full scope has been given
to the competition of the home producers ; and though the
various resources of talent and genius have neither been
so fully nor so early developed as they would have been had
there been no restrictions on our intercourse with foreigners,
they have been developed in a degree unknown to most
other countries. France, previously to the Revolution, was
divided into provinces, having each peculiar privileges and
separate codes of revenue laws, and this also was the case
with Germany, Spain, and Italy, so that they were not only
deprived of the freedom of foreign, but even of internal,
commerce. The inhabitants of each province being in
great measure isolated from the rest, there was compara¬
tively little competition ; and instead of invention and active
exertion, there was nothing but routine and indifference.
Holland and the United States have been the only coun¬
tries that have enjoyed the same degree of internal free¬
dom as Great Britain: And the former, notwithstanding
the unfavourable physical circumstances under which she is
placed, has long been, and still is, the richest country of
Europe; while the latter, whose condition is in other re¬
spects more favourable, is advancing with giant steps in the
career of improvement.
But the freedom of the home trade, or the stimulus given
to invention by the competition of the different parties within
the same country, how advantageous soever, is always very
inferior to the stimulus given by an unrestricted foreign
trade. A nation which admits, either freely or under mo¬
derate duties, the various productions of others, adopts that
line of policy which is sure to bring her energies into the
fullest activity. She profits by whatever inventions and dis¬
coveries may be made in countries the most remote, as well
as among her nearest neighbours ; at the same time that her
manufacturers have not only to contend with each other, but
with those of every other people. In a system of this sort,
no branch or department of industry can be artificially
bolstered up. Each must depend upon its own resources.
And if, during a restricted trade, a business were introduced
into a country which had no peculiar aptitude for carrying
it on, it would most likely be extinguished when trade
was made free. But this extinction, instead of being a loss
to such country, is a gain. The capital and labour which
were engaged in an unprofitable business, will henceforth be
diverted to those pursuits which the inhabitants can carry
on with more advantage; and their wealth, and that of the
community of nations, will be increased by the better dis¬
tribution of their labour.
It would be useless to enter, even if our limits permitted, Division of
into any lengthened details in regard to the advantages re- emPloy
suiting to society from the division of labour; that is, from ments-
the execution of certain tasks or duties being committed
to particular persons, possessing the age, strength, skill,
and other qualifications required for their proper perform¬
ance. These have been set in a clear light by Adam
Smith and others, and are familiar to everybody. But
it is not, perhaps, so generally known, that the division
of labour is in a great degree dependent on the extent
of the market, and that it becomes more perfect and
complete according as the latter is more and more ex¬
tended. There are many employments that cannot be
carried on in thinly peopled countries; and of those that
are, or may be, carried on in them or in others, there is
hardly one which may not be improved and perfected by
increasing the demand for the peculiar services or articles
which it furnishes. To be satisfied of the truth of this
statement we have only to look around us. Take the case
of the cotton, the woollen, or the iron manufacture. These
great departments of industry could not have attained to
such vast magnitude, or been furnished with the complex
MANUFACTURES.
Extension
machinery and the skilfully distributed labour employed in
them, had the demand for their products been confined to a
single province, or even to a single kingdom. Nothing less
extensive than the market of the world would afford a field
wide enough to keep them in constant employment. And
hence it is, that while the freedom of trade stimulates the
industry and ingenuity of the home producers, by bringing
them into competition with myriads of foreigners, it affords
an illimitable market for those products in which they have
a superiority ; and enables them continually to perfect every
process, and to carry the employment of machinery and the
division of labour to the greatest extent.
It is needless, however, to insist on considerations the
of industry justice of which is now all but universally admitted. But
since 1842. jt was necessary, nevertheless, thus briefly to allude to
them, inasmuch as they satisfactorily account for the
greater part of the late extraordinary increase of our trade ;
that is, of its increase from the time that the commercial
reforms of Sir Robert Peel came into full operation. Since
1842 the declared annual values of the exports of British
produce have been as follows, viz.:—
Years. Annual value.
1842  L.47,381,023
1843   52,279,709
1844   58,584,292
1845   60,111,082
1846   57,786,876
1847   58,842,377
1848   52,849,445
1849   63,596,025
275
Years. Annual value.
1850  L.71,359,184
1851   74,488,722
1852   78,076,854
1853   98,933,781
1854   97,184,726
1855   95,688,085
1856   115,890,857
The raw products included in the exports consist prin-
cipally, as usually estimated, of unwrought iron, copper, tin,
and lead; with coal, sheep’s wool, butter, fish, salt, and a few
other articles; their entire value not exceeding a seventh
or an eighth part of the value of the exports. But we
are by no means satisfied that iron and other metals should
be reckoned in the list of raw products. On the contrary,
we are clear that that designation should be restricted to
the ores of the metals, and that it should not be applied
to the metals after they have been extracted by an elabo¬
rate process from the ores. And supposing this classifi¬
cation were adopted, and the unwrought metals excluded
from the list of raw products, the latter would not exceed
a fifteenth or a sixteenth part of the entire amount of the
exports.
The unprecedented increase in the value of the exports,
exhibited in the above table, is in great measure the result
of the policy of Sir Robert Peel, who, by repealing and
greatly reducing the duties on most descriptions of foreign
produce, occasioned a vast increase of importation. But
he knew well that a great importation would occasion a
great exportation ; that the latter would increase in the
same ratio as the former; and that by a free intercourse
with others our manufacturing and industrial powers would
be sharpened and improved to the utmost. And such has
proved to be the case in a far greater degree than he, or any
one, however sanguine or far-sighted, could have antici¬
pated. The new system has brought all the faculties of the
mind, and powers of the body, into full activity. And while
the improvements of a century have been crowded into the
short space of ten or a dozen years, we continue with un¬
impaired energy to make new inventions and discoveries.
But though the extraordinary increase of our trade since
1842 has been mainly (we should err if we supposed that it
was wholly), owing to the greater freedom it has enjoyed
during that period. Part of it is to be ascribed to the
discovery of the gold-fields of California and Australia.
Their astonishing productiveness, the encouragement they
have given to emigration, and the rapid growth of a popu¬
lation which has had an almost unbounded command of
the precious metals, at the same time that it has been des¬
titute of most articles of accommodation, have led to an ex¬
traordinary demand for foreign produce, and especially for Manufac
our manufactures. But it must not be forgotten that it was tures-
our comparatively free commercial policy that enabled us to *v—~
avail ourselves to so great an extent of these advantages ;
and the presumption is, that but for it, we should have
profited as little by them as the countries around us.
4 he ability to read, and the diffusion of instruction Diffusion
J   7 civ, VAiii J U11 Ktl Ills LI UA.L1UI1 ^
among all ranks and orders of the people, bv the circu- °.f informa-
la firm  l_ Ai_ . i i • i n tion.
iation of books and journals, the establishment of me¬
chanics institutes, &c., have had a material influence over
tie advancement of arts and industry. These circumstances
have had the double advantage of multiplying the means
and chances of improvement, and of preventing any inven¬
tion or discovery, when made, from being lost or engrossed
by a few. An uninstructed people, though possessed of
the greatest capacities for the production and accumulation
of wealth, being unable to turn them to good account,
are usually poor and destitute; whereas an intelligent
people, though placed in a comparatively unfavourable
situation, never fail to become rich and prosperous. That
“ knowledge is power,” is true in a physical as well as in a
moral sense. The more familiar our acquaintance with,
and the more complete our command over, natural agents,
the greater, of course, will be our ability to make them
subservient to our purposes, and to employ their untiring
and boundless energies in the performance of that labour
that must otherwise be wholly performed by man. The
proud pre-eminence of civilized man over his less advanced
brethren, mainly consists in the extensive employment of
these agents. Like other things, production is propor¬
tioned to the strength of the means by which it is effected.
The accommodations of a people in a low or backward state
of civilization, who have nothing but their fingers and a few
rude tools or simple instruments at their disposal, are neces¬
sarily limited in the extreme; whereas a people highly
advanced in the arts press all the powers of nature into their
service, and have an all but unlimited command of the vari¬
ous articles required for their subsistence and wellbeing.
For a lengthened period the reception given to fo- Immigra-
reigners in England was anything but cordial. In mosttion
countries, indeed, not advanced in civilization, strangers foreiSners
are uniformly the objects of popular dislike; and this feel¬
ing seems to have prevailed quite as much in England as
anywhere else. But notwithstanding the various legal dis¬
abilities laid on foreigners, and the ill treatment they often
experienced, their settlement here has been productive of
the most advantageous results. The Flemings, invited over
and protected by Edward III., gave the first great impulse
to the woollen manufacture; and the immigrations from the
Low Countries during the persecutions of the Duke of
Alva, and from France subsequently to the revocation of
the Edict of Nantes, materially forwarded our trade and
manufactures. During last century the prejudice against
aliens lost much of its force ; and most part of the disabili¬
ties under which they formerly laboured have been re¬
moved. But in all that respects the treatment of foreigners
our policy has been less liberal and enlightened than that
of the Dutch. In Holland they have always been received
with open arms ; and a short residence in the country, and
a small payment to the state, entitled them to all the privi¬
leges enjoyed by natives. The highest authorities agree
that this was one of the main causes of the extraordinary
progress made by the republic in commerce and wealth.
It has always been our constant policy to make Holland
a perpetual, safe, and secure asylum for all persecuted and
oppressed strangers: no alliance, no treaty, no regard for, nor
any solicitation of, any potentate whatever, has at any time
been able to weaken or destroy, or make the state recede
rom protecting those who have fled to it for their own
security and self-preservation. Throughout the whole course
o all the persecutions and oppressions that have occurred
276
MANUFACTURES.
Manufac- in other countries, the steady adherence of the republic to
turos. t],js fundamental law has been the cause that many people
have not only fled hither for refuge, with their whole stock
in ready cash, and their most valuable effects, but have also
settled and established many trades, fabrics, manufactures,
arts, and sciences, in this country ; notwithstanding the first
materials for the said fabrics and manufactures were almost
wholly wanting in it, and not to be procured but at a great
expense from foreign parts.”1
Inequality The great inequality of fortune that has always prevailed in
of fortune, this country has had a material influence in exciting a spirit
of invention and industry among the less opulent classes. It
is not always because a man is absolutely poor that he is in¬
dustrious and economical. He may have already amassed
considerable wealth ; but he continues with unabated energy
to avail himself of every means by which he may hope to add
to his fortune, that he may place himself on a level with the
great landed proprietors, and those who give the tone to so¬
ciety in all that regards expense. No successful manufacturer
or merchant ever considers that he has enough till he is
able to live in something like the same style as the most
opulent noblemen. Those, again, who are immediately be¬
low the highest become a standard to which the class next
to them endeavour to elevate themselves ; the impulse ex¬
tending in this way from one rank to another, till it reaches
to the very lowest classes, individuals belonging to which
are always raising themselves by industry, address, and good
fortune to the highest places in society. Had there been
less inequality of fortune amongst us, there would have
been less emulation, and industry would not have been so
earnestly prosecuted. It is true, that the desire to emulate
the great and the affluent, by embarking in a lavish course
of expenditure, is often prematurely indulged in and carried
to a culpable excess. But the evils thence arising make
but a trifling deduction from the beneficial influence of that
powerful stimulus which it gives to the inventive faculties,
and to that desire to improve our condition, and to mount in
the scale of society, which is the source of all that is great
and elevated. Hence we should strongly disapprove of any
system which, like the law of equal inheritance established
in France, had any tendency artificially to equalize fortunes.
To the absence of any such law, and the prevalence of cus¬
toms of a totally different character, we may safely attribute
a considerable portion of our superior wealth and industry.
Increase of We are also disposed to believe, how paradoxical soever
taxation, such a notion may appear, that the taxation to which we
have been subjected has, hitherto at least, been favourable
to the progress of the country. It is not enough that a
man has the means of rising in the world within his com¬
mand ; he must be so placed that, unless he avail himself of
them, and put forth his energies, he will be cast down
to a lower station. And this is what our taxation has
effected: to the desire of rising in the world, implanted in
the breast of every man, it superadded the fear of being
thrown down to a lower place in society ; and the two prin¬
ciples combined produced results that could not have been
produced by either separately. Had taxation been carried
beyond due bounds it would not have had this effect. But
though considerable, its increase was not such as to make
the contributors despair of being able to meet the sacrifices
it imposed by increased skill and economy. And as the
eff’oits they made in this view were far more than sufficient
for their object, they occasioned a large addition to the
public viealth that might not otherwise have existed.
b. Physical circumstances contributing to the progress
of Manufactures.—Supplies of the raw material may be
classed among the more prominent of this description of cir- Manufac-
cumstances ; and those who reflect on the nature, value, and tures.
importance of our manufactures of wool; of the useful metals,
such as iron, tin, lead, copper, &c.; of leather and flax, spirits Physical
and beer, and so on; will readily admit that our success in circum-
themhas been materially facilitated by our possessing abun- stancescon-
dant supplies of the raw material. It is of less consequence,
when the material of a manufacture possesses considerable gres-Tof™"
value in small bulk, whether it be furnished from native re- manufae-
sources, or be imported from abroad ; though even in that tures.
case the advantage of having an internal supply, of which we
cannot be deprived by the jealousy or hostility of others, is
far from immaterial. But no nation can make any consider¬
able progress in the manufacture of bulky and heavy articles,
the conveyance of which to a distance necessarily occasions
a large expense, unless she have supplies of the raw material
within herself. Had we been destitute of iron ore, lead, and
tin, we could never have distinguished ourselves by the mag¬
nitude and value of our manufactures of these articles. And
any one who reflects on the advantages' resulting to every
branch of industry from being able to procure abundant sup¬
plies of iron at the cheapest rate, will be convinced that it
is no easy matter to exaggerate the obligations we are under
to our exhaustless stores of that mineral.
There is a passage in Locke so applicable to this subject Locke on
that it deserves to be quoted :—“ Of what consequence the supplies of
discovery of one natural body and its properties may be to in¬
human life, the whole great continent of America is a con¬
vincing instance; whose ignorance in useful arts, and want
of the greatest part of the conveniences of life, in a country
that abounded with all sorts of natural plenty, I think may
be attributed to their ignorance of what was to be found in
a very ordinary despicable stone—I mean the mineral of
iron. And whatever we think of our parts or improvements
in this part of the world, where knowledge and plenty seem
to vie with each other, yet to any one that will seriously
reflect on it, I suppose it will appear past doubt, that were
the use of iron lost among us, we should in a few ages be
unavoidably reduced to the wants and ignorance of the
ancient savage Americans, whose natural endowments and
provisions come no way short of those of the most flourish¬
ing and polite nations. So that he who first made known the
use of that contemptible mineral, may be truly styled the
father of arts and author of plenty.”2
But of all the physical circumstances that have con- Supplies
tributed to our advancement in manufactures and arts, of coal,
none have had so much influence as our possession of the
most valuable coal mines. They have conferred advantages
on us not enjoyed in an equal degree by any other people.
Our extraordinary success in the manufacture of iron, cop¬
per, &c., is not owing so much to our possessing the ores
of these metals, as to our possessing the coal, by the aid
of which the ores have been smelted and refined. But the
paramount importance of coal as a manufacturing agent has
been principally manifested since the invention of the steam-
engine. Without a cheap and abundant supply of fuel, the
engine, as now constructed, would be of comparatively little
use. It is, as it were, the hands ; but coal is the muscles
by which they are set in motion, and without which their
strength and "dexterity could not be called into action, and
would be of no use. Our coal mines may be regarded
as vast magazines of hoarded or warehoused power ; and,
unless some such radical change be made on the steam-
engine as should very decidedly lessen the quantity of fuel
required to keep it in motion, or some equally serviceable
machine, but moved by different means, be introduced, it
is not at all likely that any nation should come into suc-
1 Proposal for Amending the Trade of Holland, printed by authority in 1756 ; Eng. ed., p. 12.
2 Works, vol. i., p. 407. Ed. 1777.
M A N U F A
Manufac- cessful competition with us in those departments in which
tures. steam-engines, or machinery moved by steam, may be pro-
fitably employed.
Advanta- The advantageous situation of Britain for commerce,
geous an(j tlle mature of the climate, have also powerfully con-
situation. tributed to the perfection of industry. Had we occu¬
pied a central internal situation like that of Switzerland,
our facilities for dealing with others being so much the
less, our progress would have been comparatively slow;
and instead of being highly improved, our manufactures
might have been still in their infancy. But being sur¬
rounded bn all sides by the sea, or great highway of na¬
tions, we have been able to maintain an intercourse with
the most remote as well as with the nearest countries, to
supply them on the easiest terms with our manufactures,
and to profit by the peculiar products and capacities of pro¬
duction possessed by each. With such advantages on our
side, it would have been singular had we not shot ahead of
most of our competitors in the race of improvement.
Climate. ^lir climate is peculiarly favourable to exertion and en¬
terprise. It admits of most sorts of labour being vigorously
prosecuted, even when the thermometer is highest; while
its severity, without being too great, makes comfortable
clothing and lodging indispensable; and, consequently,
gives rise to numerous wants that, being either unknown or
little sensible in more genial climates, require proportionally
greater efforts for their supply. Its inequality, too, by re¬
quiring incessant care and attention on the part of the hus¬
bandmen, makes them vigilant andactive as well as laborious;
and the qualities that are thus naturally impressed on this
great class are, through their example, universally diffused.
But despite what has been stated above, we are disposed to
believe, how unphilosophical soever it may seem, that a good
deal in the history of industry must be ascribed to chance,
or to some lucky accident. Had Hargreaves, Arkwright,
Watt, and Wedgwood not existed, or been born abroad,
it is impossible to say how much it might have affected
the state of industry here and elsewhere ; but there appear to
be sufficient grounds for thinking that it would have been
at this moment materially different from what it actually is.
A good deal, too, depends on priority. A country, town, or
district, that has already established and made a consider¬
able progress in manufactures, acquires, in consequence, an
advantage that may enable it successfully to contend with
competitors placed under what are naturally more favour¬
able circumstances. But these are matters that will be
noticed afterwards.
It seems to be the peculiar good fortune of England that,
as respects all the great branches of manufacture, she has
at once the advantages of priority and of acquired skill and
dexterity on her side, as well as the natural advantages
already noticed of abundant supplies of the raw material,
of inexhaustible beds of coal, and of situation. Cotton is
not an exception ; for, though the raw material be the pro¬
duct of other countries, the freight upon it is not very con¬
siderable, and is but a trifling deduction from the other
circumstances that seem to insure our superiority in its
manufacture.
Machinery. It may be said, perhaps, that in thus briefly enumerating
what seem to be principal causes of the superiority to which
Great Britain has attained in manufactures, we have omit¬
ted to notice that which many reckon the most important
of them all, viz., the comparative excellence of our ma¬
chinery. But the production of machinery is itself a branch
of manufacture, success in which depends on the same cir¬
cumstances that determine success in other branches. The
C T U R E S. 277
manufacture of machinery is, however, in so far peculiar, that Manufac-
superiority in it conduces, more directly than superiority in tures.
anything else, to the improvement of all descriptions of
manufacture. Machines are the tools or instruments by
which most industrious undertakings are either partly or
wholly carried on. And hence it is, that while a marked
superiority in various branches of industry may exist, where
machinery is defective, simultaneously with great inferiority
in others, this is hardly possible where it is highly im¬
proved. Eminence in machine-making is almost sure to
lead to eminence in every other department, and is the best
means for securing their advancement.
Our superiority in the manufacture of machinery depends
principally on the greater intelligence of our work-people,
and our unlimited supplies of coal and iron. The latter is
now either exclusively or largely used in the construction
of ships and houses, and of a vast variety of instruments
and articles that were formerly either wholly or in great
part made of wood; and their efficiency and cheapness
have been in consequence very greatly increased. The
steam-engine, which is made entirely of iron, performs for
us the work of many hundreds of thousands of men, and
of many hundreds of thousands of horses ; and while it
performs most part of this work incomparably better than
it could have been performed by men and horses, it saves a
vast amount of toil and suffering. The slavish occupation
of thrashing out corn is now wholly performed by thrashing-
mills, which are mostly moved by steam ; and at the same
time that the employment of locomotive engines on rail¬
ways has added greatly to the security of travelling, and
make it be performed with a speed inferior only to that
of lightning, it has terminated that over-exertion which
the noblest of the lower animals were formerly compelled
to make in the running of stage-coaches. It is impossible, in
truth, to over-rate the advantages man owes to machinery ;
and the idea that it may be too much perfected or extended,
is the most futile and absurd that can be imagined.
Besides the great discoveries—such as the introduction
of the spinning-frame, the steam-engine, and the power-
loom, which suddenly change the whole aspect and economy
of industry, a variety of minor improvements are always
being introduced, which, though separately they may be
little attended to by careless observers, have in the aggre¬
gate a powerful influence. The economizing of power, the
production of the same or better articles at less expense,
the substitution of cheaper or more efficient, for dearer or
less efficient labour, and so forth, are objects ever present
to the mind of the intelligent manufacturer; and the advance
made in them in the course of afew years is usually very great.
The late improvements in the steam-engine may be re¬
ferred to as affording a striking illustration of what has now
been stated. For a lengthened period after it came from
the hands of Watt it remained nearly stationary. But
during the last twenty, and more especially during the
last ten years, many important innovations have been
made, by driving the engines with greater speed, enlarg¬
ing the capacity and improving the form of the boilers,
and so on ; the result being, that from the same weight
of steam machinery we now obtain, at an average, at
least 50 per cent, more work than formerly; and that,
in many cases, the identical engines that yielded fifty horse
power, are now yielding upwards of 100 horse power, with
little or no increase of expense.1
The manufacture of machinery for exportation is now Exporta-
become a large and rapidly increasing business. Thisistionof
evident from the following account of the declared value of nlac^*ne^3^•
the exports of machinery from 1842 down to 1856, viz.:—
1 Letter of Air Nasmyth of Patricroft, near Manchester, an eminent engineer, in one of Mr Horner’s Reports for 1852.
MANUFACTURES.
Years. Value.
1850   L.1,042,167
1851   1,168,611
1852   1,251,360
1853   1,985,536
1854   1,930,860
1855   2,211,215
1856   2,717,572
Supposed
disadvan¬
tages of
manufac¬
tures.
Introduc¬
tion of ma
chinery.
Years. Value.
1842  L.554,653
1843   713,474
1844   776.255
1845   904,961
1846  1,117,470
1847  1,263,016
1848   817,656
1849   700,631
It has, however, been frequently contended, and by
parties not otherwise opposed to the freedom of trade, that
in permitting the exportation of machinery we act unwisely;
and in fact furnish our rivals in other countries with the
principal instruments of our manufacturing superiority.
But though specious, this statement is not entitled to much
weight. It is not in our power, even if we attempted it, to
enforce a monopoly of our improved machinery. The
plans and patents according to which it is made, are pub¬
lished and sold to all who choose to buy them, whether
natives or foreigners. And not only this, but English
engineers, and the artizans by whom machines are made,
are met with in every civilized country. All, therefore,
that we should effect by prohibiting the exportation of the
latter, would be the suppression of a large and lucrative
branch of business; while, by forcing the foreigners to con¬
struct that machinery and mill-work for themselves, which
they now buy from us, we should stimulate their invention,
and endanger our ascendancy in a department which is not
likely to be disturbed so long as we abide by our present
policy.
n.—DISADVANTAGES SUPPOSED TO ATTEND MANUFAC¬
TURING EMINENCE.
The above seem to be the principal circumstances which
have contributed to the rapid growth of manufactures in
Great Britain. This growth has not, however, been always
regarded as advantageous. On the contrary, many emi¬
nent authorities have doubted whether the great extension of
the manufacturing system be not accompanied with so many
drawbacks as go far to countervail its beneficial influence.
It is, for example, alleged, that of the improvements
• which contribute so greatly to the extension of manufac¬
tures, some are occasionally productive of injury to the
work-people. But it may be easily shown that this allega¬
tion is not worthy of much attention. The inconveniences
which sometimes attend the introduction of improved ma¬
chines and processes are merely temporary. If by an im¬
provement in the manufacture of hats, or any other cause,
the cost of their production were reduced a half, it is pro¬
bable that the wages of the hands now engaged in the hat
trade would be reduced, and that some of them would be
dismissed. A little consideration will, however, make it
evident that these disadvantageous results cannot fail of
being very soon obviated; for, as those who formerly
paid 10s. or 20s. for hats, will now only pay 5s. or 10s.,
they will have so much more to expend on other things.
A he demand for produce of one sort or other will not, there¬
fore, be diminished; and the result will be, first, that hats
eing cheaper, more of them will be demanded ; and, se-
cond, that a part of the money formerly laid out on them
will henceforth be laid out on other things, the manufac¬
ture ol which will give full employment to the artizans
thrown out ot the hat trade. Hence, in the end, it will be
found, that while everybody is supplied with hats at half
tneir former cost, not one individual will be deprived of
employment, or have his wages reduced. And such is the
invariable result of all improvements in the arts, and of the
opening of markets whence produce may be imported at a
reduced price. 1
But short as this statement is, it was hardly necessary Manufac-
to show that improvements in machinery cannot really in- tures.
jure the labourer. To be satisfied of this, we have only to v«~
cast a rapid glance at the progress of the greatest of our
manufactures. So late as 1760, not more, perhaps, than
3000 or 4000 persons were dependent in Great Britain on
the cotton manufacture, which was so trifling as scarcely to
attract any notice. But such and so vast has been the
change in the interval, that the cotton trade is now, next
to agriculture, the most important branch of industry car¬
ried on in the kingdom, furnishing the means of subsistence
to from 1,250,000 to 1,500,000 persons. And to what but
the improvement and extension of machinery are we in¬
debted for this result, which has no parallel in the history
of industry ? The inventions and discoveries of Arkwright,
Watt, Compton, Cartwright, and others, have created this
all but boundless field for the employment of capital and
work-people. Ihe more efficient the machinery introduced
the greater has been the demand for fresh supplies of
labour ; and such will necessarily be the result in all similar
cases in all time to come.
In the course of its marvellous progress, some depart¬
ments of the manufacture have come to be carried on by
wholly different agents. Hand-spinning, whether by the
common wheel or the jenny, has entirely disappeared; and
hand-loom weaving is fast approaching its termination. And
though its long agony has entailed many privations on a
large number of persons, it should be borne in mind that
the condition of the weavers, owing probably to the facility
with which the business was learned, has never been pro¬
sperous. Luckily, they are now being rapidly absorbed
into other businesses; and there cannot be a doubt that
the final extinction of the class will be of especial advan¬
tage to the labourers.
The following table exhibits an account of the num¬
ber of power-looms in 1836, 1850, and 1856:—
Fabric.
Cotton...
Woollen.
Worsted.
Silk  
Flax 
108,751
2,150
2,969
1,714
209
Total  115,793
249,627
8,439
32,617
6,092
3,670
301,445
1856.
298,847
14,453
38,956
9,260
7,689
369,205
The rapid increase in the number of power-looms em¬
ployed in the linen trade has been in great measure owing
to their extended use in Ireland. This has been accele¬
rated by the rise in the price of labour consequent on the
potato rot and the emigration; but it would have taken
place, though not, perhaps, so soon, independently of these
circumstances. Notwithstanding the cheapness of labour
in Ireland, the flax manufacture made no real progress in
it till yarn was spun in factories; and the substitution of
power-looms for hand-looms originates in the same cause,—
in the wish to profit by the cheaper and more efficient ser¬
vice rendered by improved machinery. (See Post.)
Except in anomalous cases, like that of hand-loom
weavers, the difficulties to which work-people are sub¬
jected in moving from a department to which they have
been accustomed, when their services are no longer re¬
quired in it, are more apparent than real. Many depart¬
ments of industry are closely allied, and all of them have
many things in common ; so that an industrious and intel¬
ligent workman who is thrown out of one has seldom much
difficulty, provided he be so disposed,1 in finding his way
are tn'a3rnns!rWnhnf oTnfnf^*0St disinclination of the hand-loom weavers to abandon an employment in which they
are to a considerable extent their own masters, has done much to prolong the period of their transition. J '
Manufac¬
tures.
Influence
of factory
labour on
the intelli
gence and
health of
the work¬
people.
MANUFACTURES.
279
into some other department. And it is also to be observed,
that improvements are seldom so rapidly introduced as to
occasion the dismissal of hands; the necessary change being
usually effected by the check given to the entrance of new
hands into the business.
But it is needless to insist farther on these points. The
principal objections to the extension of manufactures de¬
pend on other considerations; and do not all admit of so
conclusive an answer as those which refer to the improve¬
ment and extension of machinery.
The fact of their being crowded together has been said
to be exceedingly injurious to the work-people engaged in
factories ; and that, from their attention being constantly
restricted, in consequence of the extreme subdivision of
labour, to some very limited or petty operation, and the
want of free air and proper exercise, they degenerate, both
intellectually and physically, and become inferior to the
agriculturists, and those who prosecute their business in
the fields. But these consequences, though at first sight
they seem to follow naturally from the circumstances, have
happily not been realized, in so far, at least, as respects
the mental powers of the work-people. Instead of be¬
coming more contracted, their intellectual capacities seem,
on the contrary, to have expanded with the greater sub¬
division of their employments. And how unexpected so¬
ever this result may be, it is, after all, only what a less
prejudiced inquiry might have led us to anticipate. The
many occupations which the husbandman successively car¬
ries on, and the perpetual changes in the weather, and in
the growth and appearance of the objects about which he
is engaged, occupy his attention, and render him a stranger
to that ennui, and desire for external excitement, so univer¬
sally felt by those employed in indoor routine businesses.
This craving, on the one hand, and the few facilities for ra¬
tional enjoyment on the other, is a principal cause of the
dissipation in which the work-people are so prone to indulge.
But it has other and less objectionable consequences.
By working together, factory labourers have many oppor¬
tunities, of which those employed in the fields are com¬
paratively destitute, of discussing all manner of topics.
Their intellects are sharpened by the collision of opinion.
They desire to know what is going on in the world ;
and by each contributing a small sum, they obtain an
ample supply of newspapers and other periodical publica¬
tions, and sometimes form book-clubs. But whatever
doubt may exist as to its cause, there can be none in
regard to the superior information of the work-people em-
pbyed in factories. We do not believe that they were
ever less intelligent than farm-labourers. But, whatever
may have been the case formerly, none will venture to
affirm that they are so at present, or that they are “ mere
machines, without sentiment or reason.” (Ferguson On
Civil Society, p. 303.)
The objection made to manufactures on account of
their alleged injurious influence over the health of the
work-people in factories, is not so easily disposed of. In
so far, indeed, as the question may be supposed to refer
to adult males, there is no evidence to prove that factory
labour, provided it be not excessive, is productive of in¬
jurious results. But it is otherwise with children, or young
persons of both sexes, and perhaps also with certain classes
of females. The former are never, and the latter are fre¬
quently not their own masters. And though there has
been much exaggeration on the subject, still there is no
room for doubt that the individuals referred to have been
subjected to tasks, and confined for periods, unsuited
to their age, sex, and strength. We, therefore, are dis¬
posed to approve of the policy which has been adopted of
excluding children under eight years of age from factories,
and of limiting the labour of young persons from eight to
thirteen years of age to 6|- hours a-day, and of those from Manufac-
thirteen to eighteen years of age to 10 hours a-day. But tures.
we should object to any restrictions being laid on the labour
of adult males, or of such adult females as are their own
masters. The State is bound to protect those who cannot
protect themselves; but none else. It may also, perhaps, lay
down and enforce some easy regulations for the prevention
of accidents in factories. But, speaking generally, the less
it interferes in such matters the better. Work-people who
are sui juris can never safely rely on the government, or on
any one but themselves. The interference of the magis¬
trate will be but a miserable substitute for that prudence
and forethought which it is their duty to exercise, and
which can alone secure their well-being.
Exclusive of the circumstances now mentioned, there Influence
are others connected with the growth of manufactures, in of factory
respect of which it is not easy to arrive at any definite con-
elusion, but which, nevertheless, deserve serious considera- an(j
tion. Without, however, attempting, to do more than opinions of
glance at the subject, we may observe, that the ten- the work-
dency of manufactures appears to set strongly in favour of people,
concentration ; that is, to their being carried on in large
establishments, belonging to a few great capitalists, where
thousands of work-people are managed by a small num¬
ber of overlookers. And in these establishments the lot
of the labourers is apparently one of the least desirable.
Their occupations are singularly monotonous, being little
else than the endless repetition of the same set of pre¬
cisely similar, and generally simple operations. It is
alleged, too, that of the work-people in factories, probably
not one in twenty, and certainly not one in ten, supposing
they abide in them, can materially improve their condi¬
tion, or rise to a higher station; and, though not the
slaves of this or that master, they are, it is affirmed, the
slaves of the factory system. But, while it must be admitted
that these statements unhappily contain a good deal of
truth, they are, notwithstanding, much coloured and ex¬
aggerated. It may be true that only a few of those em¬
ployed in factories attain to independence, or even con¬
sideration ; but as preferment in them, whatever may be
its amount, is open to all, the great prizes which they
offer, like those in a lottery, or in other occupations,
attract crowds of competiters, and inspire them with a
strong spirit of emulation, and with the hopes of success.
In despite, however, of these and other countervailing
influences, there seems, on the whole, little room for
doubting that the factory system operates unfavourably
on the bulk of those engaged in it. In some depart¬
ments this may not be the case, but in the majority,
and especially in those connected with spinning, weav¬
ing, and other merely routine employments, it is emi¬
nently so. It is certain, too, that the demand for the
services of children and other young persons, and the
ease with which factory labour may in general be learned,
has had a powerful influence in depressing wages, and, con¬
sequently, in preventing the wonderful inventions and
discoveries of the last half century from redounding so
much to the advantage of the labouring classes as might
otherwise have been anticipated. As compared, indeed, with
the extraordinary progress made by the capitalists and em¬
ployers of labour, the work-people can hardly be said to
have made any very considerable advance, either in respect
of their physical or moral condition. And hence the
growth of unions and combinations, and of that discon¬
tent which is so very frequent among them. Their po¬
verty, too, is rendered the more galling from the con¬
trast which it presents to the wealth of their superiors,
or of those with whom they are daily brought into con¬
tact. 1 he latter, it is true, have generally sprung from
the class to which they belong, and are mostly indebted
280 M A N U F A
Manufac- for their greater riches to their greater genius, enterprise,
tures. an(i industry, But these circumstances being unknown to
many, and speedily forgotten by others, they are said to
owe their fortunes to chance or some lucky accident; and,
except in peculiar instances, they are more generally, per¬
haps, regarded by those below them with feelings of envy
or even ill-will, than as examples to be followed. This, of
course, is not the case with the more generous, sanguine,
and enterprising spirits in the workshops, who occasionally
raise themselves to a level with their employers. But the
great mass of factory work-people must be too conscious of
their weaknesses and shortcomings to indulge in such anti¬
cipations. And in reality they have nothing before them
but a life of continuous labour, cheered by few gleams of
sunshine, and chequered principally by the recurrence of
privations. Such being the case, can we wonder at the
prevalence of that dissipation which is so much and so
loudly complained of? On the contrary, the wonder is,
that it is not a great deal more prevalent, and that discon¬
tent and disaffection are not more frequent and more widely
spread.
Combinations are one of the favourite means to which
work-people have had recourse of late years, to bring about
an increase of wages, or a diminution of the hours of
labour. But as we have already entered at considerable
length, in the article Combinations, into an examination
of their influence on industry and the condition of the
labourer, it is needless to resume the inquiry in this place.
e believe, however, that we are warranted in saying that
it is very doubtful whether combinations to raise wages
have ever been productive of any real advantage to the
labouring classes; while it is certain that, on very many
occasions, they have been exceedingly hostile to their
interests.
T his unsatisfactory state of things, which seems to grow
necessarily out of the extension of manufactures, is apt to
be seriously aggravated through the fluctuations to which
they are subject from changes of fashion, the discovery of
new methods of production, and the alterations which
wars and other casualties not unffequently make in comr
mercial channels. It is true, indeed, that the extension and
freedom of trade, by multiplying the relations of manufac¬
turing and trading nations, renders them less dependent on
circumstances affecting one or a few of their customers.
But however much commerce may be extended, it is
found that these as well as other nations mainly depend on
a few countries for their principal supplies of the most neces¬
sary articles, while others afford the most advantageous
outlets for their peculiar productions. A great manufac¬
turing country is, therefore, exposed to vicissitudes to which
it woidd otherwise be less liable; and hence, we may add,
the expediency of its adopting a cautious and conciliatory
course of policy, and of its avoiding unnecessary quarrels
and contests with others.
If we be right in these statements, it follows that manu¬
facturing eminence has, like many things else, its peculiar
advantages and disadvantages. And though the latter are
apparently of a very formidable description, they may, per¬
haps, be in a greater or less degree counterbalanced by the
opeiation of circumstances of which we have not yet learned
to estimate the influence.
Task-work. 1 he principle of association, in regard to which so much
has been said, will never, we apprehend, be found to be
productive of any sensible advantage to the labourers,
(bee on this subject the article Wages in this work.) But
it would be quite otherwise were the practice of task -work,
that is, of employing labourers by the piece or job, to
become more general. By exactly apportioning the reward
to the skill and industry of the labourer, task-work takes
away all temptation to idleness, and makes workmen put
foith all then powers. 1 he more enterprising become con-
C T U R E S.
tractors on a small scale, as well as labourers; and from Manufac-
one step to another often raise themselves to independence, tures.
and sometimes to affluence. It were, therefore, much to be
wished that the system should be introduced, in as far as
practicable, into all sorts of industrious undertakings, but
especially into those branches of manufacture in which the
condition of the labourers is the least favourable. It would
not fail to imbue them with new hopes and new energies;
and would be constantly raising numbers of those that
were most deserving to improved positions. We are in¬
deed well convinced that nothing would do so much as the
extensive introduction of task-work into factories, to dry up
the existing sources of discontent; to give all classes—the
servants as well as the masters—the same spirit; and to
satisfy them that their interests are really identical.
The difficulty which females belonging to the labouring- Condition
classes experience in obtaining any more acceptable em- females
ployment, is probably the principal cause that so many of^M^’
them are found in factories. No doubt, however, the
lightness of the labour, the little training required for its
performance, and the power to leave them when one has a
mind, are also powerful inducements to enter factories.
But, however explained, the number of females engaged in
them has increased from 195,508 in 1835 to 409,300 in
1856, of whom 25,982 were under thirteen years of age.
The employment of so many females is a very important
feature in factory economy, and is in many respects bene¬
ficial. It would be difficult, indeed, were the demand for
their services in factories materially to decline, to provide
them with other equally advantageous outlets. And yet
the shutting up of great numbers of women in these estab¬
lishments, and the close attention they have to give to their
work, is productive of some results that are not a little
injurious. Speaking generally, factory girls are very ill fitted
for being housewives. They have little or no experience
of their duties as such. The mill is their principal home;
and however expert in the work they have to perform in
it, they know little of anything else, and are most commonly
ignorant, to an extent not easily to be imagined, of the arts
by which their wages and those of their husbands may be
best and most economically expended. The mischievous
influence of this ignorance is too obvious to require being
pointed out, and considerable efforts have latterly been made
to lessen it by improving the education of girls, and in¬
structing them in cookery, baking, sewing, washing, and
other arts necessary to the wellbeing of their families. But
though some improvement may be effected in the way now
mentioned, it is, we apprehend, idle to expect that, however
instructed, women employed in factories should generally
make good wives and mothers. It is top much to expect
that they should be able to attend at the same time to the
mill and to their families. One or other is almost sure to
be neglected; and the presumption is, that this will be the
case with the latter rather than the former.
It is a curious circumstance that something like the fac¬
tory system is now applied to the rearing of the children of
the work-people engaged in factories ; for receiving-houses
{creches) are being established in the great manufacturing
towns, where the mothers deposit their children on their
way to the mills, and receive them again on their way back.
And though in some respects a very considerable improve¬
ment, the adoption of this plan gives but a sorry idea of the
state of the manufacturing population. Such, however, and
so limited is the field for the employment of women in Eng¬
land compared with their vast numbers, that factory labour
must be regarded, notwithstanding its many drawbacks, as
having contributed materially to their welfare.
A great manufacturer, like a great landowner, has a Duty of
vast deal in his power, and, with little loss to himself, may masteH-
M A N U F A
Manufac- do, and sometimes does, a great deal of good to his work-
^ tures. ^ people. The truth indeed is, that in promoting and re-
warding those labourers who distinguish themselves by
their industry and good conduct, and in checking, in as
far as may be in his power, the idleness and vicious pro¬
pensities of others, he is following a line of conduct that is
highly conducive to his interests. But an enlightened and
a generous master should do more than this. He should
look upon his work-people as part of his family, should
interest himself in their well-being, assist in providing
schools for the education of their children, and forward
any proper plan for improving their dwellings, for supply¬
ing them with good medical advice, and so forth. Those
masters who can do much to promote the real interests
of those in their employment, and who, notwithstanding, do
little or nothing, lie under a heavy responsibility. They
abdicate or abuse some of their most valuable privileges,
and are culpable in more ways than one.
Owing to the facilities for obtaining supplies of skilled
labour, and the convenience resulting from the vicinity of
other establishments, factories may now, speaking generally,
be more advantageously located in towns than in the
country. This, however, has the disadvantage of making
it comparatively difficult for the masters to inform them¬
selves with respect to the habits and mode of life of those
in their service. But this circumstance will not excuse that
neglect of the interests of the work-people in towns which
is so frequently evinced by their employers. The con¬
duct of the former in the mill, the punctuality of their
attendance, their cleanliness, and the way in which they per¬
form their allotted tasks, will throw a great deal of light on
their character. And those indices should not merely lead
the master to advance the deserving, but it should, also,
lead him to inquire into the modes of life and habits of the
others. And it is not easy to estimate the influence that
his advice, exhortation, and threatenings, might have over
their conduct.
Whatever else education may do for the work-people, we
do not believe that it will do what is expected by some;
that is, that it will make factory-labourers contented with
their lot. On the contrary, we are disposed to think that
its effect will rather be the reverse of this, and that that
will be one of its principal advantages. It is clear, indeed,
that if it had the effect supposed, it would be in so far dis¬
advantageous that it would, at one and the same time,
weaken the motives for the introduction of those reforms
into the factory system to which we have alluded, and im¬
pair the energies of the workmen, and their efforts to ad¬
vance themselves.
It is plain, therefore, that it is no easy matter to cast
the horoscope of the manufacturing system, to estimate the
changes it may undergo, or its ultimate influence over the
condition of those among whom it maybe established. Much
will depend on future contingencies, and much also on
the operation of principles to which new' combinations of
circumstances will no doubt give rise. The hopes of some,
and the fears of others, may at present predominate ; but
no just confidence can be placed in the speculations of
either class ; and the final results will be learned only by a
distant posterity.
III. FACTORIES (ECONOMY Of).
Economy By a factory, in a general sense, is understood any
tories" building or inclosure within which any branch of manufac¬
turing industry is carried on. But in practice the term ap¬
pears to be confined to buildings of an extensive description,
fitted up with machinery, and suited for the prosecution
of one or more branches of manufacture. Factories in
which cotton is spun being mostly on a large scale, are
generally called spinning mills; and others have peculiar
VOL. XIV.
C T U R E S. 281
names according to the nature of the business to which Manufac-
they are devoted. tures.
The skill and judgment of the manufacturer are evinced
in nothing more than in the proper construction and eco¬
nomy of factories. Their suitableness to the end in view,
provided it be accomplished without any unnecessary ex¬
pense, is one of the most important elements in manufac¬
turing success. It may be laid down generally, that to
insure this grand object, the machinery in factories should
be of the best quality, and the labour to be performed dis¬
tributed so that the strength and capacity of those employed
may be exactly apportioned to the tasks they have to per¬
form. And as any mistakes in regard to the selection of
the individuals to be employed in factories, and more es¬
pecially of those appointed to superintend the different
departments, would be quite fatal to their success, we may
be sure that everything that is practicable will be done to
guard against their occurrence. But it would be idle to
attempt to lay down any precise rules in regard to the
economy of these establishments, seeing that all arrange¬
ments must be accommodated to the successive improve¬
ments in the arts, the species and command of the power
to be employed, the price and supply of labour, and so
forth. The extent also to which the different branches of
industry may be most advantageously congregated into a
single establishment, is entirely a practical question for the
sagacity of the manufacturer, the solution of which must
depend on its greater or less proximity to others, and a
variety of other circumstances. Though the principle of
the division of labour should never be lost sight of in the
construction of factories, neither should it be carried to an
extreme. In some very extensive and prosperous factories
in the principal seats of the cotton trade, the various pro¬
cesses, from the carding, spinning, and weaving of the wool,
to the bleaching and printing of the cloths, are carried on
under the same roof. Generally, however, some of the
processes that in these instances are performed in one, are
distributed among different establishments.
Of late years the question in regard to the interference
of the police in the construction of factories has been a good
deal mooted. On the whole, we are inclined to think, that
if confined within moderate and well-defined limits, it may
be advantageous. In the smaller and inferior class of facto¬
ries ventilation and cleanliness are apt to be neglected ; and
there does not appear to be any good reason why the police
should not be permitted to see that these indispensable
requisites for the health of the work-people are properly
attended to, and to denounce their neglect. They may also
be authorized to see that any peculiarly dangerous machine
is properly fenced off, and to denounce or abate whatever
can be fairly considered as a nuisance. But here, as in the
case of the labourer, non-interference should be the rule,
and interference the exception. The latter, indeed, is to
be tolerated only when there is clear and unquestionable
abuse.
Latterly it has been attempted to make factories consume
their own smoke; but though this may be an expedient
proceeding in the case of factories in towns or populous
neighbourhoods, it is otherwise with those in the country
or in thinly-peopled districts. There the smoke can do
little or no injury.
Various branches of manufacture have, at one time or Domestic
other, been wholly or partly carried on in the houses of the manufac-
work-people. This was formerly the case with the spin- tures-
ning and weaving of wool, flax, &c., and it still continues
to a considerable extent in the former department. These
domestic manufactures, as they have been called, were sup¬
posed to be peculiarly advantageous, from their enabling
the parties engaged in them to live in the country, away
from the physical and moral contagion of great towns,
and where they could now and then engage in the healthy
2 N
282
MANUFACTURES.
Manufac¬
tures.
labours of agriculture. But there was a good deal mwe
°f imagination ^ f ^ookonly XeTabourer;, the
WaLTof a«e may have been on their side. They
had we may take for granted, in the country good an-
and eood water; but at the same time their cottages have
generally been of the meanest description; their children,
who were made to assist their parents at the earliest pos-
Se moment, had seldom any opportunity of being edu¬
cated ; and the work-people themselves have most fre-
miently been idle and slovenly. The attempt to combine
the pursuits of husbandry with those of manufactures, or to
assign to those engaged in the latter small Port'ons ^dla ^
which they were to cultivate at extra hours, has had the
precise result that was to be anticipated; whether in Eng-
fand, Ireland, or elsewhere, it has proved to be a failure
and has been injurious alike to both departments. Before
spinning mills were so much as thought of, and the linen
trade of Ireland was wholly domestic, Arthur Young said,
“ If I had an estate in the south of Ireland, I would a
soon introduce pestilence and famine as the ^ “anufac-
ture upon it.” {Travels in Ireland, part n., p. 120, 4to
edition.) There cannot, in fact, be any materia improve¬
ment either in agriculture or manufactures till they are
separated and apportioned to entirely different sets of indi¬
viduals. A good ploughman cannot be also a good artizan.
Inferior workmen may engage indiscriminately indifferent
occupations; but to attain to excellence in any one ait 01
calling, it is indispensable that it should be the exclusive
business of those by whom it is carried on. And such
being the case, none need regret that the mixing up
agriculture and manufacturing employments has ceased to
be regarded as favourable, and is now generally abandoned.
Still however, certain varieties of what may be called
domestic manufactures, or manufactures carried on in sepa¬
rate establishments on a small scale, continue to ex st in a
few circumscribed localities. Thus, the spinning and weav¬
ing of woollen yarn and cloth by power not being so ex¬
tensively practised as in the cotton trade, the old hand-jenny
and the hind-loom are in pretty extensive use in the district
of which Leeds is the centre; and there, consequently
variety of domestic manufacture keeps its ground. li e
parties by whom it is carried on have generally hom two
lo S or more looms, anff employ, besides their own fami¬
lies more or fewer journeymen, according to the magnitude
ot ’tlmh business. Formerly they were in the habit of
can-vino- the wool in these little factories through all its
"tales till it arrived at the state of undressed cloth. But foi
a considerable time past the domestic and factory systems
have been so intermixed, that some of the processes m the
manufacture are performed at public mil s constructed for
that purpose, but the cloth is almost wholly dressed and
l>aCShouid tiuTspinning and weaving of wool by power come
to be perfected to the same degree as the spinning and
weaving of cotton, the domestic manufacture now referred
to will have to be abandoned; and this result is taking
place. The processes for the spinning of wool by machinery
are being perfected, and the number of Poyerdooms em¬
ployed in the weaving of wool has increased from -tHo in
1835 to 9439 in 1850, and 14,453 in 1856. _ The pre¬
sumption consequently is, that the factory system is destined
to become as preponderating in this as in other depart¬
ments. The period of transition will, of course, be longer
or shorter according to the progress of invention, the rate
of wages, &c.; but of the transition being effected in the
end, there can be no reasonable doubt.
Some departments of the hardware trade are also prose¬
cuted in cottages, but they are of little importance.
None but the simplest descriptions of machinery can be Manufac-
introduced into cottages or small establishmen s When-
ever, therefore, it is found that the work executed by their f
assistance may be executed more cheaply or better by
means of more powerful and complex machinery, the former
necessarily begin to be abandoned. And it is foitunate
that their Abandonment is attended by few or none of the
mischievous effects by which it was formerly supposed it
would be accompanied.
Perhaps it is hardly necessary seeing thatff manufac-
intended for the special use of Enghshmen, to sfate th tures in
these conclusions, how applicable soever to Bi t , Russiaj &c.
France the greater part of the United states, an
countries similarly situated, do not apply to countries with
a severe climate, or to such as are very thinly peopled. In
Russia, British America, Oregon, &c. the ordinary pu -
suits of agriculture can only be carried on for about five
or six months in the year, or perhaps less, so that the pea
sants, if they did not engage in other employments w
the land is covered with snow or bound by host, w°u
idle for more than half their time. Hence in such c m
tries the apportionment of employments to different ind
duals cannot be carried to anything like the extent to
which it may be carried in more temperate climates, and
the person who for one portion of the year is a larm
labourer, is during the other portion a wey«r’ a
a smith, a shoemaker, or something, or it may h-s/jel
things else. The peculiar situation of Russia make, t
system be practised to a very great extent in that empire.
The peasants are all artisans of one sort or »''« a
husbandmen, and hence the surprising facility with which
thev turn from one thing to another. . ... ,
/„ Russia, Hungary, Poland, and all n*m d
countries, the cottages of the peasantry are not distributed
over^the surface, as in Britain, but -e con«re«ate^ mto
hamlets or villages. And it is a curious fact that these \
ages, instead of being addicted to many generally confine
themselves to some one occupation, exchanging to *u
ulus products tor those of the adjoining villages at the tans
sofrequenf in those countries, or by the mtervention of
pedlars or agents travelling from place to Pla“- ^
therefore in Russia a greater subdivision of employmente
th-m midht perhaps have been expected, and the system
seems uTbe well calculated for the peculiar circumstances
under which the empire is placed.' In those provinces
under wmu t . , . f chattered over the surface,
where the population is thinly scattereu uvci
and the villages small and at great distances from each
other the division of employments becomes less perfect,
a*d the manufactures which are carried on from generation
to generation, usually with little change, are altogether pn-
mitive and domestic. i i inip
Hut though under such circumstances it would be id e
i.=2=y“:"!
canvas, mats, leather, &c., m , i ts would be best
important advantages. And her ical t j tation of
promoted by opening her p ,^ j foreigners have a
those articles in the pro action rfwluch fme ^ ^ ^
superiority, tor tins wou » rt 0f iier raw products,
the most natural ^Tr weal*, and to those
which are the ' Superiority is on her side.
,'as "ot been hitJ’ert0 the pdl,u
Unlucki y, t Spinning and weaving mills,
“SSedTthe pC M owed in England, have been
established MoscS and elsewhere in Russia. And a
su.tea.e.m, in regart to ra.nuf.etares valuable works of Haxtbausen and Tegoborski on Russia.
MANUFACTURES.
283
Locality
of manu-
great variety of factories have been set on foot by the nobles
in different parts of the empire, the labourers in which are
the slaves of the proprietors, employed for certain periods
under a sort of corvee or statute-labour system. But not¬
withstanding the wonderful aptitude of the Russian pea¬
santry to execute the tasks allotted to them, it is not to be
imagined that factories carried on by compulsory and re¬
luctant labour should prove successful; and, in point of
fact, the products made in them are at once bad and dear,
while the processes continue nearly stationary. And even
the best managed factories, or those which are carried on
by work-people, who are free on paying an obrok or tax to
their lords, could not support themselves were they not
protected by high duties on foreign fabrics. The home
demand for their productions is inconsiderable. The great
bulk of the population being supplied by domestic manu¬
factures, their only dependence must be placed on the
stinted demand of the upper classes resident in the few
great towns, and on the export trade. And little or no
stress can be laid on the latter; for, with the exception of
some inconsiderable outlets along her Asiatic frontier, the
chances are ten to one that the foreign markets are already
supplied with cheaper and better articles.
IV. LOCALITY OF MANUFACTURES.
The locality of manufactures depends principally on phy¬
sical causes, but partly, also, on accidental circumstances,
factures. ^mong t|ie fovmer may be mentioned facility of command¬
ing power in the shape of waterfalls or steam ; proximity to
the raw material, as in the case of the iron manufacture; and
to the demand, as in the case of cabinetmaking, brewing,
and other businesses carried on in great cities ; and so forth.
Produc- During the first half of last century, when the iron trade of
tionof iron. England was of very trifling dimensions, it was partly carried
on in Kent, Surrey, and Sussex,1 not so much on account of
the abundance of the ore in these counties, as of the fur¬
naces being readily supplied with fuel from their numerous
woods and copses. And notwithstanding the repeated inter¬
ference of the legislature in their behalf, the woods referred
to, as well as those in other parts of the kingdom, were so
much exhausted in 1740-50, when the make of iron did
not exceed from 17,000 to 18,000 tons a-year, that had not
other means been discovered of smelting the ores, the busi¬
ness must have been strangled in its cradle. This contin¬
gency had, indeed, been long obvious; and in the latter
part of the reign of Elizabeth, and the early part of that of
James I., efforts were made, partly in the view of preventing
the destruction of timber, and partly of turning small coal
(which was reckoned of no value) to account, to employ
the latter in the making of iron. And these efforts were
so far successful, that in 1621 Lord Dudley took out a
patent for the manufacture of iron by means of pit-coal, he
being able to produce by his process about three' tons of
iron a week! But though his lordship’s patent was ex¬
pressly excepted from the act of 1624 (21 Jac. i., c. 3) for
the abolition of monopolies, his works were destroyed by an
ignorant rabble, and he was well nigh ruined by his efforts
to improve and perfect an invention which has since proved
to be of such transcendent utility.2 It appears, in conse¬
quence, to have been for a lengthened period almost en¬
tirely forgotten, and in 1740 or thereabouts it was only
introduced into a single work in Coalbrookdale. But since
that epoch, or rather since 1760 or 1770, when it was
brought into general use, the manufacture has steadily in¬
creased; and oflate years its progress has been so very ex¬
traordinary, that the make, which amounted in 1830 to Manufac-
about 678,000 tons, amounted in 1855 to no fewer than ^ tures- ^
about 3,325,000 tons ! At this moment the produce of iron
in Great Britain is supposed to be about equal to the produce
of all other countries, including the United States. In the
latter the annual make may at present (1857) amount to
about 850,000 or 900,000 tons.
We may mention, in farther illustration of the extension
of the iron trade, that, exclusive of the vast additional
quantities consumed at home, the real value of the exports
of iron and steel, wrought and unwrought, has increased as
follows, viz.:—
1842 L.2,457,717
1845  3,501,895
1850...  5,350,056
1854  L.11,674,675
1855   9,472,886
1856   12,986,674
Next to Lord Dudley’s invention, the progress of the iron
manufacture has been principally owing to the improve¬
ment of the steam-engine, the invention of the process of
puddling, and the introduction of the hot blast.
It is needless, perhaps, to add, that the works in Kent
and Surrey have been long abandoned, and that iron is
now produced exclusively in those districts in which coal
as well as iron ore is most plentiful.
The vast increase in the production of iron has been
mainly occasioned by its greater cheapness, which ha,s en¬
abled it to be applied to a great many purposes to which it
would be quite unsuitable were it much more expensive.
But it is said, that this greater cheapness has led to a de¬
terioration of the quality of iron, as well as to the increase
of its supply. And such, we believe, is the case. It is not
clear on what the superiority of some descriptions of foreign
iron depends, whether it be the preferable quality of the
ore, the use of wood as fuel, the slower processes generally
followed, and the greater care taken in the manufacture.
But whatever the causes may be, the fact of a superior
article being produced is unquestionable. It is material,
however, to bear in mind that the better article costs a pro¬
portionally higher price; and as an inferior and cheaper
article such as is generally made in Great Britain, suits
the great majority of purposes quite as well as the other,
our manufacturers have done wisely in adapting their
supply to the general demand. When superior iron is re¬
quired, it can be produced on its price being paid, or it can
be imported. Like any other description of produce,. it
may be had of all qualities and at all rates. But its
manufacture in England would never have attained to any¬
thing like its present value and importance, had not cheap¬
ness, rather than excellence, been the grand object of our
producers.
Seeing that an abundant supply of iron at a moderate Restric-
price is indispensable to success in the arts, it might have tions on
been expected that those countries anxious to attain to emi-
nence in manufactures, would not fail to adopt every means
that might tend to lessen its price and increase its supply;
and we incline to think that if bounties on importation were
ever justifiable, it would be in the case of iron. But, by a
singular inconsistency, the reverse of this usually takes place;
and nothing is more common than for states to impose high
duties on iron brought from abroad, or to prohibit its im¬
portation, at the very moment that they are labouring to
bolster up manufactures. It is needless to dwell on the
contradictory nature of such a policy; which, however,
is that of France, Russia, and most other countries. Owing
to the scarcity of coal, and other circumstances, their
producers cannot furnish iron except at a comparatively
high price; and to encourage them to persevere in a
1 The railings round St Paul’s Cathedral were cast in Sussex. _
2 The Metallum Martis of Dud Dudley, Lord Dudley’s son, in which an account is given of the circumstances connected with his lord-
ship’s invention and the patent, was published in 1665. Having become very scarce, it has recently been reprinted, with some addi¬
tional matter illustrative of the early history of the trade.
284
M A N U F A C T U E E S.
Manufac- disadvantageous business, government lays heavy duties on
tures. foreign iron ; or, in other words, does all that it can to raise
^ the price and deteriorate the quality of the instruments and
machines principally employed in industrious undertak¬
ings! It is said by "M. Tegoborski, that owing to the re¬
straints on its importation, the scarcity and high price of
iron in Russia are such that the horses of the peasantry
are seldom shod, and that their ploughs, harrows, and other
agricultural implements are made wholly of wood. Where-
ever afelo de se policy of this sort is adopted, it would be
idle to expect that industry should make any progress.
Our ascendancy in manufactures will not be in much peril
so long as it is generally acted upon.
Mills When Sir Richard Arkwright’s inventions began to be
commonly applied to the spinning of cotton, spinning-mills were most
situated in frequently erected in situations which had a considerable
command of water-power, though in other respects they
might be far from convenient. But the discoveries of
Watt relieved the cotton-spinners from the necessity of
seeking power at the sacrifice of other advantages. And
while the steam-engine enabled them to command an un¬
varying amount of power (which was seldom the case with
water), it also enabled them to build their mills in towns
and other localities where labour and other things could be
procured with the greatest advantage.
The extensive employment of steam in the greater num¬
ber of factories is the reason that they are now mostly
found in districts where coal is abundant. Owing, how¬
ever, to the greater economy in the use of coal, one ton of
which is now made to furnish as much power as 2^ or
3 tons did some years ago, and the facilities afforded for
its conveyance by means of railways and steam navigation,
businesses established in districts where it is wanting, may,
from the better training of the work-people, and the pos¬
session of the market, be able to maintain for a lengthened
period their former ascendency. But the greater cost of
coal or power, or an inconvenient situation, is still, notwith¬
standing all that has been done to lessen it, a considerable
and perpetually operating disadvantage. And the desire to
escape from its influence seldom fails in the end to tempt
some of those who are newly entering into the trade to
establish factories where the motive power may be had at
less cost. And when the example has once been set, and
a population familiar with the business got together in the
new locality, it will most likely be wholly transferred thither,
unless, as may very possibly happen, the advantages on its
side should be otherwise neutralized.
the Kentish iron-works, have been in the end abandoned. Manufac-
But having the good fortune to possess, in addition to early tures.
and peculiar skill in their respective trades, all the means
and appliances required to secure their further advance¬
ment, their progress has been continuous and extraordinary,
and their supremacy is at present more undisputed than at
any former period.
Manchester is said, in Leland’s Itinerary, written in the
reign of Henry V III., to be “ the fairest, best builded,
quickest, and most populous town of Lancashire ” {Itin. v.,
p. 94, edit. 1769). But Leland says nothing of manufac¬
tures ; and we are indebted for the earliest notice of the
cotton trade of Manchester to a tract by Lewis Roberts,
published in 1641, in which he says that “the inhabitants
buy cotton wool in London, which comes from Cyprus and
Smyrna, which they work up into fustians, vermillions,
dimities, and other stuffes.” 1 But it is to be observed that
the wool only of these fabrics consisted of cotton, the warp
being then, and long after, formed wholly of linen yarn,
which was partly brought from Ireland; and that the impor¬
tations of cotton yarn and raw cotton were then, and down
to a comparatively late period, quite inconsiderable. Such
was the late and feeble beginning of that manufacture which
an unprecedented combination of discoveries here and
abroad has since so prodigiously increased.
The superiority of Birmingham in the manufacture of
cutlery and hardware was as conspicuous in the days of
Henry VIII. as at present. Leland says,—“ There be many
smithes in the towne that use to make knives and all man¬
ner of cutting tools, and many loriners that make bittes, and
a great many naylors; soe that a great part of the towne
is maintained by smithes whoe have their iron and sea cole
out of Staffordshire.” {Itin., vol. iv., part ii., p. 114.)
Sheffield has been long famous for its cutlery. Chaucer
says of the miller of Trumpington,—“ A Sheffield whittle
bare he in his hose” {Millar's Tale, 1. 3930). Leeds and
Bradford are both referred to as manufacturing towns by
Leland and Camden.
The growth of the linen manufacture in Belfast and Linen ma-
Dundee, both of which are destitute of water-power and offu^ct“re
coal, may appear perhaps to militate against the previous
statements; but when rightly considered, this will not be dee>
found to be the case.
The spinning and weaving of flax was established in the
farm-houses and cottages of Ulster by settlers from Scot¬
land, in the reign of James I., and it was improved by re¬
fugees expelled from France after the revocation of the Edict
of Nantes. This domestic manufacture, which has been
Influenceof But though command of power and readiness of access
accidental foe powerful requisites to the success of most manufactures,
circum- ■’ ' i t.' • i • i  v— i :   
stances in
determin¬
ing the
tares.
the theme of much undeserved eulogy, was perpetuated,
down to a recent period, by the continued subdivision of the
theTocalVties in which peculiar businesses are established land; the parcels occupied by families not being sufficient
would seem to depend as much on accident as on any- to afford them employment. While this system prevailed,
it was customary for agents from Belfast and other towns to
visit the country fairs and markets to buy up the raw or
brown webs, which were mostly conveyed to the former,
where, after being bleached, lapped, finished, and packed,
they were exported partly to Britain and partly to foreign
parts. In this way Belfast became the principal seat of
the linen trade of Ulster, and its merchants were rendered
familiar not only with the various details ot the home trade,
but also with the various circumstances affecting the supply
and demand for linens in the countries to which they were
thing else. Why, for example, should Manchester be the
locality of great seat of the cotton, Birmingham of the hardware,
manufac- Bradford of the worsted, and Leeds of the cloth trade?
We apprehend that no better answer can be given to this
question than that, from accidental or inappreciable circum¬
stances, the businesses referred to happened to be early
established in these towns, and that their situation having
been found to be peculiarly well fitted for the improved
processes of later times, they have preserved their early
superiority. Had they been situated in districts without
coal, or comparatively inaccessible, their early proficiency,
though it might have enabled them to struggle for a while
exported.
Matters went on in Ulster nearly in the way now stated
with the greater advantages enjoyed by their competitors till between 1825 and 1830. In the meantime, however,
in other districts, would not have been sufficient to secure the machinery that had been first applied to the spinning
their continued lead, or even existence. They must, like of cotton began to be applied to the spinning of flax; and
1 “ Treasure of Traffic,” p. 73, in Select Tracts on Commerce, reprinted for the Political Economy Club in 1856.
M A N U F A
Manafac- after this had been effected, some enterprising parties, among
tures. whom the Messrs Mullholland were the first, constructed
^ flax-mills in Belfast, with the view of supplying the cottage
weavers with yarn. The speculation proved eminently suc¬
cessful. Precisely the same causes that had given the first
great stimulus to mill-spinning in Lancashire and other parts
of England were in operation in Ulster. The processes of
spinning and weaving were most frequently carried on to¬
gether in the same cottages; but the families of the wea¬
vers being unable to furnish them with sufficient quantities
of yarn, the latter were in the habit of collecting additional
supplies from spinners and others not attached to looms.
A good deal of the weavers’ time was thus frittered away;
and being frequently idle, or only half-employed, they were
apt to contract bad habits. Under these circumstances
we need not be surprised to learn, that no sooner had the
mill-spun yarn come into the market, than it was eagerly
sought after by the weavers and their employers ; and be¬
ing cheaper than that spun by the common hand-wheel,
and the supply regular and abundant, the latter was in no
very lengthened period entirely thrown aside. Many of
the families who had previously been engaged in spinning
emigrated to Belfast, where they found employment in the
flax-mills that were multiplied on all sides; while the
greater number of those who continued in the country are
now employed in the embroidery of muslins, which are sent
in vast quantities to be sewed in Ulster, from Glasgow, the
grand seat of the muslin trade.
The excellence of the bleaching in the country conti¬
guous to Belfast is one of those circumstances to which
the progress and present prosperity of its manufacture is
in no inconsiderable degree to be ascribed. Whether it
be occasioned by some peculiarity of the water, the humi¬
dity of the atmosphere, or the mildness of the winter, is
unknown. But of the pre-eminence of Ulster in this art
there can be no question. So much is this the case, that
English power-loom fabrics and Belgian brown webs are
regularly sent to Ulster to be bleached.
Such seem to be the main features in the progress of
the linen trade of Belfast. Its situation made it the natural
emporium of the business, and it had attained to eminence
as such before the command of natural power was supposed
to be of much consequence. Now, however, this is found
to be of primary importance. And as coals for the mills
must be brought from Ayrshire and Cumberland, and the
machinery used in them from Manchester, these circum¬
stances operate as a serious drawback on Belfast, and it
remains to be seen whether she will be able permanently to
maintain her present ascendancy. The superiority of her
bleaching grounds, the skill of her work-people, who are
familiar with all the details of the business, and the greater
cheapness of their labour, have all helped to turn the balance
in her favour. But the latter circumstance was a good
deal more decided a few years since than at present; and
despite its influence, the cotton-mills which were constructed
previously to the flax-mills have had to be given up. It is
probable, too, that the progressive employment of power-
looms in the weaving of linen, into which they are already
very extensively introduced, may eventually operate to the
prejudice of Belfast. But in a case of this sort, where so
many unforeseen contingencies may arise, little stress can
be safely laid on any conclusions as to the precise results
that may be expected to take place at some future period.
It is plain, however, that in the present state of manufac¬
turing industry, the disadvantages that attach to Belfast and
other places similarly situated, are of a rather formidable
description. They may no doubt be fully countervailed by
C T U R E S. 285
peculiar advantages; but if not, they can hardly fail in the Manufac-
long run to sap the foundations of their prosperity.1 ^ tures^ ^
Most part of the statements now made with respect
to the linen trade of Belfast apply with but little altera¬
tion to that of Dundee. At an early period the manufac¬
ture of coarse linens for home use and for exportation was
carried on in the towns of Dundee, Arbroath, Montrose,
&c., and in the villages and hamlets of the adjacent
districts. Some portion of the raw material was raised at
home, but by far the greater portion was imported from
abroad, especially from Russia. Dundee early took the
lead in this business, and became the principal centre of the
trade. For a lengthened period the manufacture was
bolstered up by means of bounties and prohibitions. But
notwithstanding their assistance, it made but a slow progress
till after mills for the spinning of the yarn were introduced.
Since, then, however, its advance, despite the repeal of the
bounty, has been quite extraordinary, and it is at present in
a prosperous condition.
In the case of Dundee, as in that of Belfast, early ac¬
quaintance with the trade, a convenient situation for the
exportation of the manufactured goods and the impor¬
tation of the raw material, and a good harbour, gave her
advantages of which her citizens have availed themselves
with an energy and enterprise which have seldom if ever
been surpassed. Still, however, the want of water-power
and of a supply of native coal are considerable impediments
to the progress of the manufacture; and the fair presump¬
tion would seem to be, that in the end they must have the
same influence here which we have seen they may be ex¬
pected to have in Belfast. It may, perhaps, be worth while
to add, in corroboration of this view of the matter, that the
manufacture of cottons, which was also attempted here as
well as in Belfast, has long ceased to exist.
We subjoin some statements illustrative of the extent,
progress, and location of the factories for the production of
textile fabrics.—{See Table on next page.)
Of the 2046 cotton factories in England and Wales in Cotton.
1856, no fewer than 1480 were situated in Lancashire ;
Manchester being the metropolis of the trade. The re¬
maining factories were principally situated in the West
Riding of Yorkshire, Cheshire, and Derbyshire.
The cotton trade of Scotland is mostly restricted to the
counties of Lanark and Renfrew, and that of Ireland (which
is inconsiderable) to Antrim. But while the business has
of late years been very greatly extended in England, it has
been nearly stationary in Scotland, and has fallen off in
Ireland.
The embroidery of muslins, a branch of the cotton trade Embroi-
which is highly deserving of attention, was commenced in dery of
Scotland about 1825, and is almost wholly carried on by muslins.
Glasgow houses. It is now of first-rate importance, its
increase not having been surpassed by that of any other
branch of industry, and equalled by very few. At present
(1857) one Glasgow house employs in its central establish¬
ment in that city no fewer than 500 men and 1500 women,
besides employing from 20,000 to 30,000 females, partly
in Ayrshire and other parts of Scotland, but principally in
Ireland! In all, above fifty houses are engaged in the
trade; and the total sum paid as wages to females in the
western parts of Scotland, and in Ireland, is believed to
amount to L. < 50,000 a-year. The embroidery is entirely
executed by hand, the attempts to execute it by machinery
having failed, or been found to be too expensive. The
1 We have been greatly indebted in compiling these remarks to a very valuable paper on this subject communicated to us by Sir James
E. Tennent. J
286
MANUFACTURES.
j / /• Kumher of Factories for Spinning and Weaving Cotton, Sheep's Wool, Worsted, Flax, and Manufac-
“C' AUt7mZteUn£lm^m!in 1856; sLiJg also L Number of Spindles and Pover-Looms and ofthelndi- Jure,
victuals {classified according to their sexes and ages) employed in the same—(From the 1 arhamentary Papei,
No. 7, Sess. 1857.
Description of
Factories.
Cotton Factories.
England and Wales,...
Scotland,  
Ireland, 
Total,.
No. of
Fac¬
tories.
2046
152
12
2210
No. of
Spindles.
25,818,576
2,041,139
150,502
28,010,217
No. of
Power
Looms.
275,590
21,624
1,633
Amount of
Moving Power.
Steam. Water.
79,836
7,641
524
298,847 88,001
6551
2330
250
9131
No. of Children
under 13 Years
of Age.
14,024
339
14,363
9,911
374
10,285
No. of
Males
between
13 and 18
Years of
Age.
36,421
2,096
424
38,941
No. of
Females
above 13
Years of
Age.
182,905
26,715
2,122
211,742
No. of
Males
above 18
Years of
Age.
97,909
5,174
799
103,882
Total Numbers Employed.
148,354
7,609
1,223
157,186
F. M. & F
192,816
27,089
2,122
222,027
341,170
34,698
3,345
379,213
Woollen Factories.
England and Wales, 
Scotland,  
Ireland, 
Total,.
1282
196
27
1505
1,499,949
272,225
14,798
1,786,972
13,726
665
62
14,453
16,265
1,197
28
17,490
6261
1746
404
8411
3,742
31
1
3,774
Worsted Factories.
England and Wales,.. ..
Scotland,   
Ireland, 
Total,.
511
8
6
525
1,298,326
21,137
5,086
1,324,549
38,819
135
2
38,956
13,180
290
3
13,473
1301
34
96
1431
4,828
4,828
2,914
15
2,929
9,828
1,232
74
11,134
25,918
4,323
338
30,579
26,728
3,679
268
30,675
6,398
2
6,400
7,061
41
14
7,116
50,540
656
175
51,371
17,863
196
20
40,298
4,942
343
45,583
28,832
4,338
338
33,508
29,752
237
34
18,079 30,023
56,938
658
175
57,771
69,130
9,280
681
79,091
86,695
890
87,794
Flax Factories.
England and Wales,..
Scotland,  
Ireland, 
Total,.
139
168
110
417
441,759
278,304
567,980
1,288,043
1,987
4,011
1,691
7,689
3,639
5,529
5,219
14,387
1005
817
2113
3935
683
118
52
584
308
61
853 953
1,932
3,174
3,844
8,950
13,037
23,083
19,743
55,863
3.551
5,039
5,053
13,643
6,166
8,331
8,949
23,446
13,621
23,391
19,804
56,816
19,787
31,722
28,753
80,262
Silk Factories.
England,  
Scotland,  
Ireland,  
Total,.
454
6
460
1,063,555
30,244
1,093,799
9,260
9,260
4,238
122
4,360
Under
11 Years
of Age.
816
816
Number of Children.
Between 11
& 13 Years
of Age in
Silk-Throw¬
ing Mills.
719 9664946 4295
1 7 153
719 967 19534448
4,069
37
4,106
33,300
523
33,823
10,005
116
10,121
16,739
160
16,899
38,561
677
39,238
55,300
837
56,137
GENERAL SUMMARY.
Total Numbeb. of
Factories.
England and Wales,
Scotland, 
Ireland,   
Total of United King¬
dom, 
No. of
Fac¬
tories.
4432
530
155
5117
No. of
Spindles.
30,122,165
2,643,049
738,366
33,503,580
No. of
Power
Looms.
339,382
26,435
3,388
369,205
Amount of
Moving Power.
Children
under 13 Years
of age attend¬
ing School.
Steam.
Water.
117,158
14,779
5,774
137,711
15,934
4,927
2,863
23,724
M.
23,996
488
53
24,537
20,773
700
61
Number of
Children be¬
tween 11 & 13
Years of Age
in Silk-Throw¬
ing Mills.
M.
1946
7
21,534
1953
4295
153
No. of
Males
be¬
tween
13 & 18
Years
of Age,
No. of
Females
above
13 Years
of Age.
59,311
6,580
4,356
4448 70,247
No. of
Males
above
18 Years
of Age.
Total Numbers
Employed.
305,7001156,056
55,300 14,204
22,378 6,140
383,378 176,400
M.
241,309
21,279
10,549
273,137
330,768
56,153
22,439
M. & F.
572,077
77,432
32,988
409,360 682,497
webs to be embroidered pass between engraved cylinders,
driven by steam-engines, which mark in faint lines the
embroidery to be executed, and they are then sent to
agents, who distribute them among the peasantry, who are
paid by the piece, or job. It is not easy to exaggerate the
advantages resulting to the female part of the population
from this employment. After being embroidered, the webs
are returned to Glasgow, where they are bleached and
dressed, and sometimes made up into different articles. A
large proportion of the goods are exported to the United
States and Canada.1
The value of the exports of all sorts of cotton goods and
yarn in the undermentioned years has been as follows,
viz.
1842.
Cotton goods, L.13,907,884
Yarn :... 7,771,464
1850.
L.21,873,697
6,383,704
1856.
L.30,219,099
8,065,671
The subjoined table, taken from the carefully-compiled
and comprehensive statement of Messrs Holt and Company
of Liverpool, dated 31st December 1856, shows in a very
striking manner the progress and principal circumstances
connected with the cotton manufacture since 1816
1 We are indebted for most part of this information to our learned and excellent friend, Dr Strang, chamberlain of G1 g
MANUFACTURES.
Statement of the Imports into, the Exports from, and of the Consumption, Prices, fc., of Cotton Wool in, Great
Britain, in different Years, from 1816 to 1856, both inclusive.
Average Weekly Con¬
sumption.
Upland  
Orleans and Alabama...
Sea Island 
Total United States
Brazil 
Egypt 
East Indies 
Demerara, West India,
&c 
1816.
Total 
Packages annually con¬
sumed 
Aver, weight of pack¬
ages consumed in lbs.
Weekly consumption
in packages, average
408 lbs 
Average weight of
packages imported,
in lbs 
Packages exported..,
Lbs. weight annually
imported in millions
and tenths 
Lbs. weight consumed
ditto 
Lbs. weight in ports
31st December, ditto
Lbs. weight in Great
Britain, ditto 
Average price per lb.
of Uplands in Liver¬
pool  
Ditto, ditto, Pernams
Ditto, ditto, Surats
990
1820.
4,036
1,589
207
656
6,488
337,400
263
5,603
256
29,300
939
88-7
19-2
18£d.
26(1
15lcl
2,918
1,192
409
4,519
2,408
1,518
534
8,979
466,900
258
7,786
249
23,400
143‘9
120-3
110-5
127-0
lljd
15irf.
8K
5,452
4,756
460
10,668
3,602
508
940
284
1835.
5,896
7,823
354
16,002
832,100
298
13,636
300
33,400
261-2
247-6
91-4
118-8
6-9cL
8£(L
5c£.
14,073
2,339
446
1,069
421
18,318
954,100
333
15,327
331
102,800
561-7
318-1
73-3
89-6
lOK
14-lcL
7K
1840.
5,346
13,854
392
19,592
1,444
540
2,227
260
1845.
7,243
17,169
392
24,063
1,251,300
367
21,643
365
119,700
583-4
458-9
162-9
207-0
6d.
9$d.
4£<2.
24,804
2,192
1,062
1,888
331
30,277
1,574,400
385
28,571
386
122,800
716-3
606-6
400-8
453-5
4£cL
6§cL
3d.
1850.
4,450
15,788
529
20,767
3,310
1,542
3,385
121
29,125
1,514,500
388
27,697
392
271,800
685-6
588-2
194-1
231-6
7$d.
7ld.
bid.
5,731
23,452
427
29,610
1,925
2,100
3,996
198
37,829
1,967,100
394
36,531
408
316,600
886-6
776-1
329-6
271-2
5£c£.
7d.
3K
7,809
21,919
550
30,278
2,198
2,359
5,383
185
40,403
2,101,000
399
39,512
396
316,900
901-1
839-1
177-4
208-9
bid.
7d.
3id.
1856.
5,681
24,948
662
31,291
2,798
2,457
5,181
260
41,987
2,183,300
408
41,987
414
358,700
1021-
891-4
130-
196-2
6d.
7}d.
Hd.
N.B.—Messrs Holt and Co. estimate the average weight of the packages imported in 1856 at 423 lbs. per bag Upland ; 454 lbs. Orleans
and Alabama; 330 lbs. Sea Island; 181 lbs. Brazil; 308 lbs. Egyptian; 385 lbs. East Indian; and 175 lbs. West Indian.
Wool.
Worsted.
Of the 1282 woollen factories in England and Wales,
807, or nearly two-thirds of the whole, belong to York¬
shire. The trade has for some years past been increasing
very rapidly in the West Riding, while it has been declining
in most other parts of the kingdom.
The worsted manufacture, which has latterly been very
greatly increased, is principally concentrated in Yorkshire,
Bradford being its centre. Recently, however, a consider¬
able number of worsted factories have been constructed
in Worcester.
We borrow from the report of the jury on woollen and
worsted manufactures in the Great Exhibition of 1851, the
following details illustrative of the progress of the trade
in Bradford:—“ The first factory in Bradford was built in
1795; but it was not until thirty years afterwards that the
power-loom was introduced, and considerably later before
its use became general. From the year 1825 the worsted
manufacture has made most rapid and unprecedented pro¬
gress. Up to that period, and for some years afterwards,
all the goods were made from wool alone; but about the
year 1834 manufactures of worsted weft and cotton warp
were first brought forward, and gave a great impetus to the
trade. This was still further increased by the introduction
in 1836 of the wool of the alpaca, an animal of the llama
tribe, inhabiting the mountain ranges of Peru. Considerable
difficulties were at first experienced in the working of this
material; but they were ultimately overcome, and the alpaca
manufacture now ranks as a very important branch of the
worsted trade. About the same time, or shortly afterwards,
mohair, or goat’s wool, from Asia Minor, was brought into
general use in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and many
beautiful fabrics were produced from it. Silk also, in com¬
bination with wool, alpaca, and mohair, has been largely
used. Improved machinery has been devised; more rapid
processes of manufacture adopted; and the results of all
these improvements, and the introduction of these new
materials have been—the opening of new branches of in¬
dustry, the quadrupling within thirty years of the number ot
work-people employed, and the production of an immense
variety of fabrics for the purposes of clothing and furniture.
“ The rapid progress of the trade may be illustrated by
a reference to the town of Bradford, which is the centre
of the manufacture, and the great market where its pro¬
ductions are disposed of. The population of the borough
has increased in the following ratio, viz.:—
In 1801 it was    13,264
„ 1821 „   26,309
„ 1841 „   66,718
„ 1851 „  103,782
“ At the beginning of the present century there were only
three mills in Bradford; there are now (1851) upwards of
160.
“ The following returns show the extent of its present
manufacturing operations. They comprise the parish of
Bradford and the village of Bingley :—
Number of spindles  355,792
Number of power-looms  17,294
Moving power, steam (horse-power)  3,884
Do. water do.   134
Children employed under 13 years of age,—Males 1,469
Oo. do. Females 1,729
.
288
Manufac¬
tures.
Flax.
Silk.
MANUFACTURES. v
Males from 13 to 18 
Do. above 18 
Females above 13  
Total persons employed—Males .
Females,
3,426
5,951
21,280
10,846
23,009
Total 33,855”
And since 1851 the progress of the manufacture has
been quite as rapid as previously.
On the whole, it appears that the total number of per¬
sons employed in the worsted factories in Bradford had in¬
creased in the interval between 1835 and 1854 no less than
384 per cent.1 It is worthy of notice, too, that the demand
for adult labour has been proportionally greater than for
juvenile labour, that is, for hands under eighteen years of
age. This result is believed to be owing partly to adults
being exempted from the statutory regulations in regard
to factory labour, and partly to the more extensive use of
highly improved machinery.
Yorkshire is also the principal seat of the English flax
trade; but the business has been for several years in a
backward state in England. At present (1857) it is more
vigorously prosecuted in the parts of Ireland adjacent to
Belfast than anywhere else in the United Kingdom.
Since 1850 the manufacture of silk has increased more
rapidly than that of any other textile fabric. It belongs
almost wholly to England, and principally to the counties
of Chester, Derby, and Lancaster.
The great improvement and extension of this manufac¬
ture of late years is particularly deserving of attention,
inasmuch as it affords a very striking illustration of the
advantages of competition. Previously to 1826 the im¬
portation of foreign silk goods was prohibited, and an
enormously high duty was laid on foreign thrown silk.
The consequences were such as might have been antici¬
pated. The manufacturers and throwsters, trusting to the
protection thus unwisely given to them, made no effort at
improvement, and instead of taking the lead, like their
neighbours, in most other businesses, they were far behind
their foreign rivals. In consequence, the manufacture was
limited in the extreme; the parties engaged in it were
every now and then subjected to the severest vicissitudes;
and the smuggling of foreign silks, despite all that could
be done to prevent it, became a flourishing business. At
length, in 1826, Mr Huskisson, struck with the evils of
this state of things, determined to abate them by introdu¬
cing an entirely new system, that is, by allowing foreign
silks to be imported at a duty of 30 per cent, ad valorem,
and reducing at the same time the duties on raw and thrown
silk. And notwithstanding the many confident predictions Manufac-
to the contrary, the trade has since continued progressively tures.
to extend itself on all sides. The manufacturers, seeing
they could no longer depend for support on custom-house
regulations, became aware of the necessity of exertion ;
old and worn-out machinery was replaced by the newest
and most improved; processes were simplified and per¬
fected ; and it is admitted on all hands that the manufac¬
ture made greater advances between 1826 and 1840 than
it had done in the course of the previous century.
In 1845 Sir Robert Peel reduced the 30 per cent, ad
valorem duty on foreign silks when imported to 15 per
cent.; and while this wise and liberal measure went far to
suppress the smuggling that previously prevailed, it gave a
new stimulus to the invention and ingenuity of the manu¬
facturers. The business has in consequence been very
largely extended ; so much so, that the value of the exports
of silk goods, which in 1842 amounted to only L.590,189,
had increased in 1856 to L.2,966,938,—a memorable and
signal example of the powerful and beneficial influence of
that free commercial policy which Sir Robert Peel did so
much to introduce.
Exclusive of the return of factories, &c., previously re¬
ferred to, similar returns were obtained in 1835, 1838, and
1850. The following comparative statements deduced from
these returns show the progress of the factory system in so
far as it applies to textile fabrics since 1838:—
Number of Factories in the United Kingdom in 1838, 1850,
and 1856, exhibiting their Increase per cent, from 1838
to 1856.2
Description.
Factories in
1838.
1850.
1856.
Per cent,
increase from
1838 to 1856.
Cotton Factories
Woollen „
Worsted „
Flax 
Silk 
1819
1322
416
392
268
1932
1497
501
393
277
2210
1505
525
417
460
21-495327
13-842662
26-201923
6-377551
71-641791
Total
4217
4600
5117
21-342186
jV;B. A return was obtained of the number of factories in 1835,
but being evidently incomplete, no good purpose would be served
Inasmuch, however, as the size and efficiency of factories
has been greatly increased since 1838, the mere increase
of their number affords no just criterion of their increased
capacity of production. This will be evident from the fol¬
lowing returns:—
Account of the Horse Power, distinguishing between Steam and Water, employed in theFactoriesof the United King
dom in 1838, 1850, and 1856, with their increase per cent, from 1838 to l»ob. 
Material.
Cotton...
Woollen.
Worsted.
Flax  
Silk 
Horse Power in
1838.
46,826
11,525
5,863
7,412
2,457
75,083
12,977
9,092
1,313
3,677
927
27,926
59,803
20,617
7,176
11,089
3,384
102,069
71,005
13,455
9,890
10,905
2,858
108,113
1850.
11,550
8,689
1,625
3,387
853
26,104
Total.
82,555
22,144
11,515
14,292
3,711
134,217
88,001
17,490
13,473
14,387
4,360
137,711
9,131
8,411
1,431
3,935
816
23,724
Total.
97,132
25,901
14,904
18,322
5,176
161,435
Per cent,
increase from
1838 to 1856.
62-419455
25-629335
107-692307
65-226801
52-955082
58-162615
1 Report of Mr Redgrave, factory inspector, October 1854. .
* These returns are taken from the Report of the inspectors of factories for the half year ending 31st October 1856, but we have an
the column of per centages.
MANUFACTURES.
289
Manufac- Account of the Total Number of Persons employed in the
v ture9- J Factories of the United Kingdom in 1835, 1838, 1850,
^ and 1856, with their Increase per cent, from 1838 to
1856.
Fabric.
Cotton ..
Woollen,
Worsted,
Flax 
Silk 
Total...
Hands employed in
1835.
219,386
55,461
15,880
33,212
30,745
354,684
1838.
259,104
54,808
31.628
43,557
34,303
423,400
330,924
74,443
79,737
68,434
42,544
596,082
379,213
79,091
87,794
80,262
56,137
682,497
Per cent,
increase from
1838 to 1856.
46-355517
44-305575
177-583154
84-268889
63-650409
61-194378
Bringing these proportions together, we have the fol¬
lowing
Account, exhibiting the Increase per cent, in the Number of
Factories in the United Kingdom, and in the Amount of
the Power used and the Number of Hands employed in
them, from 1838 to 1856.
Fabric.
Increase per cent. 1838 to 1856.
Factories.
Cotton ...
Woollen.
Worsted.
Flax 
Silk  
21-495327
13-842662
26-201923
6-377551
71-641791
Power.
62-419945
25-629335
107-692307
65-226801
52-955082
Hands.
46-355517
44-305575
177-583154
84-268889
63-650409
In 1850.
Cotton 14,000
Worsted  2,200
Flax   2,700
These accounts set the increasing size and efficiency of
factories in the clearest light, and strikingly illustrate the
statements already made in regard to their tendency to
increase. Notwithstanding the apparent contradictory
nature of the allegation, the truth is, that the factory
system may in reality be increasing when the number of
factories is diminishing. Thus in Scotland the number of
cotton factories fell off from 192 in 1838 to 152 in 1856,
while the horse-power employed in them rose during the
same interval from 8340 to 9971.
At an average of the United Kingdom, the number of
spindles in a factory was,—
In 1856.
17,000
3,400
3,700
The average number of spindles kept in motion per
horse power was—
In 1850. In 1856.
In cotton factories  275 315
Worsted  86 102
In woollen and flax factories the proportions were nearly
the same.
Weaving factories have been supposed to form an excep¬
tion to the tendency to the concentration of the business
in large establishments. But this result is apparent only,
and is occasioned by the extensive introduction of power-
looms into the worsted, flax, and silk trades, the factories
for which are not upon so extensive a scale as those for
cotton-weaving, to which they were first applied.
Regula. It is perhaps hardly necessary to advert to the regulations
tions in intended to secure the quality of manufactured goods that
regard to were formerly so very general. These are now almost
ofem<luaIit:y everywhere abolished ; and it appears to be generally con-
factured" c.e^et^ t^at this, as in most other things, the free compe-
goods. tition of the producers is the only principle on which any
reliance can ordinarily be placed for securing superiority of
fabric, as well as cheapness. Wherever industry is eman¬
cipated from all sorts of restraints, those who carry it on
VOL. XIV.
endeavour, by lessening the cost or improving the fabric of Manufac-
their goods, or both, to extend their business; and the tures.
intercourse that subsists among the different classes of
society is so very intimate, that an individual who should
attempt to undersell his neighbours by substituting a showy
and flimsy for a substantial article, would be very soon
exposed, and be obliged to reduce its price to its proper
level. Cheaper articles are often advantageously substituted
for those that are dearer; but it is not possible to substitute
inferior for superior articles, and maintain them in the place
of the latter, without making a proportional reduction in their
price. A manufacturer has not only the eyes of his cus¬
tomers but of the trade upon him ; and while any scheme
for diminishing expense excites their competition, all at¬
tempts at fraud are most commonly ruinous to the future
prospects of the party. A character for honesty and fair
dealing is, in the arts as in everything else, of the highest
value.
Wherever public marks or regulations are introduced, their
tendency is to weaken or extinguish that spirit of invention
and enterprise which is indispensable to manufacturing emi¬
nence. When a man’s muslins, or silks, or linens, come up
to the official standard, he has no motive to improve them
still more. Whereas, when there is no standard other than
the public taste, he has, in the more as well as in the
less advanced stages of his art or craft, the same desire to
attract demand and to extend his dealings; and this he
can only do by reducing the price of his goods, or suiting
them still better to the real or imaginary wants of his cus¬
tomers or of the public.
It is obvious, too, that the plan of subjecting manufac¬
tured products to examination by government agents must
lead to all sorts of abuse. When this baneful practice used
to be carried on, the higher marks were frequently fixed,
not to the best goods, but to those whose producers were
best able to promote the interests of the examiners.
Consistently with what is now stated, we have to regret r,rands in
that when the bounty on herrings was repealed in 1830,
government did not also abolish the “ Fishery Board,” and eryS * "
the officers and regulations it had appointed and enacted.
So long as the bounty existed, it was proper that those
who claimed it should be subjected to such regulations as
government chose to enforce. But after its repeal, we see
no reason why the fishery should not have been made per¬
fectly free, and every one allowed to prepare his herrings as
he thought best. It is said, indeed, that were there no inspec¬
tion, frauds of all sorts would be practised; that the barrels
would be ill made and of a deficient size; that the fish
would not be properly packed; that the bottom and middle
of the barrels would be filled with bad ones, a few good
ones only being placed at the top; that there would not
be a sufficiency of pickle, &c. But it is obvious that the
reasons alleged in vindication of the official inspection which
it is proposed to continue in the case of the herring fishery,
might be alleged in vindication of a similar inspection in
almost every other branch of industry. It is, in point of
fact, utterly worthless. It is an attempt on the part of
government to do that for their subjects, which they can
do better for themselves. Supposing the official inspection
and brand were put an end to, the 'different curers would
have brands of their own; and it would be their object to
improve and perfect the quality of their fish, that they
might dispose of them more readily and at a better price.
It is no answer to this reasoning to say, that at present
herrings with the official brand are prefered to those with¬
out it. The fact of its having been long in use, and held
forth as a guarantee of goodness, has created, without any
just ground, a prejudice in its favour. But when it is
abolished, and official prestige has ceased to influence opi¬
nion, competition will do its work. The fish of those
2 o
>gQ M A N U E A
Manufac- curers that are found to be best and cheapest will be sme
tures. t0 be in the greatest demand ; while all attempts at iraud
will not fail to drive those by whom they may be made
from the market. Of the many thousand barrels of pork,
and the many hundreds of thousands of bales of cotton,
annually exported from the United States, those that are
falsely packed make an all but inappreciable fraction; in¬
deed," such a thing is very rarely heard of. And yet no one
supposes that there is any very material difference between
the morale of the packers of pork and cotton, and those of
fish. Were the official brand abolished, the latter, like the
former, would very soon find that their advantage would be
most effectually promoted by their fish being not only
above suspicion but of the best quality.
Cases in But though, speaking generally, the abolition of the exa-
which ex- mination system has been of the greatest advantage, there
amination are a pew departments which are so very peculiar that it
may perhaps be beneficially enforced in them. Fire-arms,
for example, cannot be readily tested by ordinary persons;
and as any defect in their construction is most dangerous,
we are disposed to agree with those who think that it would
be good policy to prohibit the sale of all muskets, fowling-
pieces, pistols, &c., that have not been tried and approved
at a public proof-house. If a man buy a barrel of inferior
herrings, or a piece of bad cambric or calico, no great harm
is done, and he will not return to the shop where he was
cheated. But it is quite another matter if he buy a defectrve
fowling-piece. In this case he may lose his life as wfell as
his monev; and hence the advantage of the previous ex¬
amination.
Precisely the same reasoning applies to the case of chain-
cables and anchors. It is but seldom that they can be
tested by the buyers. And as the safety of the ship and
crew may be compromised by the cable having a single
bad link, or the anchor being improperly constructed, it
appears expedient that they should be subjected to an effi¬
cient test before being used. i r a i
The imposition of the stamp on plate has been defended
on the like grounds ; that is, on the difficulty of determining
whether an article be of the standard quality or not, and
the consequent expediency of affording a guarantee to the
purchaser. It is, however, contended that in this case
(and the same reasoning applies, though in a. less degiee, to
the case of fire-arms and cables) the security is far from com¬
plete ; and that the forgery of the stamps, and their trans¬
ference from one piece of plate to another, of inferioi qua¬
lity, make them rather a cover to than a security against
fraud. On the whole, however, we have little doubt that
they are useful. The forgery of a stamp being reckoned
in the public estimation a much more serious offence than
the substitution of a spurious for a genuine article, the fair
inference is? that it will be more rarely committed.
It is not uncommon for the brands or marks of eminent
manufacturers to be adopted abroad, and sometimes even
at home, and affixed to wares of an inferior character. I he
total prevention of practices of this sort needs not, we fear,
be looked for. Still, one should think that such police ar¬
rangements might be adopted as would prevent such prac¬
tices at home, and such engagements entered into with
foreign countries as might go far to hinder them from be¬
coming injuriously prevalent in those countries; more
especially as it is not difficult, by the intervention of the
press, to expose these mal-practices, and make them redound
to the disgrace of those by whom they are adopted.
Manufac- To begin at this time of day to argue in favour of the
turin" by greater cheapness of products manufactured by individuals
govern- working on their own account, and reaping all the advan-
ment. ta«-es of superior skill and economy, as compared with those
manufactured by agents employed by government, may
C T U R E S.
perhaps be considered a mere waste of time. In as far as
authority, argument, and experience can settle a question
of this sort, it has been settled a thousand times over.
And yet, how singular soever it may appear, proposals
are every now and then made to governments by indivi¬
duals, who are bold enough to promise that, provided they
are employed for the purpose, they will engage to produce
such and such articles of better quality, and at lowei puces
than they can be bought for in the market. And though
it be natural enough to expect that such offers should occa¬
sionally be made, especially by those who have broken
down in the management of their own affairs, it is, we think,
not a little surprising that they should be listened to, and
still more that in some cases they should be acted upon.
It is alleged in vindication of such conduct, that though
the greater cheapness and efficiency of articles produced
under a system of open competition be true generally, the
case in question, whatever it may be, is an exception. And
this is pretended to be proved by estimates of the cost of
the articles to be produced, which are not really, in one case
in five hundred, worth the paper on which they are written.
In such estimates some most important items of expense,
and some important considerations, are wholly lost sight of,
or are caref ully kept in the background. I bus, suppose it
were proposed that a government should manufacture
paper, cloth, muskets, or other articles for itself, it would
be told that the raw material would cost so much, the
labour so much, and that the produce could be turned out
at some two-thirds or less of the sum for which it could be
bought. But every one who knows anything of the matter,
knows that a vast number of other items besides raw mate¬
rial and labour enter into the cost of manufactured goods.
The mills and factories in which the articles are produced
cost large sums ; and the articles must be charged not only
w ith the interest of the sums laid out in the constiuction of
the mills, &c., but with a farther sum to insure them against
fire, to keep them in working order, and to form a sinking
fund to replace them when they are worn out. But this is
not all. Inventions are constantly being made ; so that the
most efficient machinery of to-day may be the least efficient
in a year or two, and must consequently be changed at
whatever cost. And not only this, but the goods or articles
produced in 1856 or 1857, and which were then supposed
to be the best of their kind, or the most suitable for the
end in view, may be in a short while superseded by otheis,
for the production of which the machinery now in use may
be totally inapplicable. And besides mills and machinery,
governments which are foolish enough to enter into sue i
undertakings must have men to work them. And what
are they to do with them when they have no work on which
to employ them, or when they become old, or are maimed
by accident ? They cannot turn them adrift; they must
maintain them in one way or other; and the cost of their
maintenance will be a part, and in the end no inconsider¬
able one, of the cost of the articles. But it is needless to
insist farther on these and the many similar considerations
which will occur to the reader. Those who really believe
that products manufactured by government agents can be
furnished as cheaply as those manufactured by private pai-
ties, may believe, on quite as good evidence, in the tru o
Mormonism, spirit-rapping, or any other quackery or folly
°f But it^s said, that though the goods manufactured by
governments may not be so cheap, they will be of better
quality than those made by private parties, and that
there will be less chance of inferior articles being mixed
with them. But we deny that such is the case. Let
governments select the best patterns for the articles they
want, and they will obtain them quite as good, or better if
it be desired, under a system of open competition. It not,
the blame does not rest with the makers, but with the over-
MANUFACTURES.
291
Manufac- lookers or parties appointed to receive and test the articles,
tures. If the latter be qualified for their duty, and do it, the
makers must do theirs or be ruined.
It has been more than once suggested to the Russian
Government to introduce the system of private enterprise
and economy into the manufacture of arms carried on at
Tula. Select, it has been said, the best models of the arms
to be manufactured ; appoint skilful and competent parties
from England and elsewhere to see that the articles pro¬
duced are in all respects equal to the patterns, and offer
their production to the lowest bidder. We have been
assured that were this system adopted, the cost of the
establishment would be reduced a half or more ; that
the quality of the muskets and other arms would be de¬
cidedly improved; and that there would be much greater
facilities than at present for introducing new inventions
and improvements.
Perma- All speculations in regard to the future condition of any
neiiey great department of industry must necessarily be of a very
factures. vague anct doubtful character. They involve so many con-
siderations which are all liable to perpetual changes, the
causes and consequences of which it is impossible to appre¬
ciate beforehand, that but little dependence can be placed
even on those that are most carefully elaborated. But, were
we called upon to express an opinion on the subject, we
should say, that provided the public tranquillity and the free
disposal and security of property be maintained intact, there
is nothing to make it be supposed that the British manu¬
facturing system has arrived at, and much less that it has
passed, its zenith.
It has been said by Hume, that “ manufactures gradually
shift their places, leaving those countries and provinces which
they have already enriched, and flying to others, whither
they are allured by the cheapness of provisions and labour ;
till they have enriched those also, and are again banished
by the same causes.” {Essay on Money.)
This is one of the few instances in which Hume has
allowed his better judgment to be swayed by popular pre¬
judice. There has not, in truth, been any transfer of
the kind to which he refers. The manufactures of the
ancient world, which were almost entirely domestic, were
not transferred to, but were destroyed by the barbarians ;
while in modern times the industry of Spain and of
the Italian cities of the middle ages fell a sacrifice to
the influence of the Inquisition, the establishment of an
oppressive system of government, and the discovery of
the route to India by the Cape of Good Hope. We have
yet to learn that a single instance can be pointed out in
the history of the world where, security and other things
being about equal, manufactures and trade have left a j’ich
to settle in a poor country. The persecutions of Philip II.
and the Duke of Alva, and not the greater poverty of Hol¬
land and Zealand, made the manufacturers and merchants
of Ghent, Bruges, and Antwerp, seek an asylum in them
and in England.
Even in their earliest stages, or when manufactures are
principally carried on by the hand, we doubt whether a
poor has any advantage over a rich country. Wages
may be nominally lower in the former, but the probability
is, that they are really dearer. It was said by an excellent
judge (Arthur Young) who visited Ireland in 1776-79,
that labour in Essex was cheaper at 2s. 6d. than in Tip¬
perary at 5d. a day. Estimated by the work done in a given
time, which is the only just standard, labour is uniformly Manufac-
cheaper in rich and industrious than in poor and idle conn- tares,
tries. And unless the latter have other and more substantial v'—y'^-/
advantages on their side, their apparently low wages will
do them no good and their neighbours no injury.
But if such be the case in the earlier stages of manu¬
factures, the lowness of wages, were it real, and not nominal,
has infinitely less influence in determining their locality
when they are highly advanced. That is then mainly
determined by the command of power, of capital, and of
skilled labour. Where these are wanting,or obtainable only
in an inferior degree, improved manufactures cannot exist.
And as these are enjoyed by this country in the highest
perfection, the inference is, that we shall continue, so long
as we preserve our security and our freedom, to maintain
our manufacturing ascendancy.
The circumstance of the cotton manufacture being de- Depend-
pendent for by far the larger portion of the raw material enc.e on t^c
on importations from the United States, has recently been g^teg^for
made the subject of a good deal of discussion. It has been silppiies 0f
said that this state of things is not a little hazardous; that cotton,
in the event of anything occurring to involve us in hostilities
with the States, or that might injuriously affect the growth
of cotton in them, our manufacturers might be exposed to
the greatest difficulties, and the wellbeing of a large class of
our people seriously compromised. It is alleged too, that,
independently of the considerations now mentioned, it may
be doubted whether America will be able to meet the in¬
creasing demand for cotton ; and hence it is contended that
we should encourage its growth in India, Africa, and else¬
where. But we are not disposed to attach much weight
to these considerations. The Americans would suffer as
much as we should do, or more, by laying an embargo on
the exportation of cotton, which measure, were it really
attempted, would inevitably bring about a disruption of the
Union. And unless some rash and ill-advised proceedings
take place with respect to the slaves, of which there is no
prospect, there is every reason to anticipate a very large in¬
crease in the produce of cotton in the United States. It is
to be observed, too, that should the demand increase for a
while faster than the supply, the consequent increase of
price would give a new and powerful stimulus to production,
which would probably in the end sink prices lower than
ever. Neither, we confess, have we much faith in the
speculations of those who say that the supplies from India
may be largely augmented. Indian cotton is mostly of
inferior quality, and the tenure of the land and the cha¬
racter of the natives present formidable obstacles to its ex¬
tended cultivation. And if little needs be expected from
India, far less should be expected from Africa. The pro¬
spects of the manufacture will be bad indeed when it
comes to depend in any considerable degree on African
imports.
On the whole, it would seem that this is a case in which
the laissez fairs and laissez passer policy is the most proper
that can be followed. The interests of the merchants and
manufacturers will lead them to find out the best markets
in which to buy the raw material, as well as those in which
to sell the finished articles. A rise of a few cents per
pound in the price ol cotton will do ten times more to sti¬
mulate its production in the most suitable localities than all
the speeches at all the meetings that will be held on the
subject during the next half century. (j. r. m.)
292 MAN
Manuzio. MANUZIO, Aldo Pio (or Marmtius), the first of those
justly celebrated printers who were in Italy what the
Stephens afterwards became in France and Geneva, was
born in 1447 at Bassiano, in the Roman state. He was
educated at Rome, and after completing his course of study,
repaired to Ferrara to study Greek under Guarini, a learned
professor of that language. In 1482 he quitted Ferrara,
then threatened with a siege by the Venetians, and retired
to Mirandola, where he was received with distinction by
the all-accomplished Pico. Yielding to the entreaties of
Alberto Pio, he then went to Carpi, where he was soon
joined by Pico, the uncle of the prince. In the course of
the year 1488 he repaired to Venice, a city which, from
its position, its commerce, and the literary taste of its in¬
habitants, appeared the best suited for his design. His first
object was to make himself advantageously known, and,
with this view, he commenced by giving public instructions
in Greek and Latin; but in the meantime he was very
busily occupied in organizing his printing-house ; and at
length, in 1494, he published the poem of Hero and Lean-
der in Greek and Latin, which was followed by the Gram¬
mar of Lascaris, that of Theodore Gaza, and the works of
Theocritus, Apollonius, and Herodian. But it was the
publication of the works of Aristotle which placed Manuzio
in the first rank of printers. This edition alone, though
less correct than the greater part of those which followed
it, would be sufficient to earn for Manuzio the gratitude of
posterity, and to justify all the commendations which have
been bestowed upon him. Before this time the greater
part of books had been printed in the folio or largest size;
Manuzio, however, conceived the happy idea of publishing
a collection of the Latin classics in a more convenient
form, and with this view he had a character cast in imita¬
tion (it is said) of the hand-writing of Petrarch, and em¬
ployed it for the first time in the impression of his Virgil
which appeared in 1501. This character, long afterwards
known by the name of Aldine, and now by that of Italic,
was designed and cut by Francesco of Bologna. The mul¬
tiplicity of works which now issued from his presses having
rendered it impossible for one individual to superintend the
impressions, he had recourse to the assistance of some
learned men, his personal friends ; and out of this associa¬
tion of persons, united in one common object, he formed the
Aldine Academy, whose short duration did not prevent it
from attaining great celebrity. It reckoned amongst its
members Bembo, Erasmus, Battista Egnazio, and Andrea
Navagero, who every year burned, in honour of Catullus,
a copy of Martial; the monk Bolzani, the first who wrote
in Latin the principles of Greek grammar ; Alcyonio, who
is accused of having destroyed the only manuscript of
Cicero’s treatise He Gloria, after having transferred its
finest passages to one of his own works; the Greek Musu-
rus Demetrius Chalcondylas, who published the first edition
of Homer; and Aleandro, afterwards cardinal. In 1506
war obliged Aldo to withdraw from Venice ; and during
his absence his goods were pillaged and his domains seized.
In 1507 he resumed his typographical labours, and subse¬
quently formed a partnership with Andrea Toresano d’Asola,
his father-in-law, of which Aldo was constituted the head. He
was on the point of publishing a Bible in three languages,
when he was in 1515 removed by death, at the age of sixty-
eight, leaving his son Paolo to prosecute his father’s designs.
Ihe Greek editions which issued from the presses of
Aldo are less correct than either the Latin or the Italian
editions; but it should be remembered that he had fre¬
quently only a single manuscript, incomplete or half effaced,
from which to reproduce a work, and that the conservation
of many is entirely owing to his laborious patience. The
mark of his press, it is well known, is a dolphin coiled
round an anchor. Besides the prefaces, and the Greek or
Latin dissertations with which he enriched most of his edi-
M A N
tions, Manuzio was the author of several works, which would Manuzio
of themselves have been sufficient to insure to him a dis- II
tinguished place amongst the learned men of his age, if he ^°*gan’
had not been the most celebrated printer it produced. Of v r >
these works the most important are,—Rudimenta Gram-
matices Linguae Latinee, Venice, 1501, in 4to ; Gramma-
ticce Institutiones Grcecce, 1515, in 4to; Dictionarium
Graeco-Latinum, 1497, 1524, in folio; De Metris Ho-
ratianis, a little work often reprinted during the six¬
teenth century ; Scripta Tria longe rarissima denuo edita
et illustrata, Bassano, 1806, in 8vo. The Abbe Morelli is
the editor of this collection, which contains a poem of Aldus,
entitled Musarum Panegyris, in two little pieces addressed
to the Prince of Carpi. The original edition in 4to, with¬
out date, must have appeared before 1489. Manuzio trans¬
lated from Greek to Latin the Grammar of Lascaris, the.Ba-
trachomyomachia, the Sentences of Phocylides, the Golden
Verses of Pythagoras, and the Fables of Alsop and of Ga-
brias (Babrius). (See Life of Aldus Manutius the Elder,
by Unger, augmented by Geret, Wittenberg, 1753, in 4to ;
also his Life by Manni.) (j. b—E.)
Manuzio, Paolo, son of the preceding, was born at
Venice in 1512, and after the death of his father remained
under the care of his maternal uncle, Andrea Toresano.
After his uncle’s death in 1529, the printing establishment
was re-opened in 1533, for the common benefit of the heirs
of Aldo and Andrea d’Asola, with Paolo at its head. In
imitation of his father, he sought the assistance of learned
men, of whose counsels he availed himself; published new
editions, particularly of the Latin classics, much more cor¬
rect than the preceding ones; and enriched them with pre¬
faces, notes, and indexes, the usefulness of which now began
to be felt. On the erection of the Venetian Academy in
1558, Paolo Manuzio was appointed professor of eloquence
and director of the academical press. On the dissolution
of this institution in 1561, a letter from Cardinal Scripandi
induced Paolo to repair to Rome, in order to superintend
the impression of the works of the Fathers. The first
work which proceeded from the new printing establishment
was a small treatise of Cardinal Pole, De Concilio et Re-
formatione Anglice, dated 1562. He died on the 6th April
1574. During the last years of his life his presses had
begun to decline, yet Paolo Manuzio, as a printer and edi¬
tor, was equal to his illustrious father ; and his works place
him in the rank of the best critics and most polished writers
of his age. These were,—Epistolarum libri xii. Praefa-
tiones, fyc., Venice, 1580, in 8vo ; Lettere Volgari divise in
quattro libri, ibid. 1560, in 8vo; Degli Elementi e di loro
notabili Effeiti, \h\di. 1557, in 4to; Antiquitatum Rornana-
rum liber de Legibus, ibid. 1557, in folio, with an ample
index; Liber de Senatu Romano, ibid. 1581, in 4to; De
Comitiis Romanorum, Bologna, 1585, in folio; De Givi-
tate Romana, Rome, 1585, in 4to. These four last trea¬
tises have been inserted in the Thesaurus Antiquitatum
Romanarum,, tom. i. and ii. Manuzio translated into Latin
the Philippics of Demosthenes, Venice, 1549, 1552, in 4to ;
and he published Commentaries on the Familiar Letters of
Cicero, the Letters to Atticus, Brutus, and Quintus; and
the Orations, as well as Scholia, on the oratorical and phi¬
losophical treatises of the same author.
MANZANARES, a town of New Castile, Spain, capital
of the partido of its own name, in the province of Ciudad
Real, 98 miles S. of Madrid. Situated in a vast plain 1882
feet above the sea level, it enjoys a serene sky and salu¬
brious climate. The small river Azuel flows near it, and
the high road of Andalucia passes through it, forming its
main street. The houses are mostly well built, with open
courts, covered in summer with an awning. To the S.E.
of the town is the ancient castle called De Penas Borras,
with wall and fosse ; it was repaired and garrisoned during
the war of independence. Besides a grammar school there
»
M A P
Mapes. are six other schools in the town, an hospital, and a recently
erected parish church of modern Gothic architecture. The
country around is perfectly flat, and quite destitute of wood
and water, so that the soil, though fertile, requires careful
irrigation ; and the want of fuel is supplied with rye-straw,
manure, olive, and vine cuttings. The productions of the
district are wheat, rye, anise, saffron, potatoes, wine, and oil.
A good deal of sheep and horned cattle are reared, as well
as mules for plough and carriage. Of manufactures, the
town contains four of linen cloth, as many of woollen, be¬
sides several of soap and brandy; and lime and tile kilns.
It is rather noted for its excellent carriage-makers and
workers in iron. A considerable number of the inhabitants
are carriers, conveying grain, wine, oil, and oranges, &c., to
Madrid, Andalucia, and Valentia. There is a market every
Thursday. Pop. (1845) 9060.
MAPES, Walter (or Map, which, according to some,
is the proper orthography), one of the most noted writers of
Latin poetry during the reign of Henry II., was born on
the borders of Wales about the middle of the twelfth cen¬
tury. After studying at the university of Paris, Mapes
returned to England, where, joining himself to the court, he
became a great favourite of Henry II., who esteemed him
alike for his extensive learning and courtly manners. This
attachment on the part of the king gained for Mapes various
ecclesiastical preferments, being made canon of the cathe¬
dral churches of Salisbury and St Paul’s; and after the
successive enjoyment of many other dignities and benefices,
was ultimately created Archdeacon of Oxford in 1196. He
is supposed to have died about the year 1210. Our infor¬
mation respecting Mapes is chiefly drawn from the Specu¬
lum Ecclesice of his intimate friend Geraldus Cambrensis.
(See the Camden Society’s edition of The Latin Poems
commonly attributed to Walter Mapes, edited by Thomas
Wright, 4to, London 1841.)
“ This genial archdeacon,” as Warton calls him {Hist,
of Eng. Poetry, vol. i., p. cxxvi., 1840), is generally supposed
to have been the author of the greater part of the Latin
poetry belonging to the latter half of the twelfth century.
His vein was witty, festive, and satirical; and he seems to
have been endowed with a decided taste for gay, elegant
literature. The admirers of middle-age romance recognise
him as the author of an important part of the cycle of King
Arthur and his knights. The Cistercian monks had the
misfortune to encroach on his territory and rights on some
occasion, which so keenly roused the resentment of the
jovial poet that he kept up a satirical fire against them, both
in prose and verse, during the remainder of his life. A
considerable number of the poems constantly and unhesi¬
tatingly attributed to Mapes, appear in the MSS. under
the name of Golias or of Golias Episcopus. That this was
a fanciful appellation given to the imaginary and burlesque
representative of the clerical order there can be no doubt.
The Goliardi are well known, as Mr Wright shows, to have
been a riotous and loose class of clerical buffoons, who lived
by practising their jests and ribaldry at the tables of the
richer ecclesiastics. And while a skilful satirist of the
clerical vices would, perhaps, find wider scope for the exer¬
cise of his function by assuming the attitude of a Golias
than by any other mode of attack then open to him, it is
nevertheless somewhat singular that Giraldus, who knew
Mapes well, was not only led to believe that Gohas was the
real name of the author, but also that, in the very book
{Speculum Ecclesice) in which he praises his friend Mapes
so warmly, he takes occasion to censure these satirical
verses in no measured terms, and to speak of their author
with great severity. But, however this may be explained,
there can be no doubt that these verses were ascribed to
Mapes at a very early period. His name appears attached
to the MS. of certain of these poems in the fourteenth cen¬
tury ; and in several copies, belonging to the fifteenth cen-
M A R 293
tury, of the Apocalypsis Golice, the most celebrated poem Maracaybo.
of the class, and still preserved in the Bodleian Library,
Mapes is said to be the author; yet Mr Wright expresses
strong doubts as to Mapes being the author of any of them.
He accordingly, in the volume already referred to, has ar¬
ranged the “ poems bearing tbe name of Golias,” those
“attributed to Walter Mapes,” and others “ of a similar
character, but not directly attributed to Walter Mapes,”
into separate classes. Of the first class, the most celebrated
are the Confessio Golice and Golias de Conjuge non Du-
cenda,—the former containing the famous old drinking song
of the “jovial toper,” consisting of a number of leonine
verses, commencing,—•
“ Meum est propositum in taberna mori:
Vinum sit appositum morienti ori,” &c.
Besides gaining the epithet of “The Anacreon of the
Twelfth Century,” as Lord Lyttelton styles him, Mapes was
likewise an industrious prose writer both in the Latin and
Anglo-Norman languages. The only remains now known
of this species of Mapes’ literary labours are,—a treatise
entitled De Nugis Curialium, edited by Thomas Wright,
from the Bodleian MS., for the Camden Society, London,
4to, 1850; and a tract entitled Valerius ad Rufinam de
non ducenda Uxore. The former is a very curious and in¬
teresting production, consisting of severe attacks on the
vices of monasteries and courts, monastic stories, fairy
legends, graphic notices of Welsh manners, and unceasing
tirades against Cistercian monks.
MARACAYBO, Maracaibo, or Nueya Zamora, a
town of Venezuela, in South America, capital of the province
of the same name, is situated on the W. shore of the strait
connecting the Lake of Maracaybo with the sea, 175 miles
E.N.E. of Santa Marta, and 320 W. by N. of La Guayra;
N. Lat. 10. 41., W. Long. 71. 40. The town is situated on
a dry and sandy soil; and the houses are for the most part
built of wood, and are thatched with reeds. This gives the
town a mean appearance, and renders it very subject to
fires. The only public buildings worthy of mention are,—
the parish church (an elegant edifice), a chapel, a Franciscan
convent, and an hospital. The harbour is deep, but there
is a shifting bar at its mouth which prevents large vessels
from entering ; the anchorage is safe, however, being shel¬
tered by three islands, called San Carlos, Zapara, and Bajo
Seco, on each of which stands a castle for its defence. The
town carries on a considerable trade, being the principal
port for the provinces of Merida and Truxillo, and some of
the districts of New Grenada. Cocoa, coffee, honey, sugar,
tobacco, ropes, &c., are brought from the interior to Mara¬
caybo, and are thence exported by foreign vessels to other
countries. A considerable number of ships are built here.
The inhabitants are chiefly employed in nautical pursuits,
and are said to form excellent sailors. Many of them also
find employment in tending the large herds of cattle which
are bred in the neighbourhood. The climate of Maracaybo
is oppressively hot; and in the summer season earthquakes
are frequent, as well as violent thunder-storms, accompanied
with torrents of rain. The province of Maracaybo extends
round the lake of the same name, and is low, flat, and un¬
healthy. Area, 33,082 square miles. It is inhabited chiefly
by natives ; and had in 1854 a population of 59,311. Pop.
of town 14,000.
Maracaybo, Lake or Lagoon of, the largest sheet of
water in South America, being nearly 100 miles in length,
and 80 in breadth at the widest part, lies between 9. and
10. 40. N. Lat., 71. and 72. 25. W. Long. This lake is
of an oval form, communicating with the sea by means
of a narrow channel, 46 miles in length, and varying from 4
to 14 in breadth. It would be navigable for the largest
vessels were it not for a shifting bar at the mouth of the
strait, over which there is only about 14 feet of water.
294 M A H
Maragha The waters, by reason of the numerous rivers which flow
II into the lake, are fresh and sweet; but towards the northern
Maranhao. extremity, especially during the prevalence of N. winds,
/—'/ they are somewhat brackish. The total number of rivers
that fall into the lake is said to be 105 perennial streams,
and 400 which are dry during some part of the year.
Of the former, the principal are,—the Catatumbo, the
Zulia, the Escalante, and the Metatan. The shores of the
lake are for the most part barren, and during part of the
year the whole of its banks are inundated to the distance of
10 or 20 miles. On the N.E. there is a remarkable mine of
mineral pitch, which sends out in the night such a brilliant
phosphoric light as to serve as a guide to the navigators of
the lake, and hence it is called the Lantern of Maracaybo.
The lake is not subject to tempests of any great severity;
and it abounds in fish and water-fowl. It was first entered
by Ojeda and Vespucci in 1499, who gave the name of
Venezuela, or Little Venice, to the surrounding country, by
reason of the appearance of the Indian villages built on
piles driven into the lake, which reminded them of Venice.
The Gulf of Maracaybo, which is also called the Gulf of
Venezuela, is an inlet of the Caribbean Sea, having its en¬
trance between Cape San Romano and Point Espada, a dis¬
tance of 60 miles. It is about 75 miles in length from N.
to S., and 150 in breadth. It contains several small islands,
and communicates at the S. with the Lake Maracaybo.
MARAGHA, or Maraga, a town in the province of
Azerbijan, and the capital of a district, is situated 50 miles
S. by W. of Tabreez, 10 miles E. of the Lake Urumiah,
and 305 miles W.N.W. of Teheran. It stands close to a
small river which flows into Lake Urumiah, and here crossed
by two bridges built in the eleventh century. The town
covers a large extent of ground by reason of the extensive
gardens which it contains, and which are extremely beau¬
tiful and productive, being watered by canals which inter¬
sect the town. Maragha is surrounded by walls, with
towers, and contains a large and elegant bazaar, extensive
public baths, and the tomb of Holaku, one of the princes
of the line of Jenghis Khan. On a mountain in the
vicinity are remains of an observatory, built by this monarch
for the use of Nazer-a-Deen, a famous eastern astronomer.
Pop. about 15,000.
MARANHAO, Maranham, or San Luiz, a town in
Brazil, capital of a province of the same name, is situated
on a narrow tongue of land on the W. coast of the island of
Maranhao, 300 miles E. by S. of Para, Lat 2. 3. S.,
Long. 43.50. W. It is built on an uneven surface, and con¬
sists of two parts, of which one, called Bairro da Praia
Grande, extends along the shore close to the edge of the
water; while the other, called Bairro de N. Senhora da
Concei^ao, lies further inland. In the former part the
houses have generally a very handsome appearance, being
for the most part built of sandstone, twTo storeys high, and
furnished with balconies. The streets, however, are gene¬
rally uneven and irregular. In this part of the town there
are several squares, the principal of which is surrounded
by the governor’s palace, the Jesuit’s college, the town-hall,
and the prisons. Besides these, the most important public
buildings are the bishop’s palace and the theatre. Each part
of the town has a parish church ; besides which, there are
several other churches and chapels, and four convents. The
back part of the town consists of small houses surrounded
by gardens. I he educational establishments comprise, a
lyceum or college, schools of navigation and commerce, and
various other schools. There is also a botanic garden and
an English cemetery, laid out with much taste. The har¬
bour of Maranhao is secure, but the entrance is difficult, by
reason of a sandbank to the N. of the town, to the E. and
W. of which there are deep and good channels. The
trade of this place is very considerable. Brandy, wine,
oil, flour, linen, hardware, and other European articles, as
M A R
well as spices, drugs, &c., from the East Indies, are im- Marans
ported; while the exports consist of cotton, rice, caout- II
chouc, horns, hides, isinglass, sarsaparilla, &c. The whole ara
trade of the north-eastern provinces of Brazil passes
through Maranhao, as it is the most considerable seaport on
that coast.
The island of Maranhao is of an oblong shape, about
twenty miles in length by 12 in breadth. It is difficult
of access, on account of the rapidity of the stream by
which it is separated from the mainland. 1 his stream is
called the Rio de Mosquito, and is shallow, and about 100
yards wide. It terminates in two large bays, the Bahia de
San Joze and the Bahia de San Marcos. The island is
low and swampy, but fertile and well inhabited ; and it
contains, besides the town, several small villages.
The province of Maranhao is bounded on the N. by the
Atlantic, on the E. by Pianhy, on the S. by Goyaz, and on
the W. by Para. It lies between 1. 20. and 10. 50. S. Lat.,
and 41. 20. and 48. W. Long. The surface gradually slopes
from the elevations in the S.W. towards the N.E.; and the
principal rivers are the Parnahiba, which forms its eastern
boundary, the Mearim, and the Itapicuru, all of which flow
in the same direction. The only lake of any importance is
the Mata. A great part of the province is covered with
primeval forests, and the districts near the coast are fertile
and very productive of cotton and rice. Iron, lead, and
antimony are found in the province, but have not been
mined in any great quantities. The principal towns, be¬
sides the capital, are Alcantara and Cachias. 1 he area is
94,900 square miles. Population of the province (1851)
390,000, of the town 36,000, and of the island 40,000.
MARANS, a town of France, department of Charente-
Inferieure, near the union of the Sevre-Niortaise and the
Vendee, about 13 miles N.E. of La Rochelle. The country
in which it stands, having been recovered from the sea,
abounds with salt marshes, and is intersected by canals. The
town is well built, and has a good bridge over the Sevre,
which is navigable here for vessels of 100 tons. A canal
has been recently constructed, by means of which ships of
300 tons can come up to the town. The trade is thriving,
and consists principally of corn, wine, brandy, hemp, flax,
timber, and salt. Pop. 4670.
MARASH, a pashalik of Asiatic Turkey, is bounded on
the N. by that of Sivas, E. by Diarbekir, S. by Aleppo,
and W. by Karamania, and lies between 36. 3. and 38.
30. N. Lat., and 36. and 38. 40. E. Long.; greatest length
130 miles, greatest breadth 105 miles. This country be¬
longs to the basins of the Euphrates and the Jyhoon,
the former of which forms its eastern boundary, while the
latter rises near its centre, and flows through it in a S.W.
direction. With the exception of the valleys of these
rivers the district is entirely mountainous and wooded. It
is crossed in the centre from W. to E. by the Taurus ridge,
and also by the Antitaurus on the N., and the Durdun-
Tagh on the S. The climate is mild, and the country is well
adapted for pasturage. The capital is Marash, on the Jyhoon,
60 miles N.E. from the sea. Pop. of pashalik 248,000.
MARAT, Jean Paul, was born at Baudry in Neu-
chatel in 1744. After passing some time in the study of
physical and medical science, he resolved to quit his native
country and go in search of a wider sphere^of activity. We
find him accordingly in Edinburgh in 1/74, supporting
himself by giving lessons in French; and about the same
time, his first publication, The Chains of Slavery, written
in English, made its appearance. This work he afterwards
translated into French, and published at Paris in 1 /92.
His second publication, De VHomme, ou des Principes et
des Lois de VInfluence de VAme sur le Corps, et du Corps sur
VAme, appeared at Amsterdam in 17/5, and had the honour
of being subjected to the polemical sarcasm of Voltaire,
who undertook to refute it in the Gazette Litteraire. Marat
MAR MAR 295
Marat. stjH continued to pursue his physical inquiries in a some-
what fitful and irregular manner, and produced his JRe-
cherches Medicales sur I’Electricite at Paris in 1784. But
he was not destined to succeed in this department. His
morbid ambition and immoderate vanity scorned to have
his upward progress as a scientific reformer checked by the
patient observation and laborious experiment requisite to
wring from nature her simplest secret. He nevertheless
kept writing and publishing his empty paradoxes with sur¬
prising activity and boldness, furious at any one who dared
to contradict him. But writing and rage failed to supply
Marat with the means of subsistence, and we accordingly
find him ere long in the streets of Paris, a needy vender of
quack medicines. This position he exchartged in 1 789 for
that of veterinary surgeon at the D’Artois stables. Such
had been the antecedents of Jean Paul Marat when the
flames of the Revolution broke out in France. He flung
himself with wild energy into the heart of this fearful move¬
ment, and gained for himself a name of infamy and shame.
Marat had tried his hand at political philanthropy in 1787,
in his Plan de Legislation Criminelle; but his regular
political career commenced with the issue of his journal Le
Publiciste Parisien on the 12th September 1789, shortly
after the promulgation of the “rights of man.” He after¬
wards exchanged the title of this paper for that of EAmi du
Peuple, a publication which soon acquired a fearful cele¬
brity. This periodical was filled with the most violent
denunciations against the court, the ministers, the Assembly,
the National Guard, and, in short, against all the constituted
authorities of society. These writings of “ The People’s
Friend,” read aloud every evening at the squares and public
places of Paris, captivated the attention, and excited the
passions of the needy and the turbulent. In October 1789
Marat joined the club of the Cordeliers, founded by the
celebrated Danton. Having proposed, to the horror of the
Assembly, to hang the 800 deputies on 800 trees of the
Tuilleries, commencing with Mirabeau, Marat was hunted
from one wretched den to another, till the imprisonment of
the royal family, and the formation of the new municipality
by the republicans on the 10th August 1792 ; when, emerg¬
ing from his obscurity, the “ People’s Friend,” arrested and
imprisoned the suspects, and as a member of the Committee
of Public Safety, signed the circular which exhorted the
whole of France to imitate Paris, and massacre the so-called
aristocrats. On being returned by Paris as a deputy to
the National Convention, Marat was denounced in the
assembly for having advocated in his paper the guillotining
of 270,000 persons as fit objects of public vengeance. He
not only admitted the charge, but defended it with great
confidence, and with an air of sincerity, as the most effec¬
tive method for saving the innocent, and for appeasing the
people of France. His persuasive tongue not only silenced
the angry clamour of the Convention, but even converted
their rage into pity, and their shrieks into shouts of applause
for “ The Friend of the People.” Whereupon Marat drew
forth a pistol, and placing it to his head, said, if they had
passed the accusation decree he would have blown out his
brains. The Girondins had long been the objects of Marat’s
most virulent hatred, and he used every effort for their
proscription. This party succeeded in summoning their
relentless adversary before the revolutionary tribunal, but
he was acquitted, as a matter of course, and carried in
triumph by the populace back to the Convention. He soon
after assumed the dictatorship, sounded the alarm on the
31st of May 1793, and witnessed the downfall of the Giron¬
dins, an event which he only survived till the 13th of July,
w'hen the assassin’s knife of Charlotte Corday, a young
Norman lady, who found access to his squalid apartment,
put an end to his atrocities, and “did France a great service.”
(See Corday.) His death, however, was only hastened by
a few days, for he was already, says a historian, “ ill of re¬
volution fever,—of what other malady this history had rather Marathon
not name.” He was living in a state of want and wretched- II _
ness, for it had never been his aim to amass wealth. He Marazion-
on one occasion sold his bed to enable him to publish his
journal; and even when he had reached the summit of
power, he continued to reside in a mean apartment with the
wife of his printer, who is said to have loved him. After
his death he was regarded as a martyr of liberty, and almost
adored by the Jacobins. He had Pantheon honours and
a public funeral decreed him. The dust of Mirabeau had
to make way for him, and his heart was enshrined in a
golden urn.
MARATHON, a city of Greece, on the E. coast of
Attica, situated in a plain of the same name, is said to have
been founded by Xuthus, who married the daughter of
Erechtheus, and to have derived its name from the hero
Marathon. Originally it constituted, along with three other
cities, the district of Tetrapolis ; but when that district was
incorporated by Theseus into the state of Attica, Marathon,
as the most important of the four cities, gave its name to
the neighbourhood. Here Eurystheus was defeated and
slain by lolaiis the Heracleid; and here Theseus slew the
furious bull, the pest of the plain (Str. viii.; Ovid. Met.
vii. 433). But Marathon is chiefly famous as the battle¬
field on which the Athenians, in 490 b.c., defeated the
Persians, and vindicated the independence of Greece
(Herodot. vi. 102.) A monument to the memory of Mil-
tiades, and the two tumuli that covered the slain of the
Athenians and Plataeans respectively, stood on the field in
the time of Pausanias (i. 32). The former of the tumuli,
about 600 feet in circumference and 30 in height, is still
seen standing in the centre of the plain, about a mile and a
half from the shore. (For a minute account of the plain of
Marathon, see Colonel Leake’s Demi of Attica, vol. ii.)
MARATTA, Carlo, the last celebrated painter of the
Roman school, was born at Camorano, near Ancona, in
1625. He went a poor boy to Rome when only eleven
years of age ; and at twelve recommended himself so effec¬
tually to Andrea Sacchi by his drawings after Raffaelle in
the Vatican, that he took him into his school, where he conti¬
nued twenty-five years, that is, until his master’s death. His
graceful, dignified, and beautiful ideas occasioned his being
generally employed in painting Madonnas and female saints,
and procured for him the name of Carlo delle Madonne.
From the finest statues and pictures he made himself master
of the most perfect forms and the finest positions of heads,
which he sketched with equal ease and grace. He has pro¬
duced a noble variety of draperies, artfully managed and
richly ornamented. He was inimitable in adorning the
heads, in the disposal of the hair, and the elegance of his
hands and feet, which are little inferior to those of Raffaelle
himself. In his younger days he etched a few prints with
spirit and correctness, and had the famous engraver Jacob
Frey for his pupil. It would be tedious to recount the
celebrated paintings executed by this great artist. Besides
the famous picture of Daphne, painted for Louis XIV., he
made several admirable portraits of popes, cardinals, and
other persons of distinction, from whom he received the
highest testimonies of esteem, as he likewise did from almost
all the monarchs and princes of Europe. He died at Rome
in 1713, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. See Lanzi.
MARAZION, or Market Jew, a market-town of Eng¬
land, county of Cornwall, on the slope of a hill on the coast
of Mounts Bay, 18 miles W.S.W. of Falmouth, and 280
W. by S. of London. The town has a parish church and
places of worship for Wesleyan Methodists and Baptists,
a national school, an endowed school, and several charitable
institutions. I he trade is principally in iron, timber, and
coals, which are imported for the use of the mines; and the
inhabitants are chiefly employed in the tin and copper mines
in the neighbourhood. Market-day Saturday. Opposite
296 MAR
Marbella the town is St Michael’s Mount, a small rocky island about
II a mile in circumference, and accessible at low water by
Marburg. means 0f a narrow causeway. In the middle ages it was
's—much resorted to by pilgrims, and bad a priory of Bene¬
dictine monks. The climate of Marazion is very mild, but
is subject to heavy rains. Pop. (1851) 1379.
MARBELLA, a town of Spain, province of Malaga, on
the coast of the Mediterranean, 30 miles W.S.W. from the
town of Malaga. Few towns on the coast of Spain enjoy
a more delightful air or a more charming prospect: from
the summit of the Sierra Blanca, behind the town, is seen
the mountainous coast of Africa, and to the right rises the
rock of Gibraltar; farther on, the town of Estepona, half
concealed by wooded hills. The streets are regular, broad,
and clean. In the centre stands an ancient Moorish fortress,
commonly called the Castillo, within whose inclosure is the
cemetery and several religious edifices. There are two public
schools and an hospital; the parish church is a large, hand¬
some edifice of modern construction. The schools occupy
the ex-convent of San Juan de Dios. On the coast near
Marbella are the ruins of the Castle of St Luis, destroyed
by the French in 1812. Many of the inhabitants are en¬
gaged in fishing; and the sardines taken on this coast are
of excellent quality. Marbella rose into importance some
years ago upon the discovery of iron in the Sierra Blanca;
it is smelted here, and sent on to Malaga to be refined. The
principal iron-works are the property of the Heredias of
Malaga, and give support to upwards of 130 families, in¬
dependently of those engaged in the mines. The com¬
merce consists in the importation of oil, wheat, and barley,
and in the exportation of sardines and other fish, figs, rai¬
sins, and wine, which, though in no great quantity, is of
excellent quality. Pop. (1845) 5105. Marbella is the ^ar-
duba of Pliny and Pomp. Mela, which, according to Bo-
chart, is its Phoenician equivalent, meaning “ City of Salt.”
MARBLEHEAD, a seaport-town in the county of Essex,
state of Massachusetts, North America, is pleasantly situated
on a rocky promontory of the same name, 18 miles N.E. of
Boston. The harbour is excellent, being accessible at all
times to the largest vessels, and protected from the violence
of storms by a breakwater, built in 1845. The inhabitants
are chiefly employed in cod-fishing and curing. About 60
boats are employed in the former of these occupations, and
about 60,000 cwt. are taken annually, in the curing of which
more than 60,000 bushels of salt are used. The principal
articles of manufacture are boots, shoes, and cordage. The
number of foreign vessels which entered Marblehead har¬
bour during the year ending 30th June 1852 was 168, wdth
a tonnage of 12,129 ; and the number cleared out was 162,
tonnage 11,675. Pop. 6167.
MARBURG, or Mahrburg, a town in Styria, capital
of a circle of the same name, is situated on the left bank of
the Drave, 36 miles S.S.E. of Gratz. The town is sur¬
rounded by walls, and has several suburbs. The principal
buildings are,—a castle, a church adorned with several fine
pictures, a theatre, gymnasium, military school, and hos¬
pital. It has a considerable trade in leather, iron, corn,
wine, fruits, &c.; and several annual fairs are held here.
The neighbourhood of the town is extremely picturesque,
and abounds in vineyards. Marburg is the second town in
Styria. Pop. about 5000.
Marburg, a town in Hesse-Cassel, capital of the circle
of Upper Hesse, is pleasantly situated on the right bank
of the Lahn, 48 miles S.W. of Cassel, and 60 miles N. by
E. from Frankfort. The town is not well built, and lies in
the form of a semicircle on the slopes of a hill, on which
stands a castle formerly the residence of the landgraves of
Hesse. Marburg is partly surrounded by walls, and has
five gates. I he streets are narrow, and in many cases so
steep as to be ascended by flights of stairs. The univer¬
sity of Marburg was the first Protestant one established
M A R
in Germany, being founded by Philip the Generous in 1527. Marcanto-
It is attended by about 270 students, has 62 professors and n|°
teachers, and a library of about 100,000 volumes. The prin- jiarCeiijn
cipal of the other buildings are,—the castle, which in 1529 v ^ )
was the scene of a religious conference between Luther,
Melancthon, Zwingle, and others of the Reformers, regard¬
ing transubstantiation ; and the church of St Elizabeth, a
beautiful specimen of the Gothic style, begun in 1235, and
completed in 1283, containing the monument and silver
coffin of St Elizabeth. Besides this, Marburg possesses two
Lutheran and one Calvinist church, a gymnasium, a school
of industry, a normal school, a school of surgery, a botanic
garden, an hosnital, two infirmaries, &c. There are also
manufactories ot stockings, hats, tobacco, tobacco-pipes, &c.
Marburg is the seat of the principal law courts for Upper
Hesse. On the other side of the Lahn stands the suburb
of Weidenhausen. Pop. of the town, with the suburb of
Weidenhausen which stands on the opposite side of the
Lahn, 7954.
MARCANTONIO, also known by his family name
Raimondi, an eminent Italian engraver, is supposed to have
been born in Bologna about 1487. After studying paint¬
ing in that city under Francesco Francia, he repaired to
Venice to prosecute his art still further. Seeing, however,
exposed to sale some woodcuts of the eminent Flemish artist
Albert Diirer, he expended all his money in buying them,
and began to imitate them on copper. So faithfully copied
was one of these imitations, representing the Life and
Passion of our Saviour, that when it had been marked by
the initials of Diirer, it is said by Vasari to have been sold
throughout all Italy for the work of that eminent engraver.
When Albert Diirer, however, heard of this illegal use of
his name, he hastened to Venice, and induced the senate
to issue a command prohibiting Marcantonio from again
employing his signature. Removing soon afterwards to
Rome, Marcantonio introduced himself to the notice of
Raffaello da Urbino, by a copperplate which he executed of
the “ Lucretia” of that master. Raffaello accordingly em¬
ployed him in engraving many of his other designs, includ¬
ing the “Judgment of Paris,” the “ Slaughter of the Inno¬
cents,” the “ Rape of Helen,” and the “ Death of Santa
Felicita.” With so masterly and delicate a hand did Marc¬
antonio execute this undertaking, that his fame spread ra¬
pidly, and pupils flocked to him from all quarters. His en¬
gravings of the heads of the Caesars, after ancient medals,
■wrung a commendation even from the offended Albert Diirer.
After the death of Raffaello in 1520, he was employed by
Giulio Romano to engrave several of his designs. Among
these were twenty plates of figures so grossly indecent, that
Pope Clement VIE, in a virtuous indignation, threw Marc¬
antonio into prison. There he might have paid an extreme
penalty for his crime,had not Cardinal de’ Medici and Baccio
Bandinelli effectually sued for his I’elease. He then re¬
turned to the practice of his art; and by his exquisite en¬
graving of the picture of Baccio Bandinelli, representing
the martyrdom of San Lorenzo, he so delighted the pope,
that he was forgiven for his former offence and received
into favour. More profitable patronage might have been
extended, had not the sack and pillage of Rome by the
Spaniards followed in 1527. Marcantonio barely escaping
with his life, returned a beggar to his native city. He died
there not many years afterwards.
Besides being a master in his art, Marcantonio earned
the distinction of giving the first stimulus to engraving in
Italy. A very full catalogue of his works is given in Hei-
necken’s Rictionnaire des Artistes. About 500 of them
may be seen in the Print Room of the British Museum.
Many of his engravings are anonymous, and some are marked
wdth M.A. or M.A.F. (Vasari is the best authority for his
biography. See also Lanzi’s Stor. Pittor. i.)
MARCELLIN, or Marcelin, St, a town of France,
MAR
Marcellus. capital of a cognomina! arrondissement in the department
of Isere, is situated at the foot of a beautiful slope near the
right bank of the Isere, 21 miles W.S.W. of Grenoble. It
is surrounded by walls, and is generally well built. Its chief
manufacture is earthenware, and it has some trade in silk
and wines. Pop. (1851) 3344.
MARCELLUS, M. Claudius, the conqueror of Syra¬
cuse, was probably born at some period before 268 B.c.
He is said by Plutarch to have early shown a valorous
Spirit and a fondness for single combat. The first public
office he is recorded to have filled was that of curule
aedile. In 222 b.c. he became consul for the first time.
I he war with the Cisalpine Gauls was then drawing to a
close, and the Insubres had sued ineffectually for peace.
Marcellus joined the army without delay, and laid siege to
Acerrae (Gerrha), on the banks of the Po. When the
Gauls attempted to make a diversion by attacking Clasti-
dium, he left his colleague before Acerrae, and having
reached them by forced marches, defeated them, and slew
their general, or king, Viridomarus, with his own hand.
This was the third time that a Roman general had pre¬
sented the spolia opima to Jupiter Feretrius. Marcellus
obtained the honours of a triumph, which is said to have
been one of the most magnificent ever witnessed in Rome.
At the commencement of the second Punic war (b.c. 218),
Marcellus was appointed as praetor to the command of the
troops in Sicily; but he was recalled after the defeat at
Cannae (2d August b.c. 216), and sent to Apulia to col¬
lect the remains of the shattered Roman army. This he
effected with much prudence ; and the severe check which
Hannibal received from him before Nola, tended greatly
to reanimate the drooping spirits of his countrymen. Han¬
nibal used to say, that he feared Fabius as his school¬
master, and Marcellus as his enemy. Marcellus was again
named consul, b.c. 215; but owing to the unfavourable
prognostications of the augurs he immediately abdicated,
and proceeded to Nola as proconsul. In the following
year he was raised a third time to the consulship, and pn>
ceeded to the command of the war in Sicily. There he
began to storm Syracuse by sea and land; but his power¬
ful engines were baffled at every point by the more pow¬
erful contrivances of Archimedes; and not till after a
blockade, of three years was the city taken. In the law¬
less pillaging that ensued, Marcellus attempted in vain to
save the life of Archimedes. That philosopher was slain
when absorbed in his mathematical studies. During the
blockade, Marcellus, at the head of part of his army, had
been waging a desultory warfare with the Carthaginians in
Sicily; yet, with the exception of a few towns, that island
remained unsubdued. Accordingly, on his return to Rome,
Marcellus was only honoured with an ovation or lesser
triumph. He brought from Syracuse many beautiful statues
and paintings, and was the first who taught the Romans
to appreciate the exquisite works of Greece, hitherto un¬
known to them. He was named for the fourth time consul,
b.c. 210, and the command of the war in Sicily fell to him
by lot; but he exchanged it for Italy with his colleague
Laevinus. Marcellus recovered several cities of the Sam-
nites from Hannibal, who carefully shunned any regular
battle with his opponent. In the following year he re¬
tained the command of his army as proconsul. He was
appointed consul the fifth time, B.c. 208, when he fell into
an ambush which had been laid for him by Hannibal, and
was killed. Thus fell Marcellus, who was called the sword
of Rome, in contrast with Fabius, who was entitled its
buckler. Plutarch and Livy, the chief authorities for the
life of Marcellus, represent him as having gained many
victories over Hannibal. Yet Polybius (xv. 2) denies that
he ever defeated the great Carthaginian at all, a testimony
that certainly countenances the opinion that Marcellus is
generally overrated. In fact, he seems to have been brave,
VOL. XIV.
MAR
297
March.
daring, and hot-headed; with much of the obstinate harsh- Marcellas
ness of an illiterate soldier, and with little of the far-seeing 11
prudence of a great general.
Marcellus, M. Claudius, of the same family as the
conqueror of Syracuse, first appears in history as curule
sedile, along with P. Clodius, in 56 B.c. He was named
consul (b.c. 51), along with Sulpicius Rufus; and he pro¬
posed that Caesar should be deprived of the command of
the armies of Gaul; but this advice was not followed. (Cic.
Alt. vii. 1.) The civil war broke out (b.c. 49), and Mar¬
cellus joined the party of Pompey; but on the death of
the latter (b.c. 48), he ceased to take part in the political
affairs of his country, and retired to Mitylene, that he might
not witness the overthrow of the republic. Here he was
found by Brutus as he was returning from Asia. (Senec.
ad Helv. c. 9.) His friends at Rome, however, were
anxious that he should return, and they did not find it
difficult to prevail on Caesar to forget the part he had taken
against him. His pardon, indeed, was more readily granted
by Caesar than accepted by Marcellus. If we may judge
from the letters addressed to him by Cicero, and now known
as the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth of the fourth book
of Epistolce ad Familiares, Marcellus was unwilling to leave
his retreat at Mitylene. He, however, yielded, and had
reached Athens on his way homewards, when one of his
companions in exile, P. Magius Chilo, actuated by private
resentment, murdered him, b.c. 46. His old colleague,
Sulpicius, happened to be at Athens at this time, and super¬
intended the celebration of his funeral rites. (Cic. ad
Biv. iv. 12.) Marcellus is the subject of the eloquent
speech Pro M. Marcello, often erroneously ascribed to
Cicero.
Marcellus, M. Claudius, son of C. Marcellus and of
Octavia, the sister of Augustus, was born about 43 b.c. He
was educated by his mother with the utmost care, and gave
early indications of all those qualities that unite in forming
a great and good character. In 39 b.c. he was betrothed
to Pompeia, the daughter of Sextus Pompey, then a girl of
six years of age. (Dion Cass, xlviii. 38.) Released, how¬
ever, from this engagement by the death of Pompey in 35
b.c., he married Julia, the daughter of Augustus, in 25 b.c.,
and at the same time became the adopted son of his father-
in-law. (Dion Cass. liii. 27 ; Suet. Aug. 63.) Marcellus
was also admitted into the senate, and received the privi¬
lege of sueing for the consulship ten years before the legal
period. He became curule aedile in 23 b.c., but he died
in the autumn of the same year, owing, it is said, to the
imprudent use of a cold bath, prescribed by Antonius Musa,
the celebrated physician of Augustus. (Dion Cass. liii. 30.)
Fond of study, gentle in his disposition, and temperate in
his habits, Marcellus was the idol of his countrymen, and
his death was mourned as a public calamity. As it had
been generally understood that Augustus intended him for
his successor, a rumour became current that the Empress
Livia had poisoned him, to secure the succession to her own
son, Tiberius. The death of Marcellus was the cause of
the most intense sorrow to his mother, Octavia, and to
Augustus. I he latter interred him, with the greatest pomp,
in the Julian mausoleum, pronounced his funeral oration
and afterwards dedicated to his memory the magnificent
theatre known as the Theatrum Marcelli. (Tacit. Ann.
iii. 64.) But Marcellus is now best remembered by the
touching description of him in the .Eneid, which is said to
have affected his mother even to fainting: 
Heu ! miserande puer, si quid fata aspera rumpas,
Tu Marcellus eris.
. MARCH, the third month of our modern year, contain¬
ing thirty-one days. As in the Roman year, so in the Eng¬
lish ecclesiastical calendar, used till 1752, this was the
r&t month, and the legal year commenced on the 25th of
2 p
I
298 MAR
March March. The Romans called this month Martins, from the
II god Mars, the reputed father of their nation; and it re-
Marchand. £eived the name Hlyd Monath, i.e., loud or stormy month,
from the Anglo-Saxons. There is an old saying, common
to both England and Scotland, which represents March as
borrowing three days from April $ which are thence called
the Borrowing or the Borrowed days. In the “ Com-
playnt of Scotland,” we find “ the borial blastis of the thre
borouing dais of Marche hed chaisset the fragrant flureise
of evyrie frut-tree far athourt the feildis.” And these bo¬
rouing dais are described in the glossary as “ the three last
days of March” to which the following popular rhyme
refers:—
“ March borrowit from Averill
Three days, and they were ill;”
and then there is another rhyme, which graphically cha¬
racterizes those three “ ill ” days in detail,—
“ The first, it sail be wind and weet,
The next, it sail be snaw and sleet;
The third, it sail be sic a freeze,
Sail gar the birds stick to the trees.”
Dr Jamieson, in his Etymological Dictionary of the
Scottish Language, says, “ These days being generally
stormy, our forefathers have endeavoured to account for
this circumstance, by pretending that March borrowed them
from April, that he might extend his power so much longer.
 Those who are much addicted to superstition will
neither borrow nor lend on any of these days.”
MARCH, a market-town in the Isle of Ely, Cambridge¬
shire, England, is situated on both sides of the Old Nene,
13 miles N.W. of Ely, and 32 miles N. by W. of Cam¬
bridge. The town consists of two main but narrow
streets, and the houses are low and ill-built. The church is
a fine old building of the fourteenth century, and there are
also Baptist and Independent places of worship, and national
schools. The River Nene, which is here crossed by a bridge,
is navigable to the town, and affords it the means of carry¬
ing on a considerable trade in corn, hemp, flax, coal, timber,
&c. Market-day, Friday. Pop. (1851) 4171.
March, Morawa, or Morava, a river in the Austrian
dominions, giving its name to Moravia, rises on the confines
of Bohemia and Glatz. It flows in a southerly direction
through Moravia, and receives many considerable streams,
such as the Hanna, Taya, Zaya, and Rust, on the right,
and the Beczwa, Miava, and Bodawa, on the left. It then
forms the boundary between Hungary and Austria, and
falls into the Danube above Presburg. The principal
towns on its banks are,—-Olmutz, Kremsir, and Hradisch.
It is navigable for about 50 miles to Goding on the boun¬
dary of Moravia. Total length, 180 miles.
MARCHAND, Prosper, a learned bibliographer, born
in 1675, at Guise, in Picardy, studied at Paris with much
success, and having from his infancy been passionately
devoted to books, he was admitted in 1698 into the cor¬
poration of booksellers. An eager collector of literary
anecdotes, he transmitted them to Jacques Bernard, who
then conducted in Holland the Nouvelles de la Republique
des Letters. In 1711 Marchand passed into Holland, that
he might be more free to profess the Reformed religion,
which he had embraced. He established himself at Am¬
sterdam, and there continued for some time the business of
bookselling, but ultimately abandoned it altogether, in
order to devote himself exclusively to study. He died on
the 14th of June 1756, and left his rich library to the
University of Leyden. In addition to his extensive anno¬
tations, &c., Marchand’s principal works are,—Histoire de
VOrigine et des premiers Progres de VImprimerie, Hague,
1740, in4to; Dictionnaire Historique, or Critical and
Literary Memoirs of different distinguished persons, parti¬
cularly in the republic of letters, Hague, 1758, 1759, two
volumes folio.
MAR
MARCHE, an old province of Central France, bounded Marche
on the N. by Berri, N.E. by Bourbonnais, E. by Au-
vergne, S. by Limousin, S.W. by Guyenne, and W.by An- •.
goumois and Poitou. It now forms the greater part of
the department of Creuse, and parts of those of Haute-
Yienne, Charente, and Indre.
MARCHENA, a town of Spain, in the province of
Seville, situated in a sandy valley and on two small hills,
30 miles E.S.E. of Seville, was formerly surrounded with
walls and towers, of which some remains are still to be
seen. The town contains about 1584 houses, generally of
two storeys, and the streets are narrow and tortuous. The
most remarkable buildings are the palace of the dukes of
Arcos, formerly lords of the town, within the inclosure of
which is the ancient church of St Mary de la Mota, the
tower of which is of some architectural merit; and the
church of St John, the present structure dating from 1490.
At the eastern extremity of the town is a sulphureous spring
resorted to for the cure of cutaneous diseases. The soil
of the surrounding district is partly clayey and partly sandy;
a seventh part of it is wood or pasture; the rest is under
cultivation. The productions are wheat, barley, beans,
peas, vetches, olives, oil, grapes, and wine. The wheat,
barley, oil, and wine are exported to Seville, some oil even to
Malaga. Horned cattle and sheep are reared, as also mules
and horses; the River Corbones furnishes fish. Ordinary
linen and coarse woollens are manufactured. There are also
potteries of common earthenware. A cattle-market is held
the first three days of September. Pop. (1845) 11,620.
MARCION, the founder of the sect of the Marcionites,
is generally held to have been the son of the Bishop ot
Sinope, and to have been born in that city about the be¬
ginning of the second century. He is said by Tertullian
to have been a shipmaster, and Rhodon calls him a seaman.
Possessed of an earnest and independent mind, he pro¬
bably arrived at a belief in Christianity without any human
aid, an opinion that is supported by the reference which he
makes to “ the first glow of his faith.” After thus receiving
the Scriptures, Marcion proceeded in the same bold yet
sincere spirit to interpret them. Startled by the seeming
dissimilarity between God as manifested in Christ, and God
as revealed in nature, he jumped at once to the conclusion
that they are two distinct and irreconcileable beings, the
one good and loving, the other inexorable and cruel. This
doctrine once adopted, he immediately reduced to practice,
by neglecting the body as the work of the latter, and by
stringently obeying the gospel as the sole emanation from
the former, by becoming a severe ascetic, and by presenting
a great part of his estate to the church. As he proceeded
in his speculations he saw the same contrariety between
the Jehovah of the Old Testament, whose characteristic
appeared to be jealousy, and the God of the New Testa¬
ment, whose essence is love. A like antagonism he seemed
to discover between the Messiah of the Jews, the destined
heir of a large worldly kingdom, and Jesus, the poverty-
stricken man of sorrow. Thus he was gradually led to
reject the Old Testament as directly contradictory to the
New, and as intended for the Jews only, and not for the
whole of mankind. This heresy was very probably the
cause of his excommunication from the church at Sinope.
Marcion then repaired to Rome, in the hope that his new
doctrine would awaken some sympathy in the church of
that city, but there also he was rejected as a heretic. Dis¬
countenanced so severely by all professing Christians, he
now began to consider himself the sole representative of
primitive Christianity. Accordingly, he set himself to
arrange his opinions into a system that might be received
into the minds of men, and in this task he was assisted by
a Gnostic teacher named Cerdo. He displayed remark¬
able zeal in making converts to his opinions, and with
apostolic spirit he journeyed frequently abroad, glorying to
MAR
Marcion. endure privation, malice, and contempt, and loving to ad-
dress his proselytes as “ fellow-sufferers of hate and hard¬
ship.” Yet Marcion still cherished a sympathy and respect
for many of his former friends, a circumstance that may have
partly originated the prevalent opinion that he desired in
his latter years to be re-admitted into the church. He is
said by Irenaeus to have met the venerable Polycarp at
Rome, and to have asked him if he remembered him.
“ Yes,” was the reply, “I remember thee, the first-born of
Satan.” The date of Marcion’s death is unknown.
The following is an outline of the creed of the Mar-
cionites in its later and more developed form. They assumed
that there were three original principles:—(1.) The good,
perfect, and holy God; (2.) the evil Matter ; and, (3.) the
Demiurge, a being of finite power and imperfect goodness,
who is sometimes, but improperly, styled God. Between
the two last principles there is a natural and never-ending
conflict for the mastery. It began by the Demiurge laying
hold upon a part of matter and forming out of it the world
and all its inhabitants. Into the human creature—his master¬
piece—he infused a soul, moulded out of his own essence, after
his own image, and bounded his conduct by a law which he
might not transgress on pain of punishment. But man, thus
formed of two antagonistic elements, was tossed to and fro
by their conflicting influences, until he was driven beyond
the boundary which his Maker had set up, and was con¬
signed to the dominion of matter, and the evil which it
necessarily entails. The Demiurge then selected the Jews
to be his representatives on* the earth, gave them a cere¬
monial and a moral law, promised happiness as a reward of
their obedience, and threatened perdition as a punishment of
their disobedience. He also foretold a Messiah, who should
conduct the Jews to the height of earthly felicity, and spurn
the heathen into the depth of misery and ruin. At this
crisis the good God, who had hitherto sat remote in a holy
inactivity, interfered to thwart the unjust designs of the
Demiurge. Deeming it cruel that men should be punished
for an imperfection that is innate, and therefore insur¬
mountable, he sent into the world his son, Christ (a man in
semblance, but not in reality), with an offer of divine life
and blessedness to all who should merely trust in him.
This message of love, so directly opposed to the message of
justice that had hitherto been proclaimed, incited the
Demiurge to crucify the Divine Messenger, and to attempt
to bind him in hell. To this apparent defeat the Son of
God submitted, for no other purpose than to free the souls
of the dead who were held under punishment by the
Demiurge. Accordingly, he clad himself in his native
omnipotence, released all the Gentiles in the place of tor¬
ment, ascended in triumph along with them to his Father’s
heaven, and thus crushed and confounded the tyranny of
his enemy. Thither all who believe in his name will follow,
but all who reject his gospel will be left to the judgment of
the Demiurge.
From this system of doctrine there necessarily arose a
system of morals different in many respects from those of
other Gnostics. The Marcionites held that, in purifying the
heart and regulating the conduct, the law was powerless,
but the gospel effective. They gloried in suffering martyr¬
dom, and they refused to baptise all those who would not
resist the power of matter by leading a life of asceticism,
and refraining from marriage.
Marcion considered St Paul the only genuine teacher of
Christianity. Accordingly, he rejected all the books of the
New Testament except the works of that apostle. He
acknowledged also a pretended original gospel, which was
nothing else than a mutilated copy of St Luke. Marcion
wrote a work entitled Antithesis, in which he quoted the
apparent contradictions between the Old and the New
Testament. (SeeNeander’s Church History, vol. ii., p. 129.
Bohn, 1850.)
MAR 299
MARCOMANNI, a powerful confederacy of ancient Marco-
Germans, who were resident, as their name imports, on the manni
borders. They are first mentioned in history by Caesar, II
and seem at that time to have dwelt upon the banks of the Mar<Jin*
Rhine. From Tacitus, Paterculus, and Strabo, we learn
that they soon afterwards moved westward, under their
king Maroboduus, drove the Boii out of Bohemia, and
settled in that country. After organizing a government,
Maroboduus formed a league with the neighbouring tribes,
for the purpose of defending Germany against the Romans.
He was thus enabled to muster 70,000 disciplined soldiers,
and to conclude an honourable treaty with the Emperor
Tiberius, a.d. 6. Yet he was defeated by the Cherusciand
their allies A.D. 17; and in two years afterwards he was
expelled from his throne by the Goth Catualda, and forced
to seek a refuge in Italy. The same fate soon afterwards
befell his dethroner and successor, and the Marcomanni
once more came under the sway of native kings. After
this they gradually extended their dominions, until they
had reached the Danube, and had provoked the jealousy of
the Romans in the time of Domitian. Then began those
hostilities between the Romans and the Marcomanni, which,
after being checked by Trajan and Hadrian, and resumed
with fresh animosity in the reign of M. Aurelius, issued, in
166, in the protracted struggle of the Marcomannic war,
and were finally quelled by the peace of Commodus, in 180.
Favoured, however, by the feeble rule of this last emperor,
the Marcomanni continued their predatory inroads into the
Roman provinces of Noricum and Rhaetia, and ventured
sometimes as far as the defiles of the Alps. In 270, in the
reign of Aurelian, they pushed forward into Italy, and
penetrated even to Ancona, spreading consternation around
them. After this period they disappear gradually from
history, and are mentioned for the last time among the
hordes of Attila.
MARCOUF, or Makcou, St, two small islets lying in
the English Channel, off the coast of Manche in France,
about 4 miles from the mainland, and 12 miles N.E. of
Carentan. They are mere barren rocks, but in a military
point of view are of considerable importance as defences for
the roadsteads of Havre and Cherbourg. The navigation
is here very dangerous, and they cannot be approached
without a pilot. They were taken by the British in 1795,
but restored to France at the Peace of Amiens.
MARCUS, the Heresiarch, a Gnostic philosopher,
lived in the second century. From his frequently employ¬
ing forms from the Aramaean liturgy, Neander infers that
he was born in Palestine. Yet Jerome holds that he was
an Egyptian, a supposition confirmed in a great measure by
the fact that he was a disciple of Valentine. According to
Irenseus and other fathers, he was systematically addicted
to licentiousness. Concerning his life nothing further is
known. “ Marcus set forth his system in a poem, in which
he introduced the divine ACons discoursing in liturgical
forms, and with gorgeous symbols of worship. After the
fashion of the Jewish Cabala, he discovered special mys¬
teries in the numbers and positions of letters. The idea of
a Xoyos tov wro?, of a word manifesting the hidden divine
essence in the creation, was spread out by him into the most
subtle details ; the entire creation being, in his view, a con¬
tinuous utterance of the ineffable.” (Neander’s Church
Hist., sect, iv.) The followers of Marcus were called
Marcosians.
MARGIN, a town of Asiatic Turkey, in the pashalikof
Diaibekir, on a bold limestone crag of Mount Masius,
about 2300 feet above the sea, 57 miles S.E. of Diarbekir,
and 335 N.W. of Baghdad. The summit of the rock is
occupied by the castle, and the town is built on the southern
and eastern sides. The streets consist of terraces, running
along the hill, and are joined to each other by flights of
steps. The houses are built of stone, and are in general
300 MAR
Maree small, with flat roofs. The town possesses eight mosques,
II with some bazaars and public baths. The castle is now in
Margaret. ruins> but commands a magnificent view over a large ex-
tent of rich and well cultivated land. Linen and cotton
fabrics are manufactured here, and a considerable trade is
carried on in these and other articles. The population is
estimated at about 20,000, two-thirds of whom are Moham¬
medans, and the remainder Christians with a few Jews.
MAREE, Loch, a lake in the parish of Gairloch, Ross-
shire, Scotland, near the W. coast, is situated in a moun¬
tainous and little frequented district. It is about 20 miles
in length, and has an average breadth of 1£ miles. It is
fed by many mountain streams, and discharges its waters
by the Ewe* into an arm of the sea called Loch Ewe, which
lies to the N.W. The scenery of the loch is of the wildest
and most sublime description, the mountain summits which
surround it rising in some places to the height of 3000 feet
above the sea. Near the centre of the loch there is a group
of islands, about twenty-seven in number. The largest of
these is called Ealan Sovin, or St Swithin’s Isle, and has
an area of about thirty acres.
MAREMMA, La, or Maremme, the name given by the
Italians to the marshy regions which stretch along the coast
of the Mediterranean, but more particularly applied to those
in Tuscany and the States of the Church. This tract of
country is extremely unhealthy, especially from midsummer
to the autumnal equinox, when it is exceedingly dangerous,
and often fatal, to spend a single night in the Maremma;
so that the country which was anciently the seat of the
most flourishing Etruscan cities, is now almost entirely de¬
serted. The Maremma is divided into several basins by
mountain ridges which stretch from the Apennines to the
coast. The first basin extends from Lucca to the ridge of
Montenero, S, of Leghorn, and stretches about 10 or 12
miles inland. The second basin is smaller in extent than
the first, and extends to a few miles S. of the Cecina, where
the mountains again approach the sea. This part is called
the basin of Cecina. The third basin stretches into the
Papal territory, and is bounded on the S. by Mount Cimino,
which divides it from the basin of the Tiber. I he fourth
basin, that of the Lower Tiber, extends as far as the Alban
Mount, which separates it from the fifth, that of the Pon¬
tine Marshes. Similar plains stretch into the kingdom of
Naples, but they are known by the name of Paduli. The
Tuscan government have made considerable improvements
in the northern part of the Marerama by means of drains
and embankments, and parts ofthe ground have been brought
into cultivation.
MARENGO, a village in the Sardinian States, Italy, is
situated in a large plain near the Bormida, 3 miles E. by
S. of Alessandria, of which it is sometimes regarded as a
suburb. It is remarkable for the victory gained here, 14th
June 1800, by the French under Napoleon, over the Aus¬
trians under Melas, by which the former became masters of
all the north of Italy.
MARENNES, a town of France, capital of a cognomi-
nal arrondissement, in the department of Charente-Infe-
rieure, is situated near the mouth of the Seudre, about a
mile from the Bay of Biscay, and 24 miles S. of La Ro¬
chelle. -Marennes is a well-built and thriving commercial
town, with tribunals of primary instance and of commerce.
It is surrounded by salt marshes, which render it very un¬
healthy, but constitute a great source of profit to the town
from the salt that is got from them. The principal articles
of commerce are salt, oysters, brandy, and agricultural
produce. Pop. (1851) 4534.
MARGARET, Queen of Denmark, Norway, and Swe¬
den, called the Semiramis of the North, was the daughter
of Waldemar III., King of Denmark, was born at Copen¬
hagen in 1353, was married to Haquin, King of Norway, in
1363, succeeded her husband on the throne of Norway in
MAR
1380, and her son on the throne of Denmark in 1387, Margaret
wrested the crown of Sweden from Albert in 1397, and II .
died in 1412. See Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. tone™"
Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Rene, titular king of v ^ ;
Sicily, was born in 1425, was married to Henry VI. of
England in 1443, and died in 1482. See England.
Margaret of France, daughter of the French king
Henri II., was born in 1552, was married in 1572 to the
Prince of Bearn, afterwards Henri IV. of France, and died
in 1615. See France.
MARGARITA, an island in the Caribbean Sea, lies off
the coast of Venezuela, of which republic it forms a pro¬
vince, 30 miles N. of Cumana; Lat. 11. 30. N., Long.
64. W. It is about 45 miles in length, and varies in
breadth from 5 to 20 miles. Area 441 square miles. It
is separated from the mainland by a channel 20 miles in
breadth, which has to be passed through by all vessels ap¬
proaching from the E. the ports of Venezuela. The island
is composed of two parts, united by a low and narrow
isthmus, so that from a distance it presents the appearance
of two distinct islands. At the isthmus the land is not more
than 10 or 12 feet above the level of the sea, but near the
western extremity a lofty mountain, called Maranao, rises
to the height of 3000 feet. Near the sea the soil is dry
and unproductive, and the coasts are rugged and bold, in¬
dented, however, with three harbours, Pampatar on the
S.E., Pueblo-de-la-Mar on the S., and Pueblo-del-Norte
on the N. In the interior, the soil, though sandy, is fertile,
and produces Indian corn, bananas, sugar, cotton, &c.
Live stock and poultry are also reared; and salt and fish
are obtained in considerable quantities. The island derives
its name from the pearls found here, the fishing of which
formed a considerable part of the occupations ot the inha¬
bitants. This was principally carried on in the rocky
islet of Coche„ in the channel of Margarita; but this branch
of industry has much declined of late, as the pearls are now
neither so large in size nor so fine in quality as formerly.
The principal manufactures of the island are those of cot¬
ton stockings and hammocks. A good deal of illicit traffic
goes on between this island and the British and French pos¬
sessions in the West Indies. Margarita is more thickly
inhabited than any other part of South America ; and there
are several towns and villages in the island, the most im¬
portant of which are, Assumpcion, the capital, which is a
well-built town, not far from the centre, and Pampatar, a
seaport on the S.E. This island was first visited by Colum¬
bus in 1498, and has in more recent times (1816) been
the scene of a bloody warfare betwen the revolutionists and
the Spanish troops under General Murillo, in which the lat¬
ter were defeated. Pop. (1854), 23,967.
MARGARITONE, D’Arezzo, an Italian painter,
sculptor, and architect of great reputation, was born at
Arezzo in 1212. He belonged to the Greek school of art,
and executed many pictures at his native place in tempera
and in fresco. The most celebrated specimens of the latter
style of painting executed by Margaritone were to be
found in the church of San Clemente, afterwards destroyed
by Duke Cosmo de’ Medici when rebuilding the old
walls of Arezzo. There still remain in Arezzo, however,
a few specimens of the frescoes of this artist of great value.
One of the most characteristic and important of these pic¬
tures was a work executed for the nuns of Santa Margarita,
believed by some to be still recognisable among the Flor¬
entine pictures collected by the Signors F. Lombardi and
Ugo Baldi. But of the “ endless number of pictures,” as
Vasari phrases it, which Margaritone executed for his
native city, the one on which the artist himself set the
highest value, and “ on which he placed his name,” was a
“ San Francesco,” painted for the convent of the Friars de’
Zoccoli at Sargiano, a work which still exists with his own
inscription of “ Margarit. de Aretio ping chat.” He had a
MAR
Margate, peculiar contrivance to prevent clefts and fissures in wood
Marghilan Pa!nt|ngs- That the joinings might not appear after the
^ painting had been completed, he covered the whole surface
^ of the wood 'with canvas, secured with strong glue made
from shreds of parchment, and next applied a layer of
gypsum and glue to the outer surface of the canvas.
It is said that Margaritone succeeded better in sculpture
than in painting. He improved upon his first efforts, which
were executed in the Greek style, on coming in contact
with the works of Arnolfo and other distinguished sculptors
of Florence. Appointed to construct a tomb at Arezzo for
Gregory X., who had died there, he executed a reclining
statue in marble of that pontiff, still in good preservation,
and a painting of his holiness, now entirely effaced. This
masterpiece of art was considered “ the best work he had
yet produced.” On the death of Maestro Lapo, who
planned the episcopal buildings of Arezzo, Margaritone
superintended the erection of the cathedral after the design
of the original architect. A war between Arezzo and Flor¬
ence in 1289 prevented the completion of this magnificent
undertaking. Vasari is of opinion that it was this architect
who planned the Governors’ palace in the city of Ancona
in 1270, and who executed the sculptured ornaments of the
front windows of that beautiful edifice. He died at Arezzo
in 1289, aged seventy-seven. (Lanzi, Stor. Pitt.)
MARGATE, a seaport, market-town, and watering-place
of England, in the Isle of Thanet, county of Kent, is situated
along the shore and on the slope of two hills, 3 miles
W.N.W. of the N. Foreland, 15 miles N.E. by E. of
Canterbury, and 72 E. by S. of London. The name of
the town is believed to be derived from Meregate, a gate
or opening to the sea; on account of the hollow between
the two hills on which the town is built. Margate was till
recently only a small village, and the older parts of the
town which lie along the shore are irregularly and meanly
built; but the upper part, which is more modern, contains
several fine streets and squares, is well built and paved.
It is principally noted as a fashionable watering-place, and
is still very much frequented in the summer season, although
the construction of railways to the seaports on the S. coast
has somewhat diminished the number of its visitors. The
parish church of St John is an ancient edifice, in the Gothic
style; a modern church in the old English style, with a
lofty tower, was built in 1825. There are also places of
worship for Methodists, Presbyterians, Independents, Bap¬
tists, the Countess of Huntingdon’s Connection, Society of
Friends, and Roman Catholics. The assembly rooms of
Margate are reckoned among the handsomest and largest
buildings of the kind in England, and are adorned with a
colonnade of Doric pillars. The town has also a fine theatre,
as wall as baths, libraries, and other establishments for the
convenience of visitors. The town-hall is of recent con¬
struction, and is supported on iron pillars, and fronted with
a handsome portico. The harbour of Margate is dry at low
water; and in order to obviate this defect, a stone pier, 900
feet in length, with a lighthouse at the end, was constructed
at a cost of L.100,000. But this proving insufficient, a
wooden jetty was also built, 1100 feet long, at which steam¬
ers can touch in all states of the tide, except when the
weather is very stormy. The pier, the marine terrace, and
the esplanade, form the most fashionable and most fre¬
quented promenades of Margate. The walks in the vici¬
nity are numerous, and the scenery is very beautiful.
Fishing is still carried on to a considerable extent here;
and there is some trade with the Netherlands; but the
prosperity of the town depends chiefly on the summer
visitors. Margate communicates with London by a branch
of the South-Eastern Railway, and steamers also ply by sea,
performing the journey in six or seven hours. The market-
days are Wednesday and Saturdav. Pop. (1851) 9107.
MARGHILAN, or Marginan, a town of Independent
MAR
301
Maria
Theresa.
Turkestan, is situated in a fertile plain, 25 miles S.E. of Margrave
Khokhan. It is large and well built, surrounded by earthen 11
ramparts, and containing a lofty and ancient tower, a cara¬
vanserai, and several mosques. Manufactures are carried
on here of gold and silver articles, as well as silk and velvet,
and the trade is considerable with Bokhara and Cashgar.
MARGRAVE. See Landgrave.
MARIA ISLAND is situated between 2 and 3 miles
from the E. coast of Van Diemen’s Land, in Lat. 42. 40.
S., Long. 148. 10. E. It is about 12 miles in length from
N. to S., by 7 in extreme breadth. It consists of two parts,
connected by a low and narrow neck of sand, almost covered
at high water, but it rises at either extremity into mountains.
On each side of the isthmus there is a large bay,—that on
the W. being called Oyster Bay, and that on the E. Reidle
Bay. The shores of the island abound in seals and zoo¬
phytes, and immense quantities of sea-weeds, growing up
from a depth of 250 or 300 feet, impede navigation. The
geological structure of Maria Island is principally of trap;
but on the E. coast perpendicular cliffs of granite rise to
the height of 300 or 400 feet from the sea; and as they are
pierced by many large caverns, the sea rolls in with a noise
resembling thunder. On the other side of the island the
land slopes gradually down to the sea-level. The soil of
the interior is rich and productive, and the scenery ex¬
tremely picturesque. On the northern extremity is situated
the valley of Darlington. This island was discovered bv
Tasman in 1642.
MARIA THERESA, daughter of Charles VI. of Aus¬
tria, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia, and Empress of
Germany, was born at Vienna on the 13th of May 1717.
By the Pragmatical Sanction of 1724 her father had regu¬
lated the succession in the family of Austria, and failing of
male issue his daughter Maria was declared heiress of the
Austrian monarchy; a settlement which was guaranteed
by the principal states of Europe. In 1736 Maria Theresa
married Francis-Stephen of Lorraine, afterwards Grand
Duke of Tuscany, and on the 20th October, 1740, on the
death of her father the Emperor Charles VI., she succeeded
to the throne of Hungary and Bohemia, and the other here¬
ditary states of her house, her husband being declared co¬
regent. No sooner had she ascended the throne than she
was assailed by the kings of Prussia, France, Spain, Sar¬
dinia, and the electors of Bavaria and Saxony, who con¬
spired to dismember the Austrian dominions and seize upon
the portion of her territory to which each of those powers
asserted a claim. Frederick of Prussia demanded Silesia,
and on meeting with the indignant refusal of the brave
young empress, marched his troops into that province.
Charles Albert of Bavaria, assisted by the French, moved
direct upon Vienna, and compelled Maria Theresa to quit
her capital. At this juncture the aspect of her affairs was
depressing in the extreme. Her kingdom exhausted, her
people discontented, an empty treasury, and an army re¬
duced to 30,000 men, with all her neighbours up in arms
against her, and with a husband weak in intellect and des¬
titute of energy, this spirited empress of twenty-three
turned resolutely upon her foes, appealed to the chivalrous
enthusiasm of her brave Hungarians, and bade defiance alike
to r redenck of Prussia and her kinsman of Bavaria. On
quitting her capital, she repaired to Presburg, and summon¬
ing the diet of Hungary, she appeared in the midst of the
assembly with her infant son in her arms. She addressed
them m Latin with great eloquence, and on exclaiming,
Forsaken by all, we seek shelter only in the fidelity, the
mms, the hereditary vaJou^ of the renowned Hungarian
no i i y, iat. martial assembly shouted, as their swords
leapt from their scabbard4. “ Let us die for our king Maria
i heresa. {Monamur prj Rege nostro Murid fheresd.)
Ihe Hungarian nobles mounted horse, brought their whole
military force into the field, and, in conjunction with the
302
MAR
Mariana, gallant troops of General Kevenhuller and Prince Charles
* ' of Lorraine, succeeded in driving the French and Bavarians
beyond the dominions of their sovereign. Her numerous
enemies were gradually silenced, and the current of inva¬
sion no longer set against her. She was constrained, how¬
ever, to come to terms with Frederick of Prussia, by ceding
to him Silesia ; but she made a treaty of alliance with Sar¬
dinia against France and Spain; and the elector of Saxony,
who had also made peace with her, subsequently rendered
her material service when her old enemy of Prussia found
fresh cause for invading the Austrian dominions. On the
death, in 1746, of Charles Albert, who had been elected
Emperor of Germany by the Frankfort diet, Maria Theresa’s
husband, the Grand Duke Francis, was raised to the im¬
perial throne. Meanwhile the Austrian and Piedmontese
troops were attended by signal success in Italy; they over¬
threw the French and Spaniards at Piacenza, and gained
a temporary possession of Genoa, when after much hard
fighting in Italy and Flanders, the peace of Aix-la-Cha-
pelle, in 1748, closed the war of the Austrian succession, and
left Maria Theresa in possession of all her territories except
Silesia. Deeply mortified by the loss of the latter province,
the indefatigable empress joined France and Russia, and
embarked with fresh energy in the Seven Years’ War
against Frederick of Prussia, in the hope of recovering that
portion of her territories which the war of the succession
had taken away. But 1763 saw the termination of this
contest, and left the great Prussian still in possession of the
province of his Austrian neighbour. Maria T. heresa lost
her husband in 1765, and her son Joseph was immediately
elected emperor. Yet this vigorous woman continued to
retain the administration of her extensive possessions during
her life, and showed much solicitude for the welfare of her
people, and marked enlightenment in the measures proposed
for their improvement. Although a sincere Roman Catho¬
lic, she nevertheless employed a firm hand in drawing the
line of demarcation between temporal and spiritual jurisdic¬
tion. She checked the arbitrary power of the Inquisition,
and the ultimate abolition of that obnoxious institution in
Lombardy and Tuscany, under her sons Joseph and Leo¬
pold, was only the legitimate development of the system of
reform conceived and set on foot by their imperial parent.
She reformed various abuses in the church, repressed the
Jesuits, abolished the torture, encouraged the arts, ad¬
vanced agriculture, and instituted universities and schools
of which many still bear her name. The great stain in the
political character of Maria Theresa is the part which she
took in the partition of Poland. Yet it is said she left a
written record of her sense of the injustice of this act, and
of the manner in which she was induced to consent to the
measure. She at first refused acceding to the treaty, of
partition framed by Russia and Prussia in 1772, but being
afterwards informed that the dismemberment of Poland
would be effected without her consent, and that her own
possessions would be thereby imperilled, she, in compliance
with the urgent importunities of Prince Kaunitz and her
son the Emperor Joseph, agreed to take part in the foul
wrong about to be inflicted on that unhappy country. Ir¬
reproachable in her private character, she gave a tone and
elevation to the morals of her court, by which it stood out
in bright contrast to the profligate courts which disgraced
the contemporary sovereigns of Europe. In short, Maria
Theresa ranks unmistakeably among those sovereigns whom
mankind remember with admiration, and she will ever
occupy an honourable place amid the select band of the
world’s illustrious women. She died at Vienna on the 29th
November 1780, leaving a family of five sons and ten
daughters to mourn her loss. With Maria Theresa ended
the dynasty of Hapsburg. (See Austria.)
MARIANA, John, a celebrated Spanish historian, born
in 1537. at Talavera, in the diocese of Toledo. He studied
M A R
with distinction at the university of Alcala, and was ad- Mariana,
mitted, at the age of seventeen, into the Society of Jesus, vW
where he soon attracted notice by the vivacity of his dis¬
position and the extent of his acquirements. Called to
Rome in 1561, he there professed theology during four
years, and reckoned among his pupils young Bellarmin,
afterwards the celebrated cardinal. He then passed into
Sicily, where he remained two years. In 1569 his supe¬
riors sent him to Paris, and he there explained the doctrines
of St Thomas, in presence of a great concourse of auditors
attracted thither by his reputation. But the decline of his
health, occasioned by vigils and fatigues, having forced him
to renounce teaching, he, in 1574, obtained permission to
return to Spain. He retired to the house of the Jesuits at
Toledo, and there he composed the works which, in adding
to his celebrity, disturbed the peace of his life. Mariana
displayed too much liberality and candour for his age.
If he censured regal vices in his work De JRege, he was
accused of treason; and if in Del Gobierno de la Cam¬
pania he pointed out the defects of his order, he excited
the bitterest animosity of the Jesuits, and had his books
burnt for his pains. He bore with patience, however, the
criticisms and persecutions to w'hich he was exposed, and died
on the 17th of February 1624, at the age of eighty-seven.
The great work of Mariana is entitled Historice de
Rebus Hispanic?, libri xxx. cum Appendice. The first
twenty books of this history, which terminates at the year
1428, were printed at Toledo, in 1592, folio, and the five
following books in 1595. The success of this work in¬
duced the author himself to translate it into Spanish ; and
he at the same time made considerable changes in and
additions thereto. The most esteemed Latin edition is
that of the Hague, 1733, in two volumes folio, with the
continuation of Jose Emmanuel Miniana from 1516, where
Mariana stopped, to the year 1609. Amongst the Spanish
editions the most beautiful of all is that of Valentia, 1783—
1796, in 9 vols., accompanied with chronological tables,
and enriched with critical notes and observations. The
history of Spain by Mariana is esteemed for the extent
of the author’s researches, the general exactness of his
facts, the sagacity of his reflections, and, above all, for
the merit of his style, in which, in simplicity and elegance,
he makes a nearer approach to Livy than do the most of
modern historians. Mariana, however, has been reproached
with neglecting to cite his authorities, and sometimes draw¬
ing on his imagination to supply defects in historical docu¬
ments ; and he has also committed some errors, which
were exposed with much bitterness by Father Mantuano,
secretary to the Constable of Castille, in his Advertencias
a la Historia de J. de Mariana, Milan, 1611, in 4to, a
work which Tamaio de Vargas endeavoured to refute.
The other works of Mariana are,—De Rege et Regis In¬
stitutions libri ires, Toledo, 1599, in 4to; the original edition
of a work famous in its day, and now much sought after
by the curious ; Liber de Ponderibus et Mensuns, Toledo,
1599, in 4to; Tractatus Septem, Theologici et Historic^
Cologne, 1609, in folio ; Scholia brevia in Vetus et Novum
Testamentum, Madrid, 1619, in folio, a work commended
by Simon, who pronounces Mariana one of the most able
and judicious commentators on the Holy Scriptures. He
also wrote A Treatise of some things which require to be
Amended in the Company of Jesus, Pans, 162o, in 8vo,
reprinted with the Spanish text in the Mercure Jesmtique.
This work was found amongst the papers of Mariana
during his detention, and some copies of it were taken,
which the enemies of the Society multiplied in France, in
Italy and in Germany. The Jesuits obtained its condem¬
nation in 1631 ; but it is very doubtful wnether Mariana
had any share in the redaction of the obnoxious publication.
Mariana left in manuscript several works, of which a cata¬
logue will be found in the Bibliotheque des Jesuites. His
MAR
Marianna Historic was translated into English by Stevens, folio,
|] . London, 1699.
Antoinette. MARIANNA, or Mariana, a town in the province
v ^ j of Minas-Geraes, Brazil, pleasantly situated between two
eminences, at a height of 3000 feet above the sea, 45
miles N.E. of Ouro-Preto. The town is well built; and
the principal streets are broad and well paved. The prin¬
cipal buildings are,—a cathedral, several other churches and
convents, an ecclesiastical seminary, an hospital, and the
bishop’s palace. The trade is inconsiderable. Pop. 5200.
MARIANNE Islands. See Ladrone.
MARIAS, Las Tres, three islands in the North Pacific
Ocean, lying off the W. coast of Mexico, and belonging
to the state of Xalisco ; between 21. and 22. N. Lat., and
106. and 106. 30. W. Long. They stretch in a line from
N.W. to S.E.; and the largest of the three, which is the
furthest to the N.W., is about 15 miles in length and 8 in
breadth. The next island is about 24 miles in circum¬
ference, and the smallest, which lies to the S.E., has a cir¬
cuit of 8 miles. These islands are barren and uninhabited,
but they abound in wood, water, salt, and game, and were
formerly often visited by English and American whaling
vessels. They were visited by Diego de Mendoza in
1532, and named by him Isles de la Magdalena.
MARIAZELL, or Zell, a market-town of Styria, circle
of Bruck, is situated in the midst of mountainous and
picturesque scenery, near the confines of Austria, about 55
miles S.W. of Vienna. It is only remarkable for a shrine
of the Virgin, which every year attracts about one hundred
thousand pilgrims. The town is meanly built, and con¬
tains about one hundred and twenty houses, of which forty-
four are inns for the accommodation of pilgrims. Near
the town are extensive iron-works. Pop. about 900.
MARIE ANTOINETTE, the daughter of Francis I.,
Emperor of Germany, and of the celebrated Maria The¬
resa of Austria, was born at Vienna 2d November, 1755.
She had scarcely completed her fourteenth year, when the
Duke de Choiseul was entrusted by Louis XV. to ask her
in marriage for his grandson, the Dauphin of France, who
afterwards, in 1774, became king under the name of Louis
XVI. The marriage was celebrated at Versailles on the
10th of May 1770. But Marie Antoinette was not destined
to experience much happiness at the corrupt court of
France. Habituated from her earliest years, at the well-
regulated court of Maria Theresa, to the enjoyment of pri¬
vacy and domestic familiarity, she felt a strong dislike to
the severe etiquette and stiff reserve which at the French
court usurped the place of that candour and simplicity
which almost invariably accompany purity of heart and true
nobility of character. hat was genuinely pure and noble
was wellnigh unknown there ; and gay frivolity and wanton
licentiousness assumed a guise which was in some measure
calculated to deceive the eye of the virtuous. This hand¬
some, kind-hearted, lively and pure-minded German girl
could with difficulty conceal her contempt for the heart¬
less society among which she was cast. Prudence might
have dictated less demonstration of her ridicule, less osten¬
tation of her love for private life and the sweets of domes¬
tic affection ; but her disposition was too spontaneous, her
habit of mind too thoughtless for such a course, and she
was consequently destined to multiply enemies rather than
secure friends. Yet there was much in the young queen
to attract the enthusiasm of her volatile subjects. If she
disliked the stiff formality and polite insincerity of the
court, her noble carriage and charming expression won the
hearts of the people. When she appeared at first in public,
the enthusiastic admiration of the populace was unbounded,
and she had often to stand on the steps of her carriage and
show herself to the admiring throng. But this interest
was gradually dying away before the growing discontent of
a distressed people, caused by the luxury of the court, and
M A B 303
the exhaustion of the public treasury, when an incident Marie
occurred which gave the first direct blow to the popularity Antoinette,
of Marie Antoinette. The Countess de la Motte having
become aware that the queen had declined the offer of a
magnificent diamond necklace from her jeweller, owing to
the enormous price of 1,800,000 livres, which he demanded
for it, the crafty countess, anxious to obtain possession of
the treasure, alleged that she was authorized by the queen,
and concluded the bargain. This unprincipled woman
succeeded, besides, by a dexterous piece of intriguing, in
making the Cardinal de Rohan a party to the negotiation,
by beguiling him into the belief that he was met at mid¬
night by Marie Antoinette in the park of Versailles. The
fraud was discovered when the first payment was demanded;
and, although the infamous countess was condemned to be
whipped and branded for the wrong she had done her
royal mistress, public suspicion was awakened, and the
tongue of scandal let loose against the queen, who is now
universally believed to have been innocent of the crimes
laid to her charge. At the outbreak of the Revolution in
1789 she was regarded with an eye of jealous dislike by
the public. She is said to have used all her efforts to in¬
duce her feeble and irresolute husband to offer resistance,
but without success. She scorned to conciliate the favour
of the revolutionary leaders, and even declined the aid of
Mirabeau to support the royal interest; a step which drove
that powerful orator and extraordinary man to enlist in the
ranks of the Revolutionists. Marie Antoinette was impri¬
soned in the Temple after the popular triumph of the 10th
August, 1792. She became known as one of the advisers
of the attempted flight of the king, and this served to in¬
crease the jealousy and hatred of the public. The armed
masses were resolved to annihilate the kingly office, and
the poor unfortunate queen was exposed to all manner of
insult and persecution. Nevertheless, she was not of a
temper to be at once crushed by adversity; she displayed
a dignified courage under the most trying circumstances,
and exhibited a degree of moral firmness and mild resigna¬
tion which was truly heroic. She was ever more anxious
about the welfare of her husband and of her children than
she was about her own. The royal family, on going to
prison, had tried to persuade themselves that Danton was
their friend, but the bloody fanaticism of the mob, led on
by Ami du peuple Marat, soon extinguished any rays of
hope that still may have lingered about the prison walls
of this unfortunate family. The king was executed on
the 21st of January, 1793, and on the following October,
the “ widow Capet,” as the indictment called her, was
tried by the tribunal of the Revolution. On appearing
before that horrible court, she felt her doom was sealed ;
that no plea of innocence could save her ; yet her fortitude
and queenly dignity never forsook her. The foulest and
most infamous charges were brought against her, calculated
to outrage her feelings as a woman and a mother. Being
urged to reply, she exclaimed, turning to the public with
vehement indignation, “ I appeal to all the mothers here
present, and demand of them if this is possible.” “ This
stroke,” says a French historian, “was sublime; it pro¬
duced a great effect; and the president, perceiving this,
passed hastily to the other questions.” She was, as a mat¬
ter of course, found guilty and condemned to death; and
on the 16th of October, 1793, she was removed from the
prison of the Conciergerie, and conducted, bound on a cart,
beside a piiestand the executioner, to the place of suffering,
fhe foul mockery of her trial was only surpassed by the
heartless brutality of the ferocious mob that yelled and
vocifeiated around her for two hours along the streets of
1 ails. Ilei trying imprisonment and severe suffering had
wasted her strength and destroyed her beauty; her eye¬
sight was greatly injured, and her hair had become quite
white. She bore all the indignities which were thus pub-
304 M A K
Marie- licly heaped upon her with singular firmness and mild dig-
Aux-Mines nity, inspiring even that savage mob with wonder and awe.
I| She died by the guillotine on the 16th October, at the age
Marien- o£ thirty_seven. Out of a family of four, two children sur-
wer er. vjve(j . a gonj wjj0 subsequently died in prison, and a
daughter, who after wards became the Duchess of Angouleme.
MARIE-AUX-MINES, St, a town of France, de¬
partment of Haut-Rhin, is situated on the Lieporette, 14
miles N.W. of Colmar. The town stretches for about a
mile on both sides of the river, and on each side rise thickly
wooded mountains which look down upon it. It possesses
a council of prudhommes, a chamber of manufactures,
and a Protestant church. The neighbouring district was
rich in mines, which in the middle ages produced silver,
lead, and copper, in great quantities, though there is now-
remaining only one mine of argentiferous lead. The
principal occupations now pursued in the town consist
of the manufacture of linen, cotton, and woollen stuffs,
especially handkerchiefs and calicoes. Bleaching, dyeing,
paper-making, and tanning, are also carried on to a con¬
siderable extent. Pop. 11,600.
Marie Galante. See Gcadaloupe.
MARIENBERG, a town in Saxony, circle of Zwickau,
is situated at a height of 1980 feet above the level of the
sea, 17 miles S.S.E. of Chemnitz, and 38 S.W. of Dresden.
The town contains a church ; two hospitals, one for orphans
and one for miners; several other charitable institutions;
besides an office for mines and a custom-house. It is
famous for its mineral baths, and for mines of silver, iron,
&c., which are worked to a great extent in the neigh¬
bourhood. The manufacture of lace and linen is also
carried on here. Pop. 4895.
MARIENBURG, a town of West Prussia, government
of Dantzic, is situated on the right bank of the Nogat, a
branch of the Vistula, here crossed by a bridge of boats
546 feet long, 27 miles S.E. of Dantzic. It is surrounded
by walls, and is principally important and interesting as
having been the residence of the grand masters of the
Teutonic Order of Knights. The ancient castle of the
Order, which comprises also a palace and a church, is a
splendid edifice in the Gothic style. It seems probable
that the oldest part of it was built in the thirteenth century,
when the King of Poland made a grant of this country to
the knights. Additions were subsequently made to it in
1309, when the seat of the Order was transferred hither
from Venice, and in 1335. In 1457 the castle was sur¬
rendered to the Poles, after having sustained several un¬
successful attacks in 1410 and 1420. On falling into
decay, it was in 1815 restored by the present King of
Prussia, and has since been kept in good preservation. The
chapter-house, where all the meetings of the knights were
held, is supported by a single granite pillar; and during
the siege in 1410 the Poles attempted the destruction of
the knights by aiming a cannon ball at the supporting
column, when they knew that the grand master and his
knights were assembled in conclave. The ball, which nar¬
rowly missed its aim, is still shown buried in the corner of
the building. The church is a fine edifice in good pre¬
servation, and is chiefly remarkable for a mosaic figure of
the Virgin on the outside of the wall. In the vaults be¬
neath are buried many of the grand masters of the Teu¬
tonic Knights; and an extremely beautiful picture of the
Virgin, by an unknown artist, which is kept here, is be¬
lieved to possess miraculous powers. The town possesses
in the present day little importance. It has a Roman
Catholic and a Calvinist church, a normal school, and other
educational and charitable institutions ; as well as manufac¬
tures of cotton and woollen fabrics, and some trade in corn
and wool. Pop. 7037.
MARIENWERDER, a government of West Prussia,
is bounded on the N. by that of Dantzic, on the E. by that
M A II
of Konigsberg, on the S. by Poland and Posen, and on the Marietta
W. by Brandenburg, with an area of 6759 square miles. II
The surface is for the most part level, and in some places anm-
marshy; but there are a few small hills scattered about in
different parts. Much of the country is of no great fertility,
and is ill cultivated; but near the rivers the soil is rich
and fertile. The principal rivers are the Vistula, which is
navigable, and its tributary the Brahe. No considerable
mining operations are carried on in this district; nor are
manufactures or commerce in a very thriving condition.
The government is divided into thirteen circles; and the
capital is Marienwerder, a neat town situated on the Liebe
and little Nogat, 2 miles E. of the Vistula, and 43 miles
S.S.E. of Dantzic. The town is chiefly notable for its old
castle, now used as a court-house and prison ; and for the
cathedral, which has a spire of the height of 170 feet, and
contains many ancient tombs of the Teutonic knights. The
town also possesses a gymnasium, a school of architecture,
an asylum for blind soldiers, another for their widows and
children, an hospital, and a house of refuge for neglected
children. The manufactures are not very extensive, and
consist principally of linen and woollen stuffs, leather, hats,
beer, and wines. Pop. of the government (1852) 649,548,
of the town 7600.
MARIETTA, a town in the state of Ohio, capital of
the county of Washington, North America, is situated at
the confluence of the Muskingum and the Ohio, 115 miles
S.E. of Columbus, and stands in a plain, surrounded with
beautiful and picturesque scenery. It is well and regu¬
larly built, being greatly adorned by the neat gardens
with which many of the houses are surrounded. Marietta
contains seven or eight churches, two public libraries, a
college founded in 1835, and two excellent academies.
Within the last eight or nine years several manufactories
have been established here, which have added much to the
importance of Marietta. This town is the oldest in the
state, and was first settled in 1788 by a body of New
England colonists under General Putnam. Pop. (1850)
3175, (1853) about 4000.
MARINEO, a city of the kingdom of Naples, in the
island of Sicily, and province of Mazzaro. It is situated
on a gentle elevation, is very healthy, and is watered by the
small River Bagaria. It contains 6540 inhabitants.
MARINI, Monsignor Ga:tano, a celebrated savant,
born in 1742 at St Arcangelo, near Rimini, in the Papal
States. He began his studies under Giovanni Bianchi,
and in early youth devoted himself to natural philosophy.
He then turned his attention to mathematics, Greek,
Hebrew, and classic literature; and afterwards, at the sug¬
gestion of his intimate friend Zerardini, applied himself to
the study of jurisprudence, and went to Ravenna, where he
took his degrees in Roman and ecclesiastical law. He did
not, however, feel disposed to practise that profession, his
tastes tending rather to philosophical and antiquarian re¬
search. To obtain leisure for these studies, he went to
Rome in 1764, took holy orders, and dedicated himself to
archaeology. At that time the science of archaeology was
at its height in Italy. The recent discovery of Pompeii
and Herculaneum had attracted the attention of princes as
well as of the learned. Count Caylus had already classified
the ancient monuments; Johann Winkelmann and the
members of the Herculanenses Society had with equal taste
and learning illustrated them ; Ennio Quirino Visconti, the
Nestor of art critics, had made them popular. The civi¬
lized West now began to turn its attention to the East, the
cradle of mankind; and some of the most learned men of
the time at Rome were engaged in philological, antiquarian,
and numismatic researches, directed mainly towards the
most interesting fields of inquiry in Egypt and the Asiatic
continent, when Marini resolved to enlist in their ranks,
and share their reputation.
MAR
Marino. He undertook to examine the ancient papyri, and
—among his many works, I Papiri Diplomatici raccolti ed
illustrate Roma, 1805, is that which principally entitles
him to a high place among the savants of the eighteenth
century. The first idea of this work belongs to Scipione
MafFei; and though Zerardini had previously attempted it,
the honour of having accomplished this arduous task be¬
longs entirely to Marini. It contains 146 Latin, and a
few Greek diplomas or charters, extracted from papyri
which he collected in Italy, France, and Vienna. Among
these may be found papal letters addressed to the exarchs
of Ravenna, charters by the Emperor Valentinian, by
Chlodoveus, by Dagobert and Clothaire, kings of the
b ranks, by King Astolph and Adalgiso, interspersed with
many other public and private documents. “ Learned
men, he says, “know the wonder felt by the ancients when
they saw papyri two or three centuries old, but among
ours there are some which date back fourteen or fifteen
centuries. The oldest in fact belongs to the year 444.
They were in a most dilapidated condition, and their inter¬
pretation is a monument of patience, talent, and learning.
The researches which accompany this work, especially on
the cultivation, traffic, and general use of the papyrus in
Italy until the close of the eleventh century, even after the
introduction of parchment, are very interesting and valuable.
Marini’s next most important work is Gli Atti de Fratelli
Arvali, Roma, 1795, 2 vols. 4to, in which he collected and
illustrated all the inscriptions and monuments which relate
to the Collegium Fratrum Arvalium, an institution which,
according to tradition, was coeval with the building of
Rome, and founded, as Varro tells us, to propitiate the
Divinity by public prayers, that the land might be rendered
fertile (sacra pubhca faciunt propterea ut fruges ferant
arva); whence Arvales Fratres or Arvorum Sacerdotes.
This work is admirable for the acumen and learning dis¬
played. T he immediate cause of Marini’s undertaking to
investigate this subject was the discovery of two large
marble tablets in the new sacristy of the Vatican chapel,
which had been built by order of Pius VI. From these
and various other inscriptions and monuments connected
with that institution, he was enabled to find a clue to the
ceiemonies, rites, and fetes; also the political connection
of that remarkable body with the state, and hence to study
their civil institutions, the duty of their municipal function¬
aries and provincial governors, to correct names, to deter¬
mine the genealogy of many Roman families, &c., &c.;
while discussions on ancient orthography, on the variation
between the spelling and the pronunciation, the correction
of old abbreviations in inscriptions, and the additions of new
ones, find an appropriate place in this laborious and com¬
prehensive work.
Marini’s contributions to the scientific and literary his¬
tory of Italy, to numismatics, to the elucidation of the
Christian and pagan monuments, and of many unpublished
documents in the Vatican, are all marked by the same
sound criticism and unobtrusive but deep erudition. The
most important of his minor works is that on the inscrip¬
tions in the Albani villas and palaces.
He obtained a well-earned celebrity both in Italy and
abroad, and had honours and high offices conferred on him
by several popes. He was appointed keeper of the Biblio-
teca Vaticana and prefect of the secret archives of the
Holy See, was elected a member of the Institute of France
and of the Academic des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, as
well as of all the scientific, literary, and archaeological socie¬
ties of Italy. He died at Paris on the 17th of May 1815,
in his seventy-third year. (e.f.)
MARINO, San, or Sammakino, a republic in the N.E.
of Italy, bounded on all sides by the Papal States, and
situated about 10 miles from the Adriatic ; area 24 square
miles. It is not only the smallest in extent, but it is also
vol. xiy.
MAR
the oldest of all the European states. In the year 469
Marinus, a Dalmatian hermit, originally a mason, is said to
have settled here in the solitude of the mountains; and,
having obtained from the owner a grant of territory, he
was joined by a number of similar devotees, and thus gave
origin and name to the little republic of San Marino. A
village rose gradually; and in the tenth century it became
a walled town, continuing independent of all foreign powers.
In the civil wars of Italy, San Marino embraced the side
of the Ghibeline or imperial party, and in the thirteenth
century refused to pay certain taxes imposed by the pope.
A dispute thereupon arose, which, on being referred to a
learned judge of that day, was decided in favour of the re¬
public ; and San Marino has ever since been recognised by
the popes as an independent state. Nor was any change
made either on the conquest of Italy by Napoleon, or on
the reinstatement of the pope in 1814. The legislature of
the state consists of a large council of sixty, made up, in
equal proportions, of nobles, townsmen, and small proprie¬
tors. This council is self-elected, and the members are
chosen for life. Out of this a smaller council of twelve is
chosen, and the executive power is in the hands of two
capitani reggenti, who hold office for six months. The
territory of the republic is entirely mountainous, and is
watered by the Ausa and the Amarano, small streams which
fall into the Adriatic. It produces wine, fruits, and silk.
1 he town of San Marino, which stands on a mountain, the
summit of which is crowmed by a castle, is ill built and
paved; and the streets are so steep as to be inaccessible
for horses or carriages. The town has five churches, three
convents, a town-house, and a large square commanding an
extensive view. Besides the capital, San Marino has four
vdlages. Pop. of state 7600.
MARIOT TE, Edme, a natural philosopher, was born
in Burgundy in the seventeenth century. During part of
his life he dwelt at Dijon, and from that place his first works
are dated. He had studied for the church, and was after¬
wards chosen prior of St Martin, near Beaune. On the for¬
mation of the Academy of Sciences he became one of its
members. He died in 1684. Mariotte was among the
first French philosophers who turned their attention to
experimental physics. In 1717 there was published at
Leyden, in 2 vols. 4to, a collection of his works, comprising
I realises on Vegetation, on the Nature of the Air, on Heat
and Cold, on the Nature of Colours, on Hydraulics, on a
New Discovery touching the Sight, on Levelling, on the
Motion of the Pendulum, on the Colours and Congelation
of Water, and on Logic. (For an account of Mariotte’s
experiments on the density of the air, see Dissertation
Fifth, ii. 2.)
MARITZA, a river of European Turkey. (See Hebrus.)
MARIUS, Caius, a celebrated Roman general, was
born about b.c. .157, of poor parents, in Cereatae (Plin. hi.
5.), a village near Arpinum, afterwards famous as the native
town of Cicero. His youth seems to have been passed
amidst the rude discipline of the camp ; nor was his dispo¬
sition at all softened by literature or by intercourse with the
learned. He commenced his military career at Numantia
(b.c. 134), and by his temperance and bravery so won the
good opinion of Scipio, that that general answered one of
his friends who inquired where they would find another
general equal to himself, by putting his hand on the shoulder
of Marius and saying, “ Here he is.” Many years, how¬
ever, pass without any allusion to Marius, nor do we know
what part he took in the troubled times of the Gracchi.
He appears again in history as tribune of the people, b.c.
119, winch office he is said to have obtained chiefly through
t m influence of the consul Metellus, whose implacable
enemy he afterwards became. He began immediately to
com t the favour of the people, and proposed a law which
tended to lessen the authority of the patricians in matters
2 Q
305
Mariotte
I!
Marius.
306
MARIUS.
Marius, of judicature. The consul Cotta persuaded the senate to
' summon Marius to answer for his conduct; but the bold
tribune threatened to send even the consuls to piison it
they persisted in opposition to his measure. The senate
gave way, and the law was subsequently confirmed by the
people. He was thus supposed to have embarked in the
popular cause ; but this opinion changed when it was found
that he strenuously opposed the distribution of corn amongst
the people. When his year of office had expired, he stood
as candidate for the curule sedileship, but was rejected;
upon which he applied for the plebeian sedileship, and in
this too he was unsuccessful. Not long afterwards he stood
for the prsetorship, and was returned last of the six, and
not without the suspicion of bribery. He was tried, and
escaped only by an equality of votes. The following year
he was sent as propraetor to Farther Spain, which he soon
cleared of the banditti who infested the province. On his
return to Rome he was anxious to take part in the administra¬
tion of public affairs, but he had neither riches to buy favour,
nor eloquence to command it. Still, by his high spirit,
by his indefatigable industry, and simple mode of living, he
became a favourite with the people, and acquired sufficient
reputation to be thought worthy of marrying Julia, the aunt
of Julius Caesar. When Metellus was appointed, b.c. 108,
to the command of the war against Jugurtha, he chose Ma¬
rius as one of his lieutenants. Selfish enough to feel no
gratitude for his promotion, and to be wholly intent upon
his own advancement, Marius strove by every method to
convince the soldiers of the faults of Metellus, and of the
merits of himself. When he had thus succeeded in per¬
suading all that he alone was able to terminate the war, he
determined to stand as candidate for the consulship, and
pressed Metellus to grant him leave of absence to pioceed
to Rome. Metellus ridiculed his pretensions to such a high
office, and, laughing, asked him if he would not be satisfied
to stay and be consul with his son, who was then very
young. At last, however, he granted permission only twelve
days before the election ; but favoured by the winds, Ma¬
rius reached Rome in six days. His recently acquired
fame had gone before him, and the people elected him con¬
sul, B.C. 107, with great applause. He was commissioned
to supersede Metellus in the province of Numidia; and
while levying an army, he enlisted, in opposition to the usual
custom, all ^persons, however ignoble, who offered them¬
selves. He then returned with his troops to Africa, but
did not reap the glory which he had expected, for he was
in a great measure deprived of it by his quaestor Sylla.
Jugurtha had fled to his father-in-law Bocchus, King of
Mauritania; and that prince, after some deliberation, de¬
livered him alive (b.c. 105) into the hands of Sylla. (See
Jugurtha.) It was this circumstance which laid the foun¬
dation of that violent and implacable quarrel between Ma¬
rius and Sylla which almost ruined the republic. Italy was
at this time threatened by an invasion from the Cimbri and
Teutones, a horde of northern barbarians who had overrun
the whole of Gaul. The Romans were in the utmost con¬
sternation, and no one seemed able to protect them but
Marius. Though absent, he was elected consul a second
time, B.c. 104, and received orders to return home with his
army. On his arrival he obtained the honours of a triumph,
and then devoted himself to the discipline of the levies
which he raised. The barbarians meanwhile had passed
into Spain, and during the whole of this year Italy had a
respite from her enemies. At length, in 102 B.C., shortly
after Marius had been elected consul for the fourth time,
they approached with an overwhelming force the northern
frontiers of Italy. Marius hastened across the Alps, and
pitched his camp near the mouth of the Rhone. The camp
was fortified and well provisioned; and, that it might com¬
municate with the sea, he employed his men in making a
canal capable of receiving ships of considerable burden.
Meanwhile the barbarian army had divided. The Cimbri Marius,
marched in the direction of the Tyrol to attack Catulus.
The Teutones and Ambrones advanced to storm the camp
of Marius. That general, in order that his army might be¬
come inured to the wild aspect of the savages, remained
inactive until they were compelled by lack of provisions to
abandon the siege, and press forward to Italy. He then
left his camp, hovered about their rear, and seizing a favour¬
able opportunity, attacked them at Aquae Sextiae (Atx), and
after a desperate conflict, routed them with immense car¬
nage. The wives and those who had escaped from the
battle put an end to their lives. Whilst he was sacrificing
in honour of this victory he received intelligence that he
had been elected fifth time consul, b.c. 101.
Marius returned to Rome, where he was offered a triumph,
which he declined. He then proceeded to the assistance of
his late colleague Catulus, who was guarding the north of
Italy against the Cimbri. His arrival gave confidence to
Catulus; and as soon as the army from Gaul arrived, they
crossed the Po to check the barbarians who were ravaging
the country on the opposite side. The Cimbri deferred the
combat till the arrival of the Teutones, whom they were
unwilling to believe to have been destroyed; and in the
meanwhile sent to demand lands and cities from Marius,
which should be sufficient for themselves and brethren.
“ Your brethren,” said Marius, “ have land enough which
we have already given them, and they shall have it for
ever.” A decisive battle was fought a short time after¬
wards (30th July) in the plain of Vercellse; and though the
victory was almost wholly due to the bravery and good con¬
duct of Catulus, Marius carried off all the honour, and was
named the third founder of Rome. On his return to Rome
he enjoyed the honour of a triumph, along with, his col¬
league Catulus. He then began to exert all his influence
to get himself re-elected to the consulship, and he omitted
no means, however dishonourable, that might conduce to
his success. Marius succeeded (b.c. 100) for the sixth
time, and one of his first acts was the banishment of his old
enemy Metellus by a mean and treacherous device. So
unpopular had Marius now become, that he refused to stand
as a candidate for the censorship, lest he should suffer a re¬
pulse. Metellus was recalled next year, and that he might
not witness his triumphant entrance, Marius left Rome for
the East, under the pretence of performing some vow to the
mother of the gods, but in reality to excite Mithridates
against the Romans. For ten years Marius was discon¬
nected with public affairs; but when the Marsian or Social
War broke out (b.c. 90), he was appointed to the com¬
mand. Age, however, had quenched his martial ardour,
and his reputation suffered as much as that of Sylla in¬
creased. When the Social War had been concluded, B.c.
88, the Romans saw that they must commence the contest
with Mithridates. The enmity of Marius and Sylla now
broke out in open war, as they were both anxious to be
appointed to the command. Sylla was supported by the
senate, but Marius excited a sedition through the tribune
Sulpitius, and received the appointment; on which Sylla,
refusing to lay down his command, and backed by his whole
army, marched to Rome and overawed his enemies. Marius
with great difficulty embarked on board a small vessel at
Ostia, which was ready to sail for Africa, but contrary
winds obliged him to land at the mouth of the Lins (Gkm-
fflzcmo) where he was abandoned by the sailors. There he
was discovered lurking in a marsh and was dragged to
Minturnae with a rope round his neck, and with his face and
garments begrimed with mud. 1 he authorities of the town
resolved to put him to death, but could find no man willing
to accomplish their wish. At length a Cimbnan horse-
soldier offered his services, and entered the room of the
captive with his sword drawn in his hand. But when Ma¬
rius, fixing upon him his commanding eye, exclaimed,
MAE
Marivaux. “ Dost thou dare to kill Marius?” he flung down his wea-
pon and fled. The people of Minturnae then persuaded
their magistrates to banish Marius, and a vessel was found
to bear him from his country. He proceeded to ^Enaria
{Ischia), and thence to Africa. He landed at Carthage;
and whilst he was seated there, a messenger came from the
governor Sextilius with an order that he should leave the
province. “ Go and tell him,” said the unfortunate man,
“ that you have seen the exiled Marius sitting on the ruins
of Carthage.” Marius proceeded to Cercina, a small island
not far from the continent, and here received intelligence
that the consuls Cinna and Octavius, having quarrelled, had
had recourse to arms. Marius determined to proceed to
the assistance of Cinna, who had been driven by his col¬
league from Rome; and landing with a considerable body
of exiles, he soon changed the face of affairs, and reinstated
Cinna in his office. He himself refused to enter Rome till
the decree of his banishment was repealed. This affected
deference to the laws of his country was soon laid aside,
and the streets of Rome flowed with the blood of the best
of her citizens. Marius was elected consul for the seventh
time, B.c. 86; but his age and infirmities rendered him
little able to sustain the weight of public affairs. The in¬
telligence that Sylla was returning victorious from the
Mithridatic war alarmed him, and drove him for relief to
intoxication. This hastened his end, and he died on the
seventeenth day of his seventh consulship, b.c. 86, at the
age of seventy. His ashes were thrown into the Anio by
the order of Sylla. The Life of Marius has been written by
Plutarch; that by Rutilius Rufus has been lost. An ac¬
count of the proscription of Marius may be found in Appian.
MARIVAUX, Piekre Cablet de Chamblain de, one
of the most prolific and ingenious writers of the eighteenth
century in the department of comedy and romance, was
descended from an ancient family of Rouen, and was born
at Paris in the year 1688. Young Marivaux early gave
evidence of the subtilty and activity of his genius, which
was carefully developed by all the appliances of an excellent
education. The society to which he was introduced on his
entrance into life exercised a sensible influence on the
character of his writings. Admitted into the salons of the
opulent females of the capital, who then vied with each
other in protecting men of letters, he there contracted that
affectation of wit, of which the comedies of Moliere had not
yet entirely cured the precieuses of the age. It was there
that he became acquainted with Lamotte and the numerous
writers who composed the salon of Madame de Tencin, and
whom that celebrated woman familiarly called her “ beasts.”
It was in this society that Marivaux, naturally inclined to
controversy, and fond of paradox, though otherwise gentle
and tolerant, amused himself in tilting with the partisans of
antiquity, depreciating poetical talent, and deriding the ad¬
mirers of Voltaire. He even went so far as to maintain
that Moliere did not understand comedy, and pretended
that he could not conceive how people should admire the
Tartuffe and the Femmes-Sava7ites. Living in the world
at a period when Pyrrhonism in matters of religion was the
fashion, he combated, without asperity, but with laudable
zeal, that truly deplorable mania. “ Ah, my God,” said he
on one occasion to a freethinker, who was otherwise an
honest man, “ take not from poor humanity that consola¬
tion which Providence has reserved for it.” If he was
slightly tinctured with vanity, he was also distinguished for
magnanimous disinterestedness and severe probity. He
died at Paris on the 12th of February 1763, at the age of
seventy-five. He had been unanimously admitted a mem¬
ber of the French Academy in 1743, and had Voltaire for
a competitor. Marivaux’s dramatic pieces, while displaying
much talent, are nevertheless inferior to his romances. He
never surpassed his Marianne, or his Paysan Parvenu ; de¬
lineations which, although characterized by the peculiar
MAE
manner of the writer,—what the French call marivaux-
dage,—yet interest and charm the reader by their subtle
knowledge of the human heart, and by their accurate and
masterly touches of character.
To the Theatre-Italien he contributed.—PAmour et la Verite,
1/20; Arlequin poll par Amour, 1720; La Surprise de VAmour,
1722; La Double Inconstance, 1723; Le Prince Travesti, 1724;
Pile des Esclaves, 1725; PReretier de Village, 1725; Le Triomphe
de Plutus, 1728 ; La Nouvelle Colonie, ou la Ligue des Femmes, 1729;
Jeux de l Amour et du Hazard, 1730 ; Lc Triomphe de VAmour, 1732 ;
PEcole des Meres, 1732 ; PHeureux Stratageme, 1732 ; La Meprise,
1734; La Mere Confidante, 1735; Les Fausses Confidences, 1736;
La Joie Imprevue, 1738; Les Sinceres, 1739 ; and PEpreuve, 1740.
The^ dramatic works of Marivaux, originally represented at the
Theatre-Fran^ois, are somewhat less numerous. They consist of
Annibal, a tragedy, 1720; Le Denouement Imprevue, a comedy,
1724; Pile de la Raison, ou les Petits Hommes, derived from the ro¬
mance of Gulliver, 1727 ; La Surprise de VAmour, 1727 ; La Re¬
union des Amours, 1731; Les Serments Indiscrete, 1732; Le Petit-
Maitre' Corrige, 1734; Le Legs, 1736 ; La Dispute, 1744; and Le
Pr&jugi, 1746. His romances consist of,—How Quichotte Moderne ;
Effets Surprenants de la Sympathie; La Vie de Marianne ; La Pay¬
san Parvenu-, Le Philosophe Indigent. His works were collected
and published in 12 vols., Paris 1781, in 8vo.
MARK, St, the Evangelist, is, according to ecclesiastical
testimonies, the same person who, in the Acts, is called by
the Jewish name John, whose Roman surname was Marcus
(Acts xii. 12, 25). He was a convert from Judaism, and the
cousin of Barnabas, and was most probably of Jewish de¬
scent. We find his mother Mary a resident in Jerusalem,
and entertaining the apostles at her house (Acts xii. 12).
He accompanied Paul and Barnabas on their travels as an
assistant (Acts xii. 25; xiii. 5), but afterwards left them
and returned to Jerusalem. On this account Paul refused
to take Mark with him on his second apostolical journey,
but subsequently became reconciled to him, and he was
present with the apostle during his captivity at Rome.
I here is a unanimous ecclesiastical tradition that Mark
was the companion and ipfjL-rjvevTrjs of Peter. This epithet,
according to A. Tholuck, was applied to Mark because he
was the assistant of Peter, and either orally or in writing
communicated and developed what Peter taught. This
tradition is the more credible, as the New Testament does
not contain any passage that could have led to its invention ;
and, moreover, the testimony in favour of the connection
between Mark and Peter is so old and respectable, that it
can with difficulty be called in question. It first occurs at
the commencement of the second century, and proceeds
from the presbyter John (Euseb., Hist. Eccles. iii. 39); it
afterwards appears in Irenseus (Adv. Hcer. ii. 1. 1, and x.
6); in Tertullian {Contra Mart. iv. 5); in Clemens Alex-
andrinus, Jerome, and others. Eusebius infers {Hist.
Eccles. ii. 15) from the later life of Mark, that he was with
Peter at Rome. Epiphanius and others inform us that he
introduced the gospel into Egypt, founded the church at
Alexandria, and that he died in the eighth year of Nero’s
reign. This apostle is the author of the gospel which o-oes
by his name.
Mark, St, Gospel of, the same ancient authors who call
Mark a (disciple) and ipgrjvevTrjs (secretary) of
Petei, state also that he wrote his gospel according to the
discourses ol that apostle. Ihe most ancient statement of
this fact is that of the presbyter John and of Papias, which
we quote from Eusebius {Hist. Eccles. iii. 39) as follows
“ Mark having become secretary to Peter, whatever he put
into style he wrote with accuracy, but did not observe the
chronological order of the discourses and actions of Christ,
because he was neither a hearer nor a follower of the Lord;
but at a later period, as I have said, wrote for Peter to meet
t le requisites of instruction, but by no means with the view
o urms i a connected digest of the discourses of our Lord.”
. c 1 wtrmacher, and after him Strauss, have turned this
mto an argument against the gospel of Mark. They assert
ia t ns gospel is a cmra^is, which, if not chronological, is
307
Mark.
308 MAR
Mark, at least a concatenation according to the subjects. Now
V—■vw' the presbyter John states that Mark wrote ov rdia, without
order. We learn, however, from what Papias adds, how
Papias himself understood the words of the, presbyter;
and we perceive that he explains ov ragei by evta ypai/za?,
writing isolated facts. Hence it appears that the words ov
rdiei signify only incompleteness, but do not preclude all
and every sort of arrangement.
If the opinions concerning the relation of Mark to Matthew
and Luke, which have been current since the days of Gries-
bach, were correct, we might be able to form a true idea
concerning the chronological succession in which the first
three gospels were written. The chronological order ot
the gospels is, according to Origen, the same in which they
follow each other in the codices. Irenseus {Adversus Hcsreses,
iii. 1.) states that Mark wrote after the death of Peter and
Paul; but, according to Clemens Alexandrinus {Hypotypos.
vi.) and Eusebius {Hist. Eccles. vi. 14), he wrote at Home
while Peter was yet living. Griesbach, Saunier, Strauss,
and many others, however, state it as an unquestionable fact,
that the Gospel of Mark was merely an abridgement of the
Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Weisse, Wolke, and Bauer,
on the other hand, have in recent times asserted that the
Gospel of Mark was the most ancient of all the gospels,
that Luke amplified the Gospel of Mark, and that Matthew
made additions to both.
We do not see any reason to contradict the unanimous
tradition of antiquity concerning the dependence of Mark
upon Peter. We deem it possible, and even probable, that
Luke read Mark, and that he also alludes to him by reckon¬
ing him among the many, who had written gospel history
before him. This supposition, however, is by no means
necessary or certain ; and it is still possible that Mark wrote
after Luke. Some of the ancient testimonies, namely, those
of Irenseus, Clemens Alexandrinus, Jerome, and others, state
that Mark’s gospel was written at Rome. In favour ot this
opinion there have been urged some so-called Latinisms;
for instance, in ch. xv. 15, and ch. v. 23. These expres¬
sions are, however, rather Grsecisms than Latinisms. Others
appeal to words which have a Latin origin; but these
are military terms which the Greeks adopted from the
Romans. These Latinisms cannot prove much, however,
respecting the locality in which Mark’s gospel was written ;
but it is certain that it was written for Gentile Chris¬
tians. This appears from the explanation of Jewish cus¬
toms (ch. vii. 2, 11 ; xii. 18; xiii. 3; xiv. 12; xv. 6, 42).
The same view is confirmed by the scarcity of quotations
from the Old Testament, perhaps also by the absence of
the genealogy of Christ, and by the omission of the Sermon
on the Mount, which explains the relation of Christ to the
Old Testament dispensation, and which was, therefore, of
the greatest importance to Matthew.
The characteristic peculiarity of Mark as an author is
particularly manifest in two points: 1. He reports rather
the works than the discourses of our Saviour; 2. He gives
details more minutely and graphically than Matthew and
Luke ; for instance, he describes the cures effected by Jesus
more exactly (iv. 31, 41; vi. 5, 13 ; vii. 33 ; viii. 23). He
is also more particular in stating definite numbers (v. 13,
42; vi. 7; xiv. 30), and furnishes more exact dates and
times (i. 32, 35; ii. 1, 26; iv. 26, 35; vi. 2; xi. 11, 19,
20, &c.).
Most of the materials of Mark’s narrative occur also in
Matthew and Luke. He has, however, sections exclusively
belonging to himself, viz., iii. 21, 31, sq.; vi. 17, sq.; xi.
11; xii. 28, sq. Ihese peculiar statements of Mark have
an entirely historical character: consequently we deem it
unjustifiable in Strauss and De Wette to endeavour to de¬
preciate them by calling them arbitrary additions.
We may mention respecting the conclusion of Mark’s
gospel (ch. xvi. 9, 20), the genuineness of which, from its
MAR
omission in several of the codices, has been called in ques- Market-
tion, that Michaelis and Hug are of opinion that the addi- Har‘
tion was made by the evangelist at a later period, in a similar bor°ugl1
manner as John made an addition in ch. xxi. of his Gospel. Markland.
Perhaps also an intimate friend, or an amanuensis, supplied v ^
the defect. If either of these two hypotheses is well founded,
it may be understood why several codices were formerly
without this conclusion, and why, nevertheless, it was found
in most of them.
Among the various commentaries on the Gospel of Mark
which have been published in modern times, the following
deserves to be specially mentioned:—Evangelium Marci
recensuit, et cum Commentariis perpetuis edidit, C. F. A.
Fritsche, Lipsiae, 1830. On the whole subject consult An
Introduction to the New Testament, by Dr S. Davidson,
London, 1848; also The Origin of the Gospels, by James
Smith, Esq., F.R.S., Edinburgh, 1853. For a compendium
of all critical investigations into the history contained in
the gospels consult Ebrard’s Wissenschafthche Kritik der
Evangelischen Geschichte, 2 vols. 1842.
MARKET-HARBOROUGH, a market-town of Eng¬
land, in the county of Leicestershire, on the left bank of
the Welland, 15 miles S.S.E. of Leicester, and 83 N.W.
of London. The town consists of one principal street, and
several smaller ones; and it is well paved and lighted. It
contains a town-hall; a handsome church of the fourteenth
century, with a tower and a lofty octangular spire ; places
of worship for Wesleyan Methodists, Independents, and
Baptists; national and British schools, a free school, &c.
A silk mill and several breweries are in operation, but the
inhabitants are chiefly employed in agriculture. A carpet
manufactory, which formerly existed here, has been dis¬
continued, and the wool, on being prepared here, is now
sent to London to be made into carpets. Market-Har-
borough is mentioned in history as the head-quarters of the
royalists before the battle of Naseby. It is connected with
London by the North-Western and Rugby and Stamfoid
Railways. The market-day is Tuesday; and fairs are held
twice a-year. Pop. (1851) 2325.
MARKINCH, a village and parish in Fifeshire, Scot¬
land, situated not far from the Leven, 7 miles N. of Kirk¬
caldy. The town contains a parish church, a Free, and
a United Presbyterian church, and two schools. Coal is
worked to a considerable extent in the parish; and there
are also paper, woollen, linen, and flax mills, and bleach-
fields. The parish includes also the villages of Milton and
Thornton. Markinch was formerly a residence of the
Culdees. Pop. of parish (1851) 5843.
MARKLAND, Jeremiah, one of the most learned
scholars and acute critics of his age, was born in 1692 at
Childwall in Lancashire, and received his education in
Christ’s Hospital, and at St Peter’s College, Cambridge.
Having taken his degree of M.A. in 1717, he soon after
became a fellow and tutor in his college, a position which
he subsequently resigned for that of a travelling tutor on
the Continent. He became first publicly known by his
Epistola Critica, addressed to Bishop Hare. In this he
gave many proofs of extensive erudition and critical saga¬
city. He afterwards published an edition of tlie
of Statius (London, 1728), and the Supplices {1763) and
Iphigenias (1771) of Euripides; and he assisted Dr laylor
in his editions of Lysias and Demosthenes by the notes
which he communicated to him. He also very happily
elucidated some passages in the New Testament which
may be found in Mr Boyer’s edition ot it; and he was
author of a volume of valuable remarks on the Epistles ot
Cicero to Brutus, and of an excellent little treatise under
the title of Qucestio Grammatica. He died in 1776 at
Milton, near Dorking in Surrey, where he had spent the
greater part of a long life in the closest retirement, admired
alike as a scholar and as a man.
MAR
MAR
Marl¬
borough
Marlowe.
MARLBOROUGH, a municipal and parliamentary
borough and market-town of England, Wiltshire, on the
left bank of the River Kennet, 13 miles N.W. of Devizes,
and 75 W. by S. of London. The town consists of one
main street of considerable breadth, which is crossed by
other smaller ones. The houses are for the most part old
and irregularly built, and many of them have curiously
carved gables. The principal buildings are,—the market-
house, an old building, in the upper part of which there
are the council chamber, assembly rooms, and court-house ;
the college buildings; an old church of St Mary, built in
the Norman style, with alow square tower; and an elegant
modern church. There are, besides, places of worship for
Wesleyan Methodists and Independents, &c., a free gram¬
mar school, national and other schools. Marlborough col¬
lege was incorporated in 1845 for the education of sons of
clergymen and others. A considerable commerce is carried
on here, principally in coal, corn, and malt; but since the
opening of the Great Western Railway the town has lost
much of the importance which it derived from its situation
on the high road between London and Bath. In all pro¬
bability, the Roman station Cunetio, founded by Antoninus,
was in the neighbourhood of Marlborough. Henry HI.
held a Parliament here, at which were enacted those laws
called the Statutes of Malbridge. The borough received
its first charter in 1205. It is governed by a mayor, four
aldermen, and twelve councillors; and it sends two mem¬
bers to Parliament. Markets are held on Saturday, and
fairs three times a-year. Pop. of the municipal borough
(1851), 3689; of the parliamentary borough, 5135.
MARLOW, Great, a municipal and parliamentary
borough of England, county of Buckingham, on the north
bank of the Thames, 23 miles S. by E. of Aylesbury, and
31 W. by N. of London. The town consists of two prin¬
cipal streets at right angles to each other, and meeting in
a large square, besides several smaller ones. The principal
buildings are the town-hall, and the parish church, opened
in 1835, and surmounted by a lofty spire. There are also
places of worship for Wesleyan Methodists, Independents,
Baptists, and Roman Catholics; national schools; charity
schools; and other benevolent institutions. The river is
here crossed by a handsome suspension bridge, with a span
of 75 yards. The town possesses paper-mills and breweries ;
and the trade, which is considerable, consists chiefly of
corn, coals, and timber. The markets have been discon¬
tinued ; but large fairs are held here for horses and cattle;
and there are races in August. Marlow returns two mem¬
bers to Parliament. Pop. of the municipal borough (1851)
4485, of the parliamentary borough (1851) 6523.
MARLOWE, Christopher, the “ Kit Marlowe” of
Elizabethan wits and poets, was born at Canterbury in ] 564.
His birth is registered under the date of February 26, so
that he was not two months older than his great contem¬
porary in the drama, Shakspeare. Marlowe’s father was
a shoemaker, but he had interest enough to obtain for his
son admission into King’s School, Canterbury, which in¬
sured him five years’ liberal education and a sum of L.4
per annum, equal to L.20 of our present money. He was
entered as a pensioner of Bennet College, Cambridge, March
17, 1581, and took his degree of M.A. in 1587. Before
this time Marlowe had written the first part of his tragedy
of Tamburlaine, which was attacked in 1587 by Greene
and Nash as an attempt to “ outbrave better pens with the
swelling bombast of blank verse.” In the prologue to his
play Marlowe had challenged attention to his innova¬
tion :—
“From jigging veins of rhyming mother-wits,
And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay,
We’ll lead you to the stately tent of war,
"Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine
Threatening the world with high astounding terms.”
Marlowe kept his word with the audience. The tragedy
is full of extravagant scenes in Persia, Scythia, Morocco,
&c., in which Tamburlaine is drawn in a chariot to which
captive kings are harnessed, and even death is repre¬
sented as afraid to face the conqueror! There is great
power of expression, and some gorgeous local painting, in
the drama, and its success was unprecedented. A second
part was soon produced, and both were printed in 1590.
Tamburlaine was followed by the Tragical History of the
Life and Heath of Hr Faustus, the Massacre at Paris,
the Rich Jew of Malta, and the Troublesome Reign and
Lamentable Heath of Edward the Second. Marlowe also
aided Nash in another tragedy, Hido Queen of Carthage.
Besides his plays, all of which were highly successful, Mar¬
lowe translated part of the poem of Hero and Leander, from
Musaeus (afterwards completed by Chapman), the first book
of Lucan, and Ovid’s Elegies,—the last in so licentious a
style that it was burned by order of the Archbishop of Can¬
terbury. The beautiful little pastoral song, “ Come live with
me, and be my love,” quoted in Izaak Walton’s Angler, was
also of Marlowe’s composition. He had thus not only the
tragic pomp and “ mighty line” of the dramatic muse, but
the gentler graces of the poet and lover of nature. His
chief strength, however, consisted in depicting the passions
—in awakening terror, pity, grief, and remorse, which, be¬
fore his day, were unknown to the English stage. The
latter scenes of Faustus, and the death-scene oiEdward IT.,
are unsurpassed, even in Shakspeare, for their strong in¬
terest and sublimity. Passages of fine poetical and rheto¬
rical beauty also relieve his darker delineations of character
and daring flights of imagination; and there is little doubt
that, if Marlowe had lived till his powers had been chas¬
tened and matured, Shakspeare might for once have found
a rival. But Marlowe was wild and dissipated, entertain¬
ing atheistical opinions, according to his wretched associate
in debauchery, Robert Greene, and numerous zealots ; and
he was cut off by a violent death when little more than
twenty-nine years of age. One Francis Archer, a serving-
man, and rival in Marlowe’s “ lewd love,” as Meres states,
had invited him to a feast at Deptford. A quarrel probably
arose, for Marlowe attempted to stab his host with his dagger,
while the other seized him by the wrist, and turned the
dagger so that it entered Marlowe’s eye, and pierced him
to the brain. He died shortly afterwards, June 16,
1593.
It is usual to term Marlowe the precursor of Shakspeare.
He had the priority in the use of sonorous and energetic blank
verse. They were, however, of the same age; and as the great
dramatist had produced at least twelve of his original plays
before 1598, it is natural to infer that he had begun to write
some time before Marlowe’s death in 1593. He may have
been engaged even as early as 1587, when Tamburlaine
appeared, in adapting his historical dramas of Henry VI. and
Richard III., and the Taming of the Shrew ; all which are
modelled so closely on the old plays that above 2000 lines
have been appropriated entire by Shakspeare. Many
passages in these old plays are also found in Marlowe’s
Edivard II. Stage effect was then chiefly studied; the
plays were produced to be acted, not read; and so many
additions were made—at least to the inferior dramas—by
subsequent writers engaged by the managers, that consid¬
erable uncertainty hangs over their literary history. That
Shakspeare had at first “beautified” himself by “feathers”
taken from Greene or Marlowe, or both, we have shown
by extracts given in the life of Greene; but his style—the
garb, as it were, of his unapproachable genius—was soon
distinctly formed, and the characteristics of Marlowe are
also manifest in his best plays. The individuality of either
cannot be mistaken ; and Marlowe, however inferior, has the
striking merit of originality and command of the grander
elements of tragedy. (r. c—s.)
309
Marlowe.
310
M A K
Mamandc MARMANDE, a town of France, capital of m arron-
|| dissement of the same name in the department of L°t-et-
Marmont. Garonne, is pleasantly situated on the right bank of tie
v Garonne, which is here crossed by a bridge with a single
arch, 30 miles N.W. of Agen. Marmande has rather an
antiquated appearance, many of the houses being timber¬
framed : but it is at the same time neat, clean, and regular,
and has several fine squares and public fountains. I he
principal buildings are the town-hall, the court-house,
and the college. The manufactures chiefly carried on here
are those of hats, woollen stuffs, brandy, ropes, and leather.
The Garonne is navigable as far as Marmande, and the
harbour is very good. The trade is very flourishing, and
consists of corn, flour, wines, tobacco, &c. Marmande is an
ancient town. Having supported the cause of the Albi-
o-enses, it was taken after a disastrous siege, in 1219, by
Louis VIII. and Amaury de Montfort, when most of its
inhabitants were put to the sword. It was afterwards be¬
sieged in 1577 by Henri IV. Pop. (1851) 8257.
MARMONT, Auguste Fredepjc Louis Viesse de,
Due de Raquse, Marshal of France, was born at Chatil-
lon-sur-Seine on the 20th July 1774. At the age of fifteen
he entered the army as sub-lieutenant of infantry, and in
1792 passed with the same rank into the artillery. In the
following year his skill and bravery before Toulon intro¬
duced him to the notice of Bonaparte, and laid the foun¬
dation of his fortunes. He was promoted to the rank of
captain in 1794, and having entered the army of the Rhine
in 1795, he showed great valour at the blockade of Mayence.
He then accompanied Napoleon as his principal aide-c e-
camp in the Italian campaign of 1796; and by his brave
and skilful conduct at Lodi, Castiglione, and Saint Georges,
earned his promotion to the rank of colonel, and the is-
tinction of being sent to Paris with the captured colours.
His rise became more rapid amid the toils and perils of the
Egyptian expedition in 1798. For the part he acted dm mg
the capture of Malta he was created a general of brigade;
and after he had distinguished himself at the battle of the
Pvramids, he was appointed commander of Alexandria.
He returned with Bonaparte to France in 1799, and was
a zealous supporter of that general on the day of the 18th
Brumaire. Shortly after this he was appointed a councillor
of state and commander-in-chief of the reserve of the ar¬
tillery. In this latter capacity he superintended the famous
crossing of the Great St Bernard in the spring of 1800.
His important share in the victory of Marengo, which was
gained in the following June, raised him to the rank of a
general of division. Appointed commander of the army in
Dalmatia in 1806, Marmont defeated the Montenegrins,
Greeks, and Russians, at Castel-Novo and governed the
duchy with so much tact and success, that he received the
title of Due de Raguse in 1808. In the following year he
was summoned by Napoleon to assist in the war against
Austria, and won his marshal’s baton on the battle-held ot
Wagram. The organization of the Illyrian provinces nas
a result of that decisive victory, and Marmont was appointed
their governor. From this office he was called in 1811 to
supersede Massena in the command of the army in Por¬
tugal. There his administration was characterized by his
usual ability, but not by his usual success. He was de¬
feated by Wellington at the battle of Salamanca in 1812,
and enfeebled by wounds and fatigue, he was forced to
return to Paris. Summoned into action once more in 1813,
Marmont fought at Lutzen, Bautzen, and Wurtzen; and
while covering the retreat of the French after the disas¬
trous battle of Leipsic, he was again wounded. In 1814, with
a comparatively small force, he resisted for several hours the
entrance of the allies into Paris, and not until he was nearly
overborne by the numbers of the enemy did he agree to eva¬
cuate the city. Yet so much odium did he incur on account
of this capitulation, that he was excepted by name from the
M A II
general amnesty which Napoleon proclaimed on his return Marmontel.
from Elba. Marmont accordingly retired to Aix-la-Cha-
pelle during the Hundred Days, and did not return to Paris
until after the battle of Waterloo. He was then nominated
a major-general of the royal guard; and in 1817 he was
commissioned as the king’s lieutenant to al ay an insurrec¬
tion in Lyons. About this period he retired into the coun¬
try, and devoted himself to agricultural pursuits until 1825,
when he was despatched as ambassador extraordinary to
congratulate Nicholas on his accession to the throne of
Russia During the Revolution he commanded, though
very unwillingly, the king’s troops. Having thus become
the object of popular indignation, he was driven into exile
on the expulsion of Charles X., and his name was struck
off from the list of marshals. He latterly devoted much
attention to the study of the military systems of difteient
countries. Part of his information on this subject he pub¬
lished in his Esprit des Institutions Militaires, Pans, 1845.
He died at Venice in 1852. Two volumes of his Memoirs,
written by himself, were lately published in Paris.
MARMONTEL, Jean Francois, a celebrated trench
writer, was born in 1723 at the picturesque village of Bort
in the Limousin, in a family little removed above the lank
of peasantry. He owed the early part of his education to
private charity and gratuitous public institutions. After
studying at the college of the Jesuits at Clermont, he went
to Toulouse, where he delivered lectures in philosophy
with considerable reputation, and gained an academical
prize. An accidental correspondence with Voltaire Anally
led to his departure for Paris in 1745, where he obtained the
personal acquaintance of that highly popular writer, who at
that time extended the most friendly encouragement to all
young men possessed of any talents for poetry. Ihere
Marmontel commenced his career of letters by gaining a
prize for a poem on a subject proposed by the trench
Academy, La Gloire de Louis XIV. perpetuee dans le
Roi son Successeur. But in that age the theatre afforded
the most ample field for the acquisition of wealth and emi¬
nence, and he accordingly next turned his attention to
theatrical composition. His first tragedies, Dionysius and
Aristomenes, obtained a flattering reception but were
soon forgotten; and his succeeding ones, Cleopatra, the
Heraclides, and Numitor, had no success whatever. La-
harpe, who was a great dramatic critic, condemns them all
as bad, except the Heraclides, which he calls a tolerable
tragedy of the second rank. In fact, Marmontel does not
appear to have been endowed with any great talents tor
poetry or dramatic composition. His dramatic writings,
however, gained for him at once both friends and fortune, and
he found himself suddenly elevated from the verge of utter
want, and at once plunged into all the bustling intrigue
of the first literary circles, and into all the glare and dissi¬
pation of fashionable society. His time was occupied with
rehearsals, love intrigues, and parties of pleasure. Ly aa-
dressing flattering verses to the king, and gaimng the
favour of other persons of influence, Marmontel obtained
the situation of under-secretary of the royal buildings.
This employment fixed his residence at Versailles foi ve
years, during which time he contributed articles to the
^Encyclopedic, which were afterwards pnnted together in
alphabetical order, under the g-^1^
Litterature. He afterwards commenced the Contes Mo
raux written originally for the Mercure de France, winch
were’subsequently collected and printed by themselves.
Many of these tiles, on which the fame of Marmonte
principally, if not solely, rests, bear reference ° *e ongtna
idea with which they commence, being for the most part
intended to expose some absurdity or extravagance of cha¬
racter. In most of them he displays a very happy imita¬
tion of nature in the manners and in the language; and it is
only to be regretted that he has occasionally given too high
MAR
Marmora.
a colouring to conceptions of the most beautiful simplicity.
As lively pictures of French manners, both simple and
fashionable, they are admitted to be unrivalled. Having
been suspected of writing a satire against some powerful
nobleman, in the Mercure, of which he had now become
the sole manager, he was, in consequence, shut up for a
few days in the Bastille, and on his release deprived of his
agreeable and lucrative situation. He next translated into
prose the Pharsalia of Lucan, and added to it a supple¬
ment, in which he details the events of Caesar’s wars in
Africa, and concludes with his last campaign in Spain.
His next publication was a romance called Belisaire, which,
on its first appearance in 1768, attracted universal atten¬
tion, and involved the author in a dispute with the Sor-
bonne, who published a censure of it, which was opposed
by the arguments of Turgot, and by the epigrams and
squibs of Voltaire. He some time afterwards produced his
Incas of Peru, and, irritated as he was by the recent ana¬
themas of the Sorbonne, his great object in this new romance
was to show, that all the evils inflicted by the Spaniards on
the Indians had their original in that fanaticism which he
was desirous to bring into still deeper detestation. In these
latter works he unluckily abandoned the simplicity which
charmed so much in his Moral Tales, for a tone too highly
rhetorical and turgid.
In 1763 Marmontel had been admitted, after consider¬
able opposition, to the much-envied place of a member
of the French Academy, and in 1783 he succeeded
D’Alembert as its perpetual secretary. The situation of
historiographer of France, and the chair of history in the
Lyceum, which he successively, obtained, fully indemnified
him for the loss of the Mercure. Fie was in the full enjoy¬
ment of affluent circumstances, domestic felicity, and literary
reputation, when the French Revolution suddenly changed
the scene. During its alarming progress he led a retired
life, and though reduced to indigent circumstances, re¬
mained secure amidst all the violent events of the period.
In 1797 he was chosen a deputy to the National Assembly
by the department of Eure, but he died soon afterwards,
of an apoplectic attack, at his cottage near Abbeville, on
the 31st December 1799.
After his death were published the Nouveaux Contes Mo-
raux, 4 vols. 8vo, 1801; also a tolerable Ilistoirede laPegence
du Due d’Orleans, 2 vols. 8vo, 1805; besides his Memoirs
d’UnePere, pour servird VInstruction de sesEnfants, 4 vols.
8yo, 1804,—perhaps the most attractive and amusing of all
his writings,—containing, however, among many agreeable
and happy sketches, much paradox and self-contradiction;
with a vast gallery of portraits of the most distinguished
names of his time in France, ranging from Massillon to
Mirabeau. Many of his pieces are of very doubtful
morality.
MARMORA, Sea or, lies between European and
Asiatic Turkey, between 40. 18. and 41. 5. N. Lat.,
26. 40. and 30. 5. E. Long. It is 172 miles in length
by 55 in breadth. At the east end it terminates in two
long and narrow gulfs,—that of Izmid to the N., and that of
Mudanieh to the S. It communicates with the Black Sea
at the N.E. by the Bosporus or Straits of Constantinople,
and with the Archipelago on the S.W. by the Dardanelles.
The shores of the Sea of Marmora are beautiful in scenery
and well cultivated; but those on the Asiatic side are
bolder and more precipitous than those on the European. In
some places the depth is very great; at a point 5 miles N. of
Marmora Island no soundings have been obtained at 355
fathoms; and it is believed that in the centre the depth is
very much greater. It is fed by several streams, of which
the most important are the Karasu, Jatidji, and Chortu
from Europe, and the Salatadere, Gweinimenshar, Muk-
halitch, and Hyla from Asia. The navigation of the sea
is safe, and not accompanied with much difficulty; and
MAR
311
Marne.
there are numerous good harbours on the northern shore Marmorice
and under the islands. This sea is not subject to tides; II
but a current runs through it from the Black Sea to the
Mediterranean, varying in strength and swiftness at differ¬
ent seasons. The principal island, Marmora, which has
given name to the sea, is celebrated for its marble quarries,
from which in ancient times Cyzicus and other neighbour¬
ing cities, and in modern times Constantinople, have been
supplied with building materials. The island of Marmora
is occupied by a mountain range of no great height,
and has a very barren appearance, although some wine is
here produced. It is thinly inhabited, mostly by Greek
Christians; and the town of Marmora, which stands on the
S.W. coast, is chiefly built of wood. The island has a
circumference of about 45 miles, and was anciently known
by the names of Proconnesus or Elaphonnesus, on account
probably of the deer with which it was then stocked. The
other islands are,—Rabi, Liman-Pasha, Papa or Kalolimmo,
and the group called Prince’s Islands or Demonesi. The
Sea of Marmora was called by the ancients Propontis,
and was believed by them to lie due N. and S., so that the
Dardanelles and the Bosphorus were placed on the same
meridian.
MARMORICE, or Marmaras, a town of Anatolia,
situated on the S.W. coast of Asia Minor, 27 miles N. of
Rhodes. It is irregularly built, and the houses are mean ;
but it occupies a fine position at the head of a large bay.
In the vicinity are the ruins of the ancient Physeus. The
harbour is large and good, but the entrance is extremely
narrow. The export trade is considerable in timber,
honey, turpentine, wax, &c. At the mouth of the bay
stands the cape of the same name. Lat. 36. 43. N.,
Long. 28. 20. E.
MARNE (anciently Matrond), a river of France, rising
in the hills of Langres, and following a course nearly parallel
to that of the Seine, flows first N.W. and then W., until it
falls into that river a short distance above Paris, after a course
of about 280 miles. The greater part of its course lies in
the departments of Haute-Marne and Marne; but it also
traverses those of Aisne, Seine-et-Marne, and Seine-et-
Loire. It receives on the right the Ornain at Vitry, after
a course of 48 miles; and on the left the Blaise, the Petit-
Morin, and the Grand-Morin. The principal towns on the
Marne are,—Langres, Chaumont, Joinville, Saint Dizier,
Vitry-le-Fran^ais, Chalons, Mareuil, Epernay, Chateau-
Thierry, Ferte-sous-Jouarre, and Meaux; and the river is
navigable as far as Saint Dizier, 210 miles from its junction
with the Seine. The Marne is joined to the Rhine by
means of a canal, which follows for a considerable distance
the course of the Ornain. It crosses the Meuse at Voide,
the Moselle at Toul, and enters the Rhine at Strasbourg,
its whole length being about 89 miles. Communicating
with this canal another has been constructed from Vitry to
Dizy, along the bank of the Marne, for 38 miles, on ac¬
count of the rapid and winding character of this part of the
river. There is also a third canal of 35 miles in length,
which opens a communication between the Marne and the
Aisne.
Marne, a department of France, situated between 48.
28. and 49. 23. N. Lat., 3. 25. and 5. E. Long., and
bounded on the N. by the departments of Aisne and Ar¬
dennes, E. by those of Meuse and Haute-Marne, S. by
that of Aube, and W. by those of Seine-et-Marne and
Aisne. The department, which has an area of 3158 square
miles, consists of a bare plain, sloping from E. to W., with
a few scattered hills, which do not rise higher than 1200
feet. The soil consists of a thin layer of sand lying upon
chalk, except in the W. and N.W. borders, and along the
valley of the Marne, where the soil is rich and good. It is
separated into two nearly equal parts by the River Marne,
from which it takes its name ; and is watered also by the
312
MAR
M A R
Marne. Aisne in the N.E.; by its tributaries the Suippe and the
Vesle in the N. and N.W.; and by the Aube and the Seine
in the S., the latter of which merely touches it for a very
short distance. Marne enjoys a temperate climate and a
pure atmosphere, although in the low and marshy tracts on
the borders of the department fogs are very frequent. Cul¬
tivation is far advanced, and in a thriving condition. There
are 500,000 acres of ploughed land, 193,000 of woods and
forests, 189,000 of meadow land, 45,000 of vineyards, &c.
Corn is grown to a considerable extent, especially oats and
rye, which are more than sufficient for the supply of the
wants of the department. Fruit trees are also numerous
in Marne, and a great part of the department is covered
with forests. But the most fruitful branch of agriculture
in this district, and that on which most care is bestowed, is
the cultivation of the vine, for Marne occupies a part of the
old province of Champagne, so well known for the wines to
which it has given name. This department produces an¬
nually about 15,400,000 gallons of wine. Many sheep are
raised in Marne, and their breed has been much improved
by crossing with the Merino and English breeds. The
horned cattle and horses are small in size. Bees and do¬
mestic fowls are kept in great numbers in the department.
The chief mineral productions are,—limestone, chalk, flint,
millstones, building stone, clay of various sorts. The depart¬
ment is famous for the manufacture of woollen and other
tissues, which centre chiefly at Rheims. The principal ar¬
ticles of trade are wines, together with corn, flour, brandy,
hides, timber, and the produce of the manufactures. The
department is crossed by the railway from Paris to Stras-
bourg, which enters Marne at Dormans, and leaves it at
Sermaize, after a course of 68 miles. It is divided into
five arrondissements, which, with their populations in 1851,
are as follows:—
Cantons. Communes. Population.
Chalons  5 109 52,562
Epernay....,  9 185 93,090
Rheims  10 183 138,031
Sainte-Menehould  3 82 36,246
Vitry-le-Franjais  5 135 53,373
Total  32 694 373,302
Marne, Haute, a department of France, bounded on
the N. by the departments of Marne and Meuse, E. by
that of Vosges, S. by those of Haute-Saone and Cote-d’Or,
and W. by that of Aube, is situated between 47. 35. and
48. 40. N. Lat., 4. 38. and 5. 52. E. Long. The surface,
which occupies an area of 2401 square miles, is for the most
part hilly, and in some places mountainous. The southern
part of Haute-Marne is traversed by the hills of Langres,
rising to the height of 2500 feet, and the Faucilles Moun¬
tains,—the latter of which form part of a continuous chain
between the Cevennes and the Vosges Mountains, and con¬
stitute the watershed between the Atlantic and the Medi¬
terranean. The hills gradually diminish in height towards
the north, where the country stretches out into beautiful
valleys and extensive plains, broken here and there by hills
either single or in groups. The geological character of the
department is, with the exception of a single spot, of the
secondary formation; and the prevailing structure is Jura
limestone, with a small development of the coal measures.
But notwithstanding the prevalence of mountains, and the
small extent of rich soil in the department, it is well culti¬
vated. Nearly a third of the surface is covered with forests.
The principal rivers are the Marne, the Meuse, and the
Aube, all of which have their sources in this department,
which is also watered by several of their tributaries. The
climate is healthy, and, though the cold in winter is in¬
tense among the mountains, the valleys and plains enjoy a
mild and warm temperature. The amount of land pro¬
ducing corn in this department is 550,000 acres; vine¬
yards, 37,500 acres; wood, 475,000 acres, &c. More corn Marnoch
is grown than suffices for the supply of the inhabitants: II.
wine is also produced, but is not of great celebrity. Legu- ^ arom es‘
minous plants, hemp, &c., are cultivated; and a large “V—"
quantity of wood is grown here for the supply of Paris.
The sheep are numerous, and of a good breed, amounting
to the number of 290,000; of cattle there are 90,000, not
much esteemed; and of horses, 50,000. Poultry and bees
are also reared; and many sorts of game abound in the de¬
partment. Mining operations are carried on to a consider¬
able extent in Plaute-Marne; and the annual produce of
the iron mines, for the working of which this is the first
department in France, is valued at more than L.85,000.
There are also quarries of good building stone, millstones,
marble, &c. Iron manufacture is the chief branch of in¬
dustry pursued here; and the cutlery of Langres and of
Nogent is very famous. The other manufactures are,—
gloves, stockings, paper, leather, beer, &c. The trade is
chiefly in iron, wood, corn, wines, &c. Saint Dizier is the
centre of the iron trade; and this town, along with Vitry
and others, forms the principal emporium for wood. The
capital of the department is Chaumont, and it is divided
into three arrondissements, which, with their populations in
1851, are as follows :—
Cantons. Communes. Population.
Chaumont  10 195 88,571
Langres  10 209 106,424
Vassy  8 145 73,403
Total  28 549 268,398
MARNOCH, a parish of Scotland, county of Banff, re¬
markable as having been the scene of one of the forced
settlements which led to the disruption of the Church of
Scotland in 1843, is situated on the Deveron, 9 miles S.W.
of Banff; and has a population of 2994.
MARONITES, a tribe inhabiting the western declivity
of Mount Libanus, figure in ecclesiastical history as a sect
of Christians. By adopting the Monothelitic doctrine soon
after it had been condemned in 680 by the council of Con¬
stantinople, they came to be considered a distinct religious
party ; and from having as their first bishop a certain monk,
John Maro, they were called Maronites. Maro assumed the
title of “ Patriarch of Antioch,” and asserted the ecclesiasti¬
cal independence of the tribe. With no less intrepidity did
the Maronites themselves, favoured by their native moun¬
tains, defend their freedom at first against the Greeks, and
afterwards against the Saracens. At length, in 1182, they
renounced the opinions of the Monothelites, and were re¬
admitted within the pale of the Romish Church. Yet, as
the terms of reconciliation were, that the religious tenets,
moral precepts, and ancient rites of the country should re¬
main unaltered, the Maronites adopted no popish opinion
except the supremacy of the Roman pontiff. By this slight
tie they still continue united to the Church of Rome. In
return for their imperfect allegiance, the pope is obliged to
defray the expenses of their public worship, and to main¬
tain a college at Rome for the education of their priests.
He has the power of sanctioning the appointment of their
patriarch after he has been selected by their bishops. 4 his
dignitary resides in the monastery of Kanobin, assumes the
title of Patriarch of Antioch, and by adopting the name of
Peter, claims to be the successor of that apostle. Along
with the bishops who compose his synod, he is bound to
remain in perpetual celibacy; a law, however, which the
rest of the clergy do not observe. The Maronite monks
are of the Order of St Anthony, and live in convents scat¬
tered among the mountain solitudes.
Prompted no doubt by national vanity, so common among
Syrians, Nairon and other Maronite doctors have essayed
to prove that their tribe never entertained the Monothe¬
litic heresy, and that it derived its name, not from John
MAR
M A R
313
Maros Maro, but from Maro a monk of the fifth century. Both
II. these statements, however, are disproved by the testimony
.'iarowine^ 0f many unexceptionable authorities. (See Mosheim’s Zfc-
^ clesiastical History, Reid’s edition.)
MAROS, or Marosch, a river in the Austrian empire,
rises in Transylvania, in Mount Magos, a branch of the
Carpathians, flows through Transylvania in a S.W. and W.
direction, enters Hungary, and forms the northern boun¬
dary of the Banat, till it enters the Theiss opposite to Sze-
gedin after a course of about 350 miles. During the earlier
part of its course it is inclosed among high cliffs, but fur¬
ther down it flows through a wide plain. The country
which it washes on either side is rich in minerals; gold
and silver being found to the north, and iron, lead, and cop¬
per to the south. Its principal affluents are,—on the right
side, the Aranyos; and on the left, the Nyarad, Kokel,
Sebes, and Strehl. The most important towns on its banks
are Arad, Karlsburg, and Szaaz ; and it is navigable as far
as Karlsburg.
MAROS-VASARHELY, or Szekerly-Vasarhely, a
free town of Transylvania, capital of a circle of the same
name, is situated near the Maros, 53 miles N.N.E. of Her-
manstadt. I he town is fortified, and occupies several small
hills ; the streets are wide, and the houses small, but for
the most part well built. It is chiefly remarkable for its
large and excellent public library of 80,000 volumes, which
includes many fine editions of the ancient classics, and is
kept in a handsome building. There are also here five
churches, two convents, a Roman Catholic gymnasium and
seminary, and a Protestant college. Maros-Vasarhely is
also the seat of the Royal Table, the highest legal tribunal
in Transylvania; and is in consequence a place of resort of
large numbers of students and practitioners of law. In the
neighbourhood is a garrisoned castle. Much tobacco is
grown in the vicinity, in which the town carries on a con¬
siderable trade. Pop. 10,000.
MAROT, Clement, the best French poet of his time,
was born at Cahors in 1495, being the son of John Marot,
valet-de-chambre to Francis I., and poet to Queen Anne of
Bretagne. He enjoyed his father’s place as valet-de-chambre
to Francis I., and was page to Margaret of France, wife of
the Duke of Alenpon. In 1521 he followed that prince
into Italy, and was wounded and taken prisoner at the
battle of Pavia; but on his return to Paris he was accused
of heresy and thrown into prison, where he wrote his
Enfer, and revised the Roman de la Rose. Delivered by
the protection of King Francis I., he at length retired to
the court of the Queen of Navarre, then to that of the
Duchess of Ferrara, and in 1536 returned to Paris; but
having declared openly for the Calvinists, he was obliged
to fly to Geneva, which he at length quitted for Lyons,
where he renounced Calvinism; and after having taken part
in the Italian campaign of 1535, under Francis I., he re¬
tired to Piedmont, and died at Turin in 1544, aged fifty.
His verses are filled with natural beauties. La Fontaine
acknowledged himself his disciple, and contributed greatly
to restore to credit the works of this ancient poet. Marot,
besides his other works, translated part of the Psalms into
verse, a production which was condemned by the Sorbonne,
but subsequently continued by Beza. Michael Marot, his
son, was also the author of some verses; but they are not
comparable to those of John, and much inferior to those of
Clement Marot. The works of the three Marots were col¬
lected and printed together at the Hague in 1731, in 3 vols.
4to, and in 6 vols. 12mo.
MAROWINE, or Maront, a river of South America,
rises in the Serra Tumucucuraque, flows in a northerly di¬
rection, forming the boundary between French and Dutch
Guiana, and falls into the Atlantic after a course of about
300 miles, in 5. 52. N. Lat., and 53. 50. W. Long. For
about 15 miles up it is navigable for small boats; but the
"VOL. XIV.
number of small islands, rocks, and quicksands that obstruct Marpurg
its course, prevent any vessel of large size from entering ;
and in the upper part of its course it is so much interrupted Marquesas.
with rapids as to be totally unnavigable. It receives on
the right the Rio Siburique and the Rio Waki, and on the
left the Rio Tapahoni.
MARPURG, Friedrich Wilhelm, an eminent musi¬
cal critic and writer on the theory and practice of music,
was born at Seehausen, Brandenburg, in 1718. He re¬
ceived a good education, and early applied himself to the
study of music. When about thirty years of age he was
appointed to an office under government at Berlin, and
from that time devoted his leisure to the writing and pub¬
lishing of works on music. He published several editions
of his work on the art of playing the harpsichord, and of
his work on thorough-bass and composition ; also several
editions and a French translation of his work on fugue¬
writing, Abhandlung von der Fuge, &c.; which French
translation was again published by Choron in his Principes
de Composition, &c., 1808, and in his Nouveau Manuel
de Musique, &c. It has been objected to Marpurg’s work
on fugue-writing, that he did not clearly understand the
true principles of canonical imitation, nor of those most
important parts of the fugue, the subject and the answer.
Also, that the natural order of the objects treated of is
quite inverted, double counterpoints being placed after
fugue, and canons after double counterpoii^s. Choron rec¬
tified this confusion in his Nouveau Manuel de Musique.
In 1758 Marpurg published a good work on the composi¬
tion of vocal music, Anleitung zur Singcomposition. In
1 /63 appeared his introduction to music in general, An¬
leitung zur Musik uberhaupt, See. In 1757-74-76-79 he
published four works on theoretical music and on tempera¬
ment. Besides these, he published several critical and his¬
torical works relative to music, and some of his own musi-
ca. compositions. He also edited two collections of pieces
for the harpsichord, and a collection of fugues by cele¬
brated German composers. He died at Berlin on 22d
May 1795. (g. f. g.)
MARQUESAS, or Mendana Islands, a group of
islands in the South Pacific Ocean, situated between 8. and
11. S. Lat., and 138. 30. and 143. W. Long. The num¬
ber of the islands is twelve; and they extend to a length
of 200 miles from N.W. to S.E.; being divided into two
smaller groups, one lying to the N., and another to the S.
1 he principal islands in the southern group are,—Santa Do¬
minica or Hivvaoa, Santa Christina or Tahuata, San
Pedro or Motane, and Hood’s Island or Tiboa, of which
the average length is about 10 miles. Of the northern
group, the largest is Noukahivah, 20 miles in length and 70
in circumference; and the other principle ones are,—Uahuo-a
or Washington Island, Uapoa or Adam’s Island, Motouiti
or Franklin Island, and Ohivaoa. These islands present
a mountainous and rugged appearance ; their coasts, which
are bold and precipitous, being unprotected by any coral
reefs, are exposed to the sea, which beats on them with
violence ; and the centre of each island is occupied by a
ridge of rocky mountains, rising in the larger islands to
the height of 2000 or 3000 feet. From these mountains
branches stretch out, reaching down to the sea, and divid¬
ing the surface of the islands into numerous small valleys.
The soil in these parts is rich, consisting of clay mixed
with vegetable remains; but on the higher grounds it is
thin, and produces only a coarse sort of grass. Consider¬
able portions of the islands are covered with forests of
cocoa-nut, bread-fruit, papaw, and other trees. The natural
productions of this group closely resemble those of the
ociety s an s, but the fan palm, which is unknown in
these islands, is found in the Marquesas. Cultivation is
practise to a, considerable extent; the principle articles
o pio uce being cotton, sugar, tobacco, potatoes, bananas,
2 r
314
M A 11
Marquis and plantains. The inhabitants supply vessels with vege-
|| tables and live stock, in return for which they obtain mus-
Marracci. kets an(l ammunition for their own use and that of the
■V—^ neighbouring islands. The climate is warm, and the ther-
generally ranges between bd and SO . Abun-
dant showers of rain fall in winter, but thunder-storms sel¬
dom take place ; and sometimes for a period of ten months
the islands are without rain—an event which invariably pro¬
duces a famine. The trade wind from the E. blows fre¬
quently here, especially in autumn ; but winds from the N.
in summer, and from the N.W. in winter are very common.
The inhabitants are of a copper colour, are remarkable for
the symmetry of their limbs, and though not tall, their ap¬
pearance is strong and healthy. While the inhabitants of
each valley are governed by a single independent chief, yet
the possessor of Resolution Bay, one of the best and most
frequented harbours, by means of his traffic with Europeans,
has acquired considerable influence over the neighbouring
princes. This chief took under his protection two English
missionaries, who settled here in 1835. The open prac¬
tice of idolatry has been given up, yet the people still
retain many of the manners and superstitions of pagan¬
ism. They are, however, generally honest and well dis¬
posed to Europeans; and the ideas formerly entertained
of their cruelty and cannibalism have been found by
later visitors to be unfounded. These islands were first
visited in 1596 bffeMendana, who discovered four of the
southern group, and called them Marquesas de Mendoza,
after Don Garcia de Mendoza, then viceroy of Peru.
Hood’s Island was discovered by Cook in 1776, and the
others by the Americans in 1797. In 1842 these islands
came under the protection of France. Pop. estimated at
20,000. , .
MARQUIS, or Marquess, a title of honour next in dig¬
nity to that of duke. The office of marquis is to guard the
frontiers and limits of the kingdom, which were called the
marches, from the Teutonic word marche, a limit, as, in
particular, were the marches of Wales and Scotland whilst
they continued hostile to England. The persons who had
command there were called lords marchers or marquesses,
whose authority was abolished by statute (27 Hen. VIII.,
c. 27), though the title had long before been made a mere
design of honour. The first English marquis was Robert
de Vere, Earl of Oxford, created Marquis of Dublin in
1385 by Richard II. This title was first known in Scotland
in 1599, when the Marquises of Huntly and Hamilton
were created. Since the Revolution, this title has been
given as a second title on conferring a dukedom. A mar¬
quis is created by patent; his mantle is double ermine, three
doublings and a half; his title is wo We; and his coronet
has pearls and strawberry leaves intermixed round, of equal
height.
MARRACCI, Ludovico, a learned Italian, who was
born at Lucca in Tuscany in 1612. He applied himself
principally to the study of languages, especially Greek,
Hebrew, Syriac, Chaldee, and Arabic, which last he taught
for some time at Rome. Pope Innocent XL chose him as
his confessor, placed great confidence in him, and would
have advanced him to ecclesiastical dignities if Marracci
had not opposed it. Marracci died at Rome in 1700, aged
eighty-seven. The great work upon which his reputation
chiefly rests is his edition of the Koran in the original
Arabic, with a Latin version under the title of Alcorani
Textus universus ex correctioribus Arabum exemplaribus
surnma fide atque pulcherrimis characteribus descriptus,
Padua, 1698, in 2 vols. folio ; the first contains the Pro-
dromus, and the second the Koran, with critical and gram¬
matical notes, which are highly esteemed. The version
of the Koran by Marracci, with notes and observations
by himself and others, and a synopsis of Mohammedan
religion, by way of introduction, was published by Hei-
Marryat.
MAR
neccius at Leipzig, 1721, in 8vo. Marracci had also a Marrast
hand in the Biblia Sacra Arabica Sacrce Congregationis
de Propaganda Fide jussu edita, ad usum Ecclesiarum
Orientalium, Rome, 1671, in 3 vols. folio.
MARRAST, Armand, a French journalist, and one
of the chief authors of the republican constitution of 1848,
was born in the south of France in 1802. His career
as a political writer began at Paris in 1827, and he soon
became distinguished as a defender of the practical ^school
of philosophy as opposed to the eclecticism of Cousin.
In 1830 he established the newspaper La Tribune, which
during several years was the acknowledged organ of the
ultra-Liberals. For some fierce invectives in this periodical
against the government Marrast was at different times
prosecuted; and for a pamphlet entitled I ingt Jours de
Secret he was compelled to flee to England. In 1836,
when Carrel was slain in a duel, Marrast succeeded him as
chief editor of Le National, and speedily converted that
organ of moderate and philosophical Republicanism into a
vehicle of vigorous but scurrilous tirade. By his bold and
persistent attacks upon the government and the court, he
was a chief instrument in accelerating the Revolution ot
1848. Accordingly, he acted a prominent part in the new
government, became president ot the National Assembly,
and was re-elected to the same office at the end of several
successive months. As rapid, however, in his fall as in his
rise, Marrast was soon forced to flee from the vengeance ot
the Red Republicans, and living in retirement, he was almost
forgotten, when his death, in March 1852, introduced his
name once more to the public.
MARRIAGE. See Husband and Wife.
MARRUCINI, a people of Central Italy, inhabited a
narrow strip of land extending along the banks of the River
Aternus {Pescara), from the Adriatic to the Apennines,
and bounded on the S. by the territory of the Frentani.
Their country, on account of its eastern exposure, was
more fertile than the neighbouring districts. Teate {Chieti),
situated on the Aternus, was their most important city.
The Marrucini were of Sabine origin. They were an in¬
dependent people, although they almost invariably appeal
in history as allies of the neighbouring tribes of the Mai si
and Peligni. Along with these they became confederates
of the Romans in 304 B.C., and revolted at the commence¬
ment of the Social War. Their district was included in
the Fourth Region of Augustus.
MARRYAT, Frederick, Captain, R.N., C.B. and
F.R.S., was born in London, on the 10th of January, 1792.
He was the second son of Joseph Marryat, Esq. of Winn-
bledon House, Surrey, M.P. for Sandwich, a consideiable
West India merchant, and chairman of Lloyd’s, who traced
his descent from a family of French refugees. He was
educated in London, and entered the navy in 1806 as mid¬
shipman on board the “ Imperieuse,” a frigate of 44 guns,
commanded by Lord Cochrane, under whom he served till
18th October 1809, taking gallant part in the daring ex¬
ploits of that celebrated officer. During this time he was
in nearly fifty engagements of more or less importance, in
the Mediterranean and on the coast of trance. Once, in
boarding a vessel in the bay of Arcupon, he was knocked
down by the fall of the officer in command, close behind
whom he was entering, trampled upon in the ™sh o ns
own party, and left for dead. In 1808 and 1809 he took
part in the reduction of the castle of Mongat, the defence
of the castle of Trinidad, and the attack on the French
fleet in Basque Roads. For the gallantry and ability dis¬
played in these dangerous services, he received honour¬
able mention in Lord Cochrane’s despatches. Four times
he lumped overboard to rescue shipmates, on one of which
occasions he narrowly escaped being devoured by a shark;
and once his skill and intrepidity saved Ins ship. He was lieu¬
tenant in 1812, and appointed to “L Espiegle, in the v\ est
MAR
MAR
315
Indies, whence he removed, in January 1814, to the “New¬
castle,” 58 guns, Captain Lord George Stuart, which was
despatched to the American coast, and cut out four vessels
at New Orleans. In 1815 he acquired the rank of com¬
mander, had the “ Beacon” sloop off St Helena, then the
“Rosario,” 18 guns, in which he brought home despatches
announcing the death of Napoleon. After being some time
employed in the preventive service, in which he effected
thirteen seizures, he was appointed to the “Larne,” 18 guns,
in March 1823, and sailed to the East Indies, where, till
1825, he was fully employed as senior officer of the naval
forces. He led the attack on Rangoon in 1824, and was twice
thanked by the governor-general of India for his services
in the Burmese war. He was also warmly recommended
by Sir Archibald Campbell, the commander-in-chief, from
whom he received three letters of thanks. In February
1825 he accompanied Sir Robert Sale in the successful
expedition to reduce the territory of Bassein, and returning
in April, was promoted to the command of the “ Tees,”
which he brought home to England. In June 1825 he
received the decoration of C.B., and a medal from the
Humane Society for saving so many lives. From Novem¬
ber 1828 to November 1830, he commanded the “Ariadne”
in the Channel service. It was at this time, in 1829, that
he began his literary career; encouraged by the reception
of his Frank Mildmay, he produced in rapid succession
his well-known novels,— The King's Own, Peter Simple,
Jacob Faithful, Japhet in Search of a Father, Newton
Forster, Midshipman Easy, The Pacha of many Tales,
The Poacher, The Phantom Ship, Snarly Yow, Olla
Podrida, Poor Jack, Masterman Ready, Percival Keene,
Monsieur Violet, Settlers in Canada, The Mission, The
Privateersman, Valerie. The most of these are sea-novels,
of very unequal merit, but all lively, and abounding in ad¬
venture. His descriptions of any other life than life on board
ship, and any other characters than sailors, are not brilliant
nor accurate, though always lively and spirited; but in his
own walk he is unrivalled, and in this his best works are
perhaps Peter Simple and Poor Jack. His Code of Signals
for the use of Vessels employed in the Merchant Service,
published in 1837, was adopted by our government, and is
now in general use by our own and foreign navies. For
this service he twice received the thanks of the Ship¬
owners’ Society; and the work being translated into French
in 1840, and adopted, he received from Louis Philippe the
gold cross of the Legion of Honour. His Diary in
America, published in 1839, in two series of three volumes
each, is an amusing and clever production, written, how¬
ever, with little aim beyond amusement, and full of satiri¬
cal exaggeration. It gave great offence in the United
States. He died on the 2d of August 1848, at Langham
in Norfolk, after having for a year or two been obliged to
desist from all literary and professional exertion by the
bursting of several blood-vessels. By his marriage with
Catharine, daughter of Sir Stephen Shairp, formerly charge
d’ciffaires at St Petersburg, he had six children. His
eldest son, a lieutenant in the navy, perished in 1847 in the
“ Avenger” steamer, on the coast of Africa. (w. h. c.)
MARS, the Roman god of war, was originally called Mo¬
vers or Movers, and was identical with the Sabine and Oscan
deity Mamers. Among the Romans he came gradually
to be viewed in three different characters, and to receive dif-
ferentnames corresponding to these characters. He appears
to have been regarded originally as the father of Romu¬
lus, and accordingly was considered one of the tutelary
divinities of Rome. In this character he was called Qui-
rinus, a name derived from the Quirinal Hill, on which his
ancient temple stood. But, as the founder and patron of
Rome, Mars was naturally supposed to preside over agri¬
culture, the favourite calling of the primitive Romans. He
was therefore worshipped as a rustic deity, under the title
of Silvanus. Another honourable vocation, however, in
ancient Rome was the art of warfare. For the same rea¬
son, therefore, that Mars was held to be the god of agricul¬
ture was he supposed to be the god of war. In this last
character he was worshipped under the name of Gradivus
by priests called Salii. Mars was generally painted as an
armed warrior of a fierce aspect, riding in a chariot, and
brandishing a spear. His shield {ancile) is said to have fallen
from heaven in the reign of Numa, and was carefully pre¬
served as the symbol of the perpetuity of the Roman power.
To lessen the chances of its being stolen, it was placed
among eleven other shields exactly like it. At the ancient
temple of Mars, near Reate (Rieti), the responses of the
god were communicated by the mouth of his sacred bird
the woodpecker (picus). He was also worshipped with
great honours at Tuder ( Todi), in a sanctuary still seen in
ruins. Of the numerous temples dedicated to him at
Rome, the most famous was that of Mars Ultor, built by
Augustus in the Forum Augusti. The quadrupeds sacred
to Mars and most acceptable to him in sacrifice, were the
horse and the wolf. The name of his wife was said to be
Nerio or Neriene. At an early period he was identified
with the Greek god Ares. The month of March and the
Campus Martius were named after Mars.
MARSAIS, Cesar Chesneatt du. See Dumarsais.
MARSALA (the ancient Lilybceum), a seaport of Sicily,
in the province of Trapani, is situated on the low pro¬
montory of Cape Boeo, on the W. of the island, 18 miles
S.S.W. of Trapani. The town is of a square form, and
surrounded by old fortifications, which, though at present
neglected, might easily be rendered capable of defence,
i he ancient harbour was good, but is now filled up, and
the present one is about a mile S. of the town. Marsala is
traversed by a straight and broad street, called the Cassaro,
in which stands a large cathedral, with sixteen handsome
Corinthian columns of marble. The town has sixteen
other churches, many convents, three abbeys, a gymna¬
sium, seminary, hospital, &c. Among the curiosities of
the place may be mentioned an old castle, a church with a
tower which perceptibly vibrates by the ringing of the bell,
and a few remains of aqueducts and tombs of ancient date.
The harbour was so highly esteemed by the Saracens as to
have received from them the name of Marsa Alla (the
Harbour of God). In modern times Marsala derives its
chief importance from its trade in the wine grown in the
neighbourhood, which is much prized. The quantity produced
in the neighbourhood is calculated to amount to 30,000
pipes, of which about two-thirds are exported principally
to England, the United States, and the West Indies. Small
quantities of corn, cattle, oil, &c., are also exported from
Marsala. Pop. about 21,000.
MARSDEN, William, an eminent oriental scholar,
was the son of a merchant in Dublin, and was born in 1754.
After studying at Trinity College in that city, he obtained
an appointment in the civil service of the East India Com¬
pany, and set sail for Bencoolen, Sumatra, in 1771. There
he soon rose to the office of principal secretary to the go¬
vernment, and was at the same time intent on acquiring
that intimacy with the Malay language, and that knowledge
of the country, which were afterwards the sources of his
literary reputation. Returning to England in 1779 with a
pension, he retired into literary seclusion; and in 1782
produced The History of Sumatra. Marsden was appointed
in 1795 second secretary, and in course of time first secre-
tary, to the Admiralty. In 1807 he retired again into pri¬
vate life, and devoting himself to study, published in 1812
his Grammar and Dictionary of the Malay language, and
in 1817 his translation of the Travels of Marco Polo. A
pension of L.1500, which he had received on his retirement
fiom office, he voluntarily resigned in 1831 for the behoof
of the public. In 1834 he presented his rich collection of
Marsais
II
Marsden.
316 MAR
Marseille, oriental coins to the British Museum, and his library of
books and oriental MSS. to King’s College. He died of
apoplexy in October 1836. Marsden’s other works are,—
Numismata Orient alia (Eastern Coins), 4to, London, 1823-
25 ; Catalogue of Dictionaries, Vocabularies, Grammars,
and Alphabets, 4to, London, 1796; and several papers
touching the language, manners, and antiquities of the
East, in the Philosophical Transactions and the Archce-
ologia.
MARSEILLE, a town of France, capital of the depart¬
ment of Bouches-du-Rhone, is situated on the Mediter¬
ranean, 30 miles W.N.W. of Toulon, and 475 S.S.E. of
Paris. This city was founded about the year 600 b.c. by
a colony of Greeks from Phocaea in Ionia, and was called
by them Massalia, which was afterwards changed by the
Romans into Massilia, from whence was derived its modern
name. (See Massilia.)
After the fall of the Roman Empire, Marseille was at
different times under the power of the Visigoths, Ostro¬
goths, and Franks. In the year 720 the greater part of the
town was taken and sacked by the Saracens ; but the upper
city held out until Charles Martel and his brother Childe-
brand came to the rescue and expelled the Saracens.
After this period Marseille continued to increase in wealth
and prosperity, though much harassed and threatened by
pirates, especially during the reign of Louis le Debonnaire
in the ninth century. Up to the time of William L, Vis¬
count of Marseille, this city had preserved a republican form
of government; but under that prince and his successors,
till the twelfth century, the government was monarchical,
though this change exercised no adverse influence on the
progress of the arts, industry, and commerce of Marseille.
For some time after the restoration of the republican con¬
stitution, Marseille formed one of a confederacy of similar
small states, including those of Arles, Grasse, &c., and
after a struggle for six years against the Counts of Provence,
was finally obliged, in 1243, to recognise their authority.
Soon afterwards, how'ever, Marseille was involved in a war
wdth Charles of Anjou, brother of Louis IX., which ended
in its falling into the hands of that prince. Under the
House of Anjou, Marseille continued until the year 1482,
when Charles du Maine, the heir of the line of Anjou,
bequeathed Marseille to Louis XL, with a stipulation
that the time-honoured liberties of the city should be re¬
spected. In the year 1524 Marseille was besieged by the
imperialists under the Constable de Bourbon, but the in¬
habitants made a desperate resistance, and succeeded in
repelling their adversaries. Marseille was made by Louis
XIII. a station of the French navy, and provided with a
dockyard and arsenal; and the good effects of this were
seen in the clearing the Mediterranean of the pirates which
infested it. In the reign of Louis XIV. a sedition broke
out here, of which the ringleader was Noiselles; but the
“ Great Monarch ” having made his appearance in 1660,
quelled the sedition, and deprived the city of its peculiar
{ privileges, erecting at the same time the citadel of St
Nicolas. In 1720 and 1721 Marseille suffered from a
fearful visitation of the plague, which, although it had fre¬
quently made its appearance previously, had never been so
destructive as on this occasion, when it carried off between
50,000 and 60,000 victims. Marseille hailed with joy the
beginning of the first French Revolution, but the event did
not correspond to the hopes entertained at the outset, and
the commerce of Marseille was almost ruined in the com¬
motions of that unhappy period. After the Restoration,
however, the city recovered its former commercial import¬
ance, and is now daily increasing in wealth and magnifi¬
cence.
The situation of Marseille is not only very convenient
for commerce and navigation, but is extremely beautiful and
picturesque. It is built on the slope of the hills which sur-
M A R
round the excellent harbour in a semicircular form. The Marseille,
town consists of two distinct parts, an old and a new; the
former, which occupies the site of the ancient Massilia, is
situated on uneven ground to the N. of the harbour, and is
irregularly and ill built, with narrow and dirty streets.
The new town, on the other hand, consists of broad and
straight streets, as well as splendid and elegant squares,
which rival in magnificence those of Paris. The division
between the old and new town is marked by a public pro¬
menade called the “ Cours,” lined with trees, and adorned
with numerous fountains, and which, along with the streets
of Aix and Rome, forms a thoroughfare extending in a
straight line through the city, from the triumphal arch at
the northern extremity, to an obelisk which stands near the
gate by which the road from Rome enters Marseille.
Another favourite promenade is the Rue de la Cannebiere,
a broad street extending from the Cours to the harbour,
and commanding a view of the shipping. The walls which
formerly inclosed Marseille have been converted into boule¬
vards ; and beyond these the town has extended, and is
still rapidly extending itself, in all directions. On a hill
to the S. stands the fort of Notre Dame de la Garde; and
the entrance of the harbour, formerly closed during the night
by a chain, and hence called “ La Chaine,” is protected by
the Fort St Jean on the N., and St Nicolas on the S. The
approach is still further guarded by the fortified island of
If, which has long served as a state prison, as well as by
the islands of Pomegue and Ratoneau, which are also
fortified. The harbour of Marseille, which was in ancient
times called Lacy don, is of a rectangular shape, and is
about 1020 yards in length by 327 in breadth. It is secure
and convenient, and surrounded by a number of excellent
quays, which are always thronged with a busy crowd of
men of all nations. Although the harbour can accommodate
1200 vessels, it has been found insufficient for the numbers
of those frequenting it, and a new harbour has been accord¬
ingly constructed, called La Joliette, opposite to Fort St
Nicolas. The neighbourhood of Marseille is extremely dry
and barren ; and although there are numerous bastides or
country houses in the vicinity, the only attraction which
these possess is the view of the sea, to which Marseille
owes not only its wealth, but a great part of its beauty.
The public buildings of Marseille are not so numerous as
might be expected; and the view of the city from an
eminence is remarkably destitute of spires, domes, and
other indications of large and handsome buildings. The
cathedral, which is called the “Major,” or the church of
St Victor, is of very great antiquity, but is by no means
an elegant or imposing structure, and its castellated towers
give it the appearance rather of a fortress than of a place of
worship.
The Hotel de Ville stands on the northern side of the
harbour, and is a rather heavy building, said to be the
work of the celebrated Puget, but which was in all proba¬
bility executed by some inferior hand. One of the finest
buildings in Marseille is the Hotel de la Prefecture.
The only others that deserve notice are the new market-
house, the theatre, resembling the Odeon at Paris, and the
Palais de Justice. In the neighbourhood is the chapel of
Notre Dame de la Garde, which contains an ancient olive-
wood statue of the Virgin, held in the highest veneration
by sailors and fishermen, and a modern one of silver; be¬
sides many votive pictures. 1 he church of St Madeleine,
also in the suburbs, is an elegant building, and has two light
steeples and a fine front. The town contains altogether about
twenty Roman Catholic churches, two Gieek ones, one
Protestant church, and a synagogue. There is a museum
and picture gallery, in the former of which are to he seen
a few remains of the ancient city of Massilia, which are not
of much interest, and do not ascend to a higher antiquity
than the time of Julius Ctesar. The number of pictures in
MAR
Marseille, the gallery is about 150, and some of them are very .rood
™0USh they are n°t hung in a favourable light. The^iub-
ic library of Marseille consists of about 80,000 printed vo¬
lumes and 1300 MSS. Marseille has a royal college, oc¬
cupying a building which was formerly a Bernardine con¬
vent, and attended by 300 or 400 students; a royal society
of science, literature, and art; an observatory, with schools
ot navigation, geometry, &c., a good museum of natural
history, and a botanic garden. There are at Marseille
numerous charitable institutions. The Hotel Dieu, founded
in 1188, is one ot the oldest hospitals in France, and is
capable of accommodating 750 patients. The H6pital
de la Chante, for the aged, orphans, &c., contains gene¬
rally from 600 to 680 persons. Situated to the N. of the
city is the lazaretto, one of the most perfect establish¬
ments of the sort in Europe. This institution is ren¬
dered necessary by the frequency with which Marseille has
een visited by the plague. The town also possesses pub¬
lic baths. I here are published at Marseille three news¬
papers and several literary journals. The city has a tribunal
ot primary instance and one of commerce, a chamber of
commerce,^ a council of prud'hommes, a syndicat maritime,
and a.n hotel des monnaies. Although Marseille is not
famous tor its manufactures, yet its industry in this depart¬
ment is considerable, and there are many important manu¬
facturing establishments. In former times Marseille was
much celebrated for the manufacture of coral into various
articles ; but this has of late much fallen off, and is now ear¬
ned on to a greater extent at Genoa, Leghorn, and Naples,
ooap-making is largely carried on, and affords employment
to about 700 hands. Next in extent to the soap-works of
larseille are the refineries of sugar, sulphur, wax, and
borax ; the manufactures of steam-engines and machinery;
the tanneries, which, however, have rather fallen off of late ;
the manufacture of hats, of which there are produced from
40,000 to 65,000 annually; the making of china, glass,
biicks, &c. I he Marseillais are also employed to a con-
siderable extent in the salting of meat and fish, and in the
pickling and preserving of various sorts of fruits. The fish
and the flower markets are in general well stocked, and
present a very animated appearance. An aqueduct has
been recently constructed, with great labour and expense,
for conveying the water of the Durance to the town. This
gigantic woik, one of the greatest of its kind in modern
times, is remarkable for the bold and skilful engineerino-
with which it has been executed; it is about 60 miles in
ength, and is carried through 15 miles of tunnels. Mar-
sei e, however, is chiefly remarkable as a commercial city,
m which respect it is second to none in France, being the
gieat empoiium for all the southern parts of the kingdom.
Its position is in many respects most favourable for trade,
being situated on the shores of the Mediterranean, and
having Spain on the right, Italy on the left, and Africa in
fiont; while at the same time it communicates with the
centre of Iiance by the large and navigable River Rhone.
The exports include all sorts of articles of home produce,
such as silk, linen, and woollen stuffs ; wines, brandies, &c.;
oil, soap, refined sugar, perfumery, stationery, and gloves.
Among the imports may be noticed sugar, coffee, &c.,
from the colonies; corn from Africa and the Black Sea;
manufac tured goods from England ; cotton, hides, wool,
tallow, timber, &c. The great advance of Marseille in
trade dates from the French conquest of Algiers in 1830,
since which time this tow n has had almost a monopoly of
the trade with that country. It is also the chief station for
the steam-packets on the line of communication w ith Malta,
Alexandria, and Constantinople. The number of vessels
belonging to the port in 1851 was 804, the tonnage 92,237 ;
and in 1855 the number was 913, and the tonnage 130,860.
The number of vessels that entered in that year w as 5016 ;
that left, 4433; and in 1856 the aggregate number entered
M A II
and left w'as 10,183. The total value of the articles imported
in 1853 has been computed to amount to L.8,000,000; and
the^ exports are believed to be about equal in value. In
1855 the value of the imports was above L.l 1,000,000.
The quantity of duties collected at Marseille in 1851 was
L.l,227,000, being greater than the amount collected at
any other port of France. The people of Marseille still
preserve many traits of the ancient Greek character, and
aie noted for their superstitious observance of rites and
ceiemonies. 1 his may be remarked in the votive offerings
with which the chapels are hung round, and in the numerous
leligious processions, in which the gaiety as well as the
superstition of the people find expression.
I he Marseillais do not regard themselves as of the same
countiy with the rest of the French, and manifest the same
contempt for strangers that was characteristic of the ancient
nations. I he dialect which is spoken by the greater part
of the inhabitants of Marseille is Provencal, which is made
up of a mixture of Greek, Latin, Catalan, and French,
with a great number of words whose origin can be traced
to none of these languages. Marseille is distinguished
as having given birth to many famous personages; among
whom, in ancient times, the most illustrious was Pytheas
the navigator: and in modern times, Puget the artist and
architect, born in 1622; Mascaron the preacher, born in
1634; and Peysonnel the antiquary, born in 1700,—may
be noticed. Pop. (1851) 185,082.
MARSH, Dr Herbert, Bishop of Peterborough, was
born in London in 1757. After receiving his education
and gaining a fellowship at St John’s College, Cambridge,
he removed to Germany in 1 <83, and resided for several
years at Gottingen. In a short time he had become
sufficiently intimate with the language of that country to
publish several German tracts in defence of the policy of
Great Britain touching the continental wars. So success¬
ful were these pamphlets in effecting the purpose at which
they aimed, that Marsh, on the recommendation of Mr
Pitt, was rewarded with a pension, and was now started on
the open road to preferment. On the invasion of Ger¬
many by the French he returned to England. Created
D-D. by royal mandate in 1806, Marsh was appointed in
1807 Lady Margaret’s professor of divinity at Cambridge.
In teaching from this chair he abandoned the custom of
lecturing in Latin followed by his predecessors, and lec¬
tured only in English. He was promoted to the see of
Llandaff in 1816, but wTas translated to that of Peter¬
borough in 1819. He died in 1839. Varied as well as
profound, the learning of Bishop Marsh comprised an inti¬
macy with theology, politics, and Greek, Latin, German,
and oriental literature. He was the first who imported
into this country the biblical criticism of Germany. In
defence of his own church, he was an uncompromising foe
of Calvinism on the one hand and Popery on the o'ther.
His translation of Michaelis's Introduction to the New Tes¬
tament was reckoned a work of great value.
The chief of his other works are,—The Authenticity of the Five
Books of Moses considered, 4to, Cambridge, 1792; The History of
the Politics of Great Britain and France, from the time of the Con¬
ference at Pilnitz to the Declaration of War against Great Britain,
2 \oh, 8vo, London 1800; Lectures on the Criticism and Interpreta-
tion of he Lible with two Preliminary Lectures on Theological Study
and Theoiogical Arrangement, 8v°, London, 1838; Lectures on the
Authenticity and Credibility of the New Testament, and on the Autho-
rity of the Old Testament, a new edition, 8vo, London, 1840; and
London 1811 ^ IuUndution °f National Education, 8vo,
MARSHAL, or Maresciial (marescallus), primarily
denotes an officer who had the charge or the command of
horses, and from the importance of such an office, ulti-
mato'y became invested with great military authority. The
title ol Marshal of England, fbimtrly passed bv grant from
the king, has been hereditary in the family of the Dukes
318
M A U
M A 11
Marsh,™ of Norfolk since 1672. The earliest marshals on record
l| are those of William the Conqueror, viz., William Fitz-
Marshman. Osborne and Roger de Montgomery. The earl marshal
holds the eighth rank among the great officers of state in
En^and, and exercises the same authority over the Court ol
Chivalry which the constable and marshal together formerly
nossessed. In Scotland the office of earl marshal has never
been out of the family of Keith. The Marshal of the Kinfs
Household hears and determines pleas of the Crown ; and
the Marshal of the King's Bench has the custody of the
Kind’s Bench Prison, Southwark, or of the Marshalsea, as
it isdience called. The Marshal of France is the highest
military rank in the French army, as that of Field-Marshal
is in our own. . . ^
MARSHAM, Sir John, a learned chronologist, the son
of an alderman of London, was born in that city in 1602.
From Westminster School he passed in 1619 to St John s
College, Oxford, where he was chosen Master of Arts in
1625. During the two following years he travelled in
France, Italy, and Germany, and then repaired to London
to study common law in the Middle Temple. In 1629 he
went to Paris in the suite of Sir Thomas Edmunds, am¬
bassador extraordinary. His studies, thus interrupted, were
resumed on his return ; and in 1637 he was appointed °^e
the six clerks of Chancery. Adhering to the cause of the
royalists during the civil war, Marsham was deprived of his
office and of part of his estate, and on the complete defeat
of his party, was fain to compound for the remnant of his
property, and to devote himself to literature. He was mem¬
ber for Rochester in the Parliament that recalled Charles
II.; and immediately after the Restoration in 1660 he w as
restored to his clerkship in Chancery, and was created a
knight. Three years afterwards a baronetcy was added to
his honours. He died at Bushy Hall, Hertfordshire, in
May 1685. Sir John Marsham was an eminent scholar m
languages, history, and chronology. His works were,
Diatriba Chronologica, 4to, London, 1649 ; and Chronicus
Canon jEqyvtiacus Hebraicus et Grcecus, folio, London,
1672, Leipsic, 1676, and Franeker, 1696. The former is
an attempt to elucidate the chronology of the Old testa¬
ment ; the latter, besides comprising a great part ot the for¬
mer, has an ingenious disquisition on the Egyptian dynasties.
MARSHFIELD, a market-town of England, county ot
Gloucester, 13 miles E. of Bristol. The principal street
is about a mile long ; and the town consists chiefly ot old
buildings. There is a parish church, places ot worship
for Independents and Unitarians, an endowed school, and
several alms-houses. A considerable trade is carried on in
malt. The market-day is Tuesday; and there are two
annual fairs. Pop. 1648. . .
MARSHMAN, Joshua, D.D., an eminent missionary,
was born at Westbury Leigh in Wiltshire in 1767, and was
sent to the. East Indies in 1799 by the Baptist Missionary
Society, to join the Serampore Brethren, as Dr Carey and ms
colleagues were styled. On reaching the sphere ot his
labours, Marshman, in addition to his more special duties,
engaged in the study of the Bengalee, Sanscrit, and Chi¬
nese languages, which, after great perseverance,^ he suc¬
ceeded in mastering. He afterwards translated into Chi¬
nese the book of Genesis, the four Gospels, and the Epis¬
tles of Paul to the Romans and the Corinthians. In 1809
he published a Dissertation on the Characters and Sounds
of the Chinese Language ; in 1811 he produced The Works
of Confucius, containing the Original Text, with a Transla¬
tion ; and in 1814 appeared his Claris Sinica. He also
wrote Elements of Chinese Grammar, with a Preliminary
Dissertation on the Characters and Colloquial Medium of
the Chinese ;—all printed at Serampore. As the result of his
Sanscrit and Bengalee studies, he engaged with Dr Carey
in 1815 in writing a Sanscrit grammar, and in 1825 a
Bengalee and English dictionary. Owing to some painful
Marsi
misunderstanding which arose between the Serampore Bre¬
thren and the committee of the Baptist Missionary Society I!
in 1815, and which resulted in their acting for some time ^arsig|‘-
as separate bodies, Dr Marshman was induced in 1826 to ■
visit England, where the causes of difference were sub¬
jected to strict scrutiny. The famous John Foster, with
whom Dr Marshman resided, shook off his langour for a
time in order to get to the bottom of this mattei ; and after
the most ample opportunity of acquainting himself with all
the circumstances of the case, and while admitting that
Marshman’s conduct was regulated too much on the P™"
ciple of silent pertinacity and cautious “ management, he
nevertheless unhesitatingly alleged, “ I believe there is not
in Christendom a man more highly and uniformly con¬
scientious, a man more anxiously and scrupulously solici¬
tous to do right in all things.” He returned to Serampore
in 1829, but did not enjoy the satisfaction of witnessing
the re-union of the mission there with the parent society,
concluded in London a few days before his death, which
took place on the 5th of December 1837. After the con¬
version of Rammohun Roy to Christianity, Dr Marsh¬
man replied to a work of the rajah’s assailing the miracles
of Christ, entitled The Precepts of Jesus the Guide to
Peace, in a series of articles in the Friend of India, suh“
sequently collected and published under the title of A.
Defence of the Deity and Atonement of Jesus Christ, in
Pep la to Rammohun Roy of Calcutta, London, 1822 ; to
which the rajah published a reply in the second London
edition of his book in 1824. , ,
MARSI, an ancient tribe of Central Italy, inhabited the
district around the Lake Fucinus {Lago di Celano). They
were of Sabine origin, and accordingly they were closely
related by descent, as well as by common political interests,
with their neighbours, the Vestini, the Peligni, and the
Marrucini. Indeed, their name seems to indicate that they
were the parent stock of the last tribe.. 1 heir only impor¬
tant town was Marrubium, still seen in ruins on the L.
shore of Lago di Celano. At what period the Marsians
became allies of the Romans is unknown ; but we find that
they revolted in 308 B.C., and leagued themselves with the
Samnites. After they had been subdued, they again, in
301 b.c., shook off the alliance of Rome, and not until they
had ceded part of their territory could they conciliate then-
former ally. From this period they continued to fight sub¬
missively under the Roman banners, until the Italians de¬
manded in 91 b.c. a share in the privileges of the citizens
of Rome. The Marsians then took so prominent a position
among the malcontents, that the struggle which ensued,
though generally known as the Social War, was frequently
styled the Marsic War. When a series of defeats, or the
concessions of their enemies, had won the rest of the allies to
submission, the Marsians kept the field alone, and although
they were often defeated, only laid down then; arms in 8/
b.c., when they had attained the object for which they had
taken them up. Thus they became amalgamated with the
other Italian tribes, and lost their national individuality.
Inhabiting a mountainous district, the Marsians were
simple and temperate in their habits, but hardy, brave, and
stubborn in action. So marked was their valour, that at
one time there was a current saying that Rome had
achieved no triumph over the Marsi or without the Mai si.
The ancient Marsians were noted for their ability to tame
serpents and to heal their bites; and it is rather remar <-
able that the jugglers who at present amuse the populace
of Borne and Naples by handling these reptiles, are natives
of the vicinity of tbe Lago di Celano.
MARSIGLI, Luigi Ferdinando, Count, an Italian
eeoorapher and naturalist, was descended of an ancient and
noble family, and born at Bologna on the 10th of July
1658. He studied under Borelli and Malpighi, and ac¬
quired an extensive knowledge of the art of war and of for-
M A E
MAE
319
Marsivan
II
Marston.
tification. He subsequently served under the Emperor
Leopold II. against the Turks, by whom he was taken pri¬
soner in 1683, but ransomed after a year’s captivity. In
the war of the Spanish succession, Marsigli, then advanced
to the rank of marshal, being in the fortress of Brisack,
which surrendered to the Duke of Burgundy in 1703, when
the place was deemed capable of holding out much longer,
was stripped of all his commissions, and had his sword
broken over him. Marsigli now turned his attention ex¬
clusively to science, in which he had made great progress
during his military career. In 1712 he presented the
senate of Bologna with his astronomical and chemical in¬
struments and apparatus, his plans of fortifications, models
of machinery, &c., laying thereby the foundation of the
Institute of the Arts and Sciences of Bologna. He also
established a printing-house, furnished it with the best
types for Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic; and in 1728
presented it to the Dominicans at Bologna, upon condition
of their printing all the writings of the Institute at prime
cost. This was called the Printing-House of St Thomas
Aquinas. His writings on philosophical subjects are nu¬
merous and valuable. The most remarkable are,— Osser-
vazioni intornb al Bosforo Tracio overo Canale di Con-
stantinopoli, Rome, 1681, in folio; Dissertatio de Genera-
tione Fungorum, ibid. 1714, in folio, rare and curious;
Brieve Ristretto del Saggio Fisico intorno alia Storia del
Mare, Venice, 1711, in folio, translated into French by
Leclerc under the title of Histoire Physique de la Mer,
Amsterdam, 1725, in folio; Banuhius Panonico-Mgsicus
Observationihus Geographicis, Astronomicis, 11 ydrographi¬
ds, Historicis, Physicis, perlustratus, Hague, 1726, in 6
vols. large folio ; Flat Militaire de VEmpire Ottoman, de
son Progres, et de sa Decadence, in French and Italian,
Amsterdam and Hague, 1732, in folio, with 44 plates, and
a map of the Ottoman Empire by Abubekir Effendi, with
the names in the Turkish language. Marsigli died at Bo¬
logna on the 1st of November 1730.
MARSIVAN, or Marsovan, a village of Asiatic Tur¬
key, pashalic of Sivas, situated on a wide plain, 24 miles
W.N.W. of Amasia. It contains about 6000 houses, and
has several mosques and fountains. Some manufactures of
cotton fabrics are carried on here. Marsivan is believed to
occupy the site of the ancient Phagemon.
MARSTON, John, a dramatist and satiric poet of the
Elizabethan age, is supposed to have been born about
1575. The facts of his biography are very few and very
uncertain. Anthony Wood supposes, but for no satisfactory
reasons, that he wras educated at Corpus Christi College,
Oxford. As early as 1601 he was of sufficient importance
as a writer to be satirized, under the name of Demetrius,
in Ben Jonson’s Poetaster. This enmity between the
two authors seems to have afterwards subsided, for in
1605 Marston dedicated to Jonson, with expressions of
affection and esteem, The Malcontent, a play which he
had altered from Webster. In the same year also he
was assisted by Jonson and Chapman in the composition of
Eastward Floe. For some reflections against the Scots in
this comedy the authors were thrown into prison by the
king, and were only released after they had lain for some
time in the horrifying expectation of having their ears cut
off and their noses slit. Shortly after this the intimacy
between Marston and Jonson appears to have been once
more interrupted. The former, in his preface to his So-
phonisba, published in 1606, hints at the plagiarisms from
Roman authors that are found in the Catiline and Sejanus
of the latter; while Jonson, during his sojourn in 1619
with Drummond of Hawthornden, refers to an enmity be¬
tween him and Marston that had subsisted for a consider¬
able time. The life of Marston can be traced as far down
as 1633. With little of the imitative and inventive genius
of the dramatist, Marston had much of the spirited vigour
and pungent wit of the satirist. In the Scourge of Vil¬
lainy, the best of his satires, he is lofty and intrepid in his
censure of vice, but is often carried by his vehement invec¬
tive to the very verge of coarseness and indecency. In ad¬
dition to those already mentioned, his other works are,—
The Metamorphosis of Pigmalion, a satire, 16mo, London,
1598; Antonio and Mellida, a. tragedy, 4to, 1602; An¬
tonio's Revenge, a tragedy, 4to, 1602; The Dutch Cour¬
tesan, a comedy, 4to, 1605; Parasitaster, a comedy, 4to,
1606; What You Will, a comedy, 4to, 1607; The Insa¬
tiate Countess, a tragedy, 4to, 1613. Marston’s miscella¬
neous poems were edited by Mr Bowie, 12mo, London,
1764.
MARTA, or Martha Santa, a town of New Granada,
South America, capital of a province of the same name in
the department of Magdalena. It stands on the Caribbean
Sea, 105 miles N.E. of Cartagena, in Lat. 11. 15. N., Long.
74. 18. W. It was founded in 1525, and was constituted an
episcopal city four years afterwards. It was repeatedly
sacked by pirates during the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries; and in 1672 was completely pillaged by a
French and an English vessel. Latterly, however, it rose
into considerable importance as a commercial city, and
enjoyed the almost exclusive privilege of importing goods
for the capital of the country. It suffered much from the
attacks of the Indians during the revolutionary war, and
does not appear to have regained its former importance.
The harbour is one of the best on this coast, having suffi¬
cient depth of water and good holding ground. It is de¬
fended by a castle on the summit of an isolated and almost
perpendicular rock, and by several batteries. The cathe¬
dral is a very conspicuous object; but neither its architec¬
ture nor its internal decorations are worthy of notice. The
climate is salubrious, although in summer the heat is very
great; and the town is abundantly supplied with water.
Pop. about 8000
MARTABAN. See Pegu.
MARTIALIS, M. Valerius, the famous Latin epigram¬
matist, was born on the 1st of March a.d. 43 at Bilbilis
{Bambola) in Spain. He was educated at Calagurris
(Calahorra), and repaired to Rome in 66. The fame of his
epigrams soon spread through the city, and had even passed
into Gaul, Germany, and the uncivilized countries of the
north. Patronized successively by the Emperors Titus and
Domitian, Martial was raised to the Equestrian Order and to
the tribuneship, and received the honourable privilege called
jus trium liber or am. He seems to have acquired a fail-
fortune, for he talks with the complacency of a proprietor about
his mansion in the city and his country house at Nomentum.
Disheartened probably by the small encouragement ex¬
tended to literature under Trajan, Martial left Rome in
100, after a sojourn of 35 years. On his departure, his friend
the younger Pliny, in return for a complimentary address,
gave him a sum of money to defray his travelling expenses.
This fact, by an inference not quite legitimate, has been
made the ground of a common opinion that the epigram¬
matist at this time was in straitened circumstances. From
Rome Martial immediately repaired to his birthplace, and
there he seems to have married Claudia Marcella, a lady
whose graces and accomplishments he celebrated with
affectionate pride. He passed his latter years on the pro¬
perty of his wife, near the banks of his native Salo {Xalon).
The time of his death is unknown, but it was probably after
a.d. 104. 1 3
Marta
Martialis.
Fhe pieces of Martial generally known as his Epigrams
amount to 1500, divided into fourteen books. Of these
books the two last, called respectively Xenia and Apopho-
reta, consist entirely of distichs descriptive of the small
articles ot luxury and ornament which the Romans usually
presented to their friends on festal seasons. In addition to
these epigrams, Martial wrote what is commonly known as
320MAR
Martigues Liber de Spectaculis, a work of thirty-three pieces on the
II. shows exhibited by Titus and Domitian. It is doubtful
Martin. wiiether all the poems of Martial are extant, and whether
all those now ascribed to him are genuine. The best edi¬
tions of Martial are those of Scriverius, Leyden, 12mo,
1619 ; Amsterdam, 12mo, 1621, and 16mo, 1629 ; Lemaire,
3 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1825; and Sschneidewinn, 2 vols. 8vo,
Grem. 1842. Martial was translated into French verse by
Marolles, 4to, Paris, 1675. His select pieces have been
translated into English metre, and published in London,
by May, 1629; Fletcher, 1656; Hughes, 1737; Hay,
1754; Wright, 1763; Piogers, 1782; and Elphinstone,
1783,—the dullest of them all. There is an old MS. of
Martial in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh.
In the hands of Martial the epigram first became a
short poem abounding with ingenious and pointed thoughts,
and compressing in its conclusion all the pith of its pre¬
ceding parts. To him, therefore, this species of poetry
owes its present form. Amid much of the forced in¬
genuity and over-laboured expression that always attend
epigrammatic composition, Martial displays a refined felicity
of diction, a fertile fancy, and a wit equally delicate and
pungent. He also shows at times a love and talent for the
description of rural scenes. More interesting, however,
to the modern student is the full and minute delineation
which he gives of the public and private customs of his
age. Yet all these estimable qualities are neutralized to
a considerable extent by the shameless obscenity that
abounds in his writings, and the mean-spirited adulation
which he lavishes upon Domitian. These open offences
against morality and self-respect, after every possible pallia¬
tion has been pleaded for them, must always affect the
character of Martial both as a man and as an author.
MARTIGUES, a town of France, department of
Bouches-du-Rhone, and arrondissement of Aix, is situated
on the channel between the lagoon of Berre and the Mediter¬
ranean, 15 miles N.W. of Marseille. It consists of three dis¬
tinct parts,—the town proper, called the Isle, on an island
in the channel, and the suburbs of Jonquieres and Ferrieres,
the former on the south and the latter on the north bank.
Its situation has acquired it the designation of the Venice
of Provence. The town is generally well and regularly
built, and has several handsome buildings. It carries on
an active coasting trade. Pop. 8000, most of whom are
engaged in fishing.
MARTIN, Louis-Aime, a distinguished French writer
of the present century, was born at Lyons in 1779. After
having received an excellent education in his native city,
he set out for Paris at the age of twenty, and became con¬
nected with the Journal des Debats, for which he contri¬
buted articles on scientific subjects. By his Lettres d Sophie
sur la Physique, la Chimie, et VHistoireNaturelle, published
in 1810, he gained for himself an honourable position among
the rising literary men of his time, and which was more
than confirmed a short time afterwards by his lectures at
the Athenee on the" literary history of France. He was
appointed to a secretaryship under the Chamber of Depu¬
ties ; and delivered a course of lectures during the same
year to the Ecole Poly technique on the History of France,
which he followed up in 1830 by a course on the History
ot Germany. Martin became early imbued with the some¬
what extravagant ideas of progress then current in France,
and devoted himself with praiseworthy energy to the reali¬
zation of his cherished schemes for the regeneration of
human society. He advanced new systems of instruction,
projected communal libraries, and took a principal share in
founding the Pantheon Litteraire, a collection of the chefs-
d'oeuvre of all nations, which, by popularizing instruction,
were-designed to improve the character, and increase the
happiness of men. He published his views on this subject in
his Plan d ’ Une Bibliotheque Universelle; Etudes des Litres
M A R
qui peuvent servir d VHistoire Philosopluque de Genre Martin.
Humain, Paris, 1837. But Martin soon became alive to
the fact, that his plans for securing the welfare of humanity
were not quite so enlightened or profound as he had been
led to believe, and that the perfecting of mechanical con¬
trivances, and the construction of railways, while minister¬
ing to the material comforts of a people, tend, besides, to
augment their wants, and increase their desire for gratifying
them. Accordingly, in his work De VEducation des Meres
de Famille, dedicated to M. Lamartine, which received the
prize from the French Academy in 1835, he endeavoured to
conduct men to a higher order of truths, and pointed them
to religion as the true source of earthly happiness. His
ideas on religion, however, did not meet with the approval
of the Roman Catholic church, and his book for the edifi¬
cation of the mothers of France was placed on the Index.
A warm admirer of Bernardin de Saint Pierre, Aime Martin
married the widow of that eminent writer, collected his
writings, and vindicated his memory from the unjust at¬
tacks to which it had been exposed. He died at Saint Ger-
main-en-Laye on the 18th November 1847, aged sixty-two;
and his friend M. de Lamartine pronounced an eloquent
funeral oration over his tomb.
In addition to his other works, Aime Martin published
excellent editions of the works of Moliere and of Racine,
with notes; of the Maximes of La Rochefoucauld, with a
critique ; of the CEuvres Philosophiques of Descartes ; and
of Fenelon’s Traite de VExistence de Dieu, with additions.
Martin, Benjamin, an eminent artist and mathemati¬
cian, was born in 1704. After publishing a variety of in¬
genious treatises, and particularly a scientific magazine
under his own name, and carrying on for many years an
extensive trade as an optician and globe-maker in Fleet
Street, the growing infirmities of age compelled him to
withdraw from the active duties of business. I rusting too
fatally to what he thought the integrity of others, he un¬
fortunately (though with a capital more than sufficient to pay
all his debts) became bankrupt. The unhappy old man,
overpowered by this unexpected blow, attempted in a moment
of desperation to destroy himself; and the wound he gave
himself, though not immediately mortal, hastened his death,
which happened on the 9th February 1782, in his seventy-
eighth year. He had a valuable collection of fossils and
curiosities of almost every kind, which, after his death, were
disposed of by auction. His principal publications are,—
The Philosophic Grammar, being a View of the Present State of Expe¬
rimental Physiology, or Natural Philosophy, 1735, Bvo; A New, Com¬
plete, and Universal System or Body of Decimal Arithmetic, 1735, 8vo;
The Young Student's Memorial Book, or Patent Library, 1735, 8vo;
Description and Use of both the Globes, the Armillary Sphere, and
Orrery, 1736, in 2 vols. 8vo; Memoirs of the Academy of Pans, 1740,
in 5 vols.; System of the Newtonian Philosophy, 1759, in 3 vols.;
New Elements of Optics, 1759 ; Mathematical Institutions, viz., Arith¬
metic, Algebra, Geometry, Trigonometry, and Fluxions, 1759; Natural
History of England, with a Map of each County, 1759, in 2 vols.;
Philology and Philosophical Geography, 1759; Mathematical Insti¬
tutions, 1764, in 2 vols.; Lives of Philosophers, their Inventions, &c.,
1764; Introduction to the Newtonian Philosophy, 1765 ; Institutions
of Astronomical Calculations, in 2 parts, 1/65; Description and Lse
of the Air-Pump, 1766; Description of the Torricellian Barometer,
1766 ; Appendix to the Descrifition and Use of the Globes, 1766 , Phi
losophia Britannica, 1778, in 3 vols.; Gentleman and Lady s Phi¬
losophy, in 3 vols.; Miscellaneous Correspondence, in 4 vols.; System
of Philology; Philosophical Geography; Magazine, complete in 14 vols.;
Principles of Pump-work; Theory of the Hydrometer ,• and Doctrine
of Logarithms.
Martin, David, an eminent Protestant divine, born at
Revel in 1639. After the revocation of the Edict of Nantes
he went to Holland, and became pastor and professor of
theology and philosophy, where he remained till his death
in 1721. He is best known by his editions of the Scriptures.
The most popular of his biblical works is his History of the
Old and New Testament, 2 vols. folio, Amst. 1700, known
as “Mortier’s Bible.”
MAR
Martiu. Martin, John, one of the most celebrated painters of
^ the present century, was born at Haydon Bridge, near
Hexham. Northumberland, on the 19th of July 1789.
Having early expressed a desire to become a painter, his
father decided upon apprenticing him to a coach-builder in
Newcastle, to learn herald-painting, whither his family had
removed. In consequence of a quarrel with his master, who
does not seem to have treated young Martin very hand¬
somely, the aspiring artist, eager “ to practise,” as he says
himself, “ the higher mysteries of the art,” after having liis
original indentures cancelled, was placed under Bonifacio
Musso, an Italian painter of considerable merit, and father
of the eminent enamel-painter Charles Musso or Muss.
Martin removed to London with his Italian master in Sep¬
tember 1806, where he was engaged in painting on china
and glass, “ by which,” he says, “ and making water-colour
drawings, and teaching, I supported myself; in fact, mine
was a struggling artist’s life when I married, which I did
at nineteen. During his two years’ residence in London,
Martin applied himself with indefatigable industry during
his leisure hours to the study of perspective and architec¬
ture, labouring till two or three o’clock in the morning in
the depth of winterand stimulated now by new respon¬
sibilities, he resolved to put forth a bold effort, and paint a
large picture. This resolution he carried into effect; and
after a month’s application, he gave to the world in 1812
his first work, “ Sadok in search of the Waters of Obli¬
vion,” which was admitted into the exhibition of the Royal
Academy, and subsequently purchased for fifty guineas.
His next works were the “ Paradise,” which obtained a place
in the great room of the Academy, and the “ Expulsion,”
which was sent to the British Institution. His next paint¬
ings, “ Clytiae ” and “Joshua,” were placed by the Academy
in an ante-room, a circumstance which so offended Martin,
that he removed his name from their list of candidates for
membership, and by the laws of the academicians was thus
rendered incapable of afterwards receiving any distinction
at their hands. But the ultimate success of his “ Joshua”
amply compensated for the neglect shown to it by the Aca¬
demy. This striking production was afterwards exhibited
at the British Institution, and carried off the prize of the
year. “ The success of my ‘ Joshua,’” says Martin, “ opened
a new era to me.” The attention excited by his next pic¬
ture, the “ Fall of Babylon,” which appeared in 1819, was
second only to that of the “Belshazzar.” “Macbeth,”
one of his most successful landscapes, appeared the follow¬
ing year; and in 1821 he completed his elaborate picture
of “ Belshazzar’s Feast,” on which he had wrought an entire
year, and which was awarded the premium of L.200 by
the British Institution. Martin had now attained a wide
celebrity, and thus his most famous painting met at once
with vehement opposition and unhesitating praise. His
paintings were engraved, and found an extensive sale all
over the kingdom. During all this storm of excitement
this adventurous artist held on his way, and produced his
“Destruction of Herculaneum” in 1822; the “Seventh
Plague” and “ Paphian Bower” in 1823; the “Creation”
in 1824 ; the “ Deluge” in 1826; and the “ Fall of Nine¬
veh ” in 1828—one of the most popular of all Martin’s works.
The cycle of his great works was now completed, and
while his later pictures met with admirers, the enthusiasm
awakened by his earlier efforts did not reappear. His
hands were now full with the illustrations of Milton, which
he drew on plates, and for which he received 2000 guineas.
Martin was now much before the public in connection with
various plans for improving the city of London, an object
which he had deeply at heart, and for which he laboured
with much energy during the last twenty years of his
life. Occupied with these projects, Martin laid aside his
pencil for some time, and on resuming it, found that his
power had greatly left him. Yet his “sublime style”
VOL. XIII.
M A R
321
was continued during the rest of his life. He produced Martin.
“ The Death of Moses” and “ The Death of Jacob” in
1838; “The Eve of the Deluge” and “ The Assuaging
of the Waters” in 1840; “ The Celestial City and River of
Bliss” and “ Pandemonium ” in 1841 ; “ The Flight into
Egypt” in 1842; “Christ Stilling the Tempest” and
“Canute the Great rebuking his Courtiers” in 1843;
“Morning and Evening” in'1844; “The Judgment of
Adam and Eve” and “The Fallxof Adam” in 1845;
“ Evening—Coming Storm” in 1846 ; “ Arthur and ^Egle
in the Happy Valley” in 1849; “ The Last Man ” in 1850;
“ Valley of the Thames, viewed from Richmond Hill,” in
1851 ; “Scene in a Forest—Twilight,” 1852. Martin had
been employed for the last four years on three great pictures
illustrative of the last judgment, entitled “ The Judgment,”
“The Day of Wrath,” and “The Plains of Heaven,” at which
he laboured until within a few weeks of his death, and
which he left unfinished. Having been attacked with a
stroke of paralysis, he repaired to Douglas, Isle of Man, in
quest of health, where he died on the 9th of February
1854. (See Martin’s Autobiographic Notes in the Athenceum
of February 25, 1854.)
Martin during his day had no rival in point of popularity,
except Turner the great master of landscape. Martin’s
brother artists not unfrequently found much in his style to
censure. Leslie, who was one of his warmest friends, while
admiring the original power of Martin, found frequent oc¬
casion to dissent emphatically from his mode of treatment.
His merits and defects were alike unquestionable; and it
was the bold originality of the man that provoked so much
criticism. In his expression of material grandeur he ad¬
dressed the eye rather than the mind; in his delineations of
the awful and the terrible in nature his imagination outran
his judgment. Yet he triumphantly succeeded in ravishing
the senses of the multitude, and in dazzling the eyes even of
sagacious men. Whether it was by an illusory trick rather
than by a stroke of genius, by bold theatrical display rather
than by the chastened power of an exalted imagination, that
Martin captivated the eyes of his admirers, he at all events
acquired a very great popularity, and so long as his man¬
ner was new, he was enthusiastically applauded as a man
of pre-eminent genius. He was certainly gifted with a
power to fascinate, but familiarity was calculated to break
the spell.
Martin, Louis-Claude de Saint, called the “ Unknown
Philosopher,” was born at Amboise, of a noble family, on the
18th of January 1743. Originally designed for the magis¬
tracy, he preferred the profession of arms; and at the age
of twenty-two became an officer in the regiment of Foix,
and was made a chevalier of St Louis in 1789. His taste’
for spiritualism induced him to enter the secret school of
Martinez Pasqualis, where he had an opportunity of be¬
coming acquainted with the theurgical operations practised
at that institution. Though originally disposed to believe
in that system, he nevertheless ultimately abandoned its
mystical labyrinths for the pursuit of a purer spiritualism.
While not embracing all the ideas of J. J. Rousseau, he
yet displayed a profound sympathy for that philosopher.
But his unhesitating admiration was reserved for the Teu-
tonic philosopher Jacob Boehm, whose singular writino's  
many of which Saint Martin translated—stamp with a cha¬
racter of originality the illuminism of the early part of the
seventeenth century The Revolution, in its various phases,
found Saint Martin always the same. He saw in it the de¬
signs of 1 rovidence, and recognised equally a predestined
instrument m the remarkable man who ultimately put an
end to its excesses. Appointed in 1794 to give lectures at
the normal schools, Saint Martin publicly refuted with great
success the materialism of Garat, professor of mental phi-
osop iy at that institution. His life, nevertheless, remained
o seme, being known only to a narrow circle of distin-
2 s
322
Martin
II
Martini.
MAR
guished friends, who knew how to appreciate him. It
was with one of those, Count Lenoir Laroche, at Aunay,
that he died of an attack of apoplexy on the 13th of Oc¬
tober 1803. . , ,,
A Life of the “ Unknown Philosopher” was written by M.
Gence in 1824. The sect called “ Martinists” at the epoch
of the Revolution did not receive their name from Saint Mar¬
tin as many have supposed, but from his master, Martinez
Pasqualis. (Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiquesi)
The principal works of this eminent mystic are,—Des Erreurs
etdela Verite, 1775; Tableau Naturel des Rapports qui Existent
entre Dieu,VHomme, et VUnivers, 1782; Lettre d un Ami sur la
Revolution Francaise. 1795 ; Eclair sur VAssociation Humaine,
1797; Quelles sont les Institutions les plus propres d Fonder la
Morale d’un Peuple, 1798 ; L’Homme de Desir, 1790; Ecce Homo,
1792; Le Nouvel Homme, 1792; De VEsprit des Chases, 1800; Dis¬
cours en Reponse au Citoyen Qarat, 1802 ; Le Ministre de VHomme
Esprit, 1802. Also, two volumes of posthumous works, entitled
Quelle est la Maniere de Rappeler d la Raison les Nations, tant Sau-
vages que Folicees, qui sont Livrees a VErreur ou aux Superstitions
de tout Genre ? 1807.
Martin, St, one of the West India Islands, belonging
partly to France and partly to Spain. (See Guadaloupe.)
MARTINI, Giovanni Battista, the most learned
musician of the eighteenth century, was born at Bologna
on the 25th of April 1706. His father, Antonio Maria
Martini, a violinist, taught him very early the elements of
music, and to play on the violin. He was then instructed
in singing and harpischord-playing by Padre Predieri, and
afterwards in counterpoint by Antonio Riccieri. After the
requisite religious studies and training, he took holy orders
as a Franciscan on the 11th September 1722. He culti¬
vated the theory and practice of music so successfully, that
although only nineteen years old, he was appointed in 1/25
chapel-master of the church of St Francis at Bologna. In
the composition of religious music he received instructions
from Jacopo Perti. He studied mathematics under Zanotti,
and devoted much of his time to the reading of ancient and
modern works on music. He was constantly collecting such
works, and at last was in possession of the most extensive
musical library that had ever been formed.1 The books
and MSS. of the Cavaliere Ercole Bottrigari, a distinguished
amateur, formed a part of Padre Martini’s library; and it
has been stated repeatedly that they were left to him as a
legacy by Bottrigari,—a statement utterly disproved by
dates, for Bottrigari died in 1612, and Martini was born in
1706. At Bologna Padre Martini opened a school of
musical composition, in which several celebrated musicians
were trained. Among his best pupils were Padre Paolucci,
Padre Sabbatini, Rutini, Zanotti, Sarti, the Abate Ottani,
and the Abate Stanislao Mattel. Padre Martini always
declared his preference for the ancient Roman school of
musical composition. His school became so celebrated
throughout Europe, that the best musicians consulted him
on doubtful points. Burney, in his musical tour through
France and Italy in 1770, gives a most pleasing account of
the amiable manners and character of Padre Martini. After
long and patient suffering under a complication of diseases,
Martini expired at Bologna on the 4th of August 1784.
The greater part of his compositions for the church are un¬
published. In 1734 he published some church music for
four voices, and in 1736 sonatas for organ and harpsi¬
chord. Of his sonatas for organ and harpsichord, published
in 1747, Clementi has given several in the second volume
of his Practical Harmony.- In 1763 Martini published
chamber duetts for different voices. His most important
works are his Storia della Musica, of which three volumes
only appeared, and his Saggio di Contrappunto. The for¬
mer exhibits prodigious reading and industry, but is written
in a dry style, and is overloaded with matter belonging to
MAR
the regions of conjecture. The fourth volume, which he Martinique
left incomplete, and which has not been published, was to II
contain inquiries regarding the music of the middle ages, Martinu8‘/
down to the eleventh century. At the beginning and end
of each chapter of his musical history Martini gives enig¬
matical canons, some of which are exceedingly puzzling.
Cherubini resolved the whole of them. His Saggio di
Contrappunto is a very learned and valuable work, in two
volumes 4to, and contains numerous examples by the
best masters, with excellent explanatory notes. It treats
chiefly of the tonalities of the plain-chant, and of counter¬
points constructed upon them. Besides several contro¬
versial works published by Martini, he drew up a Diction¬
ary of Ancient Musical Terms, which was published in the
second volume of the collection of G. B. Doni’s works, in
three volumes folio. He published also a work on The
Theory of Numbers as applied to Music ; and a paper on
the “ Use of Geometrical Progression in Music.” (g. f. g.)
MARTINIQUE, one of the French West India Islands,
the most northern of the Windward group, lies between
Lat. 14. 24. and 14. 53. N., and Long. 60. 50. and 61. 18.
W., about 20 miles N. of St Lucia. It is very irregular in
form, and is about 50 miles in length from N.W. to S.E.,
by about 15 in mean breadth. Area 382 square miles.
The surface is uneven and mountainous, and has several
extinct volcanoes. The highest point in the island, Mont
Pelee, rises to the height of 4450 feet. Extensive masses
of volcanic rocks cover the interior, and extend from the
mountains to the shore, where they form lofty cliffs. Be¬
tween the volcanic rocks broad irregular valleys of great
fertility occur. Those on the W. side, called Basse-Terre,
are more extensive and fertile than those on the E. side,
called Cabes-Terre. The valleys are watered by a great
number of small streams. About two-fifths of the surface
are under cultivation, the remainder being covered with
trees, or occupied by naked rocks. The principal produc¬
tions are sugar, coffee, cocoa, &c. The exports for the
year ending 31st December 1851 were,—sugar, 51,610,160
lb.; coffee, 224,590 lb.; cocoa, 318,595 lb.; cassia, 360,669
lb.; logwood, 110,682 lb.; molasses, 7427 gallons; rum,
234,297 gallons. In 1854 the total value of exports from
this island to France was L.552,000; of imports from France
L.816,000. The coast being indented by numerous bays
and inlets, affords many good harbours. There are two
towns on the island, Port Royal and St Pierre; the former
the capital, but the latter the more populous, and the centre
of commerce. For administrative purposes it is divided
into two arrondissements, fourteen cantons, and twenty-six
communes; and is under a governor, with a privy council
of seven members, and a colonial council of thirty mem¬
bers. Martinique, the native name of which is Madiana,
was discovered by the Spaniards in 1493, and colonized by
the French in 1635. It was taken by the English in 1762,
and again in 1794 and 1809; and was finally given up to
France in 1814. Pop. (1854) 123,701.
MARTINUS, Bishop of Tours, a celebrated ecclesiastic,
was born of heathen parents at Sabaria [Steinam-Anger)
in Pannonia about 316. After receiving his education at
Pavia, he entered the army at the age of sixteen, and served
successively under Constantius and Julian. _ While sta¬
tioned in Gaul he was admitted into the Christian church
by baptism, and abandoning soon afterwards the profession
of arms, he was consecrated to the priesthood by Huai ms
of Poitiers. Having returned to Pannonia, he converted
his mother, and became noted for his fearless opposition to
the Arians, who were then on the ascendant. Directing
his steps once more towards Gaul, he founded on his way
a monastery at Milan, and sojourned in its retirement for
some time. On his arrival at Poitiers about 360, he built
1 See the article Burney, in which Martini’s hooks and MSS. are noticed as they remained in 1819.
MAE
Martos another monastery on a piece of ground which had been
|| presented to him by Hilarius. In 371, so high had his al-
Martyn. leged miraculous power, his fanatical piety, and his sordid
austerities raised him in the estimation of the populace, that
the inhabitants of Tours forced him to become their bishop.
Finding, however, that the miserable cell in which he had
taken up his abode was not a sufficient protection against
the flocks of his admiring visitors, he built the monastery
of Marmontier, on the banks of the Loire, and there he
secluded himself for the rest of his life. Martinus died in
his eightieth year, near the close of the fourth century.
I'or many years afterwards his memory was held in the
greatest veneration, not only in France, but in other
countries of Europe. An invocation of St Martin was uni¬
versally regarded a sovereign remedy for all diseases,
whether bodily, mental, or moral. His Life by Sulpicius
Severus, one ot his disciples, is still extant. The Confessio
Fidei de Trinitate, usually attributed to Martinus, is of
doubtful authenticity.
MART OS, a town of Spain, province of Jaen, stands on
the slope of a steep hill, which is surmounted by a ruined
castle, 16 miles W.S.W. of Jaen. The streets are steep,
narrow, crooked, and unpaved; but there are some hand¬
some public buildings, including several churches, chapels,
and convents, town-house, prison, hospital, theatre, and
orphan asylum. It is a place of resort on account of its
mineral waters; and it has two bathing establishments.
Pop. about 10,000.
MARTOS, Ivan Petrovich, an eminent sculptor, some¬
times called “ The Canova of Russia,” was born about 1755
at Itchnia in Little Russia. He removed at an early age
to St Petersburg; and in course of time his works had at¬
tained so high a position that he was sent as a pensioner to
Rome, where he sojourned for three years, zealously study¬
ing his art, and cultivating an intimacy with the famous
painters Raphael Mengs and Pompeo Batoni. On his re¬
turn to his native country, he was employed by government
in adorning the principal cities of Russia with monuments
of eminent men. Accordingly, he executed a colossal group
in bronze of Minin and Pozkarski at Moscow, and erected
a monument to the Emperor Alexander at Taganrog, to
the Duke of Richelieu at Odessa, to Lomonozov at Arch-
angel, and to Potemkin at Kherson. Martos was for many
years director of the Academy of Fine Arts in St Peters¬
burg. He died in that city in April 1835. The chief ex¬
cellence in the works of Martos is the simple and natural
drapery of his figures. He also surpassed his contem¬
poraries in subjects of bas-relief.
MARTYN, Henry, a celebrated missionary, was born
in 1781 at Truro in Cornwall, where his father, a man of
singular piety and intelligence, was a labourer in the mines
of Gwennap, and subsequently a merchant’s clerk in Truro.
He received his education at the grammar school of his
native town, and jit St John’s College, Cambridge, which
he entered in 1797, and pursued his studies so successfully,
that in January 1801 he obtained the highest academical
honour of senior wrangler, and in 1802 was chosen a fellow
of his college, besides gaining the highest prize of the uni¬
versity for Latin prose composition. During this brilliant
career the mind of Martyn became seriously occupied with
the truths of religion, induced to some extent, it is believed,
by the death of his father, which produced a very serious
impression on the ardent and thoughtful student. These
impressions were fostered by the intimacy which Martyn
had formed with the celebrated university preacher, the
Rev. Charles Simeon. Notwithstanding the bright pro¬
spects of advancement which his talents opened up to him,
he resolved to devote the energies of his life to the work of
a Christian missionary; and accordingly, after some prelimi¬
nary preparation, he in 1805 left the banks of the Cam for
the shores of India as a chaplain in the East India Com-
M A E
pany’s service. He commenced his labours among the
Europeans at Dinapore, and soon found himself capable of
extending his labours, by conducting divine worship among
the natives in their own vernacular language, and by estab¬
lishing schools for their instruction. It was not till 1809,
however, that his regular public ministrations among the
heathen commenced. In the spring of that year he was
removed to Cawnpore, where he was exposed to great pri¬
vation, having to preach in the open air, under a burning
Indian sun. Martyn, nevertheless, zealously pursued his
noble work among the hundreds of heathen mendicants
who crowded around him. During his residence at Dina¬
pore he had been engaged in revising the sheets of his
Hindustanee version of the New Testament, and in super¬
intending the Persian translation executed by Sabat; and
having now perfected himself in the latter language, he re¬
solved to extend his missionary labours to Persia. He
accordingly took up his residence at Shirauz, where he occu¬
pied himself in revising, with the aid of the learned natives,
his Persian and Arabic translations of the New Testament,
and in conducting religious conversations and discussions
among the moollahs and soofis, many of whom were greatly
impressed by him. “ Henry Martyn,” said a Persian mool-
lah, “was never beat in an argument. He was a good
man ; a man of God.” Here, in addition to his New Tes¬
tament, he executed a Persian translation of the Psalms,—
“a sweet employment,” as he says in a letter, “which caused
six weary moons that waxed and waned since its commence¬
ment to pass unnoticed.” Having made an unsuccessful
journey to Tabriz to present the shah with his translation
of the New Testament, he was seized with fever, which so
thoroughly prostrated his energies, that after a temporary
recovery, he found it necessary to seek a change of climate.
He set out for Constantinople, and after a hurried march of
great suffering he got as far as Tokat in Asia Minor, where
he was compelled to stop from utter prostration, and falling
either a sacrifice to the plague which then raged there, or
sinking under his previous disorder, he died on the 16th
October 1812, in his thirty-second year. The news of his
death was received in England with deep regret. In ad¬
dition to his valuable labours as a translator, by which he
placed portions of the Scriptures within the reach of all who
could read over one-fourth of the habitable globe, he was
instrumental in leading a considerable number of Hindus
and Mohammedans to profess their adherence to the Chris¬
tian faith. From one who had accomplished so much in a
great cause in the very dawn of his career, it was not singu¬
lar that much should have been expected from him ere
he was called upon to retire from the field. Yet during his
brief career he earned for himself a foremost place among
modern missionaries; and the name of Henry Martyn will
be held in honour as long as noble Christian heroism is
admired among men. (See Memoir of the Rev. Henry
Martyn, hy the Rev. John Sargent, London, 1819.)
MARTYR (fidprup) signifies properly a witness, and is
applied in the New iestament—1. To judicial witnesses
(i latt. xviii. 16; xxvi. 65, &c.). 2. To one who has testi¬
fied, or can testify, to the truth of what he has seen, heard,
or known. I his is a frequent sense in the New Testament,
as in Luke xxiv. 48; Acts i. 8, 22, &c. 3. The meaning
of the word which has now become the most usual is that
in which it occurs most rarely in the Scripture, i.e., one
who by Ins death bears witness to the truth. In this sense
we only find it in Acts xxii. 20; Rev. ii. 13; xvii. 6. This
now exclusive sense of the word was brought into general
use by the early ecclesiastical writers, who applied it to
every one who suffered in the Christian cause. (See Suicer,
esaurus ' coles, sub voc.) Stephen was in this sense
tie first martyr; and the spiritual honours of his death
tended in no small degree to raise to the most extravagant
es imation, in the early church, the value of the testimony
323
Martyr.
324 MAE
Martyr of blood. Eventually a martyr’s death was supposed, on
II the alleged authority of the under-named texts, to cancel
Martyr- a]1 the gins of the past life (Luke xii. 50 ; Mark x. 39); to
SUpply the place of baptism (Matt. x. 39); and at once to
secure admittance to the presence of the Lord in Paradise
(Matt. v. 10-12). In imitation of the family custom of
annually commemorating at the grave the death of deceased
members, the churches celebrated the deaths of their mar¬
tyrs by prayer at their graves, and by love-feasts. From
this high estimation of the martyrs, Christians were some¬
times led to deliver themselves up voluntarily to the public
authorities—thus justifying the charge of fanaticism brought
against them by the heathen. For the most part, however,
this practice was discountenanced, the words of Christ him¬
self being brought against it; Matt. x. 23. (See Gieseler,
Eccles. Hist, i., 109, 110; Neander’s Church Hist. i.,p. 463.)
MARTYR, Peter, a famous reformer, whose family
name was Yermigli, was born at Florence in 1500. At
the age of sixteen he became an Augustine monk of the
monastery of Fiesole, and was afterwards employed in teach¬
ing philosophy, theology, and Greek at Padua, and in
preaching in the principal cities of Italy. He was led to
renounce the Romish creed through a perusal of the writ¬
ings of Luther and Zwingle, and was accordingly, in 1542,
forced to flee before the persecuting zeal of his brother-
priests. After sojourning successively at Zurich and Basle
he became professor of divinity at Strasburg. Invited to
England in 1549 by Archbishop Cranmer, he was appointed
in file same year to a theological chair at Oxford. The
accession of Mary, however, in 1553, obliged him to resign
his appointment, and to return to his former chair at Stras¬
burg. Soon after his departure from England, the remains
of his deceased wife were disinterred at Oxford, and buried
under a dunghill. In 1556 Martyr was translated from
Strasburg to a theological professorship at Zurich. He
died there in 1562. Of Peter Martyr’s numerous theologi¬
cal treatises, his Loci Communes, published at Geneva in
1624, is best known.
MARTYROLOGY, a catalogue or list of martyrs, in¬
cluding the history of their lives and sufferings for the
sake of religion. The Martyrology of Eusebius of Caesarea
was the most celebrated in the ancient church. It was
translated into Latin by St Jerome, but it is not now ex¬
tant. That attributed to the venerable Bede, in the eighth
century, is of very doubtful authority, there being found
in it the names of several saints who did not live till after
his time. The ninth century was very fertile in martyr-
ologies; for then appeared that of Floras, subdeacon of
the church at Lyons, who, however, only filled up the
chasms in Bede. This was published about the year 830,
and was followed by that of Waldenburtus, monk of the
diocese of Treves, written in verse about the year 844 ; and
this again by that of Usuard, a French monk, which was
written by the command of Charles the Bald in 875, and is
the martyrology now ordinarily used in the Roman Catholic
church. That of Rabanus Maurus, written about the year
845, is an improvement on Bede and Floras; that of Not-
ker, monk of St Gall, was written about the year 894. The
martyrology of Addo, monk of Ferrieres, in the diocese of
Treves, afterwards archbishop of Vienne, was compiled
from the Roman in 858. According to Du Sollier, the
martyrology of St Jerome is the great Roman martyrology ;
from this was made the little Roman one printed by Ros-
weyd; and of this little Roman martyrology was formed
that of Bede, afterwards augmented by Floras. The mar¬
tyrology of Nevelon, monk of Corbie, written about the
year 1089, is little more than an abridgement of that of
Addo. Father Kircher also makes mention of a Coptic
martyrology preserved by the Maronites at Rome. Mid¬
dleton, in his Letter from Rome, has satisfactorily shown
that many of the accounts in the martyrologies are pure
M A R
fabrications ; and that persons who never existed, inanimate Marvell,
objects, and heathen deities, have been canonized as martyrs
and saints. We have likewise Fox’s Booh of Martyrs, con¬
taining valuable accounts of the sufferings of the Reformers.
(For further information on this subject consult Ruinart’s
Acta Martyrum ; Dodwell’s Dissertationes Cyprianica;
Dr Middleton’s Free Inquiry, fyc., and Maitland’s Church
in the Catacombs?)
MARVELL, Andrew, an English patriot of the seven¬
teenth century, enjoys the distinction of having been the
friend of Milton, the last member of Parliament who re¬
ceived wages from his constituents, and one of the most
acute, learned, and witty controversialists and satirists of his
age. He was born at Winestead in Holderness, county of
York, on the 2d of March 1621. His father, a clergyman,
afterwards removed to Hull, as lecturer in 1 rinity church,
and master of the grammar school of that town. The
death of the elder Marvell took place in 1640, under cir¬
cumstances too remarkable to be ever forgotten in the
Yorkshire calendar. He had agreed to cross the Humber
with a young couple whom he was to marry at Barrow in
Lincolnshire. The day was stormy, and the minister,
though persuaded to share the danger of the passage, was so
strongly impressed with a presentiment it would prove fatal,
that, on entering the boat, he threw his cane ashore, exclaim¬
ing, “ Ho, for heaven!” His fears were realized—the boat
went down, and all on board perished. The parents of the
affianced lady, it is said, adopted young Marvell as their son,
and enabled him to travel abroad. He had when very
young been entered of Trinity - College, Cambridge, but
was seduced away from the university by some Jesuit emis¬
saries. Flis father found him in London and took him back
to college, and Marvell ever afterwards was a firm friend of
Protestant freedom and enlightened toleration. From a
letter of Milton’s to Secretary Bradshaw (discovered so late
as 1826 in the State Paper Office), it appears that Marvell
spent four years abroad in Holland, France, Italy, and
Spain, and on his return was engaged in giving instruction
in the languages to a daughter of Lord hairfax. He had
also been engaged by Cromwell to superintend the educa¬
tion of a Mr Dutton in Eton. In 1654 Marvell writes to
Milton from Eton, describing his presentation of a copy of
the Defensio Secunda, sent by Milton to Bradshaw (not to
Cromwell, as Birch and Dr Symmons suppose). In 1657
Marvell was associated with Milton in the Latin secretary¬
ship, the salary of each being the same, namely, L.200 per
annum. In 1660 the citizens of Hull elected Marvell their
representative in Parliament, and in December of that year
we find him generously interposing in behalf of his illus¬
trious friend the poet. Milton had been in the custody of
the sergeant-at-arms, and Marvell complained that exces¬
sive fees, amounting to no less than L.150, had been ex¬
torted from him. The only answer which appears in the
parliamentary history, is a remark by I' inch, that Milton
had been Cromwell’s secretary, and deserved hanging!
When the poet was afterwards attacked by an anonymous
assailant (whom Marvell believed, but erroneously, to be
the renegade Dr Samuel Parker), the member for Hull vin¬
dicated the character of his friend; and when Paradise
Lost appeared, he was ready to greet the immortal epic and
its author, “ blind yet bold,” with a copy of encomiastic
verses. In his capacity of legislator Marvell was diligent
and independent. He wrote daily to his constituents dur¬
ing the sitting of Parliament, and was the friend and coun-
sellor of the small band ofsenators who firmly but cautiously
resisted the arbitrary spirit of the court. V hen Paiker in¬
culcated the slavish doctrine of divine right and passive
obedience, Marvell answered him in a vein of sarcastic rail¬
lery as well as sound argument, which Swift said he read
with pleasure though Parker’s work had long been sunk.
Another treatise by Marvell, An Account of the Growth of
Mary.
M A R
Marwar Popery and Arbitrary Poiver in England, was deemed so
" formidable, that a reward was offered for the discovery of
the printer. His poetical satires are much inferior to those
in prose—grosser, and deficient in lively illustration. They
were, however, greatly admired in his own day; and there
is a story that Charles II. having‘met Marvell at a private
house, was so pleased with the conversation of the wit,
whose works he had read, that he attempted to win him
over to the court. With this view he despatched Danby,
the lord treasurer, to Marvell’s lodgings, “ in one of the small
courts of the Strand, up two pair of stairsand the trea¬
surer offered a sum of L.1000, with a promise of future fa¬
vours,—all which, it is said, Marvell steadily refused, though
he was obliged, on the departure of the courtier, to send to
a friend for the loan of a guinea. We have no faith in tins
traditionary anecdote, either as respects the king’s liberality
or Marvell’s poverty, but it illustrates the popular opinion
as to Marvell’s simplicity and integrity of character. He
died on the 20th of August 1678. His death was so sud¬
den as to give rise to a suspicion of his having been poisoned,
for which, however, there is not the slightest evidence or
authority. His remains were interred in the church of St
Giles-in-the-Fields, at the expense of his constituents, who
also voted a sum for a monument; but the servility or re¬
sentment of the rector prevented the ashes of the patriot
and friend of Milton from receiving this distinction. His
memory was long cherished by the adherents of the “ good
old cause and besides his controversial and political ser¬
vices, Marvell had written some minor poems of great ten¬
derness, fancy, and beauty, which were deservedly popular.
His lyrical stanzas on the sailing of the emigrants for Ber¬
mudas, Safe from the Storms and Prelates' rage, form one
of the finest strains of the Puritan muse. A complete col¬
lection of Marvell’s works was published in 1777 in three
yols. 4to, by a native of Hull, Captain Thompson, who had
inherited the enthusiasm of a former generation for Mar¬
vell, but appears to have been lamentably deficient in edi¬
torial diligence and literary information. (r. c—s.)
MARWAR. See Joudpore.
MARY (Heb. Go*. Mapiayu, or Mapia). Of persons
bearing this name, no less than seven, if not eight, are men¬
tioned in different parts of the sacred volume. They are
the following:—
Mary or Miriam, the sister of Aaron and Moses. She
was the daughter of Amram and Jochebed, who were both
of the tribe of Levi (Exod. ii. 1), and were related to each
other before marriage as aunt and nephew (Exod. vi. 20),
and seems to have been their eldest child (Numb. xxvi.
59). When the infant Moses was exposed by his mother in
the ark upon the Nile, Miriam, then probably about eight
years of age, was sent to observe the fate of her brother;
and when she beheld him picked up by the attendants of
the daughter of Pharaoh, and saw the interest taken in him
by that princess, she availed herself of the opportunity to
have him again restored to his mother, by offering to pro¬
cure for him a Hebrew nurse, and, when that offer was ac¬
cepted, bringing his mother as the person she had selected
(Exod. ii. 4-10). On the occasion of the destruction of the
Egyptians in the Red Sea after the Israelites had passed
safely over, Miriam, who, in the passage giving an account
of the circumstance (Exod. xv. 20), is styled “ the pro¬
phetess,” either on account of her skill in extempore poetry
and music,1 or because she really enjoyed divine revelations,2
led forth a chorus of women, and guided them in celebrat¬
ing with music and dancing the triumphant deliverance
which their nation had obtained. Shortly after this an
event occurred which presents the character of Miriam in
M A R
a less favourable light. Her brother Moses had been re¬
joined by his wife Zipporah, who had for a considerable time
before been resident with her father Jethro (Exod. xviii.
1-3); and as she was not of Israelitish but of Cushite ex¬
traction, Miriam and her brother Aaron took occasion from
this to indulge what seems to have been a long cherished
feeling of jealousy and envy towards Moses, by exciting a
prejudice against him in the minds of the people. For this
she was punished by God, by being, in the sight of all the
people, afflicted with leprosy, so that “ she became white
as snow.” On the intercession, however, of Aaron with
Moses, and of Moses with God, this terrible infliction was
removed; but not until she had been “ shut out from the
camp seven days,” during which time the people of Israel
suspended their journey (Numb. xii.). From this a period
of nearly forty years elapses during which no mention is
made of Miriam ; and when at length, towards the close of
the history, her name is again introduced, it is only for the
purpose of informing us that, on the arrival of the Israelites
at Kadesh, in the desert of Zin, she died and was buried in
that place. At the time of her death it is calculated she
must have been nearly 130 years of age. Her decease pre¬
ceded that of Aaron by about four, and that of Moses by
about eleven months, so that these three distinguished mem¬
bers of the same family died within the same year.3 Euse¬
bius says her tomb was to be seen at Kadesh, near the city
of Petra, even in his time.
Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ. Closely as this me¬
morable female was connected with Him with whose per¬
son, character, and work the Scriptures are chiefly occu¬
pied, it is remarkable how slender is the information which
they communicate to us respecting her; indeed it is only
as her history serves to illustrate that of her son, that her
name seems to be mentioned at all. From the genealogy
furnished by St Luke, in the third chapter of his gospel, of
our Lord s descent from Adam, we learn that her father’s
name was Heli, a descendant of David through his son
Nathan. In that passage, indeed, it is her husband Joseph
who was said to be the son of Heli; but that he was so
only from his connection with her, and that it is her de¬
scent and not his that is given by St Luke, seems plain,
for the following reasons: 1st, In the genealogy of Christ’s
descent furnished by St Matthew, we are informed that
the father of Joseph was Jacob, and not Heli; 2d, The
entire discrepancy of the genealogy as given by St Matthew
from that given by St Luke suggests the conclusion, that,
as both relate to Christ’s descent, the one gives his descent
by his reputed father’s side, and the other by his mother’s
side; and, 3<7, As the great object of furnishing these
genealogies is to show that Christ was lineally descended
from David, and as it was only through his mother that he
was connected naturally with any of the human race, it is
absolutely necessary that we should regard the genealogy
of St Luke as that of his maternal descent, else we shall
be left with two genealogies, neither of which serves the
purpose for which one of them at least must have been
intended. We conclude, therefore, that whilst the gene¬
alogy of St Matthew was designed to meet the prejudices
of the Jews, for whom chiefly he wrote, by showin0- that
even Joseph, whom they supposed to be the father of Jesus,
was of royal descent, that of St Luke presents to us the real
descent of Christ from his royal type and ancestor through
us mother, and is accordingly to be regarded as giving us
hei descent as well as his.4 This is confirmed by the pas¬
sages adduced by Lightfoot {Hor. Talm. in loc.) from the
Jewish writings, where Mary is expressly spoken of as the
daughter of Heh.°
325
Mary.
1 See Rosenmuller, Schol. in loc.; and Wells’s Paraphrase. * Numb. xii. 2 ; and Micah vi 4
4 ?Um« • X37 f ; X^X1U- 38 3 an Deut- .xxxiv* 5* See also Pr Ad. Clarke’s Comment, on Numb, xs i ’ ’
See Spanheun, Dubia Evangeliea, P. i., p. 88. ' ' *
6 The supposition that Mary was an heiress (e^xAjvaA and was, according to the lirv ir,
5 b u ine iV10Saic law m reference to such cases, married by one
326 MARY.
Mary. At the time the gospel history opens, Mary was the be-
trothed bride of Joseph, who, though like herself of royal
descent, followed the humble occupation of a craftsman or
artificer (tcktwv), probably, as our tianslators suppose, in
wood. Among the Jews it was no uncommon thing for
females to be°thus betrothed for a very long time before
they were married; and whenever this was the case, the
parties were regarded as bound to each other by as solemn
ties as if they had been really married.1 Hence Joseph is
called the husband of Mary, and she his wife, though as
yet their contract of marriage had not been fulfilled (Matt,
i. 19, 20). The wild opinion that these two terms are to
be understood in their ordinary meaning, and that Joseph,
when a very old man, had espoused Mary merely to protect
her in the observance of a vow of perpetual virginity, rests
only on the testimony of the apocryphal Protevangelium
Jacobi, and is so plainly contradicted by the entire tenor of
the sacred narrative, as to be unworthy of serious notice.
Whilst thus in her virgin state, and as yet probably very
young (for females were betrothed at a very early age
amongst the Jews), Mary became the mother of our Lord.
The circumstances attending this event are related with
much simplicity and minuteness by the evangelist Luke.
From his account we learn that an angel appeared to Mary
at Nazareth, and saluted her as “highly favoured of Jeho¬
vah, blessed among women;” and when, startled by the
suddenness of the apparition, and perplexed with the strange¬
ness of his salutation, she began to be afraid, he calmed her
anxiety by explicitly announcing to her the honour which
was intended for her, in that she should be the mother of
the promised seed, to whom should be given “ the throne
of his father David.” Amazed at such an announcement,
she asked, in all the simplicity of conscious innocence,
“How shall this be, seeing I know not a man;” upon
which the angel informed her that she was to become a
mother by the miraculous power of God, and that therefore
her child should be called the “ Son ot God.” For the
confirmation of this message, he further informed her that
her cousin Elizabeth, then far advanced in life, had con¬
ceived a son, and that the event was nigh at hand, which
should cause her reproach to cease amongst women; and
having thus assured her that in her the long-cherished
hopes of every mother and every maiden in Israel were to
be realized, he left her meekly acquiescing in the will of
God.
Her first impulse after this occurrence was to visit her
cousin Elizabeth, of whose state the angel had informed
her. The meeting of these pious and honoured females
was one of mutual joy and congratulation; nor did they
fail to mingle with their rejoicings grateful thanksgivings to
the author of their privileges and blessings. After spend¬
ing three months with her cousin, Mary returned to her
former residence. Here a severe trial awaited her; for
Joseph, perceiving her pregnancy, and of course ignorant
of its true cause, regarded her as having broken her vows Mary,
of betrothal to him. Unwilling, however, to expose her
to the ignominy and danger 2 of a public disclosure of her
crime, he had formed the resolution of putting her away
privately, when information was communicated to him in a
dream of the real nature of the case, and the command of
God laid upon him to relinquish his intention of putting her
away, and to take her to his home as his wife. This he
accordingly did, and thus came to be regarded by his
neighbours as the father of Jesus.
In ancient prophecy3 it had been predicted that the
Messiah should be born at Bethlehem, and the fulfilment
of this prediction was brought about by an occurrence of a
nature apparently purely accidental, and wholly indepen¬
dent of the purposes of his parents. This was the issuing
of an edict by the Roman emperor, commanding a census
to be taken of all the inhabitants of his dominions, and
ordaining that the name of each should be enrolled in the
chief city of the tribe or family to which he belonged.
As Joseph and Mary were both of the lineage of David,
this necessitated their going to Bethlehem, the city of
David; and it was whilst they were there that the pro¬
phecy was fulfilled. Much disorder has been introduced
into the gospel chronology from the confounding of the
edict mentioned by St Luke with a subsequent decree
imposing a tax upon the inhabitants of Judaea, and which
led to serious strife and bloodshed whilst Quirinus was
proconsul of Syria. The two, however, were perfectly
distinct. The edict which brought Joseph and Mary
to Bethlehem, though in our version it is said to have
decreed “ that all the world should be taxed,” seems to
have had reference merely to the taking of a census of the
people, and of the amount of their property. The word
used by Luke is a7roypa.cf>r], which is the classical word for a
census or enrolment, whereas the proper word for taxation
is aTroTLixgcns. That such edicts were frequently issued is
well known to every classical reader; and though there is
no express mention in any of the profane historians of any
such being sent forth at the time referred to by St Luke,
yet as it is not to be supposed that they have recorded all
the events of this nature which occurred, their silence can
hardly be regarded as a sufficient reason for rejecting the
testimony of the evangelist.4 To this confounding of these
two distinct edicts, many have been led by the language of
St Luke himself in the second verse, where it is stated
(according to our version) that “ this taxing was first made
when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.” Here the evan¬
gelist seems at first sight to have fallen into the mistake
alluded to, and of this an eager use has been made by some
of the enemies of Christianity to discredit his claims as
an inspired historian. His words, however, when trans¬
lated so as to give them a meaning (which can hardly be
said to be the case in our version), seem rather designed
to suard against such a mistake, than to indicate the
O O
of her own tribe, who from that circumstance came to he called the son of her father, a supposition which
early age in the church, as we learn from Eusebius (Hist. Eccl. i. 7), is entirely arbitrary and unnecessary. ee . .
ThJl. Prop!,., p. 355 ; „d Olslmusen’s Commmtor, Bd. i, seite 43 ; the latter of »hora favour, the hypothests. T™drt,<» asstgus to the
father of Mary the name of Joachim, and to her mother that of Anna. Dr Barrett thinks Hell may e °un 1 pncvyej ny Matthew
etymological legerdemain this may be accomplished we cannot conjecture. In his prolegomena, to the edition o . E,,. /. 9 p ’
from the Dublin Codex rescript., p. 44, he says,—“ In hocce nomine Joachim latere nomen illud Eh, Luc. lu‘> ’ p ^ , iiphrew
xxxvi. 4, vix dubitare potest.” The confounding of Eli, Heb. with the Eli in Eliakim, Heb. VS, says very i
scholarship. . ...
i Deut. xxii. 23. “ Femina ex quo desponsata est, licet nondum a viro cognita, est uxor viri; et si sponsus earn vent repuaiare,
oportet ut id faciat libello repudii.” (Maimonides ap. Buxtorf. de Divortio, p. 76.)
8 By the law of Moses such crimes were to be punished with death by stoning. (Deut. xxii. 23, 24.)
4 The statement of Dio Cassius, which is supported by the testimony of Tacitus (Annal. i. 11), and of Suetonius (Ocfat/, c. 101), that
Augustus left behind him at his death a breviarium or rationarium of the Roman empire, in four \o umes, o \\ ic le
tebatur quce ad milites, quceque ad reditus sumj^tusque publicos, pertinebant, venders it extremely pro a^ e “ a 1J10nf1f , ,a
much pains to have accurate returns made from all parts of his dominions. That this was the case, is indeed expressly stated by assi
dorus, iii. 52. See also Suidas in voc. a-rtoy^a.^.
M A
Mary. author’s having fallen into it. According to a usage not
uncommon in the New Testament, TrpwTr) seems to be used
for Trpcorepa;1 and in this case the proper rendering would
be, “ this census took place before Cyrenius (or Quirinus)
was governor of Syria;” a statement which seems thrown
in parenthetically by the historian, for the purpose of inform¬
ing his readers that the event to which he refers was not
the famous and well-known taxing under Quirinus (com¬
monly called, as he himself records in Acts v. 37, 11 the
taxing,” by way of eminence), but was antecedent to it.2
Owing to the multitudes of people whom this edict had
brought together to Bethlehem, Joseph and his wife, on
their arrival, found themselves unable to procure any better
accommodation than what was afforded them by the stable
of a public lodging-house. Here Mary was delivered of
her first-born son, whom she herself swathed and laid in
the manger. Amongst the busy crowd then assembled at
Bethlehem this event excited no attention; but it was too
important to be allowed to pass unregarded by Heaven, and
accordingly an angel was commissioned to announce it to
some pious shepherds that same night, as they were watch¬
ing their flocks in the adjoining fields. Gladdened with
the joyful news that the long-expected Messiah had at
length appeared, these pious men lost no time in going to
Bethlehem, that they might see the thing which had come
to pass, and might offer their adoration to their infant
Saviour. The intelligence they brought was received by
Mary and Joseph with astonishment, and by the former
carefully stored up in her remembrance. (Luke ii. 8-19.)
On the termination of the time appointed by the Mosaic
law for the continuance of a woman’s uncleanness after
child-birth,3 Mary went up to Jerusalem to present her son
to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice appointed in such
cases.4 These rites observed, she returned with her hus¬
band to their usual residence at Nazareth (Luke ii. 39).
From this place they were in the habit of going up to Jeru¬
salem every year at the feast of the passover (ver. 41) ;
and it seems to have been on the occasion of one of these
visits that the Magi from the East came with their offer¬
ings and adoration to Christ. The occurrence of this
event is commonly regarded as having taken place imme¬
diately after the visit of the shepherds ; but a comparison
of the facts stated by St Matthew with those stated by St
Luke forbids the entertaining of such a supposition. From
the former we learn, that immediately on the visit of the
Magi, Joseph and his wife fled into Egypt, where they
abode till the death of Herod. But the latter informs us,
that six weeks after the birth of Christ, he was taken up
to the temple, and from thence carried down to Nazareth.
From this it is plain that the visit of the Magi, and the
consequent flight into Egypt, could not have taken place
before the dedication in the temple, and must therefore be
referred to a subsequent period.5 It was on the occasion
of another of these visits that the scene between Christ and
the Jewish rabbis took place, when, after an absence from
his parents of three days, he was found by his anxious
mother sitting with the doctors in the temple, both hearing
them and asking them questions (Luke ii. 42-52).
Some time before our Lord’s entrance upon his public
ministry, Mary seems to have lost her husband. This is
rendered probable, not only from the circumstance that no
R Y. 327
mention is made after this period of Joseph in the gospel Mary,
history, but also from the freedom with which Mary appears v—
to have moved from place to place ; a freedom hardly con¬
sistent with her duties as a wife whose husband was still
alive. As confirmatory of this it may be mentioned, that
it was admitted as an acknowledged fact in the early ages
of the church, that she supported herself by weaving; and
hence Celsus calls her Xepv^ns, and Tertullian Qucestuaria.
Her residence seems to have been principally at Caper¬
naum, on which account probably this place was called
Christ’s “ own city” (Mat. ix. 1), as her house would be
the place to which he would naturally retire during the in¬
tervals of his public labours. She is mentioned as having
been present at the marriage at Cana in Galilee, where he
commenced his miraculous works by turning water into
wine (John ii. 1). Shortly after this, whilst he was teach¬
ing in the synagogue at Capernaum, she endeavoured to
induce him to desist, fearing probably lest he should offend
the people by his pointed rebukes; but he resisted her
entreaties, declaring that no earthly connections could be
so dear to him as those spiritual unions which he sought to
form by the truths he was teaching. On the occasion of
his going up to Jerusalem for the last time before his death,
she was one of those who accompanied him ; she followed
him to Calvary, beheld him elevated on the cross, and re¬
tired not until she saw him expire. As she stood gazing
on him, along with some of his followers, he commended
her to the care of his beloved disciple John, who from that
time took her to reside in his own house. We learn from
Actsi. 14, that she was amongst the disciples at Jerusalem
when they were waiting for the gift of the Holy Spirit. An
uncertain tradition informs us that she removed with John
to Ephesus when he went to reside there, and died and was
buried in that place. Other accounts state that she died and
was buried at J erusalem, which is perhaps the more probable
statement of the two. By the Roman Catholic church the
Virgin Mary has been deemed worthy of divine honours,
and has even been made to occupy a more prominent place
in the devotions of the people than the Saviour himself.0
Such reverence for the Virgin was unknown in the
early ages of the church, but the way was gradually paved
for it by the importance which was attached to discus¬
sions respecting her in the writings of the Fathers, and
by the extravagant terms of eulogy in which they spoke
and wrote regarding her. From styling her Ozotokos,
6eop.r]Tr)p, SeoTroiva ayia kul deiTraptfevos, as even Chrysos¬
tom writes of her; from speaking of her as “ the sacred
treasure of the universe, the quenchless lamp, the crown
of virginity, the sceptre of orthodoxy, the temple inde¬
structible, the tenement of the infinite, both a virgin and
a mother,” as Cyril of Alexandria describes her,7 the tran¬
sition was not difficult to the offering of divine homage to
the object of such unwarranted eulogium. Mr Newman,
in his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine,
p. 50, adduces the growth of “ the doctrine of the 6Wokos,
or Mother of God, into hyperdulia,” as one of the in¬
stances of what he calls “ moral developmentsthat is,
developments that “ are not proper matter for controversy,
but are natural and personal, substituting what is congruous,
desirable, pious, decorous, generous, for strictly logical in¬
ference. Of the utter absence of all logical strictness from
120
Winer’s Grammatik des Neutest. Sprachid., p. 201. Stuart’s Syntax of the
new Testament Dialect, in the “Biblical Cabinet,’
e SX0<?,\X1U' 2: 4 Levit- X11> 6'8* 5 Macknight’s Harmony, sect.' 11; and Doddridge in loc
ii IbT TTleT See^lso aS Tv ^ *** the extracts in Giesele^ K^en Geshichte, Bd.
day, see Seymour’s' Evenings wfh ‘the Romanists^. 239 ff. U1■, P’ ’ eVldenCe °n the Same P°int’in relation to the Present
7 in Actis Ephes., p. 33, ap. Suicer. Thes. Eccl. ii., 304.
228 M A
Mary. the process of this “development” there can be little doubt;
but whether the result merits the laudatory epithets Mr
Newman has heaped together must be questioned. To
most people the process will appear rather as affoiding a
striking illustration of the tendency of all religious error to
become more and more gross5 and to cairy those who em¬
brace it still farther and farther into delusion. The first
step was to declare the perpetual virginity of Mary, which
was done about the middle of the fourth century. Then
came conjectures about her miraculous transit from earth
to heaven, which gradually led to a belief in her assump¬
tion. Next, II ad her t in the ninth century propounded the
belief that Mary bore her son “ Omnino clauso utere . . .
sine dolore, et sine gemitu,” a dogma which, however, was
opposed at the time by Ratramn. About the same time
festivals were appointed in celebration of her birth and of
her ascension. In the tenth century men began to pray to
her and to worship her; Saturday was dedicated to her,
and an office of the “ Holy Mary” appointed to be used. In
1140 the doctrine of the immaculate conception of Mary
began to be taught, though not without strenuous opposi¬
tion on the part of many, among whom St Bernard was the
most conspicuous. This dogma became soon afterwards a
bone of contention between the Dominicans and the Fran¬
ciscans,—the former of whom, following Thomas Aquinas,
opposed it; while the latter, following Duns Scotus, de¬
fended it. Two new festivals were instituted in honour of
Mary,—the festival of the “Presentation,” appointed by Pope
Gregory IX. in 1372; and the festival of the “ Visitation,
appointed by Pope Urban VI. in 1389. In 1387 a great
advantage was gained by the advocates of the immaculate
conception, in consequence of a decision of the university
of Paris, that all who graduated in it should assent to a con¬
demnation pronounced by the university on all who should
decidedly reject this doctrine,—a decision which speedily
assumed the character of a positive declaration in favour of
it. In 1439 a council held at Basle decreed that the doc¬
trine of Mary’s conception without sin, and her immunity
from actual sin, was to be embraced by all Catholics,—
“ Tanquam piam et consonam cultui ecclesiastico, fidei
catholicae, rectae ration! et sacrae Scripturae.” Other uni¬
versities followed the example of that of Paris; the men¬
dicant orders became zealous preachers of the doctrine;
miraculous legends concerning her, such as that of the
conveyance of her house from Nazareth to Loretto, where
' it was set up as a shrine dedicated to her, were plen¬
tifully circulated; and a great impulse was everywhere
given to the worship of the Virgin, as the being “ by whose
dispensation alone any creature could obtain any grace or
virtue from God.” Art lent its aid to the strengthening of
this cause, and pictures of the Blessed Virgin, from the
highest style which painting has reached, down to the
coarsest daubs, kept continually before the minds of the
people the leading facts of her history as taught by the
church, and the pretensions which the church had set up
in her behalf. By these means her worship was success¬
fully established; her name was invested with every attri¬
bute of glory and majesty; she was hailed as the Mother
of Mercy, the Queen of Heaven, the Fulgid Gate of Hea¬
ven, and such like epithets; prayers were offered to her
for the highest blessings; and she gradually ascended in
the view of all good Catholics, until her glories obscured
those of her Son, and the place due only to Him came to be
assigned to her. Fler image is now in every Roman Ca¬
ll Y.
tholic church, and in every house where a Roman Catholic Mary,
dwells. At corners of streets, and where roads cross, chapels
are erected to her honour, adorned with flowers, and illu¬
minated with tapers, and imund which, at the hours of ves¬
pers, multitudes may be seen kneeling in prayer. Her
image is worn as an amulet on the breast, or woven into
chaplets for the head ; and even on the uniform of the
pope’s scudieri the Madonna and Child figure as the appro¬
priate badge of their office.1 The present pope has put the
colophon on this extended volume of blasphemy and folly,
by authoritatively declaring (in 1855) the immaculate con¬
ception of the Virgin to be a doctrine of the Catholic
church. It is to be regretted that, even by Protestant
writers, a degree of importance has been attached to in¬
quiries respecting her, which nothing in Scripture would
seem to authorize. How many, for instance, have con¬
tended for her perpetual virginity, as if it were a matter on
which the whole of our religion depended. Such matters,
however, “ do not affect,” as the great Basil truly remarks,
“ the doctrine of godliness ; for though until the birth of
Christ her virginity was necessary, what happened after¬
wards is a matter not worthy of anxious inquiry.”2 A more
interesting question is that respecting the fact of her hav¬
ing had any children by Joseph after the birth of Christ,
because upon the answer given to this depends the mean¬
ing which we are to attach to those passages that speak of
our Lord’s “ brethren and sisters.” On this different opi¬
nions have been entertained:—1. That these appellations
are to be taken according to Hebrew usage, as merely sig¬
nifying near relations ;3 2. That they designate the children
of Joseph by a previous marriage; 3. That the parties so
designated were really the children of Mary and Joseph,
and so the german brothers and sisters of our Lord ac¬
cording to the flesh. What renders this last opinion the
most probable is, that Jesus is called Mary’s TrpwToroKos, or
first-born; and that Matthew, in connection with this, is
careful to state that Joseph knew her not until (ews) she
had brought forth her first-born son. This would seem to
imply that she had other children afterwards by him. This
view is also the most natural in such passages as Matt. xiii.
55 ; Mark iii. 31 ; Luke viii. 21; John ii. 12 ; vii. 3, where
the brethren of Christ are mentioned in connection with
Mary. “ It would be very forced work,” to use the words
of Neander, “to suppose that in all these passages dSeXfpot
is placed for ave\f/ioL”4
Mary Magdalene, so called apparently from Magdala,
a castle, and probably also a village, near Gamala and the
baths of Tiberius, on the eastern shore of the sea of Ga¬
lilee (Matt. xv. 39).5 This was in all probability her birth¬
place, and from it she was named, to distinguish her from
the other Marys who followed Christ. She has been often
confounded with Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus,
and also with the “ woman who was a sinner,” mentioned
in Luke vii. 36, &c., but in both cases without any suffi¬
cient reason. Equally unfounded is the notion, that before
her conversion she was a person of abandoned character;
a notion which, though resting on no better authority than
that of some monkish legends, has nevertheless become so
generally received, that few even in Protestant countries
ever think of questioning its accuracy. 1 he only passage
of Scripture, however, that can be quoted as favouring this
opinion, is that in which it is said that out of hei went
seven devils” (Luke viii.)» But this cannot be admitted
as evidence in support of the point in question; for, what-
1 Clausen, Kirchen-verfassung, Lehre und Ritus des Catholicismus und Protestantismus, p. 723.
a Homil. de Christi generatione, ap. Suicer. Thes. Eccl. ii. 306. . —
» Bishop Pearson on the Greed, p. 174, folio ed.; Edwards’ Exercitations on Scripture, p. 143; and Pott, Proleg. in Epist. Jacobi, Nov.
Test. Koppianum, vol. ix., p. 90, &c.
4 Life of Christ, Eng. tr., p. 32; Comp. De Wette on Matt. i. 25, in his Exegetisches Handbuch.
® Lightfoot, Hor. Talm. in ioc.; \\ iner, Realwdrterbuch; and Kitto’s Bib. Cyclopaedia, art. Magdala.
M A R
Mary, ever may be the conclusion to which wre come as to the
v—^ nature ol that diabolical possession which prevailed in the
days of our Lord, one thing is certain in regard to it, which
is, that to be afflicted with it did not imply in the individual
so visited any peculiar moral depravity; so that, though
the case of Mary Magdalene was one of unusual severity
(the number seven being the number of completeness), it
by no means follows from this that she was not a virtuous,
nay, pious female. On the contrary, the evidence from
Scripture seems rather to favour the supposition that she
was a person at once of blameless character and respectable
station. She is introduced to us for the first time in the
society of Joanna, the wife of Chuza, steward of Herod’s
household (eTrtrpoTros, prcefectus domus), with whom she was
associated in ministering to the wants of our Saviour “ out
of their substance” (v-n-ap^ovTa, opes facilitates); and from
the language used by Mark (ch. xv. 41), it would seem as
if this had been the usual practice of these pious females
whenever he paid a visit to Galilee. Had she been, as is
commonly supposed, a mere common prostitute before her
conversion, it is difficult to understand how she should
either associate with persons of such rank as Joanna,
or be possessed of the means of such liberality towards
Christ.1
On the occasion of our Lord’s going up to Jerusalem
from Galilee, immediately before his death, Mary Magda¬
lene was one of those by whom he was followed; nor does
she seem to have left him as long as he continued upon
earth. She was one of those who beheld him from a dis¬
tance when he was hanging upon the cross (Mark xv. 40);
and when he was taken down and buried, it was she and
Mary Salome who sat over against the sepulchre and be¬
held where he was laid (Matt, xxvii. 61; Mark xv. 47).
hiom the sepulchre she returned with her companion into
the city to procure materials for embalming his body ; and
having rested on the Sabbath, they came at the dawn of
the third day to perform this office of respect to their de¬
parted Lord. Contrary to their expectations and fears,
they found the stone which they had seen placed upon the
mouth of the tomb rolled away, and free entrance afforded
to its interior. Stooping down and looking in, they were
startled to find the body of Jesus gone ; but as they won¬
dered, an angel appeared, who informed them of his resur¬
rection, and at the same time commanded them to carry
the tidings of this event to the rest of the disciples (Matt,
xxviii. 7). Amazed and perplexed, they fled from the
sepulchre, and announced to their company what they had
seen ; upon which Peter and John hastened to satisfy them¬
selves of the correctness of their report, by returning with
them to the place where Jesus had been interred. When
the others returned home, Mary seems to have remained
by the empty sepulchre to weep; and “as she wept,” we
are told, “ she stooped down and looked into the sepulchre,
and seeth two angels sitting, the one at the head and the
other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.” By
them she was asked the cause of her tears; to which she
answered, that it was because they had taken away her
Lord, and she knew not where they had laid him. During
this conversation, Jesus himself drew near and addressed
her; but, stupified with grief, she did not at first recognise
his voice, and, intent upon gazing into the sepulchre, she
answered his inquiries as to what she wept for, and what
she sought, without turning herself, under the impression
that he was the gardener. To recal her recollection, Jesus
addressed her by name; upon which she immediately re¬
cognised the well-known voice, and turning herself, ex¬
claimed, “ Rabboni, which is to say, Master.” After a
brief conversation, he sent her to announce to the disciples
M A li
that she had seen him, and that he was about to ascend to
heaven. This command she obeyed ; and from this time
forward we find no mention made of her in the New Tes¬
tament. As to certain traditionary accounts of subsequent
actions and journeyings in which she is said to have been
engaged, they bear too obviously the marks of mere legen¬
dary fiction to be worthy of notice.
Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus. These three
individuals composed the members of a family, than which
none was more beloved and honoured by our Lord in the
days of his flesh. Their residence was at Bethany, a vil¬
lage not far from Jerusalem, where Martha seems to have
been a householder; and thither our Lord was in the habit,
apparently, of frequently retiring during the intervals of
his public labours. The name oi Mary is first introduced,
in connection with that of her sister, in the account given
of a visit paid by Christ to their abode, during one of his
journeys; on which occasion, whilst Martha busied herself
in caring for the hospitable entertainment of her guest, Mary
sat at his feet to receive his instruction (Luke x. 38, &c.).
1 he next mention that is made of her is in the touching
and striking account given by John (ch. xi. 1-46) of the
death and resurrection of Lazarus ; and she appears for the
last time shortly subsequent to this, on the occasion of an
entertainment given to our Lord, a few days before his
crucifixion, by Martha, when she anointed Ins feet with
precious ointment, and wiped them with the hair of her
head (John xii. 1-9).
Mary, the mother of James and Joses, and Simon and
Judas. She is the same who is elsewhere called the wife of
Cleophas (John xix. 25), or Alphaeus, these two being only
different modes of Grecizing the Hebrew Chalpai.
I he common opinion is that she was the sister of the Virgin
Mary, an opinion founded on John xix. 25. But as it is
not very probable that there would be two sisters in one
family of the same name, it seems better to adopt the sug¬
gestion of Wieseler (Theol. Studien und Kritiken, 1840,
p. 648), that in this passage four persons are enumerated—
Mary, Mary’s sister (whose name is not given), Mary the
wife of Cleophas, and Mary of Magdala.
Mary, the mother of John Mark. (Acts xii. 12.)
Mary, a pious member of the church at Rome. (Rom.
XV1- 6-) (w. l. a.)
Mary I., Queen of England, was the daughter of Henry
VIII. and Catherine of Aragon, and was born on the 18th
of February 1516. She ascended the throne on the 6th of
July 1553, married Philip II. of Spain on the 25th of July
1554, and died on the 17th of November 1558. (See
England.)
Mary, wife of William III., was the eldest daughter of
James II. and Ann Hyde, and was born in 1662. She
married the Prince of Orange in 1677, shared the throne
with her husband in 1688, and died in 1694. (See Britain.)
Mary, Queen of Scots, w as the daughter of James V.
of Scotland and Mary of Lorraine, and was born on the
8th of December 1542. She married the Dauphin of
France, afterwards Francis II., on the 24th of April 1558-
assumed the personal government of Scotland on the 19th
of August 1561 ; married Lord Darnley on the 29th of
July 1566, and Bothwell, on the 15th of May 1567; was
forced to retire from the throne on the 17th of June 1567 •
was imprisoned by Elizabeth in 1568, where she remained
till her execution on the 8th of February 1587 fSec
Scotland.) j * v
MARYBOROUGH, a town of Ireland, capital of
Queen s county, is situated on a small tributary of the
Barrow, 50 miles S.W. of Dublin. It is straggling and
meanly built, consisting chiefly of one long irre|ular street
329
Mary
Mary bo¬
rough.
Harmony, S 43? inVeStiSation of this Point> see Gardner’s Letter to Jonas Hanway, Esq., Work,, vol. v„ 4to. ed.
VOL. XIV.
See also Macknight’s
2 T
330 MAR
Maryland, on the Dublin and Limerick road. It has, however, several
good public buildings, among which are,—the parish
church, a Roman Catholic chapel, several Dissenting cha¬
pels, court-house and prison, barracks, infirmary, and
lunatic asylum. It returned two members to the Irish
parliament till the Union, when it was disfranchised. Pop.
(1851) 2079.
MARYLAND, one of the United States of North
America, bounded on the N. by Pennsylvania, E. by Dela¬
ware and the Atlantic, and S. and W. by Virginia, from
which it is separated by the River Potomac ; and extending
from 38. to 39. 44. N. Lat., and from 75. 10. to 79. 20. W.
Long. Its form is very irregular ; its greatest length is 190,
and its greatest breadth 120 miles ; area 9356 square miles.
The surface of Maryland may be regarded as consisting of
two distinct parts. The one comprehends the high lands
in the W. of the state, traversed by several ridges of the
Alleghany Mountains, and extending in a narrow strip of
land eastward as far as the lower falls of the rivers. The
other portion, which is low and flat, is subdivided into two
parts by Chesapeake Bay. These are called respectively
the Western and the Eastern Shore; the former consist¬
ing of a peninsula formed by the estuary of the Potomac
and Chesapeake Bay, and the latter of part of that penin¬
sula lying between Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic. Of
this last, the north-eastern part is occupied by the state of
Delaware, while the southern extremity belongs to that
of Virginia. In the mountainous district the principal
ridges are South-East Mountain or Parr’s Ridge, terminat¬
ing at Sugar-Loaf Mountain on the Potomac. In a direc¬
tion nearly parallel to this range, extends Catoctin Moun¬
tain, reaching the river at the Point of Rocks. Further up,
the river is crossed at Harper’s Ferry by the Blue Ridge
or South Mountain, and at Hancock by the Kittatinny. In
the extreme W. of the state rise the main ridges of the
Alleghany Mountains, besides Rugged Mountain, Wills
Mountain, and other detached chains. None of these
ridges have any great elevation ; and the valleys which lie
between them are remarkable for the fertility of their soil
and the mildness of their climate. The eastern and
western shores of the state are very similar to each other
in soil and productions. The soil is alluvial, and consists in
general of a mixture of sand and clay; and though not
very fertile by nature, is easily rendered productive by the
use of manure, which is supplied in large quantities by the
marl beds in the country. The climate is temperate, and
in general salubrious, with the exception of some of the
low-lying country near Chesapeake Bay, from w’hich rise
noxious exhalations, especially during the months of
autumn. The principle feature in this part of the state is
the Bay of Chesapeake which divides the whole region
into two parts from N. to S., and gives the outline of the
state a very irregular appearance. This great estuary has
a total length of 180 miles, of which 120 are in this state,
and a breadth varying at different places from 7 to 20 miles.
It is navigable for the largest vessels throughout its entire
length, and it abounds in fine fish and oysters. It receives
many rivers of various sizes, and its coasts are deeply in¬
dented by numerous bays and creeks. The surface of the
bay is studded with many islands, the most considerable of
which is Kent Island, opposite the city of Annapolis, about
12 miles in length. The Potomac River, the largest of
those that fall into Chesapeake Bay, and which forms the
boundary between this state and that of Virginia, rises in the
Alleghany Mountains, and flows in an irregular course, first
nearly E. and afterwards S. and S.E., till it enters the Bay of
Chesapeake towards its southern extremity between Point
Look-out and Smiths Point. Its width at its mouth is 7%
miles, and it is navigable for the largest vessels as far up as
Alexandria; while by means of canals the falls which occur
not far above this are avoided, and the river rendered navi-
M A R
gable for boats as far as Cumberland, 191 miles above Maryland.
Washington. The scenery of this river is very fine, es-
pecially at these falls, which, though not very high, are
among the most interesting objects of the kind in the
States ; and at Harper’s Ferry, where the river rushes
through a defile in the Blue Mountains. The principal
affluents of t»he Potomac in this state are the Monocacy
River, Antietam and Conecocheague Creeks. Besides
these are,—the Patuxent, which flows in a direction nearly
the same as the Potomac, rising in Parr’s Ridge, and falling
into Chesapeake Bay, and is navigable as far as Notting¬
ham, 50 miles up; the Patapsco, falling into the bay near
Baltimore ; the Susquehanna, which is for the greater part
of its course a Pennsylvanian river, but which falls into Che¬
sapeake Bay in this state. The Elk, Chester, Choptank,
Nanticoke, and Pocomoke, all flow to the eastern shore,
and are navigable for 30 or 40 miles. The only river in
Maryland which does not flow into Chesapeake Bay is the
Youghiogeny, which rises in the mountains of the extreme
W.,and flows northwards into the Ohio. In a geological point
of view, the whole of the level region of Maryland consists
of recent formations, containing many interesting fossils ;
while the mountain district consists of metamorphic strata,
such as gneiss and mica, slate, granite, limestone, &c.;
and is rich in coal and iron mines. Maryland contains a
considerable extent of forest land ; the principal trees are,—
oak, pine, chestnut, cedar, ash, beech, poplar, and elm. The
principal agricultural productions of this fertile and well-
cultivated district are tobacco, wheat, and Indian corn ;
besides which large quantities of oats, rye, flax, hay, pota¬
toes, peas, beans, &c., are raised. The number of farms
in the state in 1850 was 21,860, comprising 2,797,905 acres
of cultivated land ; and the total value of the farms, with
their machinery and implements, was L. 18,676,233. The
live stock in the same year included 75,684 horses, 219,586
head of cattle, and 177,902 sheep ; and amounted in total
value to L.1,166,174. In the agricultural produce for the
year ending June 1, 1850, the principal items are the fol¬
lowing :—Wheat, 4,494,680 bushels ; rye, 226,014 bushels;
Indian corn, 10,749,858 bushels ; oats, 2,242,151 bushels;
tobacco, 21,407,497 1b.; potatoes, 973,932 bushels; and
butter, 3,806,160 lb. In the aggregate amount of tobacco
produced, Maryland is the third ol the States ; and in com¬
parison with the population, the second. The manufac¬
tures of Maryland are numerous and important. There
were, in 1850, 24 cotton factories, employing 3022 hands,
and producing stuffs to the value of L.441,772 ; 38 woollen
factories, employing 362 hands, and producing stuffs to the
value of L.61,488; 51 furnaces, forges, &c., employing 2699
hands, and producing 59,855 tons, valued atL.523,519;
and 116 tanneries, producing leather to the value of
L.229,820. Total number of manufactories in the state
(1850), 3863; capital invested, L.3,073,588; hands
employed, 30,124; value of raw material, fuel, &c.,
L.3,609,738; value of produce, L.6,870,355. The im¬
provements in the internal communications ot this state have
been very extensive, and Maryland has in this department
displayed more energy and enterprise than caution and
prudence. There are three extensive canals—the Chesa¬
peake and Ohio Canal, which has only been completed as
far as Cumberland, a distance of 200 miles from its com¬
mencement at Alexandria, and which cost up to the year
1839 more than L. 145,833; the Susquehanna Canal, com¬
municating with the interior of Pennsylvania; and the
Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, which affords a water-
communication with Philadelphia. There are also many
railways in the state. Of these the Baltimore and Ohio,
and the Baltimore and Susquehanna lines, with their several
branches, are the principal, and have a total length ot 514
miles.
The commerce of Maryland is very great, owing to the
MAR
Maryland, facilities for trade afforded by its excellent harbours, its na-
vigable rivers, canals, and railways. The principal articles
of export are,—flour, wheat, pork, and tobacco; and the
total value of goods exported from the state in 1850 was
L.1,451,533. Ihe imports for the same year amounted in
value to L.1,275,886. For the year ending June 30, 1855,
the respective values were,—exports, L.2,165,413; imports,
L.1,623,781.
The number of vessels built in the state in the year end-
ing June 30, 1855, was 122, with a tonnage of 22,524.
Fishing is carried on in Chesapeake Bay, and large quanti¬
ties of fish are taken, consisting principally of herring, shad,
eels, perch, mullet, &c.
The state of Maryland is divided into 21 counties; and
the principal towns are,—Baltimore, Cumberland, Frederick,
Hagerstown, and Annapolis. Though not the largest town,
Annapolis is the capital of the state. The present govern¬
ment of Maryland, which was settled by the constitution of
18ol, consists of a Governor, elected for four years, with a
salary of L.750 a-year; a Senate of 22 members, also elected
for four years ; and a House of Representatives of 74 mem¬
bers, elected for two years. There are three districts in the
state, from each of which in rotation the governor must be
chosen. The franchise extends to every white male above
the age of twenty-one, a citizen of the United States, and
who has resided for a year in the state, and six months in the
county or town for vyhich he votes. The qualifications for
members of the legislature are, that they shall be not less
than twenty-five years of age for the Senate and twenty-one
for the House of Representatives, and have resided three
years in the state and one in the district for which they are
elected. The judicial establishment consists of an orphans’
court in each county, composed of three judges, elected by
the people for four years ; eight circuit courts, each presided
oyer by a judge elected for ten years ; and a court of appeal,
with four judges elected from as many districts for ten years,
one of whom is appointed chief justice by the governor and
Senate. Judges must retire at the age of seventy. The
religious institutions in Maryland consist of an aggregate
of 909 churches, with property amounting to L.822,476.
The proportions of places of worship belonging to the dif-
feient sects are as follows:—Baptists, 48; Episcopalians,
133; Friends, 26; German Reformed, 22; Lutherans,
42; Methodists, 479; Moravians, 12; Presbyterians, 57;
Roman Catholics, 65 ; Union Church, 10; minor sects, 10.
The educational establishments consisted in 1850 of 11
colleges, with 91 teachers and 992 students; 907 public
schools, with 1005 teachers and 33,254 scholars; and 224
academies and other schools, with 489 teachers and 10,677
scholars. The total number attending school in the state
in 1850 was 62,063; and the number of adults unable to
read or write was 41,877. The amount of the public funds
expended for purposes of education was in the same year
L. 15,862 ; and the amount raised by taxation was L.18,055.
The principal public institutions in the state are at Balti¬
more, and consist of a state penitentiary, a lunatic asylum,
&c. The amount of the state debt of Maryland, Septem¬
ber 30, 18o6, was L.3,114,498; the total receipts for the
year ending at that date, L.256,359; and the total expen¬
diture for the same year, L.256,356.
The earliest settlement of Europeans in the territory of
this state was in 1631, when William Claiborne founded
a colony on Kent Island.
The district was named Maryland from Henrietta Maria,
queen of Charles I., who granted a charter for the territory
to Lord Baltimore, a Roman Catholic, in 1632. A colony,
composed chiefly of Roman Catholics, fugitives from reli¬
gious persecution, settled at St Mary’s in 1634 under Leo¬
nard Calvert, brother of Lord Baltimore. The government
was liberal and democratic, the legislative functions being
exercised by the lord proprietary and the representatives
MAR
331
of the people. A contest, however, soon arose between Maryport.
the governor and the people about their respective rights
in the legislature; the former endeavoured to force on the
colony a system of laws framed by himself, and the latter
resisted this attempt, restricting his power to a right of veto
on any measure passed by the people. The governor ulti¬
mately gave way, and the constitution of the colony became
of a more popular character. During the time of the civil
war in England, the governor, a Catholic, and an adherent
of the king’s, expelled from the colony a number of Puri¬
tans, who settled in Virginia, but afterwards returned, and
attempted to gain the supremacy in Maryland. After par¬
tial successes on both sides, the legislature passed in 1649
an Act of loleration, in which Catholics, Quakers, and
Puritans, who had now all in turn experienced the evils of
persecution, had a share. Soon afterwards the adherents
of the Commonwealth, which was now in power in England,
having gained the upper hand in the colony, and reinforce¬
ments having been sent to their assistance, the lord pro¬
prietary was overthrown, but not until after a bloody battle.
After the restoration of Charles II., the government was
restored to the Baltimore family, with whom it continued
till the Revolution of 1688. After that event the affairs
of the colony were managed by governors appointed by the
crown, until 1715, when Benedict Leonard Calvert, the
heir of the Baltimore family, who had embraced the Pro¬
testant religion, was reinstalled as governor of the colony.
After this period Maryland continued to make progress in
population and manufacturing industry, though the policy
of Great Britain, which was calculated to repress the pro¬
gress of the colony, was felt as a great hinderance. Long
and tedious disputes were carried on between Maryland and
Pennsylvania, which were only finally settled in 1785, when
the frontiers were adjusted as they at present stand. No
remarkable engagement took place here in the revolutionary
war; but Annapolis was the scene of some of the meet¬
ings of the Congress and of Washington’s resignation of the
command at the end of the war.
Maryland is a slave-holding state ; and though after the
Revolution there was a strong tendency to emancipation,
all public measures of that kind were checked by an article
in the constitution of 1836.
Population in 1850.
Male.
Whites  211,187
Free Coloured  35,192
Slaves  45,944
Total  292,323
Female.
206,756
39,531
44,424
290,711
Total.
417,943
74,723
90,368
583,034
MARYPORT, a seaport and market-town of England,
county of Cumberland, is situated near the mouth of the
Ellen, 29 miles S.W. of Carlisle. The town is neat and well
built, and has entirely risen within the last century. The
only public buildings of importance are the town-hall, the
market-house, and the bridewell, which are elegant edifices.
Maryport has a chapel of ease, and places of worship for
Presbyterians, Methodists, Independents, Baptists, Quakers,
and Roman Catholics. The town has also national and
British schools, a mechanics institution, a reading-room
and library, and a savings-bank. Ihe inhabitants are prin¬
cipally employed in ship-building, and the manufacture of
sail-cloth, ropes, cordage, and other articles for ships. The
trade of the place is very considerable, consisting chiefly in
coa , which is conveyed through Maryport from Northum-
beiland and Durham to Scotland and Ireland. In 1855
283,603 tons were shipped here. Coke, lime, and stone
aie also exported ; and the imports consist of cattle, timber,
flax, and iron. The harbour is dry at low water. A steamer
plies between this town and Liverpool, the Isle of Man, and
Dublin, every week in summer, and every fortnight in win-
332 M A R
Marysville ter. The town had in 1855, 105 vessels, of 15,987 tons
II. burden ; and during that year the number of vessels that
Masamello. entere(j tiie iiarbour was 273, with a tonnage of 39,052 ;
and of those that left, 2654, with a tonnage of 229,658.
The market-day is Friday ; and fairs are held twice a-year.
Pop. of the chapelry (1851), 5698.
MARYSVILLE, a post-town, capital of the county of
Yuba, in the state of California, North America, is situated
on the right bank of the River Yuba, about a mile above its
confluence with the Feather River, and 100 miles N.N.E. of
Benicia. Steamers ply regularly between Marysville and
San Francisco, touching at Sacramento. Pop. (1853) 8000.
MASACCIO, a celebrated painter of the Florentine
school, was born in 1402 at San Giovanni in the Valdarno.
His real name was Tommaso Guidi, but his unfitness for
the cares of ordinary life procured for him at an early age
the nickname of Masaccio, or “ Helpless Tom.” Receiving
the first lessons in his art from Masolino da Panicale, he
was employed under that master in painting the Brancacci
chapel in the church of the Carmine at Florence. He also
carefully studied the sculptures of Ghiberti and Donatello,
and learned perspective from Brunelleschi. About 1430
Masaccio seems to have visited Rome, and there, according
to Vasari, he was employed in the execution of several im¬
portant works. On the return, however, of his patron,
Cosmo de’ Medici, from exile in 1434, he went back to
Florence, and was engaged to complete the paintings of the
Brancacci, left unfinished by the death of his old master
Masolino. He died, however, in 1443, before he had ful¬
filled his engagement. The suddenness of his death, and
the envy in which he was known to be held by his rivals,
combined to originate the suspicion that he had been
poisoned.
Ever working with a clear perception that painting is
simply a close imitation of nature, Masaccio surpassed all
his contemporaries in the easy postures of his figures, in the
simplicity and dignity of his draperies, and in his natural
and harmonious colouring. So unprecedented was his skill
in foreshortening, and his knowledge of perspective, that he
may be said to have introduced a new era in the annals of
painting. The frescoes in the church of the Carmine at
Florence were his masterpieces, and were zealously studied
by Raphael and other great painters of the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries. In his epitaph, written by Annibal
Cavo, it is said that Michael Angelo was the teacher of
other painters, but the pupil of Masaccio.
MASANIELLO, the abbreviated name commonly given
to Tommaso Aniello, a fisherman born at Amalfi in
1622, who, at the age of twenty-five, became chief of the
celebrated revolution in Naples which bears his name.
While under Spanish dominion that country was subjected
to the greatest misgovernment. The ambition of Philip III.
and Philip IV., both of whom required extraordinary funds
to carry on the wars of Lombardy and Catalonia, scarcely
surpassed the avidity and selfishness of the exacting vice¬
roys employed by them to plunder the Neapolitans. A
confused and embarrassed administration ; a corrupt magis¬
tracy ; venal employees who enriched themselves as a reward
for other services ; an oppressive distribution of taxes, which
rendered a system of violence necessary in levying them ;
a ready compliance with all the arbitrary acts of the nobility,
who set the law at defiance and enjoyed a total immunity
from all burdens of the state ; and last, though not least, an
organized system of brigandage, which the government was
as powerless and unwilling to check as the nobles were in¬
terested in upholding ;—such was Naples under the vice¬
regal government of Spain. This state of things, long
hateful to the Neapolitan people, reached its height under
his excellency the Viceroy Ponce de Leon, Duke d’Arcos.
Taxes were multiplied, more especially on the articles of
dailv consumption ; and in 1647 even fruit, which in summer
MAS
forms almost the only food of a large portion of the popu- Masaniello.
lace, did not escape this galling impost. Fish had been
taxed a few years before; and the young Masaniello, ac¬
customed, in the exercise of his calling, to dispute with the
tax collectors, had, from his fearless dealing with these
universally hated functionaries, become a favourite with
his own class and with the common people in general. One
day when his wife, detected with contraband flour, was im¬
prisoned and fined, he assembled a number of young men,
armed them with sticks, and urged them to take advantage
of the crowds at the approaching festival of the Madonna
del Carmine to make a solemn and public protest against
these oppressive taxes. On the 7th of July, however, some
country people coming as usual to Naples to sell fruit, were
compelled by the tax collectors to pay the duty beforehand.
The market people revolted, and one of them, trampling
the fruit under his feet, cried out indignantly that he would
rather destroy his fruit than submit to such exaction. A
crowd assembled, partly from curiosity, anger ensued, and
the companions of Masaniello fanned the flame which soon
burst forth. The agitation increased by degrees until it
became general. The officials, who had prudently retreated,
were now panic-struck; still the insurrection wanted a
chief, and Masaniello resolved at once to seize the oppor¬
tunity. He made his way among the crowd, and with a
voice that drowned all other sounds, cried, “ Away with the
tax on fruit! death to bad rulers !” “ Away with them ! ”
shouted the multitude ; “ Long live Masaniello !” In a mo¬
ment the infuriated mob drove off the functionaries, who
were looking on in mute astonishment, burned the tax-collec¬
tors’ offices, and proceeded to the royal palace to besiege the
viceroy, who had, however, already taken refuge in the Castel
Nuovo. The people must vent their rage on something;
so Masaniello directed that the houses of the nobility
should be burned, but threatened death to any who should
attempt to abstract a single object from the flames. This
order was blindly obeyed. The prisons were thrown open,
and one Perrone, who afterwards became Masaniello’s
evil genius, was set at liberty, together with all the thieves
and malefactors of the town. The viceroy sent a messen¬
ger, who promised everything ; but Masaniello, not satisfied
with simple promises, demanded the charter granted by
Charles V. prohibiting the imposition of new taxes, except
by a special decree from the king. A hundred thousand
men were now at the command of the intrepid fisherman,
whom they followed and promptly obeyed. A perambulat¬
ing throne or platform was erected, consisting of a rough
high-raised dais, placed on a waggon drawn by four strong
horses. On this he sat, sword in hand, the red cap of the
fisherman on his head, and dressed in the mean garb of his
calling. This simplicity increased the enthusiasm of his
followers, and Masaniello found himself the animating soul
of thousands. The Cardinal Filomarini, Archbishop of
Naples, came as a mediator from the viceroy, and was re¬
ceived with marks of respect. Hopes were entertained that
the insurrection would be checked, when the nobles, headed
by the Duke of Monteleone, and his brother Prince Caraffa.
assembled 200 brigands, and charged them to assassinate
Masaniello. Two hundred shots were fired at him while
seated on his throne, but, by an extraordinary chance, not
one reached him. This inflamed the popular fervour to a
degree of fanaticism, while superstition and ignorance were
ready with their marvellous explanations. I he assassins
were seized and executed. None were spared,—not even
those who denounced their instigators. Two hundred heads,
fixed on poles, now bristled round the throne-like erection
on which Masaniello, the people’s idol, sat. The two noble¬
men were pursued, but the duke made his escape; while
the prince, having fallen into the hands of the mob, was
beheaded and quartered; his head, bearing the inscription
“ Giuseppe Caraffa ribelle e traditore della patria” being
MAS
Masaniello. placed conspicuously among the others. Judicial, regal,
administrative powers were all now centred in Masaniello’s
absolute and single hand. He ordered the nobles to be
disarmed, and the people to receive each man a sword, a
musket, ample ammunition, and provisions. He established
a police, and decreed that all judgments should be re¬
ferred to him, on which he gave prompt and impartial ver¬
dicts.
At last, through the intervention of the Archbishop of
Naples, he consented to treat with the viceroy. He now
began to despise his red cap and fisherman’s dress, and as¬
sumed a gaudy attire glittering with silver and gold. The
people were amazed when they saw him, thus adorned,
head a cavalcade, equally splendid, on his way to the
church of the Madonna del Carmine to negotiate a treaty
with the viceroy. He styled himself “ Capo del Popolo,”
and with this attribute he altered, modified, and rescinded,
as he thought proper; none daring to oppose him. Finally
the principal terms were settled :—!^, The total aboli¬
tion of all the taxes imposed since the time of Charles V.;
2d, Absolute equality of political rights among all classes
. citizens ; 3d, General amnesty to all who had taken
part in the insurrection ; 4t/i, d hat the Neapolitan people
should remain armed till the ratification of the treaty
by his Catholic Majesty the King of Spain. He then
exacted an oath from the Duke d’Arcos, and turning
to the people, declared his mission accomplished, his de¬
sires fulfilled, and that henceforth he would follow his trade
as a fisherman. Having said these words, he threw off his
rich attire, fell at the feet of the viceroy, professed alle¬
giance to the king, love to the people, devotion to his coun¬
try, and rejected all proffered rewards. This imposing
scene called forth the deafening shouts of the multitude
that thronged the church, who begged him to retain the
authority he had for several days exercised so successfulljr.
The Duke d’Arcos showed him the greatest respect,
praised his skill in statesmanship, and, to celebrate the re¬
storation of peace, invited him to a solemn banquet at the
royal palace. Masaniello’s star now began to wane. His
conduct at the banquet was boastful and extravagant, some
say showing signs of an unsound mind, caused by over¬
joy at his success, or, as other historians affirm, by a poi¬
soned drink given him by the viceroy. Masaniello, now
arrogant, overbearing, and arbitrary to his fellows, lost
that simplicity which had made him their idol. At the
close of the fourth day of his power, two hundred thousand
men would have given their life for him ; on the eighth
day there were as many disaffected. The Duke d’Arcos,
who had been plotting to bring about this state of things,
seeing the moment had now arrived to get rid of the spirited
tribune without danger to himself, on the 16th of July
placed four men in ambush. They fired upon the unfor¬
tunate leader, who fell down dead. Hated as much as he
had been loved, his body was insulted even by his old friends.
The hired assassins, emboldened by this feeling, showed
their zeal by severing his head from his body, and holding
it by the hair, presented it to the viceroy, who ordered it
to be thrown into the castle moat. One day, however, had
scarcely passed when a more natural feeling returned. The
greater part of the people deplored the effects of sudden
ambition on the mind of their chief, pitied him, wept for
his untimely fate, and were ashamed they had not taken
immediate revenge on his murderers. His body was ex¬
humed, and with the head joined to it, was placed on a
bier, covered with a regal purple robe, a crown of laurel on
the brow, a sceptre in the right hand, and amid the solemn
tolling of all the church bells it was carried in procession
through the twelve districts of the town, followed, accord¬
ing to one historian, by 400,000 people. The viceroy, by
a stroke of policy, sent his own pages in state, and ordered
that funeral honours should be rendered to the “ Capo
M A S
333
del Popolo,” whose body, after having lain in state several Masbate
days, was finally buried with all the pomp reserved to men
of the highest rank. The Duke d’Arcos, when the popular
excitement had subsided, was perfidious enough to perse¬
cute numbers of the lower orders who had taken part in
the revolution, thus causing the memory of Masaniello to
be more than ever regretted. To this day he is held in
high esteem by the liberal party of the lazzaroni of Naples,
who regard hihi as the glory of their class, and the standard
of popular heroes.
1 he most complete account of this remarkable episode
in history was contained in a manuscript of the Padri Filip-
pini dell’ Oratorio in Naples. The monks consented only
lately to publish this interesting document. It is entitled
Diario di Francesco Capecelatro contenente la storia delle
cose avvenute nel Reame di Napoli negli anni 1647-50,
ora par la prirna volta messo a stampa, etc dal Marchese
Angelo Granito, Napoli, 1854, presso G. Nobile, (e. f.)
MASBATE, one of the Philippine Islands, in the Indian
Archipelago, situated to the S. of Luzon and W. of Samar,
in the middle of the Bisaya Sea. The shape of the island
is triangular; it is about 70 miles in length by 20 in ave¬
rage breadth; and its area is computed at 1225 square
miles. It consists for the most part of rocky mountains, with
only a small portion of cultivated land, and is very thinly
populated. The principal article of produce is rice. The
island contains the harbours of Barreras and Catayugan.
MASCALI NUOVO, a town in Sicily, province of
Catania, is situated at the foot of Mount Etna, on a small
river about 2 miles from the sea, and 18 miles N.N.E. of
Catania. I he town is ill built, and, though formerly
flourishing, is now in a declining condition. Fishing, how¬
ever, is still actively carried on ; and there is some trade in
lime, lava, timber, corn, wine, and fruits. The surround¬
ing country is fertile, and contains many thriving villages.
A little to the N.W. stands the village of Mascali Vecchio.
I here have been found here many curious remains of an¬
tiquity, especially of the Saracenic period. Pop. about
4000.
MASCARA, a town of Algeria, province of Oran, plea¬
santly situated on the S. slope of the Atlas range, 45 miles
S.E. of Oran. It was formerly the residence of Abd-el-
Kader, and was strongly fortified and defended by a castle.
It was taken and burnt by the French in 1835, and was
again taken by them in 1841, since which time it has re¬
mained in their possession. It has been much improved
since it came into the hands of the conquerors, and is now
strongly garrisoned. Pop. (1851) 4915, of whom 3210
were natives.
MASCHERONI, Lorenzo, an Italian mathematician,
was born at Bergamo in 1750. Intended for the church,
he devoted his attention to the classical languages, and
studied so successfully, that at the age of eighteen he was
appointed professor of humanity in the university of his
native city. From this situation he was promoted to the
chair of Greek at Pavia. Chancing, however, in his twenty-
seventh year, to take up a book on mathematics, he con¬
ceived so intense an enthusiasm for that science, that he
forthwith renounced all other studies for its sake. ’His for¬
mer success attended him in this new pursuit, and he was
soon appointed professor of geometry in the colle"e of
Mariano at Bergamo. In 1795 he published at Milan his
Geometry of the Compass, a work which secured for him
the patronage of Bonaparte. Mascheroni, priest though he
was, became a zealous promoter of the revolution that at¬
tended the invasion of Italy by the French. Accordingly
le was elected a. member of the legislative body of the
Cisalpine Republic. In 1798 he was sent to Paris to study
tie french system of weights and measures, and to apply
it to Italy. His zeal, however, in discharging this duty,
was t le cause of an illness which closed his career in July
334 M A S
Maseres 1800. Mascheroni’s chief work, The Geometry of the Com-
Jl. pass, was translated into French by M. Carette, 8vo, Paris,
Masimssa. 1798< (gee Fifth Dissertation, § i.)
v**- MASERES, Baron. (See Fifth Dissertation, p. 709.)
MASHAM, a market-town of England, North Riding of
Yorkshire, on the Ure, 16 miles S.S.E. of Richmond. It
has a parish church in the early English style, surmounted
by a lofty spire, several Dissenting places of worship, a
grammar school, mechanics’ institute, a libfary, a literary
and several benevolent societies. The inhabitants are
chiefly employed in the manufacture of woollen stuffs and
in the spinning of flax. Pop. (1851) 1139.
MASINISSA, a celebrated African prince, son of Gala,
king of the Numidian tribe of the Massyli, was born about
239 b.c. Receiving his education at Carthage, and thus be¬
coming interested in the welfare of that city, he incited his
father in 213 b.c. to form a league with the Carthaginians.
In the same year, accordingly, Masinissa, at the head of a
troop of Numidian cavalry, sailed for Spain, and served
most devotedly in the war against the Romans. But the
check which the Punic fortunes received at Silpia in 206
b.c. shook his fidelity, and he resolved to pass over to the
Romans on the first safe opportunity1. This resolution was
strengthened by the generosity which his nephew Massiva
had experienced from Scipio, and probably also by the intelli¬
gence that Sophonisba, the beautiful daughter of Hasdrubal,
to whom he had been betrothed, was about to be wedded
to Syphax, the prince of the Numidian tribe of the Mas-
saesyli. Meanwhile an event had occurred in Africa that
accelerated the defection of Masinissa. The crown of his
native country, which, after the death of his father Gala,
had passed in rapid succession to his uncle Gisalces, and
his cousin Capusa, was seized at this time in the name of an
infant brother of the latter by Mezetulus. On hearing of
this usurpation, Masinissa crossed to Africa, rallied around
his standard the old soldiers of his father, defeated Mezetu¬
lus in a pitched battle, and forced him to flee, along with
his royal ward, into the dominions of Syphax. No sooner,
however, was Masinissa seated on his ancestral throne, than
he recalled the two fugitives, and by his favours disarmed their
hostility. But a more formidable foe immediately appeared
in the person of Syphax. Instigated and backed by the
Carthaginians, that prince invaded the Massylian territories,
and annihilated in quick succession those armies which had
been hastily mustered to oppose him. Thus stripped of his
sovereignty, and driven from his kingdom, Masinissa was
obliged to skulk with a few followers near the sea-shore,
until the landing of Scipio in 204 B.c. gave him the oppor¬
tunity which he had for some time wished, of identifying
his cause with that of the Romans. He joined the invaders
with a part of his shattered forces, and by his active fidelity,
and his knowledge of the habits of the enemy, contributed
in no small degree to the two victories gained over Hasdru¬
bal and Syphax. On the capture of Cirta, the metropolis of
the Massaesyli, Masinissa obtained possession of Sophonisba,
the wife of Syphax, and, with her own consent, married her.
But Scipio severely censured his marriage with so deter¬
mined a foe of the Romans ; and Sophonisba, by the advice
of her newly-espoused husband, poisoned herself to escape
the ignominy of falling into the power of her enemies. The
grief of Masinissa for this untoward event was allayed by his
reinstalment into the sovereignty of the Massylians. From
the quiet possession of his power, however, he was soon
summoned by the arrival of Hannibal in Africa. In the
decisive conflict of Zama which followed (202 b.c.), he
made a brilliant charge at the head of his Numidian horse,
drove the catalry of Hannibal from the field, and was thus
the first to turn the tide of battle against the Carthaginians.
For this important service he was rewarded in the following
vear with the greater part of the kingdom of Syphax.
Firmly fixed in his possessions, with the title of King of
MAS
Numidia, Masinissa now devoted his attention to the or- Maskelyne.
ganization of his government and the improvement of his v v-—>
people. Yet at times his ambitious spirit, and his reliance
upon the powerful support of Rome, incited him to provoke
by aggressions the humbled Carthaginians. In all these
disputes the Romans acted as mediators, and uniformly
favoured the Numidian king. At length in 150 B.c. the
Carthaginians, indignant at the intrigues which Masinissa
had been carrying on against the welfare of their city,
commenced acts of hostility. Masinissa accordingly marched
into their territories, and though deserted by several of his
chiefs, he adroitly circumvented the enemy, and forced
them to capitulate. He died in 148 b.c., at the age of
ninety, while Roman ambassadors were on the way to his
palace to demand reinforcements for the third Punic war.
In accordance with his dying request, his kingdom was
divided between his three sons, Micipsa, Gulussa, and Mas-
tan abal.
Masinissa displayed all the qualities that render a prince
the favourite of semi-barbarian subjects. Not destitute of
skill in strategy, he also possessed a dauntless valour in
action, and an unshaken magnanimity under reverses. He
shared the hardships and fare of the meanest soldier; and
till within a short time before his death, he underwent
with surprising agility all the warlike exercises of youth.
His attempts to civilize his people were highly praise¬
worthy.
MASKELYNE, Nevil, a most industrious and accurate
astronomer, born in London on the 6th of October 1732,
was the son of Mr Edmund Maskelyne, a gentleman of
respectable family in Wiltshire.
At the age of nine he was sent to Westminster School,
and continued to apply with diligence to the usual pursuits
of that place, until the occurrence of the great solar eclipse
of 1748, which made a strong impression on his mind, and
was the immediate cause of his directing his attention to
astronomy, and beginning with great ardour the study of
the mathematics as subservient to that of astronomy. It
is remarkable, that the same eclipse is said to have made
an astronomer of Lalande, who was only three months older
than Maskelyne. He soon afterwards entered as a member
of Catherine Hall, Cambridge, but in a short time removed
to Trinity. He took the degree of Bachelor of Arts with
great credit in 1754, and proceeded regularly afterwards
through the succeeding stages of academical rank in divi¬
nity. He was ordained in 1755 to a curacy at Barnet, and
the next year he obtained a fellowship at Trinity. In 1758
he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society ; having pre¬
viously become intimate with Dr Bradley, and determined
to make astronomy the principal pursuit of his life, feeling
its perfect compatibility with an enlightened devotion to
the duties of his own profession.
In 1761 he was engaged by the Royal Society to under¬
take a voyage to St Helena in order to observe the transit
of Venus. He remained ten months in that island, but the
weather prevented his observing the transit to advantage ;
and the faulty attachment of the plumb-line of his quadrant,
which was of the construction then usually employed, ren¬
dered his observations on the stars less conclusive with re¬
spect to annual parallax than he had expected. His voyage
was, however, of great use to navigation, by promoting the
introduction of lunar observations for ascertaining the lon¬
gitude ; and he taught the officers of the ship which con¬
veyed him the proper use of the instruments, as well as the
mode of making the computations.
He performed a second voyage in 1763 to the island
of Barbadoes in order to determine the rates of Harrison’s
watches, and also to make experiments with Irvine’s ma¬
rine chair on board of the “Princess Louisa,” Admiral
Tyrrel; acting at the same time as chaplain to the ship.
The chair he found of very little use for observing the
MASKELYNE.
Maskelyne. eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites ; and the maker of the chro-
nometers was not satisfied with his report of their perform¬
ance, fancying that he was too partial to the exclusive
employment of lunar observations for determining the
longitude. The liberality of the British government,
however, bestowed on Harrison the whole reward that he
claimed; and Maskelyne having been appointed to the
situation of astronomer-royal, and having thus become a
member of the Board of Longitude, was extremely active
in obtaining a few thousand pounds for the family of Pro¬
fessor Mayer, who had computed lunar tables, and a com¬
pliment of L.300 for Euler, whose theorems had been
employed in the investigation.
i he merits of Mayer’s tables having been fully estab¬
lished, the Board of Longitude was induced to promote
their application to practical purposes by the annual pub¬
lication of the Nautical Almanac, which was arranged and
conducted entirely under Maskelyne’s direction for the
remainder of his life. He was also actively employed,
without any other motive than the love of science and of
his country, in almost every decision which was required of
the Board of Longitude; and he had to givd his opinion
of the merits of an infinite number of fruitless projects
which were continually submitted to his judgment. He
must of course have made many enemies amongst the weak
and illiberal; but the universal impartiality and the general
accuracy of his determinations were acknowledged by all
candid persons; and it must be admitted, that the longitu-
dinarys peculators of Great Britain in those days submitted
to discouraging remarks from persons in authority, with
wonderful fortitude and with great personal civility.
During the forty-seven years that he held the situation
of astronomer-royal, he acquired the respect of all Europe
by the diligence and accuracy of his observations, which he
never neglected to conduct in person whenever it was in
his power, and he required only one assistant. The French
had a handsome building to amuse the public by its exterior
magnificence; but the establishment of the observers was
never arranged in so methodical a manner as that of the
English national observatory, and the fruits of their la¬
bours were never systematically made public, the attempt
which was once made by Lemonnier in his Histoire Celeste
having been interrupted and discontinued. Dr Maskelyne,
on the other hand, obtained leave from the British govern¬
ment to have his observations printed at the public ex¬
pense under the direction of the Royal Society, who are the
legal visitors of the observatory, appointed by the royal
sign manual. The early observations of Flamsteed and of
Bradley were considered as private property. Flamsteed
published his own, and Bradley’s were very liberally bought
of his family, and afterwards printed by the university
of Oxford, who are still as liberal in bestowing them where
they are likely to be employed for the benefit of science.
Flamsteed was the astronomer-royal from 1690 to 1720,
then Halley to 1750, Bradley to 1762, and Bliss to 1765,
when Maskelyne was appointed. He took his doctor’s de¬
gree in the year 1777.
He made several improvements in the arrangement and
employment of the instruments, particularly by enlarging
the slits through which the light was admitted; by making
the eye-glass of his transit telescope moveable to the place
of each of the wires of the micrometer; and, above all,
by marking the time to tenths of a second, which had never
been attempted before, but which he found it practi¬
cable to effect with surprising accuracy, as the compari¬
son of the observations at the different wires sufficiently
demonstrated.
1 he object of his expedition to Schehallien is well known.
Bouguer had made an unsuccessful attempt to measure the
attraction of a mountain in South America, and had been
obliged to conclude that the mountain was hollow, in con-
335
sequence of the eruption of a volcano, the attraction being Maskelyne.
too little sensible. Dr Maskelyne’s results, on the other
hand, as computed by Dr Hutton, made the mountain more
dense than could well have been expected; but those who
are acquainted with the difficulty of executing astronomi¬
cal measurements without an error of a single second of
space, will be ready to allow that the deviation of 5" or 6W,
attributed to the effect of the mountain, is liable to a much
greater proportional uncertainty than the results obtained
by Mr Cavendish with the apparatus invented by Mr Michell.
(See Cavendish.) The geodesical operations which were
soon afterwards performed, with his concurrence and assist¬
ance, for determining the relative situations of Greenwich
and Paris, W'ere equally creditable to the English artists
who constructed the instruments, and to the astronomers
and geographers who made the observations with them;
and, even by the confession of their rivals, they excelled
everything that had ever been effected in former measure¬
ments of the same kind.
As no man had done more for practical astronomy than
Dr Maskelyne, so there was none whose merits were more
justly appreciated. He made every astronomer his friend,
as well by his personal kindness as by his professional la¬
bours ; and he obtained the rare distinction of being made
one of the eight foreign associates of the French Academy
of Sciences. His example and encouragement contri¬
buted to the establishment of several private observatories,
which must always be, if not immediately, at least remotely,
beneficial to astronomy, as tending to promote the im¬
provement of instruments and of the methods of employinsr
them.
He was modest, and somewhat timid in receiving the
visits of strangers; but his usual conversation was cheer¬
ful, and often playful, with a fondness for point and for
classical allusion. He inherited a good paternal property,
and he obtained considerable preferment from his college;
he also married, somewhat late in life, the sister and co¬
heiress of Lady Booth of Northamptonshire. His sister
was the wife of Robert Lord Clive and the mother of
the Earl of Powis. He died on the 9th of February
1811, in his seventy-ninth year, leaving a widow and an only
daughter.
Dr Maskelyne’s first communication to the Eoyal Society is,
A Proposal for discovering the Annual Parallax of Sirius. (Phil.
Trans, li., 1760, p. 889.) It is founded on Lacaille’s observations
made at the Cape of Good Hope, which appeared to indicate a maxi¬
mum amounting to 8". 2. A Theorem for Spherical Aberration
(lii., 1761, p, 17l, dated from the “ Prince Henry,” St Helen’s Roads,
the calculation being adapted to the object-glasses of achromatic
telescopes. 3. The next article (p. 21) is a letter from Lacaille
recommending that he should make observations at St Helena on the
lunar parallax, and remain some time in the island for that pur¬
pose, and promising, on his own part, to make corresponding ob¬
servations. It is followed by a letter from Maskelyne proposing
some additional joint observations. 4. Observation of the Transit
of 1761 (p. 196). The sun was lower than had been expected, and
the instant of contact uncertain, from a tremulous motion in the
apparent discs. 5. Observations on a Clock of Shelton (1762, p.
434), giving the proportion of -99754 to 1 for the comparative force
of gravity at Greenwich and at St Helena. 6. A Letter on the
Mode of observing and computing Lunar Distances (p. 558), dated
from St Helena; the first demonstration of the practicability and
utility of the method. He found the error of observation not to
exceed half a degree of longitude, an error which was very strangely
suffered to remain as a fair allowance for the uncertainty of obser¬
vation in the acts for encouraging the perfection of the lun ai tables
subsequently repealed. 7. On the Tides at St Helena (p. 586)- ob¬
servations made in a harbour for about two months. 8. Rote to
Lalande (p. 607) on Lunar Distances and Occultations. 9. Rules for
correcting Lunar Distances (Phil. Trans., 1764, p. 263); a demon-
stration of the rules before published in the Transactions and in
/he Marmer s Gulde. 10. Remarks on the Equation of Time
(p. 3 6,; correcting a mistake of Lacaille and an inadvertence of
a an e,. an giving a formula, which, though not geometrically
perfect, is abundantly accurate for all practical purposes. 11. As¬
tronomical Observations made at St Helena (p. 348). The.observa-
336
MAS
M A S
Maskelyne. tions for determining the lunar parallax were too few to afford a
satisfactory result. The author suggests that the figure of the
earth might he ascertained by repeated and comparative observa¬
tions of the apparent distance of the moon from neighbouring stars.
12. Observations made at Barbadoes (p. 189), especially on Jupi¬
ter’s satellites. 13. Introduction to two Papers of Mr Smeaton
(Iviii., 1768, p. 154); the one on the menstrual parallax, the other
on observing stars out of the meridian. 14. Introduction to the
Observations of Mason and Dixon (p. 270). 15. Conclusion re¬
specting the Length of a Degree (p. 323, 325). Mr Charles Mason
had been sent with Mr Dixon to observe the transit of 1761 at Ben-
coolen, but their voyage was interrupted by accidental circum¬
stances, and they made their observations at the Cape of Good
Hope with tolerable success. They then proceeded to join Maske¬
lyne at St Helena, and to assist in his operations there. They were
afterwards engaged by Lord Baltimore and Mr Penn to determine
the boundaries between Maryland and Pennsylvania; and having
completed their survey, they suggested to the council of the Royal
Society the eligibility of measuring a degree in the country bor¬
dering on the Delaware and the Chesapeake. Their proposals were
readily accepted, and the results of their measurement are here
recorded. Dr Maskelyne afterwards employed Mason in his opera¬
tions on Schehallien, in computing Bradley’s observations, and in im¬
proving Mayer’s tables by a comparison with them; but he was so
fearful of admitting any empirical corrections not founded on the
most general principles, that he would not allow some of the equa¬
tions discovered by Mason to be introduced into the computation of
the Nautical Almanac until M. de Laplace had proved their depend¬
ence on the theory of gravity. Lalande tells us that Mason was dis¬
satisfied because he did not receive a public reward for the success of
his labours ; but he was, in fact, little more than the agent of Maske¬
lyne and of the Board of Longitude; and he was fairly repaid for
the time and labour which his computations had required. Delambre
says that he died in Pennsylvania in 1787. Dixon is said to have
been born in a coal mine, and to have died at Durham in 1777.
15. Postscript respecting French and English Measures (p. 325).
The result of this comparison agrees remarkably well with the later
measurement of Pictet, Prony, and Captain Kater. 16. Observa¬
tion of the Transit of 1769, made at the Royal Observatory (p. 355).
17. Eclipses and Occultations, 1769 (p. 399), chiefly for the longi¬
tude of Glasgow. 18. On the Use of Dollond's Micrometer, 1771
(p. 536). On the application of the divided object-glass micrometer
to determining differences of right ascension and of declination,
especially in the case of transits; a part of the instructions sent
with the observers to the South Seas. 19. On the Adjustment of
Hadley’s Quadrant, 1772 (p. 99), especially for the back observa¬
tion, and to insure the parallelism of the glasses. 20. Deluc’s Rule
for Measuring Heights, 1774 (p. 158), adapted to English mea¬
sures, and rendered somewhat more convenient. 21. Observations
at Greenwich and in America compared (p. 184, 190). 22. Pro¬
posal for Measuring the Attraction of a Hill, 1775 (p. 495); read
in 1772. 23. Observations made on Schehallien (p. 500); a paper
which obtained its author the honour of a Copleian medal. Mason
had been sent to examine the hills of Scotland, and had recom¬
mended Schehallien ; the funds were supplied by the remainder of
the royal grant for observing the transit of Venus. Mr Reuben
Burrow and Mr Menzies were principally employed in assisting
the astronomer-royal in his observations and surveys; and Dr
Hutton afterwards made the necessary computations for determin¬
ing the attraction of the mountain. 24. Description of a Prismatic
Micrometer, 1777 (p. 799), consisting of one or more prisms sliding
in the axis of the telescope, and resembling in its operation that of
Rochon, which has in great measure superseded it. 25. On the
Longitude of Cork, 1779 (p. 179); observations for correcting the
computed times of the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites. 26. On the
Comet expected in 1789 (Phil. Trans., 1786, p.426); supposing
those of 1532 and 1661 to be the same. (See Mechain.) 27. On
the Latitude and Longitude of Greenwich, 1787 (p. 151); with
Cassini’s Memoir on its uncertainty, which he states as amounting
to ll" in longitude, and lo" in latitude. Dr Maskelyne, however,
shows that it is confined within much narrower limits, though he
approves of the object of the memoir in promoting a survey. 28.
On a Difficulty in the Theory of Vision, 1789 (p. 256). This paper
sufficiently proves that Euler was mistaken in thinking the eye
achromatic ; and that any appearance of colour which it could pro¬
duce, according to the common laws of refraction, would be imper¬
ceptible in ordinary circumstances. But that there are circumstances
under which such appearances may be observed, was afterwards
shown by Dr Young and Dr Wollaston. 29. Account of an Ap¬
pearance of Light on the Dark Part of the Moon, 1793 (p. 429);
seen by Mr Wilkins and by a servant of Sir George Booth, and sup¬
posed to have arisen from a volcano. 30. Observations of the Comet
of 1793 (Phil. Trans., 1794, p. 55); discovered by the Rev. E. Gre¬
gory of Langar, in Nottinghamshire. 31. The earliest of Maske-
lyne’s separate publications was the British Mariner's Guide, London, Mason
763, 4to,—a small volume, which has become scarce, having been
superseded by later works. 32. The Nautical Almanac and Astro- Masonry,
nomical Ephemeris for 1767 appeared in 1766; and the publication Free,
was regularly continued upon the same plan for some time, by ^ y
the computers and comparers whom Dr Maskelyne had trained
by his instruction and example. His successor in the observatory,
though admirably qualified to equal, and perhaps to excel him in the
practical department, had it not in his power to devote so much of
his attention to the publication as Dr Maskelyne’s paternal affection
for a child of his own had induced him to bestow on it; and the
Board of Longitude was very liberally furnished by government with
the means of obtaining some further assistance to supply his place.
33. Tables requisite to be used with the Nautical Almanac, London,
1766,1783,1802, 8vo,—since partly superseded by Professor Lax’s
new edition. 34. The volume of Selections, from the additions
that have been occasionally made to the Nautical Almanac, London,
1812, 8vo, contains several papers of Dr Maskelyne ; for example,
Instructions relating to the Transit of Venus in 1769, N. A. 1769;
Elementsof Lunar Tables, and Remarks on Hadley’sQuadrant, N.A.,
1774; Advertisement of the Comet expected in 1788, N. A., 1791;
and on the Disappearance of Saturn’s Ring in 1780, N. A., 1791.
35. The Astronomical Observations made at Greenwich, from
1765 to 1811, were published annually in folio, making 3 vols.,
and part of a fourth, London, 1774. They are allowed to constitute
the most perfect body of astronomy in detail that was ever pre¬
sented to the public. The first volume contains a variety of useful
tables, accompanying the observations for 1772, and principally
serving for the correction of the places of the stars, and for facili¬
tating the solution of other astronomical problems. Many of them
have been reprinted in Vince’s Astronomy, but in some cases with¬
out the necessary explanations. (t. Y.)
(Kellyin Rees’s Cyclopcedia, art. “Maskelyne;” Chalmers,
(Biographical Dictionary, xxi., 8vo, London, 1815; De¬
lambre, Mem. de I’Inst. des Sc., 1811, H. lix.; and Bio
graphic Universelle, xxvii., 8vo, Paris, 1820.)
MASON, William, an English poet, bom in the year
1725, was the son of a clergyman who held the living of
Hull. He was educated at Cambridge, and was admitted
a fellow of Pembroke College in 1747. He became rector
of Aston in Yorkshire, and chaplain to his Majesty; and
was subsequently made precentor and canon residentiary
of the cathedral of York. His monody to the memory of
Pope ; and Isis, an elegy ; added to his lame, which was still
further increased by his dramatic poems oi' Elfrida in 1752,
and Caractacus in 1759, written after the manner of the
ancients. He published a small collection of odes in 1756,
intended as an imitation of his friend Gray, which afforded
Colman and Lloyd eftective subjects for clever parodies.
In 1763 he produced some elegies marked by simplicity
of language and noble sentiment. In point of morality he
may justly be considered as the purest of poets, and one of
the warmest friends of civil liberty. The first book of his
English Garden made its appearance in 1772, being a dull
didactic poem in blank verse, of which the fourth and last
book was printed in the year 1781. In 1775 he published
the poems of Gray, to which he prefixed memoirs of his
life and writings; and in 1783 he produced an elegant
poetical translation of Dufresnoy’s Latin poem on the art of
painting; besides An Historical and Critical Essay on
English Church Music. An additional volume of his poems
was given to the world in 1797, consisting of miscellaneous
pieces, the revised productions of his youth, and the effusions
of his old age. He died in April 1797, at the age of
seventy-two. A tablet has been placed to his memory in
the Poets’ Corner in Westminster Abbey.
MASONRY. See Stone Masonry.
Masonry, Free, denotes the rule or system of mys¬
teries and secrets peculiar to the society of free and ac¬
cepted masons.
One of the first objects of man, in a rude state of being,
is to screen himself and his family from the heat of the
tropical sun, from the inclemency of the polar regions, or
from the sudden changes of more temperate climates. If
he has arrived at such a degree of improvement as to live
under the dominion of a superior, and under the influence
Masonry, of religious belief, the palace of his king and the temple of
 , .'"s *0,“s Wl11 reared in the most magnificent style which
ins skill can devise and his industry accomplish.
Architecture is accordingly entitled to a very hio-h po¬
sition amongst the other arts. It is itself the parent of
many separate professions, and requires a combination of
talent and an extent of knowledge for which few other pro-
tessions have, for the most part, any occasion. There is
some foundation in the very nature of architecture for those
extraordinary privileges to which masons have always laid
claim, and which they have almost always possessed; and
there appears also to be some foundation for that ancient
and respectable order of free masons whose history we are
now to investigate, without, at the same time, revealing
those ceremonial observances which are only known to the
brethren of the order.
Free masonry is an ancient and respectable institution,
embracing individuals of every nation, religion, and condi¬
tion m life. In order to confirm this institution, and attain
the ends for which it was originally formed, every candi¬
date comes under a solemn engagement never to divulge
the mysteries of the order, nor communicate to the unini¬
tiated the secrets with which he may be intrusted, and the
proceedings and plans with which the fraternity may be
engaged. After the candidate has undergone the necessary
ceremonies, and received the usual instructions, appropriate
words and significant signs are imparted to him, that he
may be enabled to distinguish his brethren of the order
from the uninitiated vulgar, and convince others that he is
entitled to the privileges of a brother, should he be visited
by distress or by want in a distant land. If the newly-
admitted member be found qualified for a higher decree
he is promoted, after due intervals of probation, till he has
receded that masonic knowledge which enables him to
hold the highest offices of trust to which the fraternity can
raise its members. At regular and appointed seasons
convivial meetings of the fraternity are held, in lodges con-
stnicted for this purpose, when all distinctions of rank and
differences in religion and politics are forgotten. Every
one strives to give happiness to his brother; and all seem to
recollect, for once, that they are sprung from the same
origin, possessed of the same nature, and destined for the
same end. Respecting the origin and tendency of this
institution, opinions differ. Whilst a certain class of men
have represented it as coeval with the world, others have
maintained that it was the invention of English Jesuits, to
promote the views of that intriguing and dangerous asso¬
ciation. borne have laboured to prove that free masonry
arose during the crusades ; that it was a secondary order of
chivalry; that its forms originated from that warlike insti¬
tution and were adapted to the peaceful, orderly habits of
scientific men. Mr Clinch (Anthologia Hiberriica, 1794)
has attempted, with considerable ingenuity and learning to
deduce its origin from the institutions of Pythagoras. M.
Earruel {Memoirs of Jacobinism, vol. ii.) supposes it to be a
continuation of the society of knights templars; whilst
others have imputed its origin to secret associations, averse
to the interests of true government, and pursuing the chi¬
merical project of levelling the distinctions of society, and
freeing the human mind from the obligations of relio-ion
and morality. But without adopting any of these unten¬
able opinions, we may at all events establish its claim to
a comparatively early origin.
The desire for pomp and ceremony displayed at an early
period by the Roman Catholic priests in the exercise of their
religion, introduced a corresponding desire for splendid mo¬
nasteries and magnificent cathedrals. In order to encourage
the profession of architecture, the pontiffs of Rome, and the
other potentates of Europe, conferred on the fraternity of
free masons the most important privileges, and allowed
them to be governed by laws, customs, and ceremonies
VOL. XIV.
masonry, free.
337
peculiar to themselves. The association was composed of Masonry
men of all nations, of Italian, Greek, French, German, and Free. ’
Flemish artists, who were denominated free masons, and
who, travelling from one country to another, erected those
elegant churches and cathedrals which men still admire.
I he government of this association was remarkably regular.
Its members lived in a camp of huts, reared beside the
building in which they were employed. A surveyor or
master presided over and directed the whole. Every tenth
man was called a warden, and overlooked those who were
under his charge ; and such artificers as were not members
of this fraternity were prohibited from engaging in those
biuldings which free masons alone had a title to rear (Wren’s
Parentalia, p. 306, 307. Henry’s Hist, of Great Brit.,
vol. vm. p. 273). In 1140 a.d., wherever the Roman Ca¬
tholic religion was taught, the meetings of free masons were
sanctioned and patronized. That free masonry was first
introduced into Scotland by those architects who built the
abbey of Kilwinning, is manifest, not only from authentic
documents, by means of which the existence of the Kil¬
winning lodge has been traced back as far as the end of
the fifteenth century, but also by other weighty collateral
arguments. {Statis. Ac. of Scot., vol. xi.) When we con-
sider that the association of free masons monopolized the
building of religious structures in Christendom, we are war¬
ranted to conclude that those numerous and elegant ruins
which still adorn various parts of Scotland were erected by
oreign masons, who introduced into this island the customs
of their order.
It was probably about this time, also, that free masonry
was introduced into England; but whether the English
received it from the Scottish masons at Kilwinning, or from
other brethren who had arrived from the continent, there
are now no means of determining. The masonic fraternity
in England, however, maintain that St Alban, the proto¬
martyr, who flourished about the end of the third century
was the first who brought masonry to Britain ; that the
brethren received a charter from King Athelstane, and that
Ins brother Edwin summoned to meet at York all the lodges
which formed the first grand lodge of England in a.d. 926.
But these assertions are inconsistent with several historical
events which rest upon indubitable evidence. (Plot’s Nat.
Hist, of Staffordshire, chap, viii.)
After the establishment of the Kilwinning and the York
edges, the principles of free masonry were rapidly diffused
thioughout both kingdoms, and several lodges were erected
in different parts of the island. As all these derived their
existence and authority from the two mother lodges, they
were likewise under their jurisdiction and control; and
when any differences arose connected with the art of build¬
ing, they were referred to the general meetings of the fra¬
ternity held at Kilwinning and at York. In this manner did
free masonry flourish for a while in Britain after it was
completely abolished in every other part of the world But
even here it was doomed to suffer a long and serious de¬
cline, and to experience successive alternations of advance-
ment and decay. And although, during several centuries
aftei the importation of free masonry into Britain the
brethren of the order held their public assemblies’ and
were sometimes prohibited from meeting by the inter-
feience of the legislature, it can scarcely be said to have
attracted general attention till the beginning of the seven-
tectf1 thf>ntUly* 111616 bfng n0W n° scarcity of archi-
ino ect the Wy r0" WlllCh PromPted church to
rew f bv rm y Ceased t0 exist; they therefore with¬
drew bom them that patronage which they had sponta-
neously proffered, and denied them even the liberty of hold-
ranie;rhSeret.TmilieS- .^ese were not the only
duet nf (.r10 ]P10<?UCed su,cdl a staking change in the con-
ii e C lurch towards the masonic order. As we have
a lea y stated, the spirit of free masonry was hostile to the
2 tr
538 M A S O N R
Masonry, principles of the church oi Rome, The intention of the
Free. one was enlighten the mind ; the object and policy of
tbe other were to retain it in ignorance. When fiee ma¬
sonry flourished, the power of the church must have decayed.
The jealousy of the latter was therefore aroused ; and, as
the civil power in England and Scotland was almost always
in the hands of ecclesiastics, the church and the state were
combined against the principles and the practice of free
masonry. But besides the causes here specified, the do¬
mestic and bloody wars which convulsed the two kingdoms
from the thirteenth to the seventeenth century conspired,
in a great degree, to produce that decline of the fraternity
for which we have been attempting to account. Yet not¬
withstanding these unfavourable circumstances, free ma¬
sonry seems to have flourished, and attracted the attention
of the public in the reign of Henry VI., who, when a minor,
ascended the throne of England in 1422. In the third
year of his reign, indeed, the parliament passed a severe act
against the fraternity, at the instigation of Henry Beaufort,
bishop of Winchester, who was then intrusted with the edu¬
cation of the young king. They enacted that the masons
should no longer hold their chapters and annual assemblies ;
that those who summoned such chapters and assemblies
should be considered as felons; and that those who re¬
sorted to them should be subjected to fine and imprison¬
ment (3 Henry VI., cap. 2, a’.d. 1425). But it would ap¬
pear that this act was never put in execution ; for, in the
year 1429, about five years after it was framed, a most re¬
spectable lodge was held at Canterbury under the patron¬
age of the archbishop himself. Wfhen King Henry assumed
the government, he not only permitted the order to hold
their meetings without molestation, but even honoured the
lodges by his presence as a brother. Before he was ini¬
tiated, however, into the mysteries of the order, he seems
to have examined, with scrupulous care, the nature of the
institution, and to have perused the charges and regula¬
tions of the fraternity, which had been collected from their
ancient records.
Henry VII. became grand master of the order, and was
succeeded in this office by the celebrated Cardinal W^olsey.
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth an armed force was sent
to break up the grand lodge at York, but some of the chiefs
being induced to join the order, a report was made to the
Queen, which led to the liberation of the masons from all
future molestation. Several of the kings of England were
subsequently grand masters ol the order,—though during
the reign of James II. it was much neglected; but on the
accession of W illiam HI. it was revived under his majesty s
auspices, who confirmed the choice of the brethren when
Sir Christopher WYen was made grand master. It was not,
however, until 1717 that the first regular grand lodge was
formed in London, with power to grant charters for the
holding of other lodges. This grand lodge having subse¬
quently granted charters in the district which the grand
lodge of York claimed as its own, all friendly communica¬
tion ceased between them. Several attempts were made
to heal the differences, and bring about a union of the two
lodges, but they all failed until the year 1813, when H
R. H. the Duke of Kent being grand master of the York
or Athol masons, and H. R. H. the Duke of Sussex grand
master of the London masons, that desirable end was ef¬
fected. The Duke of Sussex became the grand master of the
united body, which he continued to hold until his death in
1843, since which time the Earl of Zetland has presided
over the order. The grand lodge of England has at this
time upwards of 1000 lodges under its jurisdiction. It is
possessed of very great wealth; and in addition to dis¬
pensing about L.2000 a year for philanthropic purposes at
a monthly board, has given, up to the close of last year,
upwards of L.21,000 to the four masonic charities, viz.—
the Girls’ School, established 1788; the Boys’ School, estab-
Y, FREE.
lished 1798; the Benevolent Fund for Aged Masons, estab- Masonry,
lished in 1842; and the Widows’ Fund, established in 1850. Frep-
Whilst free masonry flourished in England under the 'r*-''
auspices of Henry VI., it was making progress at the
same time in the sister kingdom of Scotland. By the
authority of James I. of Scotland, every grand master who
was chosen by the brethren, either from the nobility or
clergy, and approved of by the crown, was entitled to an
annual revenue of four pounds Scots from each master
mason, and likewise to a fee at the initiation of every new
member. He was empowered to adjust any differences
which might arise amongst the brethren, and to regulate
those affairs connected with the fraternity which it was im¬
proper to bring under the cognisance of the courts ot law.
The grand master also appointed deputies or wardens, who
resided in the chief towns of Scotland, and managed the
concerns of the order when it was inconvenient to appeal
to the grand master himself. In the reign of James II. of
Scotland, the office of grand master was granted by the
crown to William St Clair, earl of Orkney and Caithness,
baron of Roslin, and founder of the chapel of Roslin. On
account of the attention which this noblemen paid to the
interests of the order, and the rapid propagation of the royal
art under his administration, King James II. made the
office of grand master hereditary to his heirs and successors
in the barony of Roslin ; in which family it continued till
the institution of the grand lodge of Scotland. The barons
of Roslin, in the capacity of hereditary grand masters, held
their principal annual meetings at Kilwinning, the birth¬
place of Scottish masonry, whilst the lodge of that village
granted constitutions and charters of erection to those
brethren of the order who were anxious that regular lodges
should be instituted in different parts of the kingdom.
During the reigns of the succeeding Scottish monarchs,
free masonry still flourished, though very little information
can be procured respecting the state of the fraternity. In
the records of the privy seal, however, there exists a letter,
dated at Holyroodhouse, the 25th September 1590, and
Granted by King James VI. “ to Patrick Copland of
Udanght, for using and exercising the office of wardanrie
over the art and craft of masonrie, over all the boundis of
Aberdeen, Banff, and Kincardine, to had warden and jus¬
tice courts within the said boundis, and there to minister
justice.” This letter proves beyond dispute that the kings
of Scotland nominated the office-bearers of the order ; that
these provincial masters, or wardens as they were then called,
administered justice in every dispute which concerned the
“ art and craft of masonrie ;” that lodges had been estab¬
lished in all parts of Scotland, even in those remote, and,
at that time uncivilized, counties of Aberdeen, Banff, and
Kincardine.
When James VI. ascended the throne of England he
seems to have neglected his right of nominating the office¬
bearers of the craft. In Hay’s manuscript in the Advocates
Library, there are two charters granted by the Scottish
masons, appointing the St Clairs of Roslin their hereditary
grand masters. The former of these is without a date, but
is signed by several masons who appoint M illiam St Clair
of Roslin, his heirs and successors, their “ patrons and
judges.” The latter is in some measure a ratification of
theD former, and dated 1630, in which they appoint Sir
William St Clair of Roslin, his heirs and successors, to
be their “ patrons, protectors, and overseers, in all time
coming.” In the year 1736, on the resignation of Y\ ilham
St Clair as grand master, thirty-two lodges met and elected
him grand master mason of all Scotland; and thus was insti¬
tuted the grand lodsie of Scotland.
The most remarkable event of recent times in free
masonry has been the permission given by the grand master
to the Free Masons’ Magazine to publish the reports of
proceedings in grand and private lodges.
MAS
Massora
MASORA, a term in the Jewish theology, signifyino' a
Mass. " , on tlle Blble> executed by several learned rabbis,&in
^ f rr rzt0 Se^ure k frorn any alterations. (See Philology,
§ Hebrew Language^)
MASQUERADE (Ital. Mascherata, Fr. Mascarade'),
a species of amusement, common to most civilized coun¬
tries, in which persons of both sexes mask or disguise
themselves, and engage in dancing, festivities, and miscel¬
laneous conversation. Masquerades are said to have been
invented by Granacci, an Italian, in the beginning of the
sixteenth century. At all events they were fashionable
m Italy as early as 1512, when they were introduced into
England in the reign of Henry VIII., as old Hall informs
us in his Chronicle (4to, London, 1809, p. 526). He says,
Un the daie of the Epiphanie at night (1512-13) the
mg (Henry VIII.) with a.xi. other were disguised, after
the maner of Italie, called a maske, a thyng not seen afore
in Cnglande, thei were appareled in garmentes long and
brode wrought all with gold, with visers and cappes of
gold & after the banket doen, these maskers came in, jvith
sixe gentlemen disguised in silk” (which some take for the
modern domino) “ bearyng staffs torches, and desired the
ladies to daunce, some were content, and some that knewe
the fashion of it refused, because it was not a thyng com¬
monly seen. And after thei daunced and commoned to-
get ler, as the fashion of the maske is, thei tooke their leaue
and departed, and so did the quene, and all the ladies.”
MASS, in the church of Rome, means the prayers and
ceremonies used at the celebration of the Eucharist; or in
other words, m consecrating the bread and wine into the
body and blood of Christ, as it is said, and offering them so
transubstantiated as an expiatory sacrifice for the living
and the dead. As the mass is believed by Roman Catho”
lies to be a representation of the passion of our blessed
Saviour, so every action of the priest, and every particular
part of the service, is supposed to allude to the particular
circumstances of his passion and death. The ceremonies
and usages of the mass were first settled by Gregory the
Great in the sixth century. The service consists of three
parts: the offering of the elements, their consecration, and
their sumption or participation by those who communicate
1 he language used in the mass is Latin, first employed in
a.d. 394. (for the various views respecting the Eucharist
and the sacrifice of the mass, see the article Supper.)
Nicod, after Baronius, observes that the word mass
comes from the Hebrew missach, obfatum, or from the
..atin missa, missorum, because in former times the cate¬
chumens and excommunicated persons were sent out of
the church when the deacons said Ite, missa est, after sermon
and reading of the epistle and gospel; they not being
allowed to assist at the consecration. And hence the dis¬
tinction of missa catechumenorum and missa fidelium.
Ihe general division of masses consists of high and low.
he hist is that which is sung by the choristers, and cele¬
brated with the assistance of a deacon and sub-deacon;
low masses are those in which the prayers are merely re¬
hearsed without singing. 3
There are many different or occasional masses in the
Latin church, some of which have nothing peculiar but the
niime: such as, the masses of the saints; that of St Mary
of the snow, celebrated on the 5th of August; that of St
Margaret, patroness of lying-in women ; that of the feast
of St John the Baptist, at which are said three masses ;
that of the innocents, at which the Gloria in excelsis and
tne Alleluia are omitted, and, it being a day of mourning,
tae altar is of a violet colour. As to ordinary masses, some
are said for the dead. At these masses the altar is put in
mourning, and the only decorations are a cross in the
middle of six yellow wax-lights; the.dress of the celebrant
and the mass-book are black; many parts of the office are
omitted, and the people are dismissed without the bene-
M A S
339
Massa¬
chusetts.
diction. If the mass be said for a person distinguished by Massa di
Ins rank or virtues, it is followed with a funeral oration. Carrara
1 hey erect a chapelle ardente, that is, a representation of 11
the deceased with branches and tapers of yellow wax, either
in the middle of the church or near the tomb of the de¬
ceased, where the priest pronounces a solemn absolution of
the deceased. There are likewise private masses said for
the recovery of stolen or strayed goods or cattle, for health
for travellers, &c., which go under the name of votive masses.
1 here is still a further distinction of masses, which are deno¬
minated from the countries in which they were used. Thus
the Gothic mass, or Missa Mosarabum, is that which was
used amongst the Goths when they were masters of Spain
and is still kept up at Toledo and Salamanca; the Ambro-
sia" !"ass's, composed by St Ambrose, and used only
at Milan of which city he was bishop; the Gallic mass is
that used by the ancient Gauls; and the Roman mass is
^IsgAine used almost all the churches in the communion
■c a /^at^°^c Church. The mass of the Presanc-
tihed {Missa Preesanctificatorum) is a mass peculiar to the
Gieek church, in which there is no consecration of the
elements; but, after singing some hymns, they receive the
bread and wme which was before consecrated. This mass
is performed during the whole of Lent, excepting on Satur¬
days, Sundays, and the Annunciation.
MASSA DI CARRARA, or Massa Ducale, a town
of Italy, formerly capital of the duchy of that name, is plea¬
santly situated near the left bank of the Frigido, about 2
miles from its mouth, and 58 S.W. of Modena. The town
has several fine streets and squares, one of the latter of
which is planted with orange trees; and its chief buildings
are a cathedral and a palace. The manufacture of silk is
carried on here, as well as a considerable trade in the fine
marble which is got in the neighbourhood, and which is
called Carrara marble. The duchy was, in the middle
ages, for some time under the power of the Genoese; and
afterwards, for several centuries, belonged to the house of
Malaspma till it passed by marriage to the Genoese family
of Cibo, who were at first Counts of Florentillo, but were
raised by the Emperor Maximilian II. to the rank of Princes
of Massa and Margraves of Carrara, and by Leopold in 1664
to that of Dukes of Massa and Princes of Carrara. In I'Ml
Maria Theresia Francisca, the heiress of Carrara, mar¬
ried Hercuies Rainald, the heir of Modena; and their
ampiter Beatrice, Duchess of Este, married Ferdinand,
Aichduke of Austria, and inherited Massa and Carrara.
I hough dispossessed by the French in 1796, this princess
was restored to her rights by the Congress of Vienna; and
on her death in 1829, the duchy was united to Modena, of
which it now forms the province of Massa Carrara Pop
of the province (1850) 56,867 ; of the town, 8000.' *
^AS,S^CHFSETTS’ one offhe(eastern) United States
of ^ °rth America, lies between 41. 30. and 43 52 N I at
and 69 30. and 77. 30. W. Long. It is bounded N. by' New
Hampshire and Vermont, S. by Connecticut and Rhode
Island, E. by the Atlantic Ocean, and W. by New York
iewlv qT T mile3 in length’ With an aVeraSe breadth ^
nearly 90 miles, and an area of about 7300 square miles.
Among the six New England states, Massachusetts holds a
cential position, and is the most important of them in seve-
a points of view. It presents a surface pleasantly undu-
ated with hills and valleys, and is naturally divided into
t nee distinct zones. The first, stretching along the sea¬
shore, and extending 20 miles into the interior is a belt of
IXXd eoT’ I11-’6 eITted ab()ve the oce4 ^d nacu-
finehillv y f This Plain is ^ceeded by a
from wh.Vb J ^ Cr°SSeS the State N. to S., and
serom - M ^ p0Ured in everV direction. The
of (W,u‘df6 "T lncIude* of the beautiful valley
hio-hlv r.-f-i011 ' and ls flowed by the mountainous but
o* y ei i e county of Berkshire, whiclrt*Comprises the
»
MASSACHUSETTS.
whole western part of the state. The soil of Massachusetts
is exceedingly various, comprising every description, from
the most sterile to the most productive. In the eastern
and south-eastern parts it is in general light and sandy, in¬
terspersed, however, with numerous fertile tracts. To¬
wards the sea-coast on the N. it is of better quality, though
not distinguished for fertility. By careful cultivation, how¬
ever, both this and other parts of the state have been ren¬
dered highly productive. The middle and western regions
have for& the most part a strong, rich soil, excellent for
grazing, and suited to most other agricultural purposes.
Viewed at a glance, the surface of this state swells from
the Atlantic Ocean to the hills, then sinks into the highly
picturesque valley of Connecticut, and again rises into the
mountainous region of Berkshire. The principal mountains
are a part of the Green Mountain range, which stretches
from N. to S. through the western part of the state. The
most elevated summits of this ridge are Saddle Mountain,
near the north-western angle of the state, and Tahconick
on the western border. These mountains present a great
variety of beautiful and impressive scenery, noble eleva¬
tions alternating with dark green forests and pleasant well-
sheltered valleys. Mount Tom and Mount Holyoke, near
the Connecticut River, are striking elevations, and from
their summits afford a beautiful prospect of the surround¬
ing country. A second ridge passes through the state
near its centre. The greatest elevation of this ridge is that
of Wachuset, in the town of Princeton. The state abounds
in small lakes, which are generally called ponds. The
largest of these are the Assawamset and Long Ponds in
Middleborough, Podunk and Quabaug Ponds in Brook¬
field, and the Naukheag Ponds in Ashburnham. I he last-
named are situated more than 1100 feet above the level of
the sea, and several other ponds in the western part of the
state have a still higher elevation. Massachusetts has no
very large rivers wholly within its bounds. 1 he Connec¬
ticut traverses it from N. to S., and is navigable by steam¬
boats of 12 feet draught, above 30 miles from its mouth.
The Merrimac passes out of New Hampshire into the
northern division of the state, and empties itself into the
sea at Newburyport. The Housatonic, Charles, Ipswich,
Concord, Blackstone, Miller’s, Chickopee, Deerfield, West-
field, Neponset, and Taunton, though they have short
courses, are pleasant streams. Indeed no country is better
provided with rivers and streams, which flow in all direc¬
tions, and afford abundance of water for every necessary
purpose. The rivers abound in falls admirably adapted for
mill sites.
Every product which the northern states furnish, and
much that is not indigenous to the soil and climate, have
been naturalized in Massachusetts by skill and careful cul¬
tivation. The principal productions are Indian corn, rye,
wheat, oats, barley, peas, beans, buckwheat, potatoes, hops,
and hemp. Beef, pork, butter, and cheese, are abundant
in most parts of the state, and of excellent quality ; the
county of Berkshire, in particular, is distinguished for its
extensive dairies. There are fine orchards in many parts
of the state. The fruits principally cultivated are apples,
pears, quinces, plums, cherries, and currants. Peaches are
also cultivated to a considerable extent, but they are gener¬
ally of an inferior quality to those produced further south,—
the principal towns in the state beingchiefly supplied with that
delicious fruit from New York and New Jersey. Great quan¬
tities of cider are annually made, and this formerly constituted
the common beverage of the majority of the inhabitants.
There are several valuable mines in Massachusetts.
Bog-iron ore is found in several parts, and there are many
establishments for working it. In Southampton, Hamp¬
shire county, there is a lead mine, to which a subterranean
passage of about 900 feet through solid rock has been
made ; but it has not been wrought for many years, owing
to the facility with which the article is obtained from mines
in the west, especially from Missouri. There are inex-
haustible quarries of marble and limestone, and an abun¬
dance of granite of the best description for building. Soap¬
stone, slate, ochre, and other mineral productions, are also
to be met with in various parts.
A greater number of persons are engaged in commerce
in this than in any other state in the Union. It shares in
the greater proportion of the bank and whale fisheries of
the United States. In this branch of industry many thou¬
sands of men are employed. 1 he shipping is more exten¬
sive than that of any other state; and in the importance of
its foreign commerce Massachusetts is second only to New
York. The principal articles of export are,—fish, beef, pork,
lumber, ardent spirits, flax-seed, whale-oil, spermaceti, and
various manufactures, as those of cotton cloth, boots and
shoes, leather, cordage, wrought and cast iron, nails, wool¬
lens, straw bonnets, hats, cabinet-work, paper, oil, and
muskets. There is an extensive national establishment for
the manufacture of arms at Springfield.
There being no very large rivers in Massachusetts to
facilitate intercourse far into the interior, a number of canals
were undertaken about the beginning of the present cen¬
tury ; but since the introduction of railroads these have sunk
into insignificance, and are almost entirely disused. I here
was the Middlesex Canal, of about 37 miles in length, con¬
necting Boston Harbour with the waters of the interior of
New Hampshire. Around the falls in Connecticut River,
called Turner’s Falls, at South Hadley, there is a canal cut
through solid rock, more than 40 feet deep and 300 feet
long. Other falls on the Connecticut, above and below
South Hadley, have been obviated by canals, dams, and
other improvements, which make the river navigable for
boats throughout the whole of its course in this state, and
as far as Bath in New Hampshire. The Blackstone Canal
extended from Providence in Rhode Island to V\ orcester
in this state, about 45 miles S.; but it has now been ren¬
dered almost, if not quite useless, by a railroad nearly upon
the same line, completed a few years since. The Far¬
mington Canal extends from the city of New Flaven in
Connecticut to the S. line of Massachusetts, there connect¬
ing with the Hampshire and Hampden Canal, which ex¬
tends to Northampton on the Connecticut River, a distance
of about 35 miles.
The railroads of Massachusetts are the most striking
feature of internal improvement which the state presents.
Of these, in 1856 there were within its limits 1450 miles.
The most important are,—the Western lo6 miles, Boston
and Maine 83 miles, Old Colony and Fall River 87 miles,
Vermont and Massachusetts 77 miles, Norwich and M or¬
cester 66 miles, Fitchburg 68 miles, Boston and Worces¬
ter 68 miles, Boston and Providence 55 miles, Boston and
New York Central 75 miles, Boston and Lowell 28 miles,
Worcester and Nashua 46 miles, Providence and Worces¬
ter 43 miles, Connecticut River 52 miles, Eastern 60 miles.
Cape Cod 47 miles, Cheshire 54 miles, New Bedford and
Taunton 21 miles, Salem and Lowell 17 miles, Nashua and
Lowell 15 miles. The lengths of the roads here given include
the branches. Their construction, together
ments for running cars upon them, cost about L. , , .
The colleges in Massachusetts are,—Harvard University
at Cambridge, founded in 1636; Williams at W.lliams-
town, founded in 1793; Amherst at Amherst, founded in
1821: Floly Cross, Worcester, founded in 1843 , lutts
College, Somerville, founded in 1854 All of these are
Protestant institutions, except the Holy Cross, which is
Catholic. Harvard College has a library of upwards of
100 000 volumes ; Amherst has about 20,000 volumes. At
Andover there is a well endowed theological institution.
Academies and other schools for advanced pupils are found
in all the principal towns in the state. No less important
Massa¬
chusetts.
MASSACHUSETTS.
Massa- are the common town schools, established by law, which
chusetts. requires that every town and district containing fifty fami-
' lies shall be provided with a school or schools equivalent
in time to six months for one school in a year ; one contain¬
ing a hundred families, twelve months; and so on : and the
several towns in the state are authorized and required to
raise such sums of money as are necessary for the support
of the schools, and to assess and collect the money in the
same manner as other town taxes. The schools are under
the supervision of a school committee, chosen annually by
each town. These committees consist of from three to
seven persons. In 1855 the amount raised by taxation for
the support of schools was about L.237,000, and the num¬
ber of schools was 4215. There is a school fund, which,
in the end of the same year, amounted to about L.338,750.
The interest of this fund is annually distributed among the
towns. The number of incorporated academies in the state
is seventy-one, for the support of which there are local funds
of about L. 135,000.
Slavery has not existed in Massachusetts since the
Revolution. The Supreme Court of the state decid¬
ed in 1783, that as, by the declaration in the Bill of
Rights, all men are born free and equal,” slavery could
not exist under it. 1 his was a virtual abolition of slavery
in Massachusetts, and there has never been any disposition
among the inhabitants to restore it.
From the census, bearing date, June 1, 1855, the popu¬
lation of Massachusetts as shown at that time, was 1,133,123.
1 he state is divided into fourteen counties, the names and
population of which follow Barnstable, 35,877; Berk¬
shire, 52,791 ; Bristol, 87,425 ; Dukes, 4401 ; Essex,
151,167; Franklin, 31,655; Hampden, 54,852; Hamp¬
shire, 35,485; Middlesex, 194,082; Nantucket, 8064;
Norfolk, 94,448; Plymouth, 61,513; Suffolk, 171,818;
and Worcester, 149,545. Included in the population, there
are about 9000 negroes, or persons of colour. They are
scattered all over the state, but reside chiefly in the cities
or populous towns. There are now in the state thirteen
cities. These, arranged according to the dates of their
chai ters, are as follow, together with the populations in
1855:—Boston (county of Suffolk), 160,508; Salem (Essex),
20,933 ; Lowell (Middlesex), 37,553 ; Roxbury (Norfolk),
18,4/7; Cambridge (Middlesex), 20,473; Charlestown,
(Middlesex), 21,472 ; New Bedford (Bristol), 20,389; Wor¬
cester (Worcester), 22,286 ; Lynn (Essex), 15,713 ; New-
buryport (Essex), 13,357 ; Springfield (Hampden), 13,788;
Lawrence (Essex), 16,114; Fall River (Bristol), 12,680.
The towns containing 5000 inhabitants and upwards are,—
Chicopee, Adams, Pittsfield, Attleborough, Taunton, Be¬
verly, Gloucester, Haverhill, Marblehead, South Danvers,
Northampton, Newton, Somerville, Waltham, Woburn,
Nantucket, Abington, North Bridgewater, Plymouth, Ded¬
ham, Dorchester, Quincy, Randolph, Weymouth, Black-
stone, Fitchburg, Milford, and Chelsea.
The aggregate value of the products of the state, for the
year 1855, is L.61,629,310. This amount is thus divided
among the different counties:—
Barnstable L.644,259
Berkshire...
Bristol 
Dukes 
Essex 
Franklin....
Hampden...
Hampshire..
Middlesex...
Nantucket...
Norfolk 
Plymouth...
Suffolk 
Worcester...
2,657,555
6,110,078
158,798
8,301,671
1,049,635
2,525,093
1,463,100
12,126,174
335,167
5,050,845
2,684,313
10,039,366
8,483,256
Principal products from the mackerel
and cod fisheries.
Do. Manufacture of woollen goods.
Do. Sperm and whale oil.
Do. Sperm candles and oil.
Do. Boots and shoes.
Do. Horses, oxen, cows, and calves.
Do. Manufacture of cotton goods.
Do. Horses, oxen, cows, and calves.
Do. Cotton goods.
Do. Sperm candles and oil.
Do. Boots and shoes.
Do. Boots and shoes.
Do. Clothing.
Do. Cotton goods.
There were at the commencement of the present year
(1857) 172 banks in the state, with L.22,148,063 capital;
of these thirty-six were in Boston, and contained above
one-half of the whole banking capital of the state.
The first permanent settlement made in Massachusetts,
was by a small colony of English, not numbering above
one hundred and two persons, men, women, and children.
I hey came in the inclement month of December, in the
year 1620, and landed in a desolate and barren place, to
which they gave the name of Plymouth. Eight years after,
a second settlement was effected in another part of the
coast. I he place of this settlement wras called Salem.
There were indeed other attempts at settlements between
1620 and 1628, but they either failed, or were so incon¬
siderable as to be overlooked in a general view, as was the
case at the point afterwards called Boston, and an adjacent
island. Two years after the settlement at Salem, however,
a large company of emigrants arrived, and occupied the
district where Boston now stands. The settlers of Plymouth
had fled to this country that they might enjoy their peculiar
religious sentiments without molestation, this is partially
true with respect to those who settled in Salem and Boston.
Massachusetts did not originally include Plymouth, which
was a separate colony, had its patent, and was governed by
its own laws. The Massachusetts charter was annulled by
the king in 1686. In 1692 the two colonies were united
in one, and governed by a viceroy until the year 1776, when
the American colonies were separated from Great Britain.
1 he constitution of the state of Massachusetts was formed
in 1780, and revised in 1820. Amendments of minor im¬
portance were made in 1831, 1833, 1837, 1840, and 1855.
As a form of government it is substantially the same now
as it was when originally formed. The legislative power is
vested in a Senate and House of Representatives, which
together are styled the £t General Court of Massachusetts.”
The General Court meets annually at Boston on the first
Wednesday of January. The Senate consists of 40 mem¬
bers who are chosen by districts annually. The House of
Representatives consists of from 300 to 400 members who
are elected annually. By the amendment of the constitu¬
tion adopted in 1840, every corporate town having 1200
inhabitants is entitled to one representative ; larger towns
are entitled to as many additional representatives as the
number 2400 is contained times in the number of its inha¬
bitants over 1200. Smaller towns are entitled to one re¬
presentative as many times in ten years as the number 160
is contained in the number of its inhabitants ; and also one
representative on the year in which the valuation of pro¬
perty is taken, being every tenth year. For the purpose
of being more frequently represented, towns having less
than 1200 inhabitants each may unite themselves into dis¬
tricts, and then be entitled to be represented in proportion
to the population of the districts. As the population of the
state increases, a greater number of inhabitants is required as
the basis of representation in accordance with a sliding scale.
The governor or chief magistrate is elected annually by
the people, and is assisted in his office by a council of ei<dit
members, also elected annually by the people, voting in
districts, each district being entitled to one councillor. ^
The right of suffrage is granted to every male citizen
twenty-one years of age (except paupers and persons under
guaidianship), who has resided within the commonwealth
one year, and within the town or district in which he may
claim a light to vote, six calendar months immediately pre¬
ceding any election, and has paid a state or annuity tax
assessed upon him within two years preceding such elec¬
tion ; and also to every citizen who may be by law ex-
empted from taxation, and who may be in all other respects
qualified as above mentioned. Further amendments of the
constitution are in contemplation, and have already received
the sanction of the legislatures of 1856 and 1857, and re-
341
Massa¬
chusetts.
342 MAS
Massa- quire nothing more for their final adoption but the sanction
chusetts. 0f the popular vote. By one of these, the number of mem-
hers of the House of Representatives is to be reduced to
240, who are to be chosen in districts, and the right of re¬
presentation is to be in exact proportion to population. By
another, the ability to read and write is to be added to the
qualifications necessary for the right of suffrage.
The judiciary power is vested in courts established by
the legislature, and in justices of the peace. The judges of
the courts and the justices of the peace are appointed by
the governor with the consent of the council. The former
hold their offices during good behaviour; the latter for
seven years. The supreme judicial court, as at present estab¬
lished, consists of six judges. It has original and exclu¬
sive jurisdiction in the trial of all capital offences, and in all
cases of divorce and alimony ; with few trifling exceptions,
it has original and exclusive jurisdiction of all civil causes
in which relief is sought in equity ; also in all real actions,
except for the foreclosure of mortgages. In the county of
Suffolk it has jurisdiction concurrently with the superior
court of the county of Suffolk, in all actions at law except
real actions in which the amount in controversy exceeds
3000 dollars (L.625) ; and in the other counties concur¬
rently with the court of common pleas, in all such actions
where the amount in controversy exceeds 300 dollars
(L.62, 10s.). It has appellate jurisdiction in all matters
heard in the probate court. It has a general superintending
power over all inferior tribunals ; and all questions of law
determined in any of them, where there is no right of appeal
upon the facts, may be brought into this tribunal by writ
of error, bill of exceptions, or otherwise, and reheard. In
trials of actions at law before a jury, and in hearings of
questions of fact on probate appeals in matters of equity,
and in cases of divorce and alimony, the court is held by a
single judge; but in capital trials, and in the hearing of all
questions of law brought from the inferior tribunals, or on
exceptions taken to the ruling of a single judge of its own
bench in any matter tried before him, the court is held by
not less than three judges, and usually by a full bench.
The superior court of the county of Suffolk consists of
four judges. It has civil jurisdiction in the county Suffolk,
concurrently with the supreme judicial court in all actions
at law except real actions, when the amount claimed ex¬
ceeds 3000 dollars. It has exclusive jurisdiction in all such
actions where the amount claimed is less than 3000 dollars
and more than 100 dollars (L.20, 16s. 8d.); and jurisdic¬
tion concurrently with justices of the peace when the amount
claimed is less than 100 dollars and more than 20 dollars
(L.4, 3s. 4d.). It has jurisdiction in all cases of crimes not
capital, except breaches of the peace, trifling assaults, lar¬
cenies of small amount, and other slight offences. It has
appellate jurisdiction of all cases tried before justices of the
peace. The court of common pleas consists of seven judges.
It has in the other counties the same jurisdiction which
the superior court of the county of Suffolk has in that
county ; except only that in actions at law it has jurisdiction
concurrently with the supreme judicial court in all actions
in which the amount claimed is more than 300 dollars
(L.62, 10s.). Justices of the peace have civil jurisdiction
concurrently with the superior court and court of common
pleas, in cases where the amount claimed is more than 20
and less than 100 dollars ; and exclusive jurisdiction where
the amount claimed is less than 20 dollars. They have
criminal jurisdiction in cases of breaches of the peace, trifling
assaults, larcenies oi small amounts, and other slight offences.
In all cases tried before them there is a right of appeal. In
the city of Boston, and in several other cities of the com¬
monwealth, there are established police and justice courts ;
with the jurisdiction of justices of the peace in other places.
There is in each county a probate court, having jurisdic¬
tion in the probate of wills, settlements of estates of de-
M A S
ceased persons, and guardianship of minors, idiots, lunatics, Massafra
and others. There is also in each county a court of insol- ^
vency, having jurisdiction in cases of insolvent debtors, and 1 assena-
the settlement of their estates. (s. s. D.)
MASSAFRA, a walled town of Naples, in the province
of Otranto, 10 miles N.W., of Tarento. The town is pic¬
turesquely situated on the slope of a hill, and the houses
stand on the very brink of a rocky chasm through which a
stream has worked its way and hollowed out the sides into
many fantastic shapes. Massafra is supposed by some to
be the ancient Messapia; but this is called in question by
others. Pop. about 7000.
MASSAROONY, or Mazaruni, a river in British
Guiana, rises in Lat. 4. 30. N., Long. 60. W. ; and flows in
a very irregular and circuitous course, generally N.E., till it
joins the Cuyuny, and falls into the estuary of the Essequibo.
This river has been explored for about 400 miles from its
mouth ; its course is interrupted by numerous rapids, which
are generally divided by blocks of granite into many sepa¬
rate streams. In the lower part of its course it contains
numerous small islands. The scenery of its upper course is
mountainous, consisting of bold perpendicular granite cliffs.
MASSENA, Andre, Prince of Essling and Marshal of
France, was the son of a wine-merchant, and was born at
Nice in 1758. At an early age he enlisted into the French
service as a private in the Royal Italian regiment, but after
having served fourteen years without rising higher than an
inferior officer, he retired disheartened from military life.
The French Revolution, however, reanimated his warlike
ambition, and in 1792 he was appointed to the command of
a battalion of the national volunteers of Var. As his valour
and talents had now lair scope, his rise wras rapid. In 1793
he w as appointed general of brigade, and in 1795 he com¬
manded the right wing of the army in Italy as general of
division. In this capacity he acted no mean part “ at the
terrible bridge of the Lodi,” and for his brilliant repulse of
Beaulieu at Roveredo, he earned from his commander-in-
chief; Napoleon, the surname of “ the favourite child of
victory.” So marked was his conduct at the battle of
Rivoli in 1797, that he afterwards received the title of Due
de Rivoli; and so high had he now risen in the estimation
of Bonaparte, that he was despatched to France by that
general to present to the Directory the ratification of the
treaty of peace with Austria. In 1798 Massena was en¬
trusted with the invasion of the States of the Church, but
being accused by his soldiers of avarice, he was forced to
lay down his command soon after his appointment. Re¬
ceiving, however, in the following year, the command of the
army in Switzerland, he defeated the Russians at Zurich,
and thus saved France from the invasion of the allied armies
of Russia and Austria. On the return of Napoleon from
Egypt in 1800, Massena was sent to consolidate the shat¬
tered remains of the Italian army, and to check the succes-ses
of Austria. With a mere handful of troops, and with little
ammunition, and less provisions, he threw himsell into
Genoa, and resisted the beleaguering Austrians, until he
was compelled by famine to yield to an honourable capitu¬
lation. A few days after this Bonaparte routed the enemy
at Marengo, and Massena was replaced in his command.
But grasping cupidity was again the cause of his disgrace,
and he w'as soon afterwards superseded by Brune. Mas¬
sena, however, possessed a military genius that could not
be spared in those troublous times. He was therefore
created a marshal of France in 1804, and in the following
year was once more appointed to the command of the army
in Italy. After opening the campaign by the capture of
Verona, he received several severe checks from the Aus¬
trian army under the Archduke Charles. Yet when the
enemy retreated from Italy, Massena hung upon his rear,
and ultimately effected a junction with the grand army
of Napoleon. In 1806 Massena was commissioned at the
MAS
Massilta. head of a large army to accompany Joseph Bonaparte to
. s ne^ kingdom of Naples. From Italy he was summoned
in 1807 to command the right wing of the French army in
Poland. But his military genius was chiefly conspicuous
in the Austrian campaign of 1809. He saved the French
army at Essling by his desperate defence of the village
ox Aspern, and his directing skill and animating bravery
U^e<^ 110 srna^ degree to the decisive victory
of Wagram. For these services Bonaparte conferred
upon him the title of Prince of Essling, and loaded him
with riches and honours. As the reputation of Massena
became greater, it was submitted to greater tests. Accord¬
ingly m 1810 he was chosen by Napoleon to stop the ad¬
vance of Wellington in Portugal, and was commissioned
to drive the English and their sepoy general into the sea.”
But the wary strategy and imperturbable firmness of the
British general proved resistless, and Massena was com¬
pelled to save his military fame by a masterly retreat. Ill
in health, and chafing under disappointment, Massena re¬
tired to his native Nice, and was not again entrusted with
a post until 1813. He was then appointed to the command
of the Eighth Military Division at Toulon. In 1814 he
sent in his submission to Louis XVIIL, and was in return
confirmed in his appointment, and created Commander of
the Order of St Louis. With some reluctance he trans¬
ferred his allegiance to Napoleon on his return from Elba,
and he remained inactive during the Hundred Days.
After the disaster at W aterloo he again submitted to the
Bourbons, and was appointed commander of the national
guard. Marshal Massena died in April 1817.
(the modern Marseille), a Greek town of
Galha Narbonensis, on the S. coast, was situated on a rocky
peninsula E. of the mouth of the Rhone. It was founded
by a colony of Phocaeans, from the Ionian confederation
in Asia Minor, upon a site granted to them by Nannus,
king of a Ligurian tribe. The settlers were commanded
by Simos and Protis, according to Justin, or by Euxenus,
the father of Protis, according to Aristotle. The date of
the settlement is uncertain. Encompassed on all sides by
lawless barbarians, the Massaliots were often assailed both
by stratagem and by open violence. Yet they not only
defended themselves with success, but gradually extended
their territory, and in no long time had planted along the
coast several colonies, such as Antipolis (Antibes), Nicsea
(Azce), Agatha (Agde), and Emporiae (Ampurias). The
sterility of their soil forced them to become a commercial
people, and as their well-sheltered town formed a commo¬
dious port for vessels, they speedily acquired both wealth
and influence. Accordingly, on the outbreak of the second
I unic war in 218 b.c., Massilia was of sufficient importance
to be received into the alliance of Rome. It was a faithfbl
and useful ally to Caesar during all his Gallic campaigns.
Adopting, however, the cause of Pompey at the commence¬
ment of the civil war, the town was besieged by Caesar;
and after a long and stubborn resistance it was compelled to
capitulate, and deliver up all its ships, military equipments,
and public money. From this period Massilia, though it
retained its independence, began gradually to decline. The
growing importance of the Roman colony, Narbo Martins
(Narbonne), probably affected its commercial prosperity.
It however acquired a new importance as the school
where the neighbouring Galli studied rhetoric and phi¬
losophy ; insomuch, that in the reign of Augustus and
Tiberius it came to be considered the Athens of the
West, and among many other Roman youths, Agricola,
the conqueror of Britain, was educated there. After the
tirne of Caesar the history of Massilia comprises no event
of interest.
I he Massaliots were noted for their simplicity, tempe¬
rance, and virtue. Their government was aristocratic,
and consisted of 600 dignitaries called Timuchi. A com-
M A S
343
mT1°^ ^^teen c^0Sen from these held the administration* Massillon,
and delegated the executive power to three of their own - - J
number. —-v—^
MASSILLON, Jean Baptiste, one of the greatest pul¬
pit orators of France, was the son of Francois Massillon, a
notary of Hieres in Provence. He was born on the 24th
of June 1663, and entered, when very young, into the
College of the Oratory in that city. Having been destined
by his father for the profession of a notary, he was early
withdrawn from college; but as he never ceased to return
thither at his leisure hours, the superiors, remarking his
dispositions, addressed solicitations to his father, in order to
obtain his permission to attach the youth to themselves;
and, in the year 1681, young Massillon entered the con¬
gregation, where he studied theology under Father Beaujeu,
afterwards Bishop of Castres. In the year 1689 he wrote
to Father Abel de Sainte-Marthe, general of the Oratory,
that, as his talents and his inclination equally disqualified
him for the pulpit, he conceived that some employment in
teaching philosophy or theology would suit him better.
Nevertheless, having been ordained priest, some panegyrics
preached by him determined his superior to direct his
talents to the ministry of the pulpit. After having pro¬
fessed the belles-lettres and theology at Pezenas, Montbri-
son, and Vienne, and after delivering some funeral orations,
he was in 1696 called to Paris, to assume the direction of
the seminary of Saint-Magloire. It was there that Massillon
composed his first ecclesiastical Conferences, which are cha¬
racterized by so much simplicity and vivacity. He was an
ardent admirer of Bourdaloue ; but he did not regard him
as a model in everything, because he wished to open a new
path for himself. Massillon observed that the preachers of
his day were too much occupied with external manners, or
vague and general moralities ; and he resolved to search in
the heart of man for the secret workings of the passions, in
order to discover their motives, and combat the illusions of
self-love by reason and sentiment, as well as by the attrac¬
tion of happiness united to religion. Such was the distinc¬
tive cfiaracter of his eloquence. In 1698 he went to preach
during Lent at Montpellier, where he was warmly received,
notwithstanding Bourdaloue had not been forgotten. Being
now known, he could no longer fly from his renown, which
soon recalled him to the capital. In 1699 he preached
during Lent at Paris, in the church of the Oratory, and
obtained a triumph which would have intoxicated a preacher
who had less self-knowledge, with, perhaps, greater preten¬
sions to humility. On a particular occasion, being congra¬
tulated by one of his brethren on the admirable manner in
which he had preached; “ Stop, Father,” said he; “ the
devil has already told it me more eloquently than you.”
Massillon appeared in the pulpit with downcast looks, with¬
out gesture, and without parade. Nevertheless, when he
warmed with his subject, his look and gesture became so
expressive, that Baron, the celebrated actor, having <mne
to hear him, was so much struck with the correctness of
his delivery, that he observed to one of his companions
My friend, hei e is an orator; but as for us, we are onlv
actors.” 3
Being appointed preacher to the court at Versailles for
the advent of 1699, the father of the Oratory appeared
there without pride and without timidity, and produced such
a powerful impression on Louis XIV, that he addressed to
him, in presence of the whole court, the words, “ Father I
have heard several great orators, and I have been satisfied
with them ; but as or you, whenever I hear you, I am dis¬
satisfied with myself. I he language of Massillon, though
noble, was not the less simple, and adapted to the compre-
lension of the humblest; it was always natural and just,
without labour and without affectation, and hence it had equal
attractions for persons of all classes. The first time that he
delivered his celebrated sermon on the small number of the
344 M A S
Massillon, elect, was at Saint-Eustache, when the whole auditory rose
up, in the midst of the peroration, at once transported and
dismayed. This prosopopoeia, which still astonishes in the
perusal, has been chosen by Voltaire in the article Elo¬
quence in the Encyclopedic, as an example presenting “ la
figure la plus hardie, et Tun des plus beaux traits d’elo-
quence qu’on puisse lire chez les anciens et les modernes.”
In 1704, when Bossuet and Bourdaloue were both removed
by death, Massillon preached a second Lent at court, and
with such success that Louis XIV. expressed a desire to
hear him every two years; but from whatever cause, he
never again appeared in the pulpit of Versailles, until he pro¬
nounced the funeral oration of the king in 1715. In 1709
he likewise delivered the funeral sermon of the Prince
of Conti, in the church of Saint Andre-des-Arc, which
was much applauded when delivered, though sharply criti¬
cised after it had been printed. After more than twenty
years spent in preaching, Massillon, promoted by the regent
to the bishopric of Clermont, in 1717, was appointed to
preach before the king during Lent. This was his last
effort, but it is also his masterpiece. Massillon had nearly
attained his fifty-fifth year when he composed his Petit-
Careme, which made him be called the Racine of the pul¬
pit. In these discourses refined views and delicate touches
of humanity compensate, by elegance and grace of expres¬
sion, for the bolder ornaments and deep pathos of his ordi¬
nary style. An eloquence more gentle and more insinuat¬
ing, because intended to make an impression upon a young
prince, thus forms the characteristic of the Petit-Careme.
Voltaire himself, on more than one occasion, transfused
several passages from one of these discourses into his own
verses, and had the Petit-Careme always on his desk,
regarding it as one of the best models of prose eloquence.
In the year 1719 he was received into the French
Academy. But he was far from being dazzled by these
honours, and soon set out for his diocese, which he only left
in 1721 to pronounce at St Denis the funeral oration of the
Duchess of Orleans. Following the advice of Cardinal de
la Rochefoucauld, Massillon prepared his episcopal Confer¬
ences, so full at once of earnestness and severity. His Dis¬
cours Synodaux and his Mandements are grave instructions,
conveyed in language remarkable for simple and natural ele¬
gance. The conduct of Massillon, as a pastor and bishop,
corresponded to his zeal. All bis actions were characterized
by a wise and amiable moderation. He was eminently
charitable and humane, and was always ready to raise his
voice or use his purse in behalf of the poor or the oppressed.
In a word, his whole life was a practical commentary on
the divine precepts which he had so eloquently enforced;
and he died, as he had lived, breathing sentiments of the
most exalted piety, on the 18th of September 1742. The
nephew of Massillon published a good edition of his uncle’s
works, in 14 vols. Paris, 1745-46. Of the more recent
editions, we may mention those of Mequignon, 14 vols. 8vo,
1818 ; of Besamjon, Chalandre and Son, 3 vols. large 8vo,
1847, which contains various pieces never before published.
1 he Eloge de Massillon by D’Alembert was read to the
French Academy in 1774, and printed in the first volume
of the History of the Academy in 1779. The reader may
also consult the Principes and the Essai sur VEloquence
de la Chaire of the Abbe Maury, and the Cours de Littera-
ture of Laharpe. (j. B K.)
MASSILLON, a town in the county of Stark, state of
Ohio, North America, on the left bank of the Tuscarawas
River, which is here crossed by a handsome stone bridge,
112 miles N.E. of Columbus. The town is regularly
and substantially built, and contains many fine stone edi¬
fices. The neighbourhood of Massillon is a rich agricul¬
tural district; and the town is, in consequence, a great em¬
porium for the produce. Ihe manufactures are also con¬
siderable; and iron-ware and flour are the chief products.
MAS
The annual value of the exports and imports is calculated Massinger,
to amount to above L.1,000,000. Pop. (1853) 4000.
MASSINGER, Philip, an eminent dramatist of the age
of Shakspeare, was the son of Arthur Massinger, a gentle¬
man in the service of the Earl of Pembroke, and was born
at Salisbury in 1584. It has been conjectured that he re¬
ceived his early training at Wilton, the Wiltshire seat of
the Pembroke family. But a more likely opinion is, that
he was educated in his native city, at that school which
afterwards numbered Addison among its pupils. In May
1602 he was sent to Oxford, probably at the charge of the
Earl of Pembroke, and w-as enrolled a commoner of St
Alban’s Hall. There, according to Anthony a Wood, he
eschewed the severe studies of logic and philosophy, and
pleasantly squandered his hours in reading poetry and ro¬
mance. Before he had completed the round of studies
necessary for a degree, he was forced abruptly to leave the
university, on account, as is generally believed, of the with¬
drawal of his patron’s supplies. Of this withdrawal different
explanations have been given. Gifford solves the difficulty
by imagining, from certain passages in The Virgin Martyr,
that Massinger was a Roman Catholic, and by unwarrant¬
ably inferring from this that he changed his faith at Ox¬
ford, and thus displeased his patron. Equally unsatisfac¬
tory is the explanation of Davies, who ascribes the event
to Massinger’s misapplication of his time. For it is by no
means probable that William, the third earl of Pembroke,
a man of a generous and liberal disposition, and a well-
known patron of poets, and especially of dramatists, would
cast the son of an old servant of his family penniless upon
the world, simply because he devoted his attention to
literature. There must evidently have been a more grievous
cause of offence.
From Oxford Massinger repaired to London in 1606,
where he devoted his life to the cause of the drama, and
became the fellow-worker and rival of such men as Shak¬
speare, Jonson, and Fletcher. His biography, after this
period, is little else than an account of the dates at which
his principal plays were written. We know, however, that
he toiled on in a modest privacy till the day of his death,
producing two or three plays in a year, struggling at the
same time in the gripe of poverty, and living unknown and
neglected even while his admirable productions were call¬
ing forth the applause of the theatres. There is still ex¬
tant a letter in which he requests Henslowe, a theatrical
manager, to rescue him from a pecuniary difficulty. So
often, indeed, was he in extreme destitution, that in dedi¬
cating one of his plays, he says, “ I had not to this time
subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent cour¬
tesies and favours,”—an acknowledgment which on some
similar occasions he makes in nearly the same words. How
Massinger was engaged immediately after his arrival in
London is not recorded. Urged by daily necessities, and
afraid of risking his valuable time on a work of his own, he
was probably content to be employed in assisting dramatists
of an established fame. It is certain at least, that about
1613 he had been engaged as a joint-author with Fletcher,
Field, and others. At first he was compelled to labour
submissively under the shadow of some great dramatist,
and to content himself with little of the profits, and less ot
the fame derived from their joint productions. In course
of time, however, when his genius had asserted its proper
place, other play-writers became desirous of having his
name conjoined with their own on the title-pages of their
works. Accordingly, at some period before 1623, he ap¬
peared before the public as the joint-author of The Virgin
Martyr along with Decker, of The Fatal Dowry along
with Field, and of The Old Law, along with Middleton and
Rowley. Meanwhile he had written several plays by him¬
self. Of these The Unnatural Combat and The Duke of
Milan alone are extant. The rest, along with a few others
M A S
Massinger.
of Massinger’s plays, were preserved for some time in
manuscript by a Mr Warburton, only to be devoted at last
y that gentleman’s cook to the covering of pies. The Un¬
natural Combat is full of vigour and passionate eloquence ;
and its plot, though marred by many disgusting incidents,
retains evident traces of a master’s hand. With many pas¬
sages full of lofty poetical sentiments, and with an action
deeply engrossing in its progress, and horror-strikino- in
its catastrophe, The Duke of Milan is one of the bes°t of
Massingers tragedies. The character of Sforza is a vivid
representation of that impulsive temperament which fluc¬
tuates with the rapidity of thought between the most op¬
posite passions In 1623 iWmarc was produced at
ie ockpit in Drury Lane. Its chief interest arises from
the variety of its dramatis persona. The Roman Actor,
which was licensed in 1626, is not generally thought to be
what its} author styled it, “ the most perfect birth of his
Minerva. More popular and more successful, both in plot
and execution, was 7%, Great Duke of Florence, produced
'J 1 a thlS time Massin£er wrote his most famous
pky, A New Way to Pay Old Debts. Its principal cha¬
racter, Sir Giles Overreach, intended for a satire against
an infamous public individual of that day, is one of those
rough, strongly-marked, and one-sided creations that are
peculiarly fitted to carry the popular taste by storm. Ac¬
cordingly this comedy is said to have been a great favourite
at the Phoenix in Drurie Lane,” and is the only one of
Massingers plays that still keeps possession of the stao-e.
t le rest of its characters, Marrall, the mean-spirited vet
revengeful time-server, is the most amusing and most ably
rawn. In 1629 was acted The Picture, one of the most
pleasing of its author’s productions. To a plot original and
romantic, is added the stronger charm of a strain of feel¬
ing tender and poetical. The more earnest sentiments of
the play are p easantly relieved by the healthy, cynical
humour of Ladislaus, and the spirited practical jokes of
Sophia. Equally fresh and varied is The City Madam,
licensed in 1632. It is a satirical sketch of the ridiculous
airs and blind prodigality of upstart wealth. The numerous
objects in the picture are artfully grouped and strongly
coloured. The Bashful Lover was acted with great ap¬
plause at the Blackfriars in 1636. Its principal charm arises
from the chivalrous love and valour of Hortensio. The
other extant plays of Massinger are,—The Renegado, The
°f Love The Maid of Honour, The Emperor
oj the hast, The Guardian, and A Very Woman. The
continuous toil undergone in producing so many works
seems to have imperceptibly undermined the health of
Massinger. On the night of the 17th March 1640 he went
to bed m apparent good health, in his own house on the
Lankside, and was found dead next morning. His body
was attended by the comedians to the churchyard of St
Saviour s, and the sad story of his obscure life and lonely
1‘1 jh*rf.gis,ter °.f his interment: “March
20, 1639-40, buried Philip Massinger, a stranger.”
In his graphic delineation of character, in his skilful
management of a plot, and in the blended grace and dio--
nity of Ins blank verse, Massinger yields to none but Shak-
speare. Less pathetic and less imaginative than a few of
the secondary dramatists, he is also more refined and more
melodious than them all. His besetting sins are a fasti¬
dious attention to the evolving of his catastrophe, and a
consequent tendency to impair the consistency of his per¬
sonages by adapting them to circumstances. Yet his inci¬
dents, though laboured, are ever fresh and engrossing, and
nis portraitures of character, though indistinct in their
minuter traits, are strikingly bold and vigorous in their out¬
lines. His comedies are deficient in humour. They are
'kT^6^ great va^ue as accurate and interesting life-
Regarding Massinger’s personal character, we can infer
vol. xiy.
MAS
from the panegyrics affixed to his plays, that he was amiable,
gentle, and reserved. The dedications of his several works
to his patrons also throw some light on this subject. In
these we see the instincts of a true and noble nature lead¬
ing him in the middle path between a mere formal expres¬
sion of gratitude and a slavish adulation. Nothing can be
ner than the modest and manly simplicity with which he
on several occasions records in one brief sentence his own
destitution and the beneficence of his noble friends. The
best edition of the works of Massinger is that of Gifford,
published m 1805, and reprinted in 1815. An edition,
reed from all objectionable passages, forms three volumes
of Murrays Family Library, London, 1830.
MASSOUAH, Massowah, or Masuah, the most im¬
portant seaport of Abyssinia, is situated on an island in the
c a .i ea’ « seParatec* Rom the mainland by the channel
of Adowa, 250 miles N.E. of Gondar. The island is about
half a mde in length by a quarter in breadth; and about
one-third of it is covered with houses. Although some of
the houses are built of stone, most of them are mere huts
made of poles and grass. The only buildings of any im¬
portance are the mosques. The harbour is deep and secure
and can accommodate about fifty vessels ; and though the
entrance is narrow, access is not difficult. Owing to the
dry and rocky nature of the island, water has to be col¬
lected in large tanks, which cover about one-third of the
area. Massouah has a very important trade. It is not only
the principal seaport in Abyssinia, but also the largest em¬
porium on the coasts of the Red Sea. The chief articles
ot export are, slaves, horns, ivory, wax, coffee, leather,
hides, butter, honey, grain, gold, and spices; while the ex¬
ports consist of pepper, cotton, silks, muslins, razors, sword-
blades, carpets, &c. Massouah belongs to the viceroy of
Egypt, and a governor, subordinate to that dignitary, resides
he^‘. ^PoP' ot the emire is,and estimated at 10,000.
MAS IER AND SERVANT, a relationship constituted
by mutual consent. Service or labour in this country is
regarded as property, of which no one can be deprived
against his will, unless he be convicted of crime, when
t ie exaction of compulsory labour may form part of the
punishment. Where a man voluntarily disposes of his
labour, the law will enforce fulfilment of the contract, iu-t
as it enforces all other lawful contracts. Parties unqua¬
lified to give consent,—as, for example, pupils; that is,
males under fourteen, and females under twelve years of
age , or intoxicated, or insane persons,—cannot enter into
such a contract; neither will the law regard the most formal
contract, if it appear that it was extorted by force or fear, or
was obtained by fraud. The existence of the contract may
be proved by writing, or, within certain limits, by wit¬
nesses ; and it may sometimes be inferred from circum¬
stances. In Scotland, if the agreement is meant to last
more than a year writing is not only required, but it must
be what is called probative writing, otherwise either of
the contracting parties may repent of, and withdraw from
the agreement; but if any intelligible writing, however
informal, be followed by the mutual actings of parties
under it, the law will regard it as obligatory. Earnest-
money is not necessary, unless required by the established
and umform usage of any particular locality. When o-iven
it is justly regarded as evidence of a concluded agreement’
which the sending back of the earnest-money «
i rT L 16n 116 C1°1ntract is once concluded, the parties
must discharge the obligations which they have undertaken
& L"" n0t by TlmdifS
duration of Thp frecomPense for these duties, and the
duration of the contract, are matters of arrangement
bu^tl eTneve? SUPply ambiguities in a contract,
honestvnr nn PreVa‘ f-ga,nSt eXPress stipulations. Dis-
neXence X" immorah^ Wilful disobedience or habitual
eghgence or disrespect, justifies the dismissal of a servant
2 x
345
Massouah
, II
Master and
Servanr.
346
MASTER AND SERVANT.
Master and without wages, at whatever period of the conti act such an
Servant, offence occurs, because the wages are not legally earned
until the covenanted term of payment arrives. Excessive
labour cannot be demanded from servants; nor are they
bound to work at anything which is unlawful, or substan¬
tially different from, or of a decidedly lower kind than
that for which they were hired. They are not bound to
work on Sunday unless they be domestic or farm servants,
and then it is only at such necessary work as that which
from its nature requires to be performed every day. Mas¬
ters are not liable in the consequences of injuries which
servants may sustain while acting in obedience to reason¬
able orders, from which, with due care, no injury could
have been anticipated. In such cases masters are not
liable even for the expense of medicines or medical aid
which the servant may require; though, whenever these
are voluntarily provided by the master, he is not entitled to
charge them against the servant. If a servant be injured
through his master’s unreasonable conduct or culpable
neglect, the master is liable in damages to the servant, or
to his heirs, if the injury terminate in his death. Com¬
plaints against the conduct of a servant must not be reserved
as a set-off against payment of wages at the expiry of the
contract, but must be made when they occur. A plea, for
example, of incapacity or negligence against a servant is
made too late when the termination of the contract has
arrived and the wages have become payable; but faults
complained of and pardoned till their repetition becomes
intolerable, may be proved in justification of a master who
at length is compelled to dismiss the servant. No servant
is bound under any circumstances to submit to maltreatment
at the hand of his master, nor even to such threats as create
a reasonable apprehension of danger. Servants must, when
required, accompany their master wherever he goes within
the kingdom, provided he does not thereby do them any real
injury, and agrees to bring them back in time to seek for
another situation at the close of the contract; but not if
they were hired with reference to a particular place or to
special duties, such as to serve or work in a particular fac¬
tory. Masters are under no legal obligation to give a
character to any servant, and where a good one cannot
truthfully be given, it is safer to give none; though, when
a servant refers to his master for his character, he must
take his risk of the answer, provided it be not false and
malicious. If a master knowingly give a good character
to an undeserving servant, he is liable to the succeeding
master, by the law both of Scotland and England, in da¬
mages, and in England, by the 32d Geo. III., cap. 56, in a
fine of L.20, or imprisonment with hard labour for not less
than one, or more than three months. In a case in Eng¬
land, where a person gave a good character of a servant
in the full knowledge that he was unworthy of it, and a
succeeding master was thereby induced to take him into
his service, and was soon thereafter robbed by him, for
which the servant was tried and executed, Lord Mansfield
held that the pursuer was entitled to recover the loss from
the person who knowingly and falsely gave the good cha¬
racter. Even where a good character was honestly given,
if it be afterwards discovered to have been undeserved, the
master who gave it must notify the discovery to the per¬
son to whom he gave it. If a servant obtain a situation by
false pretences, affirming that he served where he did not,
or that he did not serve where he really did, or shall alter
or erase a written character, he may be summarily dis¬
missed, and in England is liable in a fine of L.20. We
shall notice more particularly—
1. Apprentices.—They are distinguished from other ser¬
vants in this respect, that they engage to serve their master
in his particular trade or calling chiefly in order that they may
learn it. Minors having no curators may enter into inden¬
tures ; but if they have curators, their concurrence is neces¬
sary. Even then, the indentures may be set aside if they Master and
involve manifest and serious injury to the minor. Pupils, Servant,
beinglegally incapable of consenting, cannot bind themselves. v ^
It is not unusual, however, for parents to bind themselves for
their pupil children. The master, by himself, or a qualified
overseer, must fairly instruct the apprentice in all the branches
of his business, so far as the apprentice is capable and will¬
ing to be instructed, and not put him to any other em¬
ployment, beyond that of teaching his fellow-apprentices
the calling to which he is bound, as in doing so he improves
himself. If a master die or retire from business during the
currency of the indenture, the apprentice has no further
claim than that another equally well qualified master be found
in the same locality, to whom the indenture may be trans¬
ferred ; but no transference can be effected without the
apprentice’s consent. The bankruptcy of the master puts
an end to the indentures, leaving the apprentice to rank
on the master’s estate for a proportion of the apprentice-
fee, or damages. Changes in the constitution of a com¬
pany, however, do not free the apprentice, provided one or
more of the original partners remain to carry on the busi¬
ness. The articles of indenture generally specify a penalty
against either party failing to perform his part of the con¬
tract, but the court will modify the penalty to the actual^
damage. As a master stands somewhat in the relation of
a parent to an apprentice, he is not entitled to dismiss him
for every trifling fault, but he may do so if, after warnings,
the apprentice prove incorrigible or incapable, or if he
commit a single act of dishonesty or gross immorality ; and
the master is not bound to take him back on piomises of
amendment, as his bad example may be pernicious to the
master’s other apprentices. Notwithstanding such an offer,
the master may even sue for the penalty. Apprentices put
to trade by a parish, or any others on whose binding r.o
larger sum of apprentice-fee was paid than L.25, may, by
the 20th Geo. II., cap. 19,—and apprentices on whose bind¬
ing no sum whatever was paid, may, by 5th V ict., cap. 7,
be punished to the extent of a month’s imprisonment, by two
justices, for any ill behaviour, and to the extent of th.ee
months for desertion. But these statutes are understood
to be confined to the particular classes of apprentices men¬
tioned in them and in 17th Geo. III., cap. 56. Under these
statutes masters who beat their apprentices improperly may
also be punished. By the common law the enlistment of an
apprentice does not destroy the indentures ; but the statute
48th Geo. III., cap. 15, only enables the master to reclaim
him, provided he is then under twenty-one years of age;
that the apprenticeship was for four years; that the inden¬
tures were produced to, and indorsed by, a magistrate beibre
the enlistment, and within three months alter their date;
and that the master claim the apprentice, and make oath
before a magistrate, within one month after the enlistment.
2. Workmen and Labourers.—Unless a special agree¬
ment can be proved, the period for which they aie en¬
gaged, their hours of labour, and even the amount of
their wages, are regulated by the usages of their par¬
ticular trade. If there be no general usage as to wages,
a court of law will either fix what is reasonable, or remit
the matter to a jury. The legal presumption is, that
service must be remunerated. Ordinary workmen and
labourers are generally presumed to have been hiied by the
day or week; and farm servants, gardeners, overseers,
grieves, &c., bv the year. In an action for wages by the
foreman of a silk factory, Justice Park said (1833)—“ I he
presumption is, that the plaintiff was hired for a year, and
nothing being proved contrary to that presumption, and he
having violated his duty before the year expired, so as to
prevent the defendant from having his services for the
whole year, he cannot recover wages,”—not even rateably
for the time he has served, as the full term must be com¬
pleted before wages are due. If servants work in their
MASTER AND SERVANT.
Master and own dwellings, they may retain the goods of their master,
'Servant.^ on which they have expended their labour, in security of
their wages, but not if they work in their master’s premises.
On the bankruptcy of their master, farm servants and
reapers have a preferable claim on his crop for their current
wages ; and their wages are not attachable for their debts so
fai as necessary for their subsistence. Provision is made by
the statutes 22d Geo. II., cap. 27; 17th Geo. III., cap. 56,
and 58th Geo. III., cap. 51, for the summary conviction
and punishment of workmen in certain trades who purloin,
embezzle, pawn, or sell their master’s materials or tools;
and neglect to return unused materials within eight days
after demand, is held to be embezzlement. Amongst the
trades referred to in these statutes are hatters and workers in
woollen, linen, fustian, cotton, iron, leather, fur, hemp, flax,
mohair, and silk, and workers in any of these materials mixed,
and also dyers and hot-pressers. 1 he knowingly purchasing-
or taking embezzled materials by any person from such
workmen is severely punishable; and where such materials
are found in the possession of the receiver, the burden is
laid on him of proving that they came into his possession
in a lawful manner. Under these statutes one justice of
the peace may issue a warrant for the apprehension of
accused parties, but two are required for conviction. An
appeal lies to the next general or quarter sessions, on the
party entering into recognisances, with security, to abide
the result.
The statute 4th Geo. IV., cap. 34, provides that if any
servant in husbandry, or artificer, calico printer, handicrafts¬
man, miner, collier, kealman, pitman, glassman, potter,
labourer, or other person under contract by a signed
writing, shall not enter to, or having entered, though5 not
under a written contract, shall absent himself; or shall
be guilty of any other misconduct or misdemeanour in
the execution of the contract, it shall be lawful to any
justice of the peace of the place where such servant con¬
tracted, or is found, upon complaint on oath, to issue a
warrant for apprehending him, and to examine into the
complaint, and, if proved, to commit him to hard labour
not exceeding three months, or to punish him by abating
the whole or part of his wages. The provisions of this
statute are, by the 10th Geo. IV., cap. 52, extended to all
persons engaged, whether as servants, apprentices, or other¬
wise, in the several manufactures, trades, and occupations
above named, alluded to in the statute of 17th Geo HI.,
cap. 56. Under these statutes a workman of any of the
classes above referred to may be punished if he produce
an insufficient quantity of work, or be disobedient, or refuse
to work, or desert. If he commit a higher offence than
these as, if he steal his master’s goods or break into his
premises—the offender maybe prosecuted,as the law directs,
in a higher criminal court. It is decided that these statutes
do not apply to cases where the parties do not stand to¬
wards each other in the precise relation of master and ser¬
vant ; as, foi example, if a master employ a workman to
execute a specific piece of work for a gross sum, or if
the employer by the contract have no title to require the
workman to work at any particular time or place, but only
that the work shall be done within the covenanted period.
In such cases it would be competent to the workman to
accept simultaneously of any other employment from other
individuals, so that he could not strictly be termed the ser¬
vant of any particular master. Accordingly, in England
it was found that a contract to build a wall for a given sum,
within a specified time, did not bring the workman within
the statutes; Justice Park remarking, that to do so, there
must be a contract for service exclusively to one em¬
ployer. 1 he words “ or other persons” are added to the
specification of servants given in the statutes, and it is often
difficult to determine to whom they refer. They do not
refer to menial or domestic servants, but to persons hired
347
for out-door or country labour, and generally to all who, Master and
by the rules of any particular trade, must give a definite Servant,
warning before they are entitled to quit their master’s ser-
vice. Complaints under these statutes do not require the
concurrence of any public prosecutor. They usually begin
with the oath of one of the complainers. If the warrant
following on the complaint requires to be executed in a
county different from 'the one in which it was granted, the
concurrence of a justice of peace of such other county is
necessary. A workman deserting from England and going
to Scotland, or deserting from Scotland and going to Eng¬
land, may be apprehended on a warrant granted in the
county from which he deserted, provided it be indorsed by
a justice of the county to which he has absconded. When
he is apprehended, the subsequent proceedings must be in
strict conformity with the statute, otherwise they will be
quashed. \Y hen followed by conviction, the workman is sub¬
jected to the punishment authorized by the statute; but
Lord Ellenborough observed, that “ it would be clearly
against the policy of the law, if the servant, by his own act
of delinquency, should have the power of dissolving the
contract,” merely because he has undergone punishment
inflicted for the breach of it; and, therefore, after being
punished, he is bound to return to his service and complete
his engagement to his master.
By the statute 1st and 2d Will. IV., cap. 37, it is provi¬
ded that the wages of certain workmen (of whom a very com¬
prehensive description is given) shall be paid in the current
coin of the realm, or notes of the Bank of England, or other
bankers entitled to issue notes, or in drafts or orders payable
to the bearer on demand, within fifteen miles of the place;
otherwise the contracts cannot be enforced by the master.
I his provision applies to servants connected with the get¬
ting of coal, lime, stone, slate, clay, bricks, or salt; or en¬
gaged in the manufacture of iron or steel, or of articles of
hardware, or plated articles, cutlery, or goods made of brass
or other metal, or japanned goods, and almost all kinds of
cloth, silks, and lace ; leather, glass, and earthenware. The
object of the statute is to prevent the frauds which were
too often practised on workmen, by masters keeping provi¬
sion stores, and selling articles of bad quality at a high
pi ice, in payment of wages. There is nothing to hinder
the wages of such servants as do not fall under the classes
specified in the statute, from being paid in any way that
may be arranged; but any attempt to control the mode
in which any workman may spend his wages is illegal.
If, in face of the last-mentioned statute, even although
the consent of the workman be obtained, the master retain
the price of goods out of the wages, and the workman, or
his wife, widow, or child in minority, should within three
months after become chargeable to the parish, such parish
is entitled to compel the master to pay over again the
wages so retained. There are various exceptions to this
rule, intended for the advantage of the workman, such as
the cost of medicines or medical attendance, tools for
mining, hay or corn to be consumed by any beast of burden
employed in his trade by the workman,' the rent of his
house, or of victuals dressed and consumed under his own
roof, or money advanced to a friendly society or savings-
bank to relieve him in sickness, or to educate his children,
vv here advances of that kind are made by the master, they
may, notwithstanding the statute, be deducted from the
wages, provided they are made under a written agree¬
ment to that effect. Masters contravening the statutory
regulations may be punished by a fine not exceeding L.10,
nor under L 5 for a first offence ; not exceeding L.20, nor
under L.10, for a second offence; and not exceeding L.100,
at the discretion of the court, for a third offence;—ten days
intervening between each offence, otherwise each separate
offence is held as a first. Every succeeding offence beyond
the third is treated as a third offence; and the right to
L
348
MASTER AND SERVANT.
Master and prosecute is not held to be abandoned until the lapse of
Servant. two years< The different classes of workmen last above
^ alluded to may, on complaint to a justice of the peace, be
discharged of their contract with their masters on proof of
ill treatment, refusal of stipulated provisions or wages,
cruelty or other ill usage.
Attempts have been made to prevent, or abridge litiga¬
tion between masters and workmen. By the 5th Geo.
IV., cap. 96, provision is made for settling some particular
disputes by arbitration ; and improvements on that statute
have been made by 7th Will. IV., 1st Viet., cap. 67, and
8th and 9th Viet., cap. 77. It would altogether exceed
the bounds allotted to this article to attempt to specify the
kinds of dispute which may be so disposed of, or to ex¬
plain the proceedings which must be adopted. It is safer
to refer to the statutes themselves, only observing, generally,
that on either master or workman going before a justice of
the peace, the justice has power to settle the dispute in a
summary manner, provided both parties agree in writing
to abide by his determination. If they decline, then the
justice may propose four or six persons, one-half being mas¬
ters, agents, or foremen, and the other half being workmen,
out of whom the master may select one, and the workman
another, to act as arbiters, whose determination is final. If
they differ in opinion, the justice may then act as umpire.
If both parties agree to a different mode of adjustment, the
law gives effect to their agreement. We are not aware
that these provisions have been acted on so frequently
as they should ; on the contrary, we fear that combination
is, unhappily, too often resorted to rather than arbitration.
3. Of Combinations.—This leads us to notice the improve¬
ment, in favour of workmen, which was effected by the sta¬
tute 6th Geo. IV., cap. 129. Previous to that statute the most
peaceable combination on their part to raise their wages was
an indictable offence. For this there was no sound reason
whatever, provided all acts of violence were avoided. That
statute, therefore, made it lawful, alike to masters and work¬
men, to combine for the purpose of regulating wages and
all the other conditions of labour. Since then, combina¬
tions have been somewhat frequent in Great Britain. On
the part of workmen, their principal objects have been to
fix a minimum rate of wages, to diminish the hours of
labour, to decrease the quantity of work, to prevent mas¬
ters taking more than a specific number of apprentices ac¬
cording to the number of journeymen employed by them,
and to support each other during their refusal to work, in
the hope of forcing their masters to comply with their
terms. Of course, the object of the combinations on the
part of masters is to counteract those of the workmen,
and to secure terms more favourable to themselves. While
these objects are sought to be attained by discussion and
appeals to reason, with merely refusal in the absence
of contracts to work, the law will not now interfere ; and
in the long run the disputes are generally equitably ad¬
justed, though more frequently to the disappointment
and loss of the workmen, who are often defeated by
means of the capital of their employers, and the facili¬
ties with which other workmen can be procured from
a distance. Ihe loss and misery which workmen and
their families have endured during these struggles, though
the masters have not come out of them uninjured, would
form an instructive chapter. So long, however, as parties
not under contract conduct themselves peaceably, the
law leaves them to combine for the regulation of their
contracts, and to assist each other with pecuniary aid
as they best can ; but the instant that violence or intimi¬
dation is resoited to, an offence is committed which is
justly punishable with great severity. To threaten a master
or any one with violence is punishable at common law.
To molest or intimidate a workman, to compel him to join
an association, or to prevent him from hiring himself on
such terms as he may please, is punishable by the statute Master and
wdth imprisonment for a period not exceeding three months, Servant,
with or without hard labour. Of course there are many
w^ays in which a workman may be intimidated without
violence being committed, or threats uttered; and there¬
fore the law will interfere wherever such is plainly the
object of acts which in themselves may be harmless. The
assemblage, for example, of numbers of persons acting
in combination, whose appearance and gestures may
reasonably alarm men willing to work, is in certain circum¬
stances punishable, even though no direct act of outrage
be committed. The question is, What is the purpose and
object of the parties ? Do they intend to create fear, and
thereby force a man of ordinary resolution to abstain from
working? If it be plain to a jury or to a magistrate that
the object of the assemblage is to overawe, the offence is
held to be committed; and such assemblages may be sum¬
marily dispersed by a magistrate. Where, however, the
magistrate is not satisfied of the existence of the guilty in¬
tention, or believes that the parties have assembled only
for the purpose of discussing their own grievances, he will,
of course, decline to interfere ; though he will not readily
believe that they would choose the vicinity of factories, or the
roads to and from workmen’s houses, as suitable places for
such discussions. The procedure under the statute is sum¬
mary. It enacts,—“ That if any person shall, by violence
to the person or property, or by threats or intimidation, or
by molesting or in any way obstructing” workmen, force,
or endeavour to force them to quit their work, or to re¬
frain from hiring themselves, or to cause them to join the
combination or contribute to any common fund, or force
any master to make any alteration in his mode of carrying
on his business, or to limit the number of his servants,—
parties so offending shall, on complaint within six months,
be brought before any two justices of the peace, who, after
finding the charge proved by the oath of one or more cre¬
dible witnesses, shall adjudge the offenders to be impri¬
soned, with or without hard labour, for any period not ex¬
ceeding three months. But it is to be observed, that this
statute does not by any means take away the * cognisance
which the common law takes of such offences, or hinder
them from being stated as aggravations of an ordinary
assault in a higher court; so that if the grounds of com¬
plaint be considered too serious for the adjudication of jus¬
tices, proceedings may be adopted before the ordinary cri¬
minal courts, in which sentences have been pronounced vary¬
ing from six to eighteen months’ imprisonment, and from
four to fourteen years’ transportation, according to the
nature of the violence proved.
4. Servants in Factories.—The following statutes have
been passed for the relief of women and children em¬
ployed in factories, viz.,—42d Geo. III., cap. 73; 3d and
4th Will. IV., cap. 103 ; and 7th Viet., cap. 15. A great
variety of objects are sought to be attained by these sta¬
tutes ; among others, the prevention of oppression by ex¬
cessive work ; the limiting of the hours of juvenile labour,
and hindering night work; the education of children, se¬
curing to them suitable dormitories, ventilation, meals,
clothing, holidays, and precautions against accidents. \\ e
cannot enter into details. The statutes apply to all cot¬
ton, woollen, and other factories wherein steam or water,
or any mechanical power, is used to work the machinery ;
and wherein three or more apprentices, or twenty or more
other persons, are at any time employed. No child un¬
der eight years of age can be employed in such factories,
nor until thirteen years of age can any child be kept at
work in them for more than six hours and thirty minutes,
or, in some cases, seven hours, a day. In certain events
such children may be employed ten hours on each of three
alternate days, so that their labour throughout the week is
not increased. The certificate of a surgeon as to the fit-
MASTER AND SERVANT.
Sfaster and ness of such children for the work is required. Between
Servant, the age of thirteen and eighteen years, young people may
be employed twelve hours a day, but not more than sixty-
nine hours in any one week, nor during the night between
half-past eight o’clock in the evening and half-past five in the
morning ; and no person under eighteen years of age can be
employed after half-past four on the Saturday afternoon.
Females above eighteen years of age cannot be employed
longer or otherwise than persons between the ages of thir¬
teen and eighteen. Holidays are secured to the extent of
eight half-days annually. The statutes do not apply to per¬
sons employed in repairing machinery or packing goods ;
but they prohibit the employment of children to clean ma¬
chinery while it is in motion. To enforce these regulations
government inspectors are appointed ; and masters, under
penalties, must keep a register of a great variety of parti¬
culars, open to the examination of the inspectors. They
must also fence their machinery to the satisfaction of the
inspectors, unless, on a reference to arbiters, it be ascertained
either that it is sufficiently, or that it cannot be better
fenced.
5. Servants in Printworks.—Regulations are enacted in
reference to them by the 8th and 9th Viet., cap. 29, very simi¬
lar to those applicable to the class last above referred to.
6. Miners and Colliers.—By the 15th Geo. III., cap. 28,
and 39th Geo. III., cap. 56, these labourers, who previously
were literally in a state of bondage, were placed on the same
footing with other servants. The 5th and 6th Viet., cap. 99,
was passed chiefly to prevent masters from employing boys
under ten years of age, and females, in mines ; and to render
it illegal to enter into indentures with boys for more than eight
years, or to intrust any person, except males above fifteen
years of age, with the charge of steam-engines by means of
which persons are passed up or down a shaft, pit, or inclined
plane. It is also unlawful to pay the wages of miners in a
public-house; otherwise payment may again be enforced. In
all these instances penalties are incurred for any violation of
the regulations; and government inspectors are appointed to
secure that the regulations are enforced.
7. Chimne'rj-Sweepers.—The 3d and 4th Viet.-, cap. 85,
enacts that no person shall be bound apprentice to a chim¬
ney-sweeper under sixteen years of age, or be compelled
to.go up or down a chimney under twenty-one, either for
cleaning it or extinguishing a fire, under penalties.
8. Seamen and Sea Apprentices.—The statutory pro¬
visions on behalf of these classes of servants are too nu¬
merous to permit us, within our limits, to give any spe¬
cification of them. We must therefore refer such of our
readers as require information about them to “ An Act
to amend and consolidate the Acts relating to Merchant
Shipping,” 17th and 18th Viet., cap. 104, amended by
18th and 19th Viet., cap. 91. We have also to refer to
1/th and 18th Viet., cap. 120, for an enumeration of all
the prior acts and parts of acts relating to merchant ship¬
ping which are repealed or continued. We may state gene¬
rally that all merchant vessels (not pleasure yachts) of 80
and under 200 tons burdens, must have one apprentice;
200 and under 400 tons, two apprentices ; 400 and under
500 tons, three apprentices ; 500 and under 700 tons, four
apprentices; and 700 tons and upwards, five apprentices
at least, who must be above twelve and under seventeen
years of age, bound for four years at least, subjects of
Her Majesty. They may be employed in any ship during
the currency of the indentures of which their master is
owner or master. The statutes define with great minute¬
ness the nature and form of their agreements, and enact
summary modes for compelling them to join and to remain
with the ship, and for the regulation of their conduct at
sea. They also make anxious provision for their good treat¬
ment by their masters both at home and abroad, and for
enforcing all their just claims against their masters.
349
9. Domestic Servants.—They differ from all other ser- Master and
vants chiefly in these respects,—that they are not en- 8ervant-
titled to absent themselves from their master’s family,
except in cases of extreme necessity, without leave;
they must avoid all nice distinctions about their work;
give ready obedience, “ not answering again.” They
have no fixed hours of labour, but must work if re¬
quired, in so far as is consistent with their health and
strength. Any act of indecency or dishonesty justifies im¬
mediate dismissal, as does a repetition of an instance of
intoxication. Bad health relieves them from their duties
while it lasts, and when it is not imputable to gross mis¬
conduct, their wages are not diminished, unless it become
very protracted. The precise length of time is not in¬
variably fixed. In ordinary cases in Scotland, where the
hiring is generally for six months, six weeks must be
submitted to. In one case, where the engagement was for
a year, a fifth part of that time, under special circumstances,
wras allowed. The domestic servant is not bound to make
up the time lost by sickness. The law of England does
not authorize the master to turn away the servant on ac¬
count of sickness ; but if he go away without leave, the con¬
tract is dissolved. If the sickness be the result of de¬
bauchery, or if the servant concealed bad health existing
at the time of hiring, or if he have contracted debt and be
imprisoned for payment, his master may put an end to the
engagement. 'I he endurance of the engagement depends
on special agreement, or is regulated by custom. It is usually,
in England, terminable on a month’s notice ; and in Scot¬
land it lasts for six months, terminable on a warning of
forty days ; and after such warning is given, the servant is
entitled at suitable times to go in quest of another situation.
Till the warning be given by either party wishing to bring
the engagement to a close, it is held to be tacitly renewed.
During its currency or renewal the domestic servant can¬
not maintain residence in the master’s house against his
will, but must remove on being required. If, however, the
removal be enforced on insufficient grounds, the servant is
entitled to wages and board-wages, and even damages, if ac¬
companied by cruelty, such as turning a friendless female
out of doors at an unseasonable hour. The marriage of a
servant of either sex, or the enlistment of a man-servant,
is not a misdemeanour ; so that if they can arrange to com¬
plete their term of service, the master must perform his part
of it; but by the Mutiny Act the enlistment interrupts the
service, and entitles a justice of the peace to award to the
servant a proportion of his wages. In England it rather
appears that a woman marrying during the period of her
service cannot be withdrawn from it by her husband until
its termination. In Scotland the husband may withdraw
her, but he is liable to her master in compensation for the
loss of her services. If a domestic servant die before the
termination of the engagement, the executors can only
claim wages for the period actually served. If the master
die, the claim of the servant is exactly what it would have
been in the case of unwarrantable dismissal, with this quali¬
fication, that the master’s executors liable in such a claim
are entitled to have the service till its legal termination.
Sometimes the amount of wages has not been fixed by the
parties, as, for example, where a destitute young person is
taken into a family, and works, with little advantage at first
to the family, till at length the services become useful,
nothing having been said about wages; and then the ques¬
tion has arisen, whether in such circumstances wages are
really due. Both in England and Scotland it has been de¬
cided, that where service is given, wages must be paid. In
such cases the amount is fixed judicially, on a consideration
of the whole circumstances. Loss by accidental breakage
by a servant cannot legally be deducted from the wages,
unless it evidently arose from gross carelessness. Servants
have no preferable claim for wages on the bankruptcy of
-
350 MASTER AN
Master and their master, as farm servants have ; but if his death occur
Servant, during die currency of the engagement, they are generally
ranked on his estate after the undertaker and landlord.
10. The higher order of Servants than those above
alluded to, such as Governesses, Tutors, Clerks, Managers,
of Establishments, and Editors.—It can scarcely be said
that any practice or usage with reference to them has
been so uniform and long-continued as to constitute a
rule. Some of those hirings, such as of managers and
editors, are so important that they are probably always
made the subject of special bargain. Where such con¬
tracts are during pleasure, they may be terminated without
any cause being assigned. Whenever it appears from the
circumstances, that the parties had undoubtedly some con¬
siderable period in view, a year at least will be presumed.
In a Scotch case, where a course of tuition by a tutor was evi¬
dently contemplated, and in an English case, where a ware¬
houseman was to receive wages at the rate of so much
monthly, with a progressive rise till they reached a given sum
per annum, engagements for a year were presumed. Clerks
would rather appear in Scotland to be hired during plea¬
sure, and in England they are understood to be hired for
a year. In a case before the English courts relative to
clerks it was remarked,—“We must decide this case accord¬
ing to the general rule, and hold the contract between the
parties to be a hiring for a year.”
In conclusion, we may remark (1), That a practice existed
in Scotland by which masters obtained summary warrants to
apprehend servants who deserted during the currency of
their engagement, and imprison them until they found se¬
curity to return to their service ; and that practice was
justified by a judgment of the Court of Session pronounced
so recently as 1824. That judgment, however, was pro¬
nounced after a very imperfect discussion, and its sound¬
ness has been much questioned. The origin of the prac¬
tice must be sought for at a time when servants were not
regarded as being equally the objects of the protection of
law with their masters, and when they were probably under
the arbitrary regulation of the magistrates, than which no¬
thing can be more objectionable. There is nothing in the
contract between master and servant unlike other civil con¬
tracts. On either side a failure to fulfil the contract gives
rise to a claim of reparation, which ought to be recovered
like other civil claims ; and the very fact that it has been
thought right, by special statutes, to enforce the obedience
of some classes of servants, seems to imply that, in the ab¬
sence of such statutes, a contract of service with others
should only be enforced by the ordinary forms of law.
2. None of these statutes can be stretched beyond their
clear enactments, nor extended to classes to which they do
not expressly apply, as they can only be justified by the
peculiar necessities of particular trades.
3. The history of combinations proves that, whether on
the part of masters or workmen, they are useless and mis¬
chievous. On the part of skilled workmen their objects, in
addition to those above referred to, are sometimes to require
that masters shall hire no workmen unless they be members
of their union, and that in the order in which their names
are engrossed in the union-books, nor at less than their
fixed rate of wages ; otherwise all combined workmen strike
work. . Sometimes it happens that these demands are so
excessive, that masters are forced to combine in turn, and
stop their works, until the unionists reduce their demands,
oi can be replaced by servants from a distance, thereby
involving thousands of workmen and their families in desti¬
tution. I he attempt of the W’orkmen to sustain them¬
selves, during the strikes, out of a common fund has gene¬
rally failed—the money gathered being insufficient. ' The
tendency of combination is injurious to the workmen, be¬
cause it destroys all inducements to industry among them;
seeing that if masters are only to hire workmen’ in the
D SERVANT.
order of their enrolment, and all at fixed rates, the in- Master and
ferior and idle are placed on a level with the industrious Servant,
and skilful. Such a system, which will always be popular
with inefficient w'orkmen, operates just as would be the case
if all physicians and lawyers were employed by rotation and
at the same fees, which would no doubt be relished by
the men of inferior talents in both professions, but would
paralyze the exertions of the most eminent. This is quite ob¬
vious ; and yet workmen who disapprove of unions are often
compelled to join them, because, unless they do so, the other
workmen would not remain in the service of their master.
In the end great injury is inflicted on both parties, though
generally most heavily on the workmen. In 1834 the west
of Scotland w^as convulsed by a strike among calico print¬
ers which lasted nine months. Intimidation, which was
resorted to, was counteracted by the military, and wras fol¬
lowed by merited punishment. In one establishment busi¬
ness was suspended, and two thousand workmen, with their
families, were thrown into destitution. At length that estab¬
lishment, after an adjustment with its creditors, resumed
business with new hands procured from a distance at rea¬
sonable wages, while the unionists were scattered in starva¬
tion over the country. This was not a rare example. While,
therefore, skilled workmen are permitted to try every lawful
means to better their condition, their success depends
mainly on their rendering it, by good conduct, the interest
of their masters to employ them. The competition which
must ever exist among masters will always induce them to
give the highest wages they can afford, to secure the best
workmen ; and any attempts to force wages above that point
must force the attention of masters to improvements in
machinery, and the training of unskilled labourers to super¬
sede the refractory. The regulation of labour and wages
depends on principles which can only be affected by com¬
binations for a very limited period ; while nothing work¬
men can do, will permanently check the pressure of their
own numbers on the means of employment. Wherever
labour is abundant it will be cheap; and when workmen
resort to intimidation they engage in a most unequal
conflict with the law; while skill and attention, according
as they are in demand, will generally find their place ia
the market. (m. l.)
MASTIC, or Mastich, the /uHm'x?? of the ancient
Greeks, is a concrete resinous exudation from the trunk and
branches of the Pistacia lentiscus (Nat. Ord. Anaear-
diacece), a bush about 12 feet high, growing on the coasts
and islands of the Mediterranean, and particularly the island
of Chios, where it is very abundant, and is extensively cul¬
tivated for its resin. Mastic is produced either by spon¬
taneous exudation or by transverse incisions made in the
bark in the month of August, when the resin exudes in
tears, and either hardens upon the tree or falls to the ground.
In the former case it is of a superior quality, and is called
picked mastic, consisting of roundish, elongated, or flattened
tears, varying in size between a pepper-corn and a hazel¬
nut, of a pale yellow colour, and translucent, brittle, and
glassy in fracture, and possessing a slight but agreeable
balsamic odour and taste. This kind of mastic is some¬
times adulterated with sandarach. The coarser kind, called
mastic in sorts, is of a greyish-brown or black colour, and
is rendered impure bv the presence of fragments of wood,
bark, and sand, collected by the resin in falling to the
ground.
Mastic, besides containing traces of volatile oil, produces
by dissolution in boiling rectified spirit a white ductile sub¬
stance, which some have regarded as a peculiar principle
under the name of Masticin. Mastic is much used by the
Turkish ladies for consolidating the gums, cleaning the
teeth, and sweetening the breath. When chewed it be¬
comes ductile, grey, and opaque. It is also employed oc¬
casionally for stuffing decayed teeth. It is chiefly used in
MAS
Masulipa* this country for compounding varnishes, and is imported
tam from the Grecian Archipelago packed in chests.
Matanzas MASULIPATAM, a considerable town and seaport
^ a a za~] of Hindustan, in the Northern Circars, and the principal
V~*L place of the district of the same name. It is defended by
a fort, which is of a rectangular figure, 800 yards in
length by 600 in breadth, and situated in the midst of a
salt morass, close to an inlet or canal, which communicates
with the sea and the Krishna, so that the adjoining grounds
may be inundated at pleasure ; and this constitutes its prin¬
cipal defence. The port is not capable of receiving vessels
beyond the burden of 300 tons, the shore being flat and
the water shallow; ships are consequently compelled to
anchor at some distance from land. The town is situated
on a piece of ground rising above the fort, a mile and a
half to the N.W., and communicates with it by a straight
causeway 2000 yards in length. Many of the houses are
large, and well built of brick and lime mortar, with upper
storeys and tiled roofs, and most of the dwellings of the
poor are commodious and clean, in consequence of the
neatness indispensably required for the manufacture of
cotton chintzes, for which the place has been long famous.
The population of the town has been returned at 27,884 ;
Lat. 16. 10., Long. 81. 13. The district, of which this
town is the chief place, has an area of 5000 square miles,
with a population amounting to 544,672. It forms one of
the Circars which were obtained by the French in 1753,
and remained in their possession till 1759, when Clive
transferred them to the East India Company, to whom
they were formally ceded in 1765 by the Emperor of Delhi.
MATAMORAS, or Matamoros, a town and port of
Mexico, department of Tamaulipas, situated on the right
bank of the Rio Grande, about 40 miles from its mouth.
The town is well built, and is the seat of a considerable
trade. The principal articles of export are specie, horses,
wool, and hides ; and the imports consist of manufactured
goods from Great Britain and the United States. The
town has but recently grown to its present importance, from
a small village. Pop. about 10,000.
MATAN, a small island of the Philippines, near the E.
coast of Zebu; Lat. 10. 16. N., Long. 123. 48. E. It is
about 10 miles in circumference, and is only noted as the
place where the navigator Magalhaens was killed in a skir¬
mish with the natives in 1521.
MATANZAS, a seaport of Cuba, on the N. coast of the
island, at the head of a deep bay, 57 miles E. of Havana;
Lat. 23. 2. N., Long. 81. 38. W. The town is well built,
about a third of the houses being stone, but without much
pretension to architectural beauty. The principal build¬
ings are two churches, an hospital, barracks, theatre, and
public library. The harbour is protected by a natural
breakwater, consisting of a ledge of rock 4 feet below the
surface, through which entrance is afforded by two channels,
one to the N. and the other to the S.; but the former only
is passable for large ships. The harbour has also been
much reduced in size and depth by the mud carried down
by two rivers, one of which flows on each side of the town.
The number of vessels that entered the harbour in 1851
was 499; that cleared, 578. In the same year the exports
amounted in value to L.393,641, and the exports to
L.1,119,453 ; while the duties collected on imports were
L.l 18,372, and on exports L.63,561. The surrounding
country is one of the richest districts of Cuba; and the
bay is large and convenient for ships, being sheltered from
every wind but the N.E. Previous to 1809, owing to the
restrictions put upon its trade, Matanzas was a place of small
importance; but in that year these were removed, and the
result has been an increase, not only in the commerce of the
town, but in the raising of sugar, coffee, and other articles in
the neighbourhood. The principal articles of export are
sugar, molasses, and coffee. Pop. (1851) 26,000.
M A T Sol
MATARO, a seaport of Spain, on the Mediterranean, Mataro
in the province and 21 miles N.E. of Barcelona; N. Lat. I!
41.32. 5., and E. Long. 2. 28. 24. The town is beauti- ^Iatclies-
fully situated, partly on the slopes of the Cordillera which
separates the coast from the Valles, and partly on the plain
beneath. Hills, covered to the summits with vines, shelter
it in the form of an amphitheatre from the cold northern
winds. The streets of the new town, the part of the city
next the sea, are handsome and regular. The most notable
buildings are the church of Santa Maria, dating from 1675,
which contains some good pictures; the hospital ; and the
theatre. There are schools of navigation and of the fine
arts; but the chief educational institution is the college of
PP. Escolapios, founded in 1737, and in 1829 incor¬
porated with the university of Cervera. Close to the
walls flows the small River Cirera. The principal agricul¬
tural product is wine, which is exported by Barcelona.
There is a considerable fishery, the results of which are dis¬
posed of inland, in Manresa and other places. The rail¬
way connecting this town with Barcelona, which was
opened in October 1848 (the first in Spain) has given a
great impulse to the industry of Mataro. It is entirely a
manufacturing town. There are ten cotton factories, of
which seven are worked by steam ; also of cotton and wool¬
len cloth, silk, velvet, and stockings. The manufacture of
canvas and of tarpaulin is extensively carried on, and
several hundred women are employed in making lace.
There are numerous potteries and various chemical works ;
leather, glue, glass, bricks, and some other articles are also
made. The trade is carried on chiefly through Barcelona,
Mataro having no artificial harbour, and the attempts at
various times to construct one having been frustrated. The
modern name of the town, Mataro {fxapaOpov ?), appears, ac¬
cording to some, to correspond with the ancient Latin name
Civitas Fcemcularia. Mataro enjoyed many privileges from
the Spanish monarchs in reward for its generous assistance
in their naval expeditions. The most melancholy page of
its history is the cruel sack it underwent from the French
on the 17th of June 1808. The celebrated Capmany,
author of the Teatro Historico-critico de la Elocuencia
Castellana, and other excellent works, was a native of this
town. Pop. (1845) 13,010.
MATCHES. Previous to the invention of the common
lucifer match, the contrivances for procuring light, while
frequently ingenious, were generally attended by some
serious inconvenience. The plan adopted by savage nations
is the laborious one of igniting by friction two pieces of
dry wood. A readier method, but still a clumsy contriv¬
ance, was the flint and steel and tinder-box, in common use
among ourselves till about thirty years ago. Attempts
were made to supersede the tinder-box by such expensive
and complicated contrivances as the pyrophorus, the pneu¬
matic tinder-box or light syringe, the hydrogen-lamp of
Dobereiner, &c.; yet the present simple and convenient
lucifer is rather an improvement on the sulphur match than
a modification of any of those more complex arrangements.
One of the first forms of improved match was based on the
fact that chlorate of potash, mixed with suitable in°re-
dients, is decomposed by sulphuric acid, with the production
of fire; the sulphur match was accordingly tipped with
a paste composed of 30 parts chlorate of potash, 25 parts
sulphur, 2 parts colophony, fl vermilion, and 2 of gum in
solution ; and the match thus prepared was dipped into a
bottle containing asbestos moistened with sulphuric acid,
anti rapidly withdrawn, when an explosive flame was <Tene-
lated which set fire to the wood. These matches, although
inconvenient, soon became common, and were sold at Is.
per box under the name of Eup prion,
H'e next form of the chemical match obtained the name
of 1 rometheans. In this contrivance the paste consisted
of equal par ts chlorate of potash and sugar, mixed with a
L
352 MAT
Matches, solution of gum. The sulphuric acid was ingeniously con-
tained in a small glass bead, which, with a small quantity of
the paste, was rolled up in gummed paper. On pinching
the extremity of the roll with a pair of pliers, the bead was
crushed, and the acid coming into contact with the chlorate,
produced a burst of flame.
The next improvement was the friction-match, which
appeared about the year 1832. In this contrivance the
sulphur match was tipped with a composition consisting of
1 part chlorate of potash and 2 parts sulphuret of antimony,
mixed with gum water. This match was ignited by draw¬
ing it briskly through the folds of a piece of sand-paper
held between the finger and thumb.
The chief improvement in the match was the introduc¬
tion of phosphorus into the composition of the paste, with
which many ingredients were tried, such as magnesia, lime,
sulphur, white-wax, cork-powder, &c., while chlorate of
potash continued to be used; and as this material produced
on ignition a noisy crackling sound, resembling Congreve
rockets, the name of Congreves was applied to the matches.
When this explosive noise was got rid of, matches were
called noiseless lucifers, and subsequently lucifers, a word
which has found a permanent place in our language.
The manufacture of lucifer matches is at the present
lime of vast extent and importance ; a single manufac¬
turer exporting from London alone not less than 8000 cwt.
of matches every year. The first operation at one of these
factories is the sawing up of the timber into blocks, each
30 inches in length, in width, and 3 inches in thickness,
by means of a circular saw, cutting across the fibres, so that
each plank furnishes about 30 blocks. From these blocks
splints for the matches are cut by means of a machine,
patented by Reuben Partridge in 1842. Each block is
placed endwise in a frame furnished with a crank bearing
a horizontal arm, at the end of which is a block containing
from thirty to forty lancet-points, separated by pieces of
brass of the thicxness of the intended match. The motion
of the crank brings the lancet-points under the end of the
block, and the points cut or score the wood to the required
depth for forty splints. As the lancet-points are withdrawn
by the revolution of the crank, a knife is made to swing
round horizontally, and mow off a layer from the end of
the block thus scored, containing forty splints each, two
matches in length. The knife is then withdrawn, the lan¬
cet-points again advance, and the process is repeated as
before. The splints fall into a room below, where they are
made up into bundles of 1000 each, and afterwards dried in
rooms heated to the temperature of 300°. When the
bundles are taken out, both ends are dipped into melted
sulphur, a kind of twist being given to each bundle to pre¬
vent the splints from being glued together by the sulphur.
The bundles are now divided, each into two halves, by
means of a circular saw, and are ready for tipping with the
phosphorus paste, after which they are packed into boxes.
1 he composition of this paste varies with different manu¬
facturers ; but the principle of its action is the same in all
common matches, viz., an emulsion of phosphorus is made
with glue or gum, and this being applied to the end of the
sulphured matches, they are exposed in a w7arm room until
a sufficient quantity of the phosphorus has been driven off
by slow combustion, so as to leave a sheet of glue or gum,
which piotects the remaining phosphorus from the oxidiz¬
ing influence of the air. W hen the end of the match is
drawn biiskly across sand-paper, a portion of this gela¬
tinous envelope is removed, while the heat occasioned by
the fiiction ignites the phosphorus, and sets fire to the sul-
phur. 1 he composition contains, among other ingredients,
sand for piomoting the friction, and colouring matter 
such as red ochre, smalt, or artificial ultramarine. Matches
of this kind ignite with great facility without "any noise,
and are therefore dangerous; while the large proportion
MAT
of phosphorus which they contain renders them highly Matchin
poisonous. Increased hardness, and consequently greater ||
safety, is given by the use of chlorate of potash ; but this Matelica.
makes a noisy match, and produces a white bursting flame.
In some cases nitre is used instead of chlorate of potash,
the oxygen of both the salts assisting the combustion of the
phosphorus. Some of the matches made in Germany for
use in climates less moist than that of England, are tipped
with a composition of gum, nitrate of lead, or peroxide
of lead and phosphorus. In well-compounded prepara¬
tions the proportion of phosphorus may be very small, not
more than from 5 to 10 per cent. Some use the following
compound :—Phosphorus, 1 part; nitre, 10 parts ; fine glue,
6 parts; smalt, 2 parts.
The great objection to all ordinary pastes is the use of
common phosphorus, which fills the air of the factory with
fumes of phosphoric acid, whereby the health of the work¬
people is greatly affected, and in many cases necrosis of
the lower jaw produced. The only complete preventive
consists in the employment of the red or amorphous phos¬
phorus, discovered by Schrdtter a few years ago, and which
is not volatile. It is said that Herr Lundstrbm, of Jonkdp-
ing has successfully employed the red phosphorus lately in
the following manner :—The matches are tipped as usual
with sulphur, stearine, spermaceti, or wrax, and then with a
composition consisting of 6 parts chlorate of potash, from 2
to 3 of sulphuret of antimony, and 1 part of glue ; while,
instead of the usual sand-paper on the match-box, the sides
of the box are covered with a friction paste consisting of
10 parts of red phosphorus, 8 parts oxide of manganese or
sulphuret of antimony, and from 3 to 6 parts of glue. This
ingenious arrangement is said to be perfectly successful,
and if so, it deserves the name of safety-match, w hich has
been proposed for it, since this kind of match cannot take
fire by accidental friction, while sucli matches are not
poisonous, as is the case with common lucifers.
The vesta, or taper-match, consists of a wick of un¬
twisted cotton, covered with wax, and tipped with an inflam¬
mable paste containing a large proportion of chlorate of
potash. In preparing these matches, from 100 to 200
lengths of wick, kept separate by means of combs, are
made to pass through a bath of melted wax, and then
through holes in a metal plate, which draws them to the
proper size and shape. They are next cut into lengths for
the vestas by a machine-moved knife, and being arranged
on frames, are tipped with the composition. Fusees for
lighting cigars are prepared from strips of cardboard, steeped
in a solution of nitre, and cut nearly through into the re¬
quired number of lights.
The manufacture of lucifers is spread over a considerable
part of the world, and forms a vast and increasing trade.
It is said that in this country at least 40,000,000 matches
are made per diem, while large quantities are imported
from Germany and other parts. In this country, where the
extent of the manufacture is much less than in Germany,
upwards of 8 tons of phosphorus, and 26 tons of chlorate
of potash, are consumed every year lor tipping matches.
The cheap rate at which lucifer matches are manufactured
is remarkable. It is said a German manufacturer will
sell a case of 50 boxes, with 100 matches in each box,
for 4d. (c. T.)
MATCHIN, a town of European Turkey, in Bulgaria,
situated on the right bank of the Danube, 32 miles N.E.
of Hirsova. It is defended by two forts; and was the
scene of a victory gained by the Turks over the Russians
on 24th December 1853.
MATELICA, a town of Italy, in the States of the Church,
situated on the River San Angelo, a tributary of the Esina,
23 miles W.S.W. of Macerata. It is an old town, sur¬
rounded by walls, and contains several churches and con¬
vents. The inhabitants are chiefly occupied in the culti-
Malcra
MAT
vation of the neighbouring country, and in the manufac¬
ture of coarse woollen stuffs. Pop. 7270.
MATER A, a town of Naples, capital of the province of
Basilicata, is situated in a deep valley on the right bank of
the Gravina, a tributary of the Bradano, 128 miles E. by
S. of Naples, and 44 E. from Potenza. The town, which
is defended by walls, is generally well built; and contains
a cathedral and archiepiscopal palace, which have porticos
consisting of granite Corinthian columns, supposed to be
the remains of an ancient temple. Not far from the walls
stands an old tower known by the name of Torre Metella;
and there are also in the town six convents and a college.
The neighbouring country is rich in pastures ; and the
valley is surrounded by hills, which contain many curious
caverns. Pop. 12,000.
MATERIA MEDICA. The signification given to this
term by different authors has varied very much indeed,
some employing it to denote the whole range, and others
only a particular department, of that branch of medical
science which relates to the means employed for the pre¬
vention or in the treatment of diseases. Prophylactic or
preventive, and remedial or curative means, may be referred
to three principal divisions : 1st, The performance of manual
operations; 2d, The regulation of what have been termed
the non-naturals, as of diet, exercise, temperature, clothing,
&c.; and, 3d, The employment of medicinal substances.
Manual operations, as far as their mode of performance is
concerned, fall under the domain of surgery; the regula¬
tion of the non-naturals is the object of dietetics and hy¬
giene. As to the third division (medicinal substances), they
may be considered either in reference to the sources from
which they are derived, or to the modes in which they are
prepared for medical use ; or they may be considered,
along with the other two classes of means, in reference to
the immediate purposes for which they are employed in the
treatment of diseases, and the indications which they are
intended to fulfil. Now, the term materia medica has by
some been understood as embracing the consideration of
remedies in all these respects. But by others, and, as we
conceive, more correctly, it has been limited to signify the
natural and commercial history of medicinal substances.
I hose processes by which medicinal substances are fitted
for use constitute the department of pharmacy, whilst the
purposes for which remedies are employed form the objects
of consideration in therapeutics. Some have employed
the word pharmacology as a general term, to include the
whole of the knowledge that has been obtained relative to
remedies.
MATERIALISM is the name given to that specula¬
tive theory which resolves all existence into a modification
of matter. (See Metaphysics.)
MATHEMATICS (^.affyo-tsor/Aaffy/xa) properly signifies
the discipline of the mind acquired in studying* a science,
rathei than its subject matter; and is a term descriptive of
any species of knowledge which tends to improve the mental
faculties. It is employed, however, in a restricted sense, to
denote the science whose object is the discovery of the
abstract relations of number and magnitude, and their appli¬
cation, by means of observed laws, to the explanation of
natural phenomena, and the improvement of the useful arts.
Although in every department of mathematics results are
obtained by strictly logical deduction from a few first prin¬
ciples explicitly assumed, yet the science may be regarded
as consisting of two distinct branches, according to the na¬
ture of the evidence on which the truth of its first princi¬
ples is admitted. In the one, which constitutes pure ma¬
thematics, the first principles require no special inductive
process to convince us of their truth, and scarcely, indeed,
demand the evidence of our senses. Whether they are
notions inherent in the mind, or deductions from our con¬
stant and earliest experience, they are universally allowed
. VOL. XIV.
MAT
353
to be self-evident, in the sense that we cannot conceive
them to have been otherwise than they are. Thus pure
mathematics is founded upon definitions of necessary truth,
and is pre-eminently the most certain of all the sciences.
Mixed mathematics denotes the application of pure ma¬
thematics to natural objects; and presupposes some know¬
ledge of their properties derived from the senses, or of
general laws obtained by induction from a sufficient num¬
ber of observations. The logical, or strictly mathematical
processes of deduction in the pure and mixed mathematics
are identical; the difference between the two sciences being,
that in the one, the first principles are self-evident, while m
the other, laws and facts, which are not necessarily self-
evident, but derived from observation, are admitted, alon^
with the axioms and definitions of pure mathematics, as
fundamental principles of the science. Again, in mixed
mathematics we are often presented with conclusions de¬
rived from hypotheses regarding the constitution of nature.
If we ask whether these are correct conclusions from the
assumed hypotheses, our investigations must be conducted
on principles purely mathematical: but if we inquire whe¬
ther the conclusions have a real existence in nature, we
must appeal to observation; and our reasoning becomes
inductive. It is from this mixture of mathematical deduc¬
tion with experimental processes that the mixed sciences
derive their name, and not from any difference between
their mathematics and those of pure science.
I hus the evidence for the conclusions of mixed mathe¬
matical science is inferior to that obtained in pure mathe¬
matics, only in so far as the utmost confidence in the truth
of laws arising from even the highest degree of probability
attained by inductive reasoning, must always fall short of the
conviction which follows from the perception of necessary
truth. If, however, we estimate the rank of a science by
the peifection of its methods,—the power it confers of pur¬
suing the most lengthened and complex processes of reason¬
ing with perfect certainty of the correctness of the results—
its consequently perpetually extending and cumulative cha¬
racter the almost hopeless difficulty of the problems it has
solved—the remoteness of the conclusions to which it has
conducted the inquirer into natural laws—the number and
importance of the truths with which it has enriched man¬
kind or, in short, the almost incredible degree in which
it has aided and amplified the reasoning faculties,—we
must accord both to pure and mixed mathematics the first
place among the various departments of human know¬
ledge.
The different branches of mathematical science may be
classified as follows :—■
I- Pure mathematics consists of the following branches : 
1. Arithmetic, which may be subdivided into pure arith¬
metic, or the ordinary science of numbers, and of numerical
calculations conducted by means of the common arithme¬
tical notation ; and aigebra, or the methods of calculation
by means of general symbols, so far as the processes are
restricted to actual numerical operations. fSee Arith¬
metic.)
2. Geometry, which investigates the properties of figures
m the manner of Euclid’s Elements, without the aid of
algebraical processes. (See Geometry, and Conic Sec¬
tions.)
3 Algebra, or the calculus of operations, differing from
arithmetical algebra in the more extended definition of its
Algebra) ^ universal applications. (See
4. The application of algebra to geometry, including co-
ordmate geometry. (See Analytical Geometry.)
t J'J 6 <j]lJ,erentlal an(( integral calculus, which include
. f^ ,era hcory of limits, or those methods of operation
in winch the limits of ratios are employed in calculation, and
denoted by specific algebraical symbols. (See Fluxions.)
2 r
Mathe¬
matics.
354 MAT
Mather. II. Mixed mathematics includes the application of pure
v — mathematics to mechanics, astronomy, optics, heat, elec¬
tricity, &c. (See Astronomy, &c.) The theory of pro¬
babilities is usually included under this head, although it
has perhaps equal claims to rank under pure mathematics.
(For the history of mathematical science the reader is re¬
ferred to the articles Algebra and Geometry, and to the
Preliminary Dissertations.) (w. S—N.)
MATHER, Cotton, D.D., a learned American divine,
the son of Increase Mather, was born at Boston in February
1663. He received his elementary education under his
father’s care, and at the age of twelve he entered Harvard
College with a considerable knowledge of the classics.
There he studied with successful ardour, and at the same
time subjected himself to a rigid system of fastings, vigils,
self-examinations, and other pious exercises. An impediment
in his speech induced him at one time to forego his inten¬
tion of entering the church, and to commence the study of
medicine. This infirmity, however, was soon afterwards
overcome ; and accordingly, after graduating, he began to
preach in 1680. In the same year he was appointed assist¬
ant to his father in the North Church of Boston. Cotton
Mather now became one of the most zealous of ministers.
He discharged his professional duties most faithfully, pub¬
lished numerous sermons and books on practical religion,
and assiduously amassed materials for intended treatises.
At the same time he set himself to acquire several modern
languages, and among others the Iroquois Indian. Nor
did he refrain from interfering in civil affairs. A sharer in
the superstitions of his age, he was a confident believer in
witchcraft; and imagining that there wrere in the town of
Boston some devotees of the evil one, he laboured wuth his
usual honest zeal to detect them. A book of his, entitled
Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft and Pos¬
sessions, loiih Discoveries and Appendix, 8vo, Boston,
1689, excited a great ferment both in England and Ame¬
rica, and was the chief cause of that series of executions for
Satanic intercourse known as the “ Salem Tragedy.” The
tide of opinion, however, was now setting in that was des¬
tined to sweep all such superstitions away, and Cotton
Mather in vain attempted to stem it by his work entitled
The Wonders of the Invisible World, 8vo, Boston, 1693.
So far had he now fallen in the public estimation, that
though generally regarded as pre-eminent among his coun¬
trymen for learning and genius, he was twice passed over in
the election of a president to Harvard College. Yet he con¬
tinued with unabated earnestness to toil for the general
welfare of his fellow-men ; and in 1721 he was the first to
introduce into America the practice of inoculation. He
died in February 1728. Cotton Mather was the first Ame¬
rican who was elected a fellow of the Royal Society of
London. Of his numerous works his Magnolia Christi
Americana, London, 1702, is the greatest; and his Direc¬
tions to a Candidate for the Ministry, Boston, 1726, is the
best known.
Mather, Increase, D.D., the father of the preceding, was
born at Dorchester, Massachusetts, in June 1639. He was
enrolled at the age of twelve a student of Harvard College,
where he graduated in 1656, and immediately proceeded
to Dublin to complete his studies at Trinity College. Soon
after his return to America in 1661 he was chosen minister
of the North Church, Boston. The native energy and un-
flagging zeal of Increase Mather had now obtained full
scope. He discharged his ministerial duties with fidelity,
spent the greater part of the day in his study, published
numerous sermons and other works, and was the acknow¬
ledged leader in the political discussions of the community.
In 1685 he was appointed president of Harvard College;
and in 1688 he was despatched to England as agent for
• the province, to procure redress of grievances. On his re¬
turn his services were rewarded with the thanks of the
MAT
House of Representatives. In 1701 he resigned his presi- Mathews,
dentship, as he thought that its duties were incompatible V—'
with those of his pastorate. He died at Boston in August
1723. The best known works of Increase Mather are,—
History of the Wars with the Indians in New England, Lon¬
don 1676; and Remarkable Providences, reprinted as a vo¬
lume of Russell Smith’s Library of Old Authors, 8vo, 1856.
MATHEWS, Charles, an eminent comedian, was the
son of a bookseller in the Strand, and was born in London
on the 28th June 1776. After receiving his education at
the Merchant Tailors’ school, he was apprenticed to his
father’s business. But his early-developed love for mimicry
had grown into a passion for the stage ; and after playing
several times as an amateur, he eventually, in 1794, engaged
himself as a professional comedian at the Theatre Royal,
Dublin. In the course of a year, however, the injustice of
a cruel manager, and the pinchings of extreme poverty, had
cooled his enthusiasm so much that he set out for England,
bent upon spending the rest of his life in his father’s shop.
At Swansea the stage-fever relapsed, and there Mathews
played for nearly three years with great popularity. Mean¬
while he had married in 1797 the daughter of Dr Strong,
a physician at Exeter. He removed in 1798 to the theatre
at York, and by his careful study and ready talents soon be¬
came a great favourite with the play-goers of that city. But
the gratification resulting from his public success was neu¬
tralized by domestic misfortune. Feeble health, pecuniary
embarrassments, and the death of his wife, simultaneously
overwhelmed him ; and not until he had received, in 1802,
a flattering invitation to become a member of the Hay-
market Theatre, London, did he resume his wanted gaiety.
After marrying his second wife, Miss Anne Jackson, a
member of the York company, Mathews repaired to Lon¬
don in 1803. His success continued to increase during two
seasons at the Haymarket, and afterwards at Drury Lane.
On the destruction of the latter theatre by fire in 1809, he
removed with the rest of the company to the Lyceum, and
there he acquired additional fame by his personation of
Maw-worm in The Hypocrite. In 1811 he set out on
a provincial tour; and on his return to London in 1812 he
resumed his place at the Haymarket. A severe fall from
his tilbury in 1814, lamed him for the rest of his life. In
1818 the genius of Mathews, hitherto cramped by the shal¬
low characters he had been employed to personate, gained
full scope in his entertainment entitled “Mathews at
Home.” By a series of comic songs, personations, ludi¬
crous adventures, and imitations of well-known actors, he
filled the English Opera-House to overflowing for forty suc¬
cessive nights. He had thus, by one rapid stroke, gained
the greatest histrionic honours, and was now' considered
unrivalled in the versatility of his comic powers. During
the four following seasons he continued his entertainments
in the same theatre with unabated applause. In 1822 he
set out on a professional visit to the United States; and on
his return to London in 1824, he mimicked the peculiarities
of that country with inimitable effect in his “ Trip to Ame¬
rica.” He continued his entertainments every season in
the English Opera-House until he became, in 1828, joint-
proprietor with Mr Yates of the Adelphi T. heatre. In compli¬
ance with the urgent request of the American theatres, Ma¬
thews revisited America in 1834, and performed his famous
“Trip,” to crowded audiences, in several of the largest cities.
His sinking health, however, compelled him to accelerate
his return, and he died at Plymouth on the 28th June 1835.
Possessing in the highest degree a plastic countenance,
a flexible voice, and a power of lapid and keen discein-
ment, Charles Mathews stood alone in the art of mimicry.
His imitation of the voice, of the physical peculiarities, of
the very sentiments and mind of his subject, approached
as nearly as possible to complete identification. Almost as
wonderful was his dramatic power of inventing newcharac-
MAT
Matina ters. Those in his entertainments “ At Home” were all
\r tt ' designed by himself; and each of them had the finish and
3 ' individuality of a true transcript from nature. The gentle-
manly bearing, upright conduct, and social worth of Charles
Mathews, combined with his genius to introduce him into
the most select society ; and he numbered among his per¬
sonal friends such men as Coleridge and Charles Lamb.
His son, the eminent comedian of the present day, has in¬
herited, along with his father’s name, no small portion of his
talents.
MATINA, a river of Central America, in Costa Rica,
formed by the union of the Chirripo and Barbilla, flows
eastward, and discharges itself into the Atlantic. The
Matina flows smoothly over a bed unbroken by rocks,
and is navigable during the whole of its course; as also
are its tributary streams for some distance above their
junction. The river is subject to annual inundations, which
take place generally in December and January, though
sometimes at earlier or later seasons, and which leave a
deposit of thick and rich mud, to which the neighbouring
country owes much of its fertility and the luxuriance of its
vegetation. Ships can pass into this river from the port of
Moin by means of a canal called the Baya.
MATLOCK, a village of England, county of Derby, on
the Derwent, 17 miles N. by W. of Derby, and 144 N.W.
of London. It stands in a beautiful position on the slope
of a hill to the E. of the river, which is here crossed by a
fine stone bridge. The church, an edifice in the English
style, surmounted by a spire 129 feet high, is picturesquely
situated on the summit of a perpendicular rock overlooking
the Derwent. There are four other churches belonging
to different denominations, and numerous commodious and
handsome hotels and other establishments for the use of visit¬
ors. Matlock is much frequented by invalids and tourists for
the sake of its medicinal springsand the beauty of the scenery.
The springs were first brought into noticq in 1698, and have
since been much resorted to, being considered beneficial
in nervous debility and other diseases. There are several
curious caverns in the vicinity, from which, and from mines,
stalactites and spars are obtained, which are manufactured
by the inhabitants into various articles, and largely purchased
by visitors. Ihere is here also a museum containing many
mineralogical specimens found in the neighbourhood. The
inhabitants are chiefly employed in lead mines and quarries
in the neighbourhood. Matlock Dale, which has a length
of about 2 miles, is full of the most romantic scenery, and
surrounded by steep and rugged hills. Pop. of the parish
(1851) 4010. 1
MATSYS, or Messis, Quintin, an eminent painter,
styled from his original vocation “ The Blacksmith of Ant¬
werp” was born in that city in 1460. At the age of twenty,
according to the ordinary account, he became passionately
attached to the daughter of a painter; and on being in¬
formed that her father would bestow her hand upon none
but an artist, he resolved to acquire that qualification, and
accordingly abandoned his trade. His first painting, it is
said, was a portrait of his mistress, which raised him at once
to the rank of a successful suitor and an eminent artist.
He died at Antwerp in 1529. The paintings of Matsys,
though rather hard and dry, are finished in their style and
vigorous in their colouring. Some of his heads were thought
by Sir Joshua Reynolds to be equal to those of Raphael.
His masterpiece is the picture of the “ Two Misers,” now
seen at Windsor.
MATTEI, Stanislao, a pupil of the celebrated Padre
Martini, was born at Bologna on 10th February 1750.
His love of music was early awakened by hearing the daily
service in the church of the Cordeliers ; and Padre Martini
having remarked his close attendance, took an interest in
the boy, and induced him to enter his own convent (that of
St Francis) as a novice. There Mattei was taught music
mat 355
by Padre Martini, took the vows, and was ordained. He Matthew,
remained constantly with his master till the death of the v-w1
latter, who left his books and manuscripts in the hands of
his pupil, with the hope that Mattei would complete the
fourth volume of the Storm della Musica. But Mattei
probably felt his incompetency, for he never published any
part of that volume. The writer of this article was intro¬
duced to Mattei in Feb. 1819, and had a good deal of conver¬
sation with the old man, who spoke with great affection of
his master, a portrait of whom he kept in his bedroom.
Speaking of his quondam pupil, Rossini, he said,—{; I never
could get him to study attentively, and therefore he often
writes incorrectly ; but he is full of talent, and his head
works like a Vesuvius.” Some notice of the library of
Padie Martini has been taken in this work, under the ar¬
ticle Burney. Mattei succeeded Padre Martini as chapel-
master of St Francis’ church, and produced a number of
masses, motets, &c., most of which remain in manuscript
at Bologna. He afterwards became chapel-master of St
Petronio,jmd held that office till his death on the 17th
May 1825. Jn 1804 he was appointed professor of musical
composition in the Liceo of Bologna, and taught many
pupils, among whom were Rossini, Morlacchi, Donizetti,
&c. He was president of the Philharmonic Society of
Bologna in 1791-94 ; and in 1808 became a member of the
musical section of the Italian Institute of Arts and Sciences.
On 24th January 1824 he was named one of the associates
of the french Academy of the Fine Arts. His work on
accompaniment and counterpoint is held in no esteem except
for the musical examples, which are all well written, (g. f. g.)
MATTHEW, St, the Evangelist, was, according to
Mark ii. 14, the son of Alphaeus; and if it is correct, as is
generally supposed, that Jacobus, or James, the son of
Alphams, was a son of Mary, the wife of Cleophas, who was
a sister of the mother of Jesus, Matthew was one of the
relatives of the Saviour. Matthew was at all events a man
of humble birth, and held the office of a portitor, or infe¬
rior collector of customs, at Capernaum, on the Sea of
Galilee, where he was either connected with the port of
Capernaum, or collected the customs on the high road to
Damascus, which went through what is now called Khan
Minyeh, or the ancient Capernaum. In Mark ii. 14, and
Luke v. 27, he is called Levi, and hence we conclude that
he had two names. This circumstance is not mentioned in
the list of the apostles (Matt. x. and Luke vi.); but the
omission does not prove the contrary, as we may infer from
the fact that Lebbaeus is also called Judas in Luke vi. 16,
in which verse the name Lebbaeus is omitted. We are
informed in Matt. ix. 9, how Matthew was called to be an
apostle; yet we must suppose that he was previously ac¬
quainted with Jesus, since we read (Luke vi. 13), that when
Jesus, before delivering the Sermon on the Mount, selected
twelve disciples, Matthew was among their number. After
this Matthew returned to his usual occupation ; from which
Jesus, on leaving Capernaum, called him away. After this
event he is mentioned only in Acts i. 13. Clemens Alex-
andrinus {Peedagog. ii. 1) states that Matthew abstained
from animal food, a circumstance which has led some
writers to conclude that he belonged to the sect of the
Lssenes. But while it is true that the Essenes practised
abstinence in a high degree, it is not true that they re¬
jected animal food altogether. And even admitting the
account in Clemens Alexandrinus to be correct, it proves
only a certain ascetic strictness in the disciple, of which
there occur not unfrequent vestiges in the habits of other
Jews. According to another account, which is as old as the
first century, and which occurs in Clemens Alexandrinus
(Strom, vi. 15), Matthew, after the death of Jesus, remained
about fifteen years in Jerusalem. This agrees with the
statement in Eusebius {Hist. Eccles. iii. 24), that Matthew
pleached to his own nation before he went to foreign coun
356
MAT
MAT
Matthew.
tries. Rufinus {Hist. Eccles. x. 9) and Socrates {Hist.
Eccles. i. 19) state that, he afterwards went into Ethiopia;
and other authors mention other countries which he visited.
Heracleon and Clemens Alexandrinus agree in the opinion
that Matthew was one of those apostles who did not
suffer martyrdom.
Matthew, St, The Gospel of, has been more strongly
attacked with respect to its genuineness than any of the
other three, both by external and internal arguments.
The most ancient testimony concerning Matthew’s Gos¬
pel is that of Papias, who, according to Eusebius {Hist.
Eccles. iii. 39), wrote as follows:—“Matthew wrote the
sayings in the Hebrew tongue, but everybody interpreted
them according to his ability.” Doubts of different kinds
have been raised whether this testimony could refer to our
Greek Gospel of St Matthew. These doubts were parti¬
cularly brought forward by Schleiermacher in the Studien
tend Kritiken, 1832, Heft 4; whose opinion was adopted
by Schneckenburger, Lachmann, and many others. Ac¬
cording to these critics, the apostle wrote only a collection
of the remarkable sayings of Jesus; which collection wras
put into an historical form by a Greek translator. Dr
Liicke has showm, however, that the testimony of Papias
may be considered as referring to our Gospel of St
Matthew'. Those who deny the genuineness of this Gos¬
pel allege that in none of the Fathers before Jerome do w'e
find any statement from which w'e could infer that they had
seen the Hebrew Gospel of St Matthew; and that conse¬
quently we may consider as a mere conjecture the opinion
of the Fathers, that our Gospel is a Greek translation of a
Hebrew original. Jerome, in his Catal. de \ iris Illustr.
(cap. iii.), reports that the Hebrew Gospel of St Matthew
was preserved in the library at Caesarea, where he took a
copy of it; and in his commentary on Matt. xii. 13, he says,
that he translated this Hebrew Gospel into Greek. Ac¬
cordingly, Jerome’s statement respecting the Evangelium
secundum Hebrceos may be taken as a confirmation of the
account of Papias, that Matthew w'rote his Gospel in He¬
brew'. If this be the fact, the question must arise whether
our Greek Matthew is a correct translation of the Hebrew'.
The words of Papias seem to imply that in his days there
was no Greek translation in existence; a circumstance
which has induced many critics to question his account, and
to suppose that the original text was Greek. Such is the
opinion of Erasmus, Gicolampadius, Calvin, Beza, Lardner,
Guerike, Flarless, and others. It is by no means improb¬
able, however, that after several inaccurate and imperfect
translations of the Aramaean original came into circulation,
Matthew himself was prompted by this circumstance to
publish a Greek translation, or to have his Gospel translated
under his own supervision. It is very likely that this Greek
translation did not soon come into general circulation, so
that Papias may have remained ignorant of its existence.
On summing up what we have stated, it appears that the
external testimonies clearly prove the genuineness of the
Gospel of St Matthew. The authenticity, indeed, of this
Gospel is as well supported as that of any work of classical
antiquity. Not only was it early in use among Christians,
but the apostolical fathers, at the end of the first century,
ascribed to it a canonical authority. (See Polycarp, Epist.
c. ii. 7; Ignatius, Ad Smyrn. c. vi.; Ad Rom. c. vi.; Cle¬
mens Romanus, Epist. i. c. xlvi.; Barnabas, Epist. c. iv.)
With respect to the internal arguments brought against
the authenticity of this Gospel, it has been alleged that the
representations of Matthew have not that vivid clearness
which characterizes the narration of an eye-witness, and
which we find, for instance, in the Gospel of John, and
even in Mark and Luke; that he omits some facts which
every apostle certainly knew. For instance, he mentions
only the last journey of Christ to the passover at Jerusalem ;
and seems to be acquainted only with Galilee as the sphere
of Christ’s activity. It is further objected, that he relates Matthew,
unchronologically, and transposes events to times in which >
they did not happen ; for instance, the event mentioned in
Luke iv. 14-30 must have happened at the commencement
of Christ’s public career, but Matthew relates it as late as
ch. xiii. 53, sq.; that he embodies in one discourse several
sayings of Christ which, according to Luke, were pro¬
nounced at different times. Fie falls, it is asserted, into
positive errors; for he seems not to know that the real
dwelling-place of the parents of Jesus was at Nazareth,
and that their abode at Bethlehem was only temporary ; and
disagrees with Mark in his account of the withered fig-tree,
and in the time assigned for the purification of the temple.
These circumstances have led Strauss and others to con¬
sider the Gospel of St Matthew as an unapostolical composi¬
tion, originating, perhaps, at the conclusion of the first
century; while some consider it a reproduction of the
Aramaean Matthew, augmented by some additions; and
others call it an historical commentary of a later period, made
to illustrate the collection of the sayings of Christ which
Matthew had furnished. (Comp. Sieffert, Ueber die Aechtheit
und den Ursprung des ersten Evangelii, 1832; Schnecken¬
burger, Ueber den Urspung des ersten Evangelii, 1834;
Schott, Ueber die Authenticitat des Ev. Matth. 1837.)
To these objections it may be replied, that the gift of
narrating luminously is a personal qualification of which
even an apostle might be destitute, and which is rarely found
among the lower orders of people; that an argumentum
d silentio must not be urged against the evangelists. The
raising of Lazarus is narrated only by John ; and the rais¬
ing of the youth at Nain only by Luke ; the appearance to
five hundred brethren after the resurrection, which, accord¬
ing to the testimony of Paul (1 Cor. xv. 6), was a fact
generally known, is not recorded by any of the evangelists.
In the next place, there is no reason to suppose that the
evangelists intended to write a chronological biography.
On the contrary, we learn from Luke i. 4 and John xx.
31, that their object was of a more practical and apologe-
tical tendency ; and it is now generally admitted that,
with the exception of John, the evangelists have grouped
their communications more according to the subjects than
according to chronological succession (com. Kern’s Abhand-
lung iiber den Ursprung des Evangelii Matthcei, p. 51, sq.;
Koster, Ueber die Composition des Ev. Matth. in Pelt’s
Mitarbeiten, Pleft i.; Kuhn, Leben Jesu, t. i., Beilage.)
Again, if the evangelist arranges his statements accord¬
ing to subjects, and not chronologically, we must not be
surprised that he connects similar sayings of Christ, in¬
serting them in the longer discourses alter analogous topics
had been mentioned ; for these discourses are not compiled
by the evangelist, but always form the fundamental frame¬
work to which sometimes analogous subjects are attached.
It depends, moreover, entirely upon the mode of interpre¬
tation, whether such positive errors as are alleged to exist
are really chargeable on the evangelist. The difference, for
instance, between the narrative of the birth of Christ, as
severally recorded by Matthew and Luke, may easily be
solved without questioning the correctness of either, if we
suppose that each of them narrates what he knows from
his individual sources of information. If these arguments
should still appear unsatisfactory, they may be supported
by adding the positive internal proofs which exist in favour
of the apostolical origin of this Gospel. 1. I he nature of
the book agrees entirely with the statements of the Fathers
of the church, from whom we learn that it w'as written for
Jewish readers. None of the other evangelists quotes the
Old Testament so often as Matthew, who, moreover, does
not explain the Jewish rites and expressions, which are
explained by Mark and John. 2. If there is a want of
precision in the narration of facts, there is, on the other
hand, a peculiar accuracy and richness in the reports given
MAT
Matthew, of the discourses of Jesus; so that we may easily conceive
—why l apias, a parte potiori, styled the Gospel of Matthew
Aoyia rov Kvpcov, the sayings of the Lord. Some of the
most beautiful and most important sayings of our Lord,
the historical credibility of which no sceptic can attack,
have been preserved by Matthew alone (Matt. xi. 28-30;
xv!;16'19 5 xxviii. 20; comp, also xi. 2-21; xii. 3-6, 25-29 ;
at 25, ^Xvi* anc* above the Sermon on
the Mount, of which negative criticism grants that Luke’s
account is defective as compared with Matthew’s, and that
Imke gives as isolated sentences what in Matthew appears
m beautiful connection. In short, the Sermon on the
Mount, according to Matthew, forms the most beautiful
and the best arranged whole of all the evangelical discourses.
It may a so be proved that in many particulars the reports
or several discourses in Matthew are more exact than in the
ot er evangelists ; as may be seen by comparing Matt, xxiii
with the various parallel passages in Luke. Under these
circumstances, it is surprising that the genuineness of this
Gospel has not yet met with more distinguished advocates.
f’tr11!0? 1,nPor^nt work in defence of the genuineness
of Matthew ,s that of Kern, Ueber den Ursprung des
Evangehi Matthau, Tubingen, 1834. Next in value are
Ulshausen s Drei Programme, 1835; and the two Lu-
cubrationes of Harless, 1840 and 1843. Even De Wette
in the fourth edition of his Introduction, p. 170, has
ascribed only a qualified value to the doubts on this head.
With regard to the date of this Gospel, Clemens Alex-
andnnus and Origen state that it was written before the
others. Irenseus (Adv. Har. iii. 1) agrees with them, but
places its origin at the time when Peter and Paul were
at Home. Even De Wette grants {Einleitung, sect. 97)
that it was written before the destruction of Jerusalem.
Among all the German commentaries on the first three
Gospels, the best is that of Olshausen, English translation,
Edinburgh, 1847. (On the whole subject of this article
see An Introduction to the New Testament, by Dr S
Davidson, vol. i., London, 1848.)
MATTHEW of Westminster, a Benedictine monk of
the abbey of W estminster, author of a Latin chronicle of
great value, probably flourished during the early part of
the fourteenth century, though some place him near the
end ot it His work, which is said to have been formed
very much upon the plan of that of Matthew Paris of the
previous century, begins with the creation of the world
and continues to the death of Edward I. of England’
In ns preface he aspires to write the history of the whole
world ; but after the Heptarchy he is content to limit him-
sefl almost exclusively to Britain. After abridging the
early part of his work, he gives us a brief
sketch of the history of Rome, with occasional reference to
Greece ; records the fabulous traditions of our own earlv
times; tells the sad story of “old King Leyr;” relates
the prophecy of Merlin ; and so conducts the reader to
the times of authentic history. Down to a.d. 1238 Mat¬
thew was much indebted to Roger ofWendover, whose
chronicle stops at that date; but for the succeeding seventy-
two years of his work he seems to have drawn entirely
upon his own resources. After the Conquest his record
of English affairs is exceedingly minute, and displays much
industry and care; and in his relation of the wars of his
own time, he displays a strong spirit of nationality, and
striking powers of description. His narrative is ordinarily
characterized by singular simplicity and directness, written
with a careful eye to order and chronology, but filled with
copious accounts of Romish miracles and other marvellous
legends which, if not true, are at least sometimes amus¬
ing. YY ith Hume and other modern historians he stands
high as an authority on matters of fact. His chronicle
is entitled tlores Historiarum per Matthceum Westmonas-
enensem collecti, pracipue de rebus Britannicis, ab exordia
MAT
Mundi usque ad annum Domini 1307; folio, London, 1570.
It was translated into English, by C. D. Yonge, for Bohn’s"
Antiquarian Library, in 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1853.
MATTHEW, St, an uninhabited island, situated off the
western coast of Lower Siam, belonging to the Burmans
Long. 97. 30. E., Lat. 9. 35. N.
MATTHISSON, Frederic von, a celebrated German
lyric poet, was born at Hohendodeleben, near Magdeburg
in January 1761. As his father had died shortfy before
his birth, he was brought up by his grandfather, the Pro¬
testant minister of his native village. He attended the
school of Klosterbergen, and studied theology at the uni-
versity of Halle; but a decided bias for literature and
philology induced him to abandon his intention of entering
the church, and to become a private tutor. After residing
m this capacity at Altona, Heidelberg, and Mannheim, h?
sojourned for two years on the Lake of Geneva, beside his
friend the philosopher Bonstetten. He was then intrusted
with the education of a merchant’s son at Lyons. In 1792
Matthisson returned to his native country; and in 1794 he
was appointed reader to the reigning princess of Anhalt-
Dessau. In this capacity he spent the next fourteen years in
visiting Italy, the Tyrol, and part of Switzerland. On the
death of the princess in 1812 he entered the service of the
King of Wiirtemberg, and was soon loaded with titles and
honours. Following in the train of Duke William of
YY urtemberg, Matthisson again visited Italy in 1819, and
lived for several months at Florence. He died at Worlitz
near Dessau, in March 1831. ’
Among his countrymen Matthisson is a great favourite.
His lyrics abound in tender sentiments and sweet rural
pictures expressed in felicitous and harmonious verse. One
of his pieces (“ Adelaide”) has been rendered doubly charm-
ing by the music of Beethoven. As a prose writer Matthisson
is known by his Erinnerungen. He also published selec-
tions from the lyrical poetry of Germany, entitled Lyrische
Anthologie, in 20 vols., Zurich, 1803-7. An edition of his
works appeared in 6 vols., Zurich, 1825-29.
MATTO GROSSO, or Mato Grosso, a province
of Brazil, lying between Lat. 7. and 24. S., Long. 50. and
b j anc* bounded on the N. bv the provinces of Para
and Alto Amazonas, on the E. by that of Goiaz, on the S.
by that of Parana, and on the W. by Bolivia; area estimated
at 426,500 square miles. Of this extensive country little
is known with accuracy, for it has been but little visited
by Europeans, being covered to a great extent with dense
forests, from which the province derives its name. It is
traversed by several ridges of mountains, but these are of
no great elevation. Great part of the surface is occupied bv
undulating table-lands. The principal mountain ridge runs
from E. to W., and afterwards N.W., separating the waters
that flow into the La Plata from those which go to swell
the giant stream of the Amazon. This chain is known by
different names in different places; being called the Serra
dos Vertentes on the E., and the Parexis or Paricis on the
YV. and N.W.; while the whole bears the name of Cordillera
Gera!. Besides this, there are numerous branches from
the central ridge m both directions, many of which have
no distinctive names. The table-land on the N., which
is called Campos dos Paricis, is barren, and uninhabited by
Europeans; while that of the Parana to the S. possessed
th?eMa?^reS‘ iThe pTcipaI r,vers of the province are,—
he Madeira and its tributary the Guapore, the Juruenna,
the Chingua, and the Araguaia, flowing to the N and
riEt r.:*™ a,nd,the Tocantins; Ind, flowing
h, the Pataguay and tile Cuiba. In many parts of the
province gold and diamonds have been fotmd; a cireumE
induced the formation of settlements and
lit'de 8 cared fri* ? R “T C0“Parali,cIy “-productive, and
minpralc c " ®es,^es tbls> various other gems and
nerals are found in different parts. Rock-salt and salt-
357
Matthew,
St
0
Matto
Grosso.
358
MAT
M A U
Maturin. petre are found, but they are not worked to any great
^extent; and although rich iron exists in great abundance, yet
this metal has noUattracted so much attention as the gold
and precious stones, and is allowed to lie neglected. In
many of the valleys the soil is very rich and fertile, pro¬
ducing rice, millet, cotton, sugar, tobacco, &c.; but com¬
paratively little of the district is cultivated, owing to the
thinness of the population. The natural productions of
the country consist of timber of many different kinds, some
of which are used for ornamental purposes; and gums,
balsams, cacao, jalap, &c. Among the fauna of this country
the principal are pumas, jaguars, deer, hares, &c. The
climate is hot and tropical; and the rainy season extends
from April to September, during which time the rivers
overflow their banks, and fertilize the low-lying country
in the neighbourhood. The inhabitants are chiefly native
Indians; and they are occupied for the most part in hunt¬
ing and pastoral employments. The commerce of the
province is very small, and cannot be expected to make
much progress as long as there are not better means of
communication than at present exist. Mato Grosso is
divided into two comarcas,—Cuiaba and Mato Grosso. It
sends two members to the legislature of Brazil, -one to the
Senate, and one to the Chamber of Deputies; and is governed
by a provincial assembly of twenty members. The capital
is Cuiaba, which, though a mere village, is the residence of
an archbishop. The town of Mato Grosso, which was
formerly called Villa Bella, is situated in the midst of
wide plains on the Guapore, and consists of low, wooden,
tiled houses, which are arranged with considerable regu¬
larity. It contains churches and other public buildings,
and has a population of 15,000. In the vicinity there are
several mines. Pop. of the province, 180,000.
MATURIN, Charles Robert, a poet and romance
writer, was born at Dublin in 1782, of a family of French
extraction. After completing his education at Trinity Col¬
lege in his native city, Maturin took orders, and became a
clergyman of the Established Church of Ireland, with the
curacy of St Peter’s for his preferment. His leisure hours
were divided between the irksome duties of a classical
tutor, by which he managed to augment his scanty income,
and the much more congenial occupation of romance com¬
position. He came before the public for the first time in
1807 as the author of a novel entitled Fatal Revenge, or
the Family of Montorio, written in a terrific and gloomy
style, after the manner of Monk Lewis, displaying some
genius and much bombast, and strongly dashed with the
mysterious colouring of the Castle of Udolpho. Having
enjoyed considerable popularity by his efforts as a novelist,
Maturin next directed his efforts to dramatic composition,
and produced in 1816 a wild and powerful tragedy named
Bertram, which, through the influence of Lord Byron and
Sir Walter Scott, was performed at Drury Lane, where it
met with surprising success. The Scottish novelist spoke
of it as “ one of those things which will either succeed
greatly or be damned gloriously, for its merits are marked,
deep, and striking, and its faults of a nature obnoxious to
ridicule.” Elated by his success, and rendered extravagant
in his expectations by the L.1000 whch he realized through
his tragedy, Maturin forgot to be provident, and plunged
himself into inextricable embarrassments, from which the
generous liberality of Scott and others could not rescue
him. He prosecuted his literary projects, however, but
found that to be haunted by bailiffs was not favourable for
the development of his genius. His tragedy of Manuel
accordingly, which appeared during the ensuing year, proved
a very inferior production : “ The absurd work,” as Byron
said, “of a clever man.” Maturin continued his efforts in
romantic fiction; and in addition to The Milesian Chief
and The Wild Irish Boy, previously published under the
assumed name of “Dennis Jasper Murphy,” he wrote
Maty
Women, or Pour et Contre, and Melmoth the Wanderer,
the wildest of his romances. The hero, a sort of absurd Dr ||
Faustus, lives a century and a half, and by the help of the MauchllDe-
devil performs all manner of incredible adventures. The “V—
school of Ann Radcliffe reaches the culmination of loath¬
some horror and sickening extravagance in the person of
this demoniac hero of Maturin’s. “ Eva, in Women, is the
most simple and truthful of this authors delineations. Ihe
Albigenses, his last work, published in 1824 in 4 vols.,
proved tedious and uninteresting, possessing many of the
defects of his previous works, and few of their excellences.
His characters want variety, his humour is clumsy, and he
has no genius for plot; yet his works display scenes of
deep passion and touching pathos, coloured with the xich
lights of a poetical imagination. In addition to the works
already mentioned, Maturin published a tragedy called
Fredolpho; a poem on The Universe; and a volume of ser¬
mons, London, 1819, characterized by much of the elo¬
quence he is said to have possessed as a preacher. He died
on the 30th October 1824.
MATY, Matthew, M.D., was born at Montfort, near
Utrecht in Holland, in the year 1718. He was the son of
a clergyman, and was originally intended for the church;
but having turned his attention to physic, he took his de¬
gree of Doctor at Leyden, and in 1749 came to settle in
England, where he secured the patronage of Lord Chester¬
field. Maty began in 1749 to issue in French an account
of the productions of the English press, printed at the
Hague, under the name of the Journal Britannigue, a
publication which continues to hold its rank amongst the
best of the kind which have appeared since the time of
Bayle. In 1758 he was chosen fellow of the Royal So¬
ciety; and in 1765 he was appointed secretary to that emi¬
nent institution. He was also chosen principal libraiian
of the British Museum on the death of Dr Knight Jn
1772. He died after a lingering illness, August 2, 1776.
He was an early and an active advocate for inoculation;
and when there was a doubt entertained that obb might
have the small-pox even after inoculation, he tried it upon
himself unknown to his family. Dr Maty’s principal works
were ;—Memoire sur la Vie et sur les Ecrits de M. Ab. de
Moivre, 12mo. Hague ; Authentic Memoirs of the Life of
Richard Mead, M.D., 8vo, London, 1755. His unfinished
Memoirs of the Earl of Chesterfield were completed by his
son-in-law, Mr Justamond, and prefixed to that nobleman’s
Miscellaneous Works, in 2 vols. 4to, 17/7.
MAUBEUGE, a town of France, department of Nord,
is situated on the Sambre, not far from the fiontiers of Bel¬
gium. The town is well fortified, the defences being by
tlig famous Vauban; and it has a manufactoiy of arms,
founded by Louis XIY. in 1704. Maubeuge also has ma¬
nufactures of ironmongery, cutlery, soap, &c.; and a con¬
siderable trade in coal, marble, and slates. The town traces
its origin back to the seventh century, when an abbey was
founded here by St Aldegonde. Situated near the frontier,
this town has been an object of great contention, and has
been taken no less than ten times since the fifteenth cen¬
tury, and finally by the Allies in 1815. Pop. 7328.
MAUCH CHUNK, a town in the state of Pennsyl¬
vania, North America, capital of Carbon county, is situ¬
ated on a creek of the same name on the Lehigh River,
100 miles N.E. of Plarrisburg. The surrounding country,
though barren, is rich in coal and iron, which supplies
Mauch Chunk with the most of its trade. Ihe pnncipal
coal mines are about 9 miles W. of the town, and are
reached by a railway. The original town is built in a nar¬
row ravine near the river; but a new town is now rising
on the top of the hill to the E. It contains a court-house,
and other public buildings. Pop. (1850) 3500.
MAUCHLINE, a small town of Scotland, county ot
Ayr, is situated on an eminence not far from the River
M A U
Maule
Ayr, 7 miles S.E. of Kilmarnock, and 12 E.N.E. of Ayr.
Maun day ^ ^ f Established’ a Fr^,
Thursday. d,.a ,Enited Pl'esbyterian church, several schools, a
v Pl!bb? hbrary’ a savings-bank, and other institutions. The
inhabitants are employed in weaving, shoemaking, and the
manufacture of wooden snuff-boxes, for which Mauchline
is famous. The river is crossed in the neighbourhood by
seyeial bridges, one of which, at Barskimming, is a struc¬
ture of great elegance, consisting of a single arch 100 feet
vyide and 90 feet high. In the vicinity stands Mauchline
Castle, an ancient edifice formerly in the possession of the
.Loudon famdy, who bear the title of Viscount Mauchline;
and on Mauchhne green there is a stone which comme¬
morates the death of five Covenanters in 1685. But
Mauchhne derives its chief celebrity from being associated
with the name of the poet Burns, who spent nine years of
(18516) *1449 ^ °f M0SSS‘el in the neighbourhood. Pop.
MAULE, a river of Chile, rises in the Andes near the
peak of Descabezado, and flows for 150 miles W. to the
Pacific. It is navigable for a considerable part of its course;
but it is obstructed by a bar at the mouth, where the surge
is generally very violent. The principal tributary of the
Maule is the Guanutil.
rbe Province of the same name is bounded by this river
on the N., and extends southward to the Itata, occupying
a tract of ground of an undulating and hilly nature. It is
productive of grain, wine, and tobacco, and affords excellent
pasturage for cattle, in the rearing of which the inhabitants
aie chiefly employed. There is some trade in the expor¬
tation of wines and tobacco. The principal towns are
Lauquenes the capital; Constitucion, at the mouth of the
Maule; and others. Pop. 118,309.
MAUMEE, a river of the United States of North
America ,s formed by the confluence of the St Joseph’s
and St Mary s Rivers at Fort Wayne, in the state of In-
d.ana. Jt flows in a N.E. direction through that state and
Ohio, till it falls into Maumee Bay, at the W. extremity
of Lake Erie, after a course of 100 miles. It is navigable
tirougi all its extent for boats, and for steamers as far as
Defiance, 60 miles up. The Wabash and Erie Canal ex-
tendsa]°"n the banks through the whole course of the river.
MAUNDAY THURSDAY (called also SAere Thurs¬
day) is the Thursday immediately preceding Easter, on
winch a certain number of poor persons receive alms from
the king or queen. Some conceive the name Maunday to
be derived from mandatum, command; but others with
stronger probability suppose it to be derived from the
maun s, or laige baskets from which it was customary to
distribute the alms to the poor. It received the name
* Shere Ihursday, says an old homily, “ for that in old
Fathers days the people would that day shere theyr hedes
and clypp theyr berdes, and so make them honest agenst
Easterday. The ceremonial of the Maunday, as practised
by Queen Elizabeth in 1572, was as followsAfter thirty-
nine poor people (the number equal to the years of her
majesty’s age) had been placed on forms by a long table in
a hall prepared for the occasion; and after the preliminary
arrangements had been gone through, “ her majesty came
into the hall, and after some singing and prayers made, and
the gospel of Christ’s washing of his disciples’ feet read,”
her majesty “ kneeling down upon the cushions and carpets
under the feete of the poore women, first washed one foote
of every one of them in soe many several basons of warm
water and swete flowers, then wiped, crossed, and kissed
them, as ther almoner and others had done before.” Then
aftei receiving food, clothing, and money from the queen,
they retired. The last king who performed this ceremony in
person was James II. We learn from the Times newspaper
of Api a 16, 1838, that after the distribution of the queen’s
royal alms, which consisted of money and clothing, to the
M A U
359
Maunday men and women, by Mr Hanby, at the Almonry Mauper
Dthce, they also received L.l, 10s., a commutation instead tuis*
of the provisions heretofore distributed? Nor was this cus-
tom confined to the sovereign; for we find that Cardinal
Wolsey in 1530 “ made his Maundyand in the Earl of
Northumberland’s household book of 1512, we have an enu-
mAration °f “al manner of things yerly yeven by my lorde
of Ins Maundy.” The same ceremony is kept up in German
Catholic countries by the court, under the name of Fuss-
waschung, or “ the washing of the feet;” and Dr E D
Clarke {Travels in Russia, 1810, i. 55) witnessed “the
Archbishop of Moscow washing the feet of the apostles”
on the Thursday immediately preceding Easter. (Brand’s
Popular Antiquities, vol. i., p. 142.)
MAUPER TUIS, Pierre-Louis Moreau de, a cele¬
brated French academician, was born at St Malo in the
year 1698. At the age of sixteen he was placed under the
eminent professor of philosophy M. le Blond, in the col¬
lege of La Marche at Paris, where he displayed a peculiar
aptitude for mathematical studies, and particularly for geo¬
metry. He entered the army at the age of twenty, and
first served in the Gray Musqueteers; but in the year 1720
his father purchased for him a company of cavalry in the
regiment of La Roche-Guyon. He remained only five
years in the army, during which time he pursued his ma¬
thematical studies with great vigour and success. In the
year 1723 he was received into the Royal Academy of
Sciences, and read his first performance, which was a me-
/? r'ri U^rn t^le construcd°n and form of musical instruments
(15th November 1724). During the first years of his
admission he did not wholly confine his attention to mathe¬
matics; he likewise turned his attention to natural phi¬
losophy, and made ingenious observations and experiments
upon animals. Maupertuis made a pilgrimage to the country
which gave birth to Sir Isaac Newton ; and during his resi¬
dence in London he became as zealous an admirer and
follower of that philosopher as any one of his own country-
men. On his return, he visited Basle in Switzerland, where
he formed a friendship with John Bernoulli which con-
tmued till his death. Returning to Paris, he applied him¬
self to his favourite studies with greater zeal than ever, of
which abundant evidence is to be found in the Memoirs of
the Academy from the year 1724 to 1736. The most
sublime questions in geometry and the relative sciences
were handled with that peculiar elegance, clearness, and
pi ecision, so remarkable in all his writings. In the year
1736 he was sent by the King of France to the polar circle
to measure a degree of the meridian, in order to ascertain the
figure of the earth, accompanied by MM. Clairaut, Camus,
Le Monnier, the Abbe Outhier, and Celsius the celebrated
professor of astronomy at Upsal. This distinction rendered
him so famous that at his return he was admitted a member
of almost every academy in Europe. In the year 1740
Maupertuis received an invitation from the King of Prussia
u g° t0r n erlirV ^'hich was t0° flattenng to be refused.
Having followed his Prussian majesty into the field to wit¬
ness the battle of Mollwitz, his horse, during the heat of
the action, ran away with him, and falling into the hands of
the enemy, he was carried prisoner to, Vienna, where he
received distinguished honours from their imperial maies-
lea. On his return to Paris, Maupertuis was in 1742
chosen director of the Academy of Sciences. In 1753 he
int° t le F,ench Acaflemy, which was the first
her nf hnH P™ b^inS at the same time a mem-
rwf r Vhe a(iaclem,ef at Paris. He again assumed the
cter of a soldier at the siege of Fribourg, and was em-
P X ’F°n f lUn'ende" °f that citadeI> t0 can'y the news
kinig,i HaVlng ’n 1744 raarried Mademoi¬
selle de Borck, a lady nearly related to M. de Borck, then
minister of state at the court of Berlin, Maupertuis took
up his residence at that city. In the year 1746 he was
360 M A U
Maure- chosen president of the Royal Academy of Sciences at
tania. Berlin; and soon afterwards was honoured with the Order of
v—*' Merit. However, all these accumulated honours and ad¬
vantages only furnished new allurements to labour and
application. Nor did he confine himself solely to mathe¬
matical studies ; metaphysics, chemistry, botany, polite lite¬
rature, all shared his attention, and contributed to his fame.
At the same time his temper was none of the best, and he
had the misfortune to be engaged in several quarrels. He
had a dispute with Koenig, the professor of philosophy at
Franeker, and another of a more serious kind with Voltaire.
The former unjustly charged Maupertuis with plagiarizing
from Leibnitz; and the latter, with his accustomed wit and
satire, espoused the cause of the German professor. The
dispute became so serious that Maupertuis found it expe¬
dient in 1753 to quit the court of Prussia. Maupertuis’s
constitution had long been considerably impaired by the
fatigues of various kinds in which his active mind had in¬
volved him; indeed, to the amazing hardships he had
undergone in his northern expedition most of his future
bodily sufferings may be traced. Yet his mind seemed still
to possess the greatest vigour; for the best of his writings
were produced, and his most sublime ideas developed,
during the time of his confinement by sickness, when he
was unable to occupy his chair as president at the academy.
He took several journeys to St Malo in quest of health;
and after visiting Toulouse and Neufchatel, he at length
arrived at Basle on the 16th of October 1758, where he
was received by his friend John Bernoulli and his family
with the utmost tenderness and affection. He at first found
himself much better there than he had been at Neufchatel;
but this amendment was of short duration; for, after lan¬
guishing here many months, he died in 1759.
The works of Maupertuis were collected into 4 volumes 8vo,
and published in 1756 at Lyons, where a new and elegant edition
was also printed in 1768. These consist of—JSssai de Cosmologie,
first published at Berlin in 1748 ; Discours sur la Figure des Astres,
first published in 1732; Essai de Philosophie Morale, in which he
maintains that the sum of evil surpasses that of good ; Reflexions
Philosophiques sur V Origins des Langues et la Signification des Mots ;
Venus Physique, or an Exposition of the System of Generation ; Sys¬
tems de la Nature, first published in 1751, and which may be con¬
sidered as the sequel of the preceding work; Lettres, on various
subjects; Elements de Geographic, published at Paris in 1742, and
containing an exposition of the means for determining the figure of
the earth; Relation d’un Voyage fait par ordre du Roi au Gercle
Polaire, printed at Paris as early as 1738; Relation d'un Voyage
au fond de la Laponie ; Lettre on the Comet of 1742; Discours Aca-
demiques, pronounced in the French and Prussian Academies;
Memoire sur la moindre quantile d’Action; Astronomic Nautique, a
work much praised when it first appeared, but now little read;
Parallaxe de la Dune; Mesure du Degre du Nord. Besides these
treatises, Maupertuis was the author of a great number of papers,
printed partly in the Memoirs of the French Academy of Sciences,
and partly in those of the Academy of Berlin.
MAURETANIA, an ancient kingdom of Africa,bounded
, on the W. by the Atlantic Ocean, on the S. by Getulia or
Libya Interior, and on the N. by the Mediterranean, and
comprehending the greater part of the kingdoms of Fez
and Morocco. Its ancient limits are not exactly mentioned
by any historian; nor can they now be ascertained by
; , modern observations, these kingdoms being but little known
to Europeans.
I his country was originally inhabited by a people called
Mauri, concerning the etymology of whose name authors
are not agreed. It is probable, howrever, that the country,
or at least great part of it, was first called Phut, since it
appears from Pliny, Ptolemy, and St Jerome, that a river
and territory not far from Mount Atlas went by that name.
It likewise appears, from the Jerusalem Targum, that part
of the Mauri may be deemed the offspring of Lud, the son
of Misraim, since his descendants, mentioned in Genesis,
are there called Mauri, or Mauritani. It is certain that
M A U
this region, as well as the others to the eastward of it, had Maurc-
many colonies planted by the Phoenicians. Procopius tells tania.
us that in his time two pillars of white stone were to be ~
seen containing the following inscription in the Phoenician
language and character:—“We are the Canaanites who
fled from Joshua the son of Nun, that notorious robber.”
Ibnu Rachic, or Ibnu Raquig, an African writer cited by
Leo, and also Evagrius and Nicephorus Callistus, make the
same statement.
The Mauretanians were, according to Ptolemy, divided
into several cantons or tribes. The Metagonitae were
situated near the Straits of Hercules, now those of Gib¬
raltar ; the Saccosii, or Cocosii, occupied the coast of the
Iberian Sea ; and under these two petty nations the Masices,
Verues, and Verbicae or Vervicae, were settled. The Salisae
or Salinsae were situated lower, towards the ocean; and
still more to the south were the Volubiliani. The Mau-
rensii and Herpiditani possessed the eastern part of this
country, which was terminated by the Mulucha. The
Angaucani or Jangacaucani, Nectiberes, Zagrensii, Ba-
niubae, and Vacuntae, extended from the southern base of
Ptolemy’s Atlas Minor to his Atlas Major. Pliny mentions
the Baniurae, whom Father Hardouin takes to be Ptolemy’s
Baniubae; and Mela speaks of the Atlantes, whom he re¬
presents as possessing the western part of this district.
The earliest Prince of Mauretania mentioned in history
is Neptune; and next to him were Atlas and Antaeus his
two sons, both famous in the Grecian fables on account of
their wars with Hercules. Antaeus, in his contention with
that hero, seems to have behaved with great bravery and
resolution. Having received reinforcements of Libyan
troops, he cut off numbers of Hercules’s men. But that
celebrated commander, having at last intercepted a strong
body of Libyans sent to the relief of Antaeus, inflicted on
him a total overthrow, in which both he and the greater
part of his forces were put to the sword. This decisive
action put Hercules in possession of Libya and Mauretania,
and consequently of the riches of these kingdoms. Hence
arose the fable that Hercules, finding that Antaeus, a giant
of enormous size with whom he was engaged in single
combat, received fresh strength as often as he touched his
mother earth when thrown upon her, at last lifted him up
in the air and squeezed him to death. Hence likewise
may be deduced the fable which intimates that Hercules
took the globe from Atlas upon his own shoulders, over¬
came the dragon which guarded the orchards of the Hes-
perides, and made himself master of all the golden apples
it produced, which were probably the treasures which fell
into Hercules’s hands upon the defeat of Antaeus; the
Greeks giving to the oriental word riches, the signifi¬
cation affixed to their own term pLiqXa, apples.
With regard to the age in which Atlas and Antaeus
lived, the supposition of Sir Isaac Newton seems to be
the most probable. According to that illustrious author,
Ammon, the father of Sesak, was the first King of Libya,
or of that vast tract extending 1'rom the borders of Egypt
to the Atlantic Ocean, the conquest of which country was
effected by Sesak in his father’s lifetime. Neptune after¬
wards excited the Libyans to a rebellion against Sesak, and
slew him, and then invaded Egypt under the command of
Atlas or Antaeus, the son of Neptune, Sesak s brother and
admiral. Not long after, Hercules, the general of Thebais
and Ethiopia, reduced a second time the whole territory of
Libya, having overthrown and slain Antaeus near a town in
Thebais, from that event called Antcea or Antezopolis. This
happened about a thousand years before the birth of Christ.
From the defeat of Antaeus nothing remarkable occurs
in the history of Mauretania till the times of the Romans,
who at last brought the whole kingdom under their juris¬
diction. With regard to the customs and manners of this
people, it would seem, from what Hyginus insinuates, that
M A U
Maurice, they fought only with clubs, until one Belus, the son of
Neptune (as that author calls him), taught them the use of
the sword. Sir Isaac Newton is of opinion that this Belus
was the same with Sesostris, King of Egypt, who overran a
great part of the then known world. All persons of dis¬
tinction in Mauretania went richly attired, wearing gold and
silver on their clothes, and bestowed great care on the
ornamenting of their persons. The Mauretanian infantry
in time of action used shields made of elephants’ skins,
being clad in those of lions, leopards, and bears, which they
kept on both night and day. The cavalry of this nation
were armed with broad, short lances, and carried targets or
bucklers made of the skins of wild beasts. They used no
saddles. Their horses were small and swift, had wooden
collars about their necks, and were so much under the
command of their riders that they followed them like dogs.
I ie habit of these horsemen was not much different from
that of the foot already mentioned; they constantly wore
a large tunic of the skins of wild beasts. The PhutEei of
whom the Mauretanians were a branch, were eminent’fbr
their shields, and the excellent use they made of them, as
we *earii from Homer, Xenophon, Herodotus, and Scrip-
ture. Nay, Herodotus seems to intimate that the shield
and helmet, came from them to the Greeks.
Notwithstanding the fertility of their soil, the poorer
sorts of the Mauretanians never took care to manure the
ground, being strangers to the art of husbandry, but roved
about the country in a wild and savage manner, like the
ancient Scythians or Arabes Scenitce, living in tents or
mapalia, inconveniently small. Their food was corn, herb¬
age, &c., which they frequently ate green without any
manner of preparation, being destitute of wine, oil, and all
the elegancies as well as many necessaries of life. Their
habit was the same both in summer and winter, consisting
c neny of a coarse, thick garment, and over it a rough tunic
which answered probably to that of their neighbours the
Numidians. Most of them lay every night upon the bare
ground not unlike the Kabyles and Arabs of the present
day. If the most approved reading of Horace may be
admitted, the Mauretanians shot poisoned arrows, which
clearly intimates that they had some skill in the art of pre¬
paring poisons, and were excellent bowmen. This last
observation is countenanced by Herodian and .Elian, who
affirm that they were in such continual danger of being-
devoured by wild beasts, that they durst not stir out of
t eir tents without their darts. Such perpetual exercise
must have rendered them exceedingly skilful in hurlino- that
weapon. The Mauretanians sacrificed human victims to
their deities, like the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, and other
nations. The country people were extremely rude and
barbarous; but those inhabiting cities must have had at
least some acquaintance with the literature of the several
nations from whom they derived their origin. That the
Mauretanians had some knowledge of naval affairs seems
probable, not only from the intercourse they had with the
Phoenicians and Carthaginians, as well as the situation of
their country, but likewise from the statement of Orpheus
or Onomacritus, who asserts that they had made a settle¬
ment at the entrance into Colchis, to which place they
came by sea. To magic and sorcery, divination and witch¬
craft, they appear to have applied themselves in very early
times. Cicero and Pliny say that Atlas was the inventor
of astrology and the doctrine of the sphere, which he first
introduced into Mauretania. This, according to Diodorus
Siculus, gave rise to the fable of Atlas bearing the heavens
upon his shoulders. The same author relates that Atlas
instructed Hercules in the doctrine of the sphere and astro-
logy, or rather astronomy, and that the latter afterwards
brought these sciences into Greece.
MAURICE, Thomas, a learned oriental historian, the
son of the head master of Christ’s Hospital school in Hert
VOL. XIV.
M A U
ford, was born at that town about 1753. By his father’s
death he was left at an early age to the care and tuition of
Dr 1 arr, then master of an academy at Stanmore. In his
nineteenth year he repaired to Oxford, and was enrolled at
bt John’s College, but subsequently removed to University
College. There he produced a metrical version of (Edipus
lyrannus, and several original poems; and began to cul¬
tivate, under his tutor, Lord Stowell, that taste for historical
icsearch which afterwards led him into notice. After gra¬
duating as B.A. he was appointed curate of Woodford in
Essex, a charge which he resigned in 1785 for a smaller
pastorate at Epping. His Indian Antiquities began to
™ar ™ 173 and was completed in 7 volumes in
i-i , Hlstory °f Hindustan, his other great work
winch he had commenced to publish in 1795, was finished
in 3 volumes in 1799. Meanwhile, Earl Spencer had
appointed him in 1798 to the vicarage of Wormleighton
in Warwickshire. In 1799 Maurice was installed assistant
librarian to the British Museum ; and in the following year
he received the pension left vacant by the death of Cowper.
• 111S M°dern History of India appeared
in 1802 and 1804 respectively. In this latter year he was
presented by the Lord Chancellor to the vicarage of Cud-
ham in Kent. A second edition of his History of Hin¬
dustan appeared in 1821. He died in March 1824.
Maurice of Nassau, the son of William I., Prince of
Orange, was born in 1567, was elected stadtholder of the
L mted Provinces in 1584, succeeded his brother as Prince
of Orange in 1618, and died in 1625. (See Holland 1
MAURICI US, Flavius Tiberius, Emperor of Constan¬
tinople, descended from an old Roman family, was born at
Arabissus in Cappadocia about a.d. 539. His youth was
spent in the camp ; but as the sword was the only weapon
of influence he could wield, he remained for a long time in
obscurity. 1 he sagacious Tiberius, however, on his acces¬
sion to the throne in 578, discovered the eminent talents of
the poor soldier of fortune, and appointed him to supersede
Justinian in the conduct of the war against the Persians.
Maurice repaired to the quarters of the army in Mesopo¬
tamia, and began his generalship by attempting to restore
the severity of the old Roman discipline; then facing the
enemy in the open field, he drove them out of Mesopo¬
tamia, and ended the first campaign by penetrating be¬
yond the Tigris. After making a bold inroad into Media,
ie completely humbled the Persian power in two decisive
battles, and in 582 entered Constantinople in triumph. In
the surne year Tiberius died, after bequeathing his crown
to Maurice,^ and bestowing upon him the hand of his eldest
daughter Constantina. Mature in age, and well-tried by
experience, the new emperor began his reign amid the
geneial rejoicing of his subjects. No sooner had he sat
down on the throne, than the Persians, under their king
Hormisdas, the son of Chosroes, revolted, and defeated
John Mystacon, the general of the imperial forces. Other
reverses in the following year induced Maurice in 584 to
send out Ins brother-in-law Philippicus to supersede Mvs-
tacon. But this general, though at first successful in check¬
ing the inroads of the enemy, was at last defeated, and ob-
iged to retreat in confusion. He was stripped of his com¬
mand in 588 by the order of Maurice; but i dangerous re¬
volt amor^g the soldiers caused him to be restored to his
iC„%8°9 y H-SUfftT an0the;. de,feat ■‘"d ™*e?de!
gradation in o89. His successor, Comentiolus, would have
fallen into the same mishaps had not Heraclius virtually
assumed the command, and retrieved the Roman fortune!
by the brilliant victory of Sisarbene. The rebellion aSns
King Hormisdas m 590 withdrew the hostility ofdmPer
sians and restored tranquillity to the Asiatic provinces.
pened inT- I h ^ Cf°nfirmed by an event which hap¬
pened in the subsequent year. Chosroes, the son of Hor¬
misdas, driven into exile by Baram, the leader of the rebel
2 z
361
Maurice
of Nassau
II
M aurcius.
■
362 M A U
Mauricius. Persians, sought refuge in the Roman territory, and sent a
letter to the emperor imploring assistance for the recovery
of his ancestral throne. Moved by the deepest generosity,
Maurice presented the royal fugitive with a diadem and a
large sum of money, and sent him back, under the protec¬
tion of a large army, to demand his father’s sceptre. His
entrance into Persia revived the loyalty of his subjects ; and
the insurgent Baram, deserted by nearly one-half of his
troops, was completely routed at Balarath. rl hus restored
to his father’s throne, Chosroes was ever afterwards a faith¬
ful friend of Maurice.
Scarcely had war been quelled in one part of the empire
when it began to break out in another. The prowling
hordes of the Avars, under their chagan or khan, had for
some time menaced the European provinces, and had now
become a scourge that could no longer be tolerated. Ac¬
cordingly, Maurice threw olf the sloth that had for two
centuries been considered a necessary part of imperial state.
He placed himself at the head of the entire force of the
empire, set out on the march toward the hostile territory,
and would have faced all the hardship and peril of the field,
had not the remonstrances of his subjects, and some un¬
favourable omens, induced him to return to Constantinople.
The command then devolved upon Priscus, and afterwards
upon the emperor’s brother Peter; but the latter pioved
weak and cowardly, and the former was restored in 598.
Not so successful as was expected, Priscus was superseded
in 600 by Comentiolus. This weak-minded and cowardly
impostor was worsted by the enemy on every side. In one
battle 12,000 Romans were captured, and greater misfor¬
tunes were impending, when the brave Priscus, resuming
the command, defeated the Avars in five successive battles,
and drove them before him as far as the Danube. Mean¬
while Maurice, for some reason unknown, had refused to
ransom the prisoners taken by the khan of Avars at the de¬
feat of Comentiolus, and had left them to be butchered in
cold blood. At this inhumanity a spirit of revenge had
been excited among the pampered and sell-willed soldiers
of the imperial army, and only waited for an opportunity to
vent itself in open revolt. This opportunity was now given
by the infatuated emperor himself. In 602 he ordered his
army to cross the Danube, and to winter in the Aval ian
territory. Crying out that they were now doomed to be
butchered like their comrades, the soldiers threw off their
allegiance, massacred the faithful adherents of the emperor,
and placing Phocas, a centurion, at their head, hastened by
forced marches towards Constantinople. The report that
the army was approaching raised an insuirection in the
capital; and Maurice, during a night of general rapine and
consternation, escaped by sea with his wife and children,
and took refuge in the church of St Autonomus, near Chal-
cedon. There the emissaries of Phocas soon afterwards
found him bending under despair and bodily disease. 1 hey
dragged him from his sanctuary, and murdered five of his
sons while he stood by uttering pious ejaculations. He
met his own fate with firmness on the 27th November 602.
The bodies of the father and sons were thrown into the
sea, and their heads were exposed on pikes in the streets of
Constantinople.
The Emperor Maurice was a good man and a wise ruler.
Strong self-command, an affectionate disposition, and sin¬
cere piety, marked his private conduct. His public autho¬
rity was always exerted in lightening taxes, in enforcing
beneficial laws, in patronizing art and learning, or in re¬
pelling foreign invasion. It was his misfortune to fall upon
an age in which his economy was mistaken for avarice, and
his military discipline for cruelty. A Greek treatise which
he wrote on military science was translated into Latin, and
published, along with Arrian’s Tactica, by John Scheffer,
Upsala, 1664, 8vo. There is a Life of Maurice by Theo-
phylactus Simocatta, a writer of the seventh century.
M A U
MAURITIUS, or Isle of France, an island lying in Mauritius,
the Indian Ocean, between 57. 17. and 57. 46. E. Long
and 19. 58. and 20. 32. S. Lat. It lies 400 miles E. of the
island of Madagascar, and 120 miles N.E. of the island of
Bourbon, 2327 miles from the Cape of Good Hope, and 9500
miles from England via Suez and Aden. It extends from
N. to S. 36 miles, from E. to W. 32 miles; comprising an
area of 432,680 superficial acres, or 676 square miles. ^Its
form is elliptical; the greatest diameter of the oval is 63,780
yards, and its breadth 44,248. The island is encircled by a
belt of coral reefs, which makes the approach to it dangerous.
Mauritius is one of the most romantic and pictur¬
esque-looking islands in the Eastern Hemisphere. The
northern is more elevated than the southern extremity;
the land rises gradually from the shore to the interior.
The centre of the island is intersected by a chain of moun¬
tains, with spurs radiating to the coast. There are three
principal ranges of mountains, varying from 1800 to 2800
feet in height above the level of the sea, and for the most
part covered with timber. The form of many of these
mountains is grotesque and singular; the great chain
called the Ponce, the summit of which is 2484 feet high, is
so named from its supposed resemblance to the human
thumb. On the same chain is a mountain called the
Peterbote, 2520 feet in height, which has been frequently
ascended, and is terminated by an obelisk or spire of naked
rock, on the top of which reposes an immense globular
mass of stone, larger than the point of the pyramid on
which it is balanced. The mountains abound in curious
caverns of considerable extent. Both the appearance of
the island and the nature of its material indicate volcanic
origin. In the centre of the island is an elevated plateau
called Yaconas or Yacois, 1200 feet above the level of the
sea; in the middle of this plain is a mountain of sugar-loaf
form called Piton du Milieu, 1812 feet high. There are
other mountainous ranges which slope down gently towards
the sea, which are named Faience, Grand Port, Corps de
Garde, Savanne, Riviere Noire, Rempart, and Pouce.
The Rivers Tamarin and Rempart run parallel to each
other, receiving as affluents the lesser streams which flow
around the Lake Vaconas. In the rainy season they are
overwhelming torrents, which, in their course to the sea,
form very beautiful cascades; in the dry season they are
little more than brooks. The other rivers are the Latanier,
Plain Wilhems, Moka, Great and Little Black River. One
of the natural curiosities of the island is the lake called
Mare aux Vaconas or Vacois, named from the vaconas
{Pandanus utilis) by which it is encircled. It is sur¬
rounded by many acres of marshy and swampy ground, as
its name implies, through which many streams, flowing into
its centre, form a lake, which is well stocked with cray-fish,
prawns, and eels of enormous size, and a small red fish called
damairie, originally brought from China. Another fresh¬
water lake is the Grand Bassin, a circle whose diameter is
somewhat less than half a mile, surrounded by precipitous
rocks rising perpendicularly from their base to a consider¬
able height. In the most elevated of the central tracts, a
league further E. than the Grand Bassin, is a lake called
Mare aux Jones.
Geologically the island presents all the appearances of
volcanic origin. The rocks rise in strata from the shore to
the centre of the island, upon whose plain stand out many
rocky mountains composed of ferruginous rocks and a grey¬
ish lava, which, when decomposed, produce a soil of an argil¬
laceous description, intermingled with oxide of iron. It has
been surmised that there is some cavernous communication
with the island of Bourbon, as the eruptions of its mountains
are sensibly perceptible at Mauritius. From its volcanic
formation, it abounds with numerous caverns, ravines, and
rugged precipices. It contains some iron mines, which
were once extensively wrought.
MAURITIUS.
Mauritius. The climate is salubrious and agreeable, but at certain
periods of the year rather hot. The heat, however, is
moderated by the sea-breeze. At all times the tempera¬
ture of the elevated districts, especially of Plain de Wil-
hems, is pleasant and refreshing, the thermometer vary¬
ing from 70° to 80° Fahr.; while below, in Port Louis,
it varies from 90° to 96°. There are four seasons at the
Mauritius: the first commences in May, accompanied by
rain and winds from the S.E.; the second with September
or October;—the sun at this time approaching the zenith,
causes squalls and winds till December, when the third
season begins; this is terminated in March, when the fourth
or last season commences, lasting about eight weeks. In
the third season, namely, from December to March, the
island is often visited by violent and most destructive hur¬
ricanes, accompanied by torrents of rain and gusts of wind,
shifting round all the points of the compass, and causing
great damage to the shipping, houses, and sugar planta¬
tions. These gales of wind last about eight hours; but of
late years they have been less frequent and violent than
heretofore, arising from the greater dryness of the atmo¬
sphere, in consequence of the island having been cleared of
its forests.
The soil of this island is in many places very rich and
fertile, of a reddish colour, highly impregnated with iron.
1 he surface of the ground is covered with large stones,
which render the use of a plough impracticable, so that it
is prepared for crops by the hoe. In many districts of
the island it is composed of mould, clay, and marshy plains,
and is throughout generally highly productive and fertile.
The chief, and it may be said the only, production of the
island is sugar. Coffee and rice are grown, but in small
quantities, not sufficient for the consumption of the colony.
Indigo, cotton, and spices, have been successfully culti¬
vated. An agricultural society was formed in 1853 at the
Mauritius by the principal planters, with the view of improv¬
ing the culture of the sugar-cane. Guano is extensively
used as a manure, of which 25,707 tons were imported with¬
in the year 1856. The fertilizing power of this manure in the
production of sugar is said to be almost fabulous, convert¬
ing, as if by magic, sterile wastes into luxuriant plantations.
The government botanical gardens at Pamplemouse are as
remarkable for their varied productions as their beauty,
wherein the rarest and richest plants of the East have been
raised. In the vegetable and animal kingdoms there is not
anything remarkable, with the exception of the fine ebony,
and the dodo, a large unwieldy bird inhabiting only the Mau¬
ritius and Bourbon, but now wholly extinct.
The live stock of the island in 1854 consisted of 12,339
horses, 12,907 horned cattle, 17,076 sheep and goats. In
1854 the extent of land under each kind of crop was,—sugar¬
cane, 92,277acres; maize, 6082; manioc, 5154; potatoes, 248;
coffee, 125; fruits and vegetables, 8841: total in crops, 167,989
acres. Of forest land, 66,790 acres; pasture, 52,390 acres;
uncultivated, 54,390. It may be observed that the staple
produce of the colony is sugar. The total export of sugar
in 1855 was 102,000 tons; indicating a steady and consi¬
derable annual increase. The exportation of tortoise-shell
was 1648 lb.; of ebony, coffee, cloves, cotton, indigo, so
small as to be scarcely worth notice. The principal imports
consist of provisions and grain ; cattle and rice from Mada¬
gascar and India; horses from the Cape of Good Hope;
ponies from Batavia; mules from France and Spain ; sheep
from Bombay and the Cape of Good Hope. Earthenware,
machinery, furniture, hardware, piece goods, wines, &c.,
are largely imported. The total estimated value of imports
in 1854 was L.1,492,788; of exports for the same year,
L.1,246,400. The following table exhibits a view of the
import and export trade of Mauritius, as carried on with
Great Britain, the British Colonies, America, and other
countries, during the year 1854:—
Amount of Shipping in 1854.
363
Mauritius.
Great Britain 
British Colonies...
United States 
Other foreign states
Total.
Inwards.
Ships.
64
287
2
223
576
Tons.
299,669
112,120
1,350
5,240
418,379
Men.
1,461
7,863
39
9,363
Outwards.
Ships.
167
213
192
572
Tons.
60,178
89,046
46,478
195,702
Men.
3,015
6,547
3,198
12,760
Two lighthouses have been completed,—the main light
on Flat Island, with a subsidiary one at Cannonier Point.
Two mast-lights have also been erected to guide ships into
the harbour. A new road has been constructed leading
from Mahebourg through the valley of the Cent. Gaulettes,
connecting Grand Port and Moka, which will shorten the
distance between the two capitals of the island 5 or 6 miles,
passing by the Piton du Milieu de ITsle, through the forest
of Trois Islots and Moka, opening up large tracts of virgin
land hitherto untilled and inaccessible. The main roads
of the colony repaired by government are good; but the bye
roads, from inefficient management, are in a very unsatis¬
factory condition. At present no railroads or canals have
been constructed.
The government of the island, as at present constituted,
is vested in a governor, aided by an executive council, of
which the colonial secretary, procureur or advocate-general,
and the second officer in command of Her Majesty’s troops,
are ex officiis members. There is also a legislative council,
consisting of seven official and seven non-official members;
the former comprising the three executive members above
spoken of, and the collector of customs, auditor-general,
treasurer and collector of internal revenues; the latter seven
non-official members are chosen from the chief landed pro¬
prietors of the island, and submitted to Her Majesty in
council for approval and confirmation. By the 8th article
of the capitulation it was stipulated that' the inhabitants
should preserve their religion, laws, and customs; and by
virtue of this provision the authority of the Code Civile, the
Code de Procedeure, the Code du Commerce, and the Code
destruction Criminelle, except in so far as altered by the
charter of justice of April 13, 1831, have since been recog¬
nised in the island. By that charter a court of appeal
was reconstituted, and a supreme court of civil and criminal
justice established, presided over by three justices. There
is also a petty court, from which there is no appeal, for the
trial of trivial crimes and offences.
The total revenue amounted in 1855 to L.348,452; the
expenditure to L.317,839; leaving a surplus revenue of
L.30,613. There has accumulated during the last five years
an aggregate surplus revenue of L. 161,915, showing that the
finances of the colony are in a very satisfactory condition.
With respect to the religious and educational condition of
the colony, considerable progress has been made of late years;
but much remains yet to be done before it can be considered
to be in a satisfactory state. There is at Port Louis, the capi¬
tal of the island, a royal college, attended on an average by
284 scholars, and the fees paid by them amount to L.2587.
The total cost of this establishment in 1855 was L.4129
L.1600 of which is contributed by government. The annual
grant estimated for schools in 185 7 is L.8788, exclusive of the
royal college grant, which amounts to L.7016; the expense
of sending two pupils to England, instead of one, accounting
for the increase when compared with grants of former years ;
There are at the government schools 1860 scholars; at pri¬
vate schools, 2235; at the schools of the Christian Know¬
ledge Society, 89; at the Roman Catholic schools, 908. The
religious condition of the colony is not favourably reported
of by the recently appointed Protestant bishop. There are
but six clergymen of the Established Church, and two minis¬
ters of Protestant denominations; while the Church of Rome
364
M A U
M A U
Mauritius. llag provided a bishop and thirteen priests paid out of the
colonial treasury. The great influx of heathen population,
introduced into the colony by the employment of coolies
from India, and the unequal immigration of the sexes, have
tended very much to demoralize the social condition of the
island. A newspaper of the Mauritius, dated Nov. 3, 1853,
thus comments on this evil state of society:—“ The third
criminal assizes of this year commenced on the 17th of
October. The calendar presented an alarming amount of
crime on the part of the Indian population, and some in¬
stances of great atrocity. The most fearful social conse¬
quences must ensue upon any long-continued neglect of
the moral and religious welfare of this immense branch of
our population.”
The island is divided into nine districts, namely, Port
Louis, Pamplemouse, Flacq, Riviere du Rempart, Grand
Port, Savanne, Moka, Plain de Wilhems, and Black River.
The Mauritius was discovered by the Portuguese in 1507,
called by them Ilha do Cerne, supposing it to be the Cenne
of Ptolemy. They kept possesssion of it nearly the whole
of the sixteenth century. The first who made any settle¬
ment in it were the Dutch, in the year 1598, when they
changed the name from Cerne to Mauritius, in honour of
their Prince Maurice. Being occupied in the pursuit of
wealth in the East, it was abandoned by them in 1710, and
was afterwards taken possession of by the French in 1721,
who called it lie de France. The first regular settlement
took place in 1735 under Monsieur de la Bourdonnais, who
introduced manufactures and the culture of the sugar cane,
cotton, and indigo, and engaged himself in raising public
edifices, making roads, and clearing the forest with which
the island, when first visited, was covered. Upwards of
half a century elapsed before the French duly appreciated
the value of their new acquisition, the foundation of its
prosperity having been laid by the governor above named,
who fixed a port on the N.W. of the island as the seat of
its present capital, Port Louis. He was succeeded by
Monsieur de Poivre, who, notwithstanding the jealousy of
the Dutch, brought from the distant isles in the Eastern
Archipelago, and introduced into the colony, the clove, nut¬
meg, and various other spice trees. The Isle of France
was for a long time during the war a source of great mis¬
chief to our merchant vessels and Indiamen. The position
of the island in the eastern seas, and the facility with which
sorties might be made from it upon our traders by French
men-of-war and privateers, determined the British govern¬
ment upon an expedition for its capture, which was effected
in 1810. At the peace in 1814 the possession of the island
was ratified, since which the Mauritius has continued an¬
nexed to the British Empire.
The population of the Mauritius and its various depen¬
dencies, consisting of different races and every conceivable
form of admixture springing from these, amounted, by the
census taken in 1851, to 120,331 males, 61,482 females ; of
whom, in 1854, 60,350 were employed in agriculture, 5322
in manufactures, and 5419 in commerce. The number of
births in 1854 was 5683; deaths, 14,398; marriages, 610.
1 he island of Rodrigue, the Seychelles Islands, Diego
Garcia, and others belong to Mauritius. Rodrigue is situ-
ated about 300 miles to the eastward of Mauritius, in S.
Lat. 19. 13. It is 26 miles in length by 12 in breadth,
and consists of a succession of verdant hills. Although the
va eys aie almost full of rocks and stones, there still remains
a considerable portion of fertile soil, which is cultivated by
colonists from the Mauritius. The vegetation is luxuriant,
the climate salubrious, and the water clear. There is
abundance of fish around the island, but some of them are
poisonous at certain seasons, when feeding on the coral
# plant. The Seychelles or Mahe Islands are situated be¬
tween the parallels of S. Lat. 4. and 5. There is nothing
interesting regarding their history. The lepers from the
Mauritius are sent to Mahe. When Mauritius capitulated
to Britain they were taken possession of as a dependency
of that colony, which keeps there a civil commissioner,
assisted in his duties by subordinates. There is a petty civil
and criminal court held for trial of causes and offences.
Mauro.
The social condition is not favourably reported of by the
present commissioner in his report to the governor of the
Mauritius. This dependency is a great expense to the
colony of Mauritius.
The names of the principal islands, with the number of
acres in each, are as under:—
Names. Acres.
Mahe 30,000
Praslin  8,000
Silhouette  5,700
La Digue   2,000
Curieuse   1,000
St Anne   500
Cerf   400
Frigate  300
Total number of
Names. Acres.
Marianne  250
Conception ..120
Felicity 800
North Island 500
Denis 200
Yache 200
Aride   150
i, 50,120.
There are a number of other smaller islands, all resting
on an extensive bank of sand and coral, which also surrounds
them to a great extent. Mahe, the principal island and
seat of government, is 16 miles in length, and from 3 to 5
in breadth, with a very steep and rugged granite mountain
running through the centre. The vegetation on this, as
well as on many others of the group, is extremely luxuriant;
and amongst their productions are various spices, such as
the cinnamon, clove, &c. The town of Mahe is situated
on the N. side of the island; its population has varied very
little for the last thirty years, and may be estimated at
about 7000. These dependencies are visited by whaling
vessels for water, hogs, goats, &c., with which some of the
uninhabited islands abound. The most remarkable vege¬
table production is the coco de mer, so called because the
nuts were found on the coast of Malabar long before the
place of their growth was known. 50,000 have last year
been planted by an enterprising Frenchman; and there is
little doubt that, if labour was more abundant, and means of
communication were constructed, the Seychelles might be
made a valuable dependency to the Mauritius. Tortoise¬
shell is exported from these islands. A gale of wind is un¬
known in these tranquil seas; but the ocean breezes are
constant, thus tempering the rays of a vertical sun. Diego
Garcia is situated about four degrees further E., and is one
of those numerous coral islands with which these seas
abound. It contains abundance of turtle; and has a few
residents from the Mauritius. (h. b. j.)
MAURO, Fka, the most celebrated cosmographer of
his time, was a friar of the Order of Camaldoles, in the
monastery of St Michele di Murano, near Venice. He
flourished in the fifteenth century ; but the date of his birth
and death are alike unknown. The lame he had acquired
in the physical and mathematical sciences caused him to be
chosen, in 1444, member of a commission of fifteen Vene¬
tian patricians, who were intrusted by government to regu¬
late the course of the River Brenta, and to direct the work
relating to the lagunes. Between 1457 and 1459 he
made his celebrated map of the world, which has been so
frequently copied, and which may still be seen in his mo¬
nastery near Venice. In that singular production the pro¬
gress of geographical science is marked with the utmost
precision. In addition to the travels of Marco Polo,
Fra Mauro marked down Cape Verde, Cape Roxo, the
Gulf of Guinea, and all he could learn from the naviga¬
tors of that day, who have left no written account of their
voyages. Thus, Darfur, unknown to Europe till the time
of Bruce, is mentioned under the name of Dafur. He
also took notice of what was known to the Arabs, who at
that time had pushed their discoveries on the coast of
Africa as far as Sofala, and even visited Madagascar.
M A U
Maurolyco
II
Maury.
The highest glory of Fra Mauro, however, was the effi¬
cient aid he rendered to the two greatest expeditions of
modern times, which resulted in the discovery of the Cape
of Good Hope and the continent of America. His map is
the first in which the E. and W. coasts of Africa are made
to approach each other till they almost form a point, clearly
indicating the passage round the Cape. There also may
be seen beyond the Azores (faintly indicated and erro¬
neously marked, it is true) several islands named Antilles
and Brazil; and it is precisely by these names that Colum¬
bus and Vespucci distinguished the land they first dis¬
covered ; thus favouring the conclusion that it was on the
faith of Fra Mauro’s map of the world that they were incited
to their bold and immortal discoveries. Alphonso V. of
Portugal requested Fra Mauro to draw a planisphere to serve
as a guide to the intrepid Portuguese mariners, who had
already endeavoured to find a passage to the East Indies;
and we gather from a writer of the time (Francis Alvarez),
and from the account-book of the monastery of S. Michele,
that a copy of the map still existing there was given to the
captain of two caravels sent out on a voyage of discovery in
1487, and paid for by King Alphonso. The Venetian Re¬
public ordered a medal to be struck, on which may be seen
the likeness of Mauro surrounded by the inscription, “Frater
Maurus S. Michaelis Moranensis de Venetiis Ordinis
Camaldonensis Cosmographus incomparabilis.’' The last
and most complete account of the planisphere is that by
the Cardinal Placido Zurla: 11 Mappamondo di Fra Mauro
de critto ed illustrate, Venezia, 1806. (e. f.)
MAUROLYCO, or Maurolyctjs, Francis, the greatest
geometrician of his age, was born at Messina in September
1494. After he had completed the course of study requi¬
site for entering the church, he resolved to devote the rest
of his life to mathematics. His father is said to have been
his only instructor in that science; yet in a short time
Maurolyco was selected to teach geometry to the eldest son
of the viceroy, John de Vega. At the court of that prince
he formed a friendship with Cardinal Alexander Farnese,
and the Marquis Geraci. The latter conferred upon him
the rich abbey of Santa Maria del Parto, and employed
him to teach mathematics in the college of Messina.
Thither geometricians from all parts of Italy were wont to
resort for the purpose of consulting Maurolyco. After the
death of his patron Geraci, Maurolyco retired to thecoun-
try. He died in July 1575. His principal works are,—
An edition of the Spherics of Theodosius, folio, 1558; Mar-
tyrologium, 4to, 1566; Opuscula Mathematica, 4to, 1575;
Arithmeticorum libri duo, 8vo, 1575 ; Euclidis Pha;no-
mena, 4to, 1591 ; Emendatio et Restitutio Conicorum Ap-
pollonii Pergeei, folio, 1654; and Archimedis Monumenta
Omnia, folio, 1685. (For an account of his services to
mathematics, see Dissertation Fourth.)
MAURY, Jean Siffrein, Cardinal, the son of a poor
shoemaker, was bom at Vaureas, in the department of
Vaucluse, in 1746. After receiving his education at the
seminaries of St Charles and St Garde in Avignon, he left
his home at a very early age, and arrived in Paris a poor,
friendless adventurer. A funeral oration on the Dauphin
introduced him to the public in 1766, and its success led
him to take orders, and to devote himself with ardour to the
study of pulpit eloquence. Thus obtaining a fair scope, his
oratorical powers raised him in quick succession to several
appointments. For a eulogy on Fenelon, written in 1770,
he was appointed vicar-general of the Bishop of Lombez ;
a panegyric on St Louis, pronounced before the French
Academy in 1772, gained for him the appointment to the
abbey of Frenade ; and on account of a eulogy on St Au¬
gustine, delivered before the assembled clergy in 1775, he
was nominated preacher to the court. He now became
intimate with men of rank and genius, and, through their
influence, was elected a member of the French Academy
M A U
365
in 1785. In the following year the valuable priory of Mausoleum.
Lihons was bequeathed to him by his friend the Abbe de ^ t- j
Boismont. During the troublous days of 1789 Maury’s
ardent temperament could not brook inactivity. Accord-
’Hgiy? be appeared in the assembly of the states-general as
deputy of the clergy of the bailiwick of Peronne. At first
he was content to be a silent spectator of the confused
wranglings of his associates. In the month of September,
however, when the veto of the king came to be discussed,
Maury threw aside his taciturnity, and stood forth as a bold
defendant of monarchy. Recognised in a short time as one
of the champions of the aristocratic party, he often entered
the lists against Mirabeau, and his cool courage and ready
eloquence made him almost a match for that redoubtable
orator. He showed the same self-possessed heroism in the
troubled streets of Paris; and never moved abroad without
two loaded pistols. On the 9th of November 1789 he
threw the Assembly into violent commotion by his bold and
persistent opposition to the conversion of church property
into national domains. Coming out of the hall on the same
day among the infuriated mob, he was received with a
universal shout, “To the lamp-iron with Abbe Maury!”
“Well,” replied the imperturbable abbe, “here he is; when
you hang him on the lamp-iron, will you see better
there r” and by this ready joke he threw the multitude into
convulsions of laughter, and saved his own life. At the
dissolution of the Assembly in 1792 he left France. His
fame had gone before him; and after meeting the most
hearty welcome at Chambery, Brussels, Lieges, and Cob-
lentz, he was summoned to Rome by Pius VI. He was
received with great distinction; was nominated archbishop
of Nicaea in partibus ; and was despatched as papal nuncio
to the diet assembled at Frankfort for the coronation of
Francis II. In 1794 he was appointed cardinal, and bishop
of the united see of Montefiascone and Corneto. The
terrors, however, which had driven him from his native
country followed him to his place of refuge. The armies
of republican France entered Rome in 1798, and Cardinal
Maury was obliged to skulk for some time in Tuscany, and
afterwards to flee to Venice under the guise of a carrier.
He then retired to Russia, but returned to Rome in 1799
in the suite of Louis XVIII. After this period, a growing
desire to visit Paris, the scene of his early greatness, seems
to have gradually extinguished his zeal for the Bourbons.
Accordingly, he followed the example of the Holy See by
recognising in 1804 the government of Napoleon. In
1806 he returned to the French capital by permission, but
found that his political apostacy had excluded him from
those brilliant circles in which he was wont to move.
Warmly befriended, however, by Bonaparte, Maury was
nominated a French cardinal, and appointed chaplain to
King Jerome. His elevation to the archbishopric of Paris
followed in 1810, and subjected him to the heavy displea¬
sure of Pope Pius VII.; but Maury silently refused to
quit his see at the sovereign pontiff’s command, and con¬
tinued to show for his new master a devotion that vero-ed
upon slavishness. At the restoration of 1814 he was ordered
to evacuate his archiepiscopal chair. Slowly and unwillingly
he bent his steps toward Rome, and on his arrival in that
city he was thrown into the castle of St Angelo. His libe¬
ration was purchased, after the lapse of a year by his
resignation of the see of Montefiascone and by other humi-
hations He lived in retirement till his death in May 1817.
aury s piincipal work, Essais sur VEloquence de la
Chaire, was translated into English by John Neale Lake,
8vo, London, 1/93. After its author’s death it was re-
printed in the original by Louis Siffrein Maury, nephew
o tie abbe. t he same editor published Maury’s select
works, with a Life, in 5 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1827.
a *errn applied in modern times to any
sepulchial edifice erected for the reception of a monument,
366 MAX
Maxentius but which originally signified the sepulchre of Mausolus,
Maxi min us a maSn^cerit structure erected to the King of Caria by
v j his queen Artemesia, at Halicarnassus, b.c. 353. The most
” eminent architects and artists of the time, of the Ionian
and Attic schools, were employed by this pious queen to
raise this splendid monument to the memory of her deceased
husband, the dynast of Caria. Phileus and Satyrus were
intrusted with the architecture; while the great Attic
artists, Scopas, Bryaxis, Leochares, and Timotheus or
Praxiteles, were employed on the sculptural decorations.
These sculptors worked each at a face of the building,
emulous of each other, and passionately devoted to their
splendid undertaking. The queen died, but the artists
continued their labours, and did not withdraw their hands
until they had rendered it one of the seven wonders of the
world.
Pliny’s description of this structure {Hist. Nat. xxxvi. 5),
though the most complete which we possess, is neverthe¬
less in many respects unsatisfactory. This writer informs
us that the building was an oblong quadrangular cella, 63
feet from N. to S., 411 feet in circumference, and 37^- feet
in height; decorated with a peristyle of 36 columns, and
carried up into a pyramid, surmounted at the apex by a
marble quadriga, executed by Phileus, one of the architects.
The entire edifice has a total height, from base to summit,
of 140 feet. The discrepancy between the total and the
partial heights can only be got over on the assumption that
the peristyle was elevated on a basement; and the apparent
discrepancy between the lengths of the faces and the total
circuit, can only be explained by supposing that the struc¬
ture stood upon an elevated inclosure, with a perimeter of
440 feet, the length given by the Bamberg MS. Direct
measurement of it is impossible, for unfortunately this
magnificent edifice no longer exists; the very site of it
is doubtful, and the only remnant of its former splendour
is to be found in the Budrum Marbles in the British
Museum. These precious fragments of the handiwork of
those devoted artists were collected in 1846 around the
■walls of Budrum, now occupying the site of the ancient
Halicarnassus. Many of the slabs and columns of the
Mausoleum were, in the fifteenth century, worked into the
fortifications of this modern city; yet recent travellers
cherish the hope that, from the materials still in existence,
the plan of this famous sepulchral edifice may yet be re¬
stored. (For an examination of the proposed restoration,
see a very able essay, with illustrations, On the Sculptures
from the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, by Charles Newton,
in the Classical Museum for July 1847.)
The Roman mausolea were for the most part built in
a series of circular terraces, after the manner of the rogus.
Those of Augustus and Hadrian were the most celebrated;
the latter of which has been converted into the Gastello di
St Angelo, the fortress of modern Rome, while the former
has been reduced almost to a heap of ruins.
MAXENTIUS, Marcus Aurelius Valerius, a Ro¬
man emperor, was raised to the throne a.d. 306, and was
defeated by Constantine and drowned in the Tiber a.d.
312. (See Roman History.)
MAXIMIANUS, Galerius Valerius, a Roman em-
peior, was the son of a shepherd in Dacia, was raised to
throne along with Constantins, a.d. 305, and was cut
oft by a loathsome disease a.d. 311. (See Roman His¬
tory.)
Maximianus, Marcus Aurelius Valerius, a Roman em¬
peror, was born in Pannonia of poor parents, divided the
empire with Diocletian a.d. 286, abdicated the throne a.d.
30o, was restored by his son Maxentius a.d. 306, and
strangled himself a.d. 310. (See Roman History.)
MAXIMINUS, Caius Julies Veres, a Roman em¬
peror, was originally a Thracian shepherd, was invested with
the purple by the mutinous soldiers a.d. 235, and was mur-
M A X
dered by his insurgent army a.d. 238. (See Roman His- Maximinus
TORY.) ||
Maximinus, Galerius Valerius, a Roman emperor, was Maxwell-
originally an Illyrian shepherd, shared the empire with Lici- town,
nius a.d. 311, and died a.d. 314. (See Roman History.)
MAXIMUS, the Confessor or Monk, a famous ecclesi¬
astic, was born of noble parentage at Constantinople, about
a.d. 580. He was educated with great care, and was early
distinguished both for talents and piety. After he had at¬
tained his prime, he was reluctantly withdrawn from his
favourite study of philosophy to become secretary to the
Emperor Heraclius. It is also said that his royal patron
wished him to write the civil history of that age. But
when the emperor, about the middle of his reign, aimed at
re-admitting the Monothelites within the church, Maximus
boldly protested against such sinful policy by forthwith
vacating his situation. This decisive step was probably
accelerated by a lingering desire for the life of a recluse ;
for he immediately crossed to Asia, and entered a mona¬
stery at Chrysopolis {Scutari or Iskudar). There his ex¬
treme asceticism speedily raised him to the rank of abbot.
At a later date Maximus, now well advanced in years, is
found in the Roman province of Africa, arguing face to
face with the Monothelites, writing letters and tracts to re¬
fute them, and summoning to his aid, in this determined
warfare, all available power, both civil and ecclesiastic.
He then, in 649, bent his steps towards Rome to fan the
orthodox zeal of the new pope, Martin I. But Maximus, as
the head of the Dyothelitic party in the church, and there¬
fore the chief opposer of the imperial decrees in favour of
Monothelitism, had become obnoxious to the Emperor Con-
stans II. He was accordingly apprehended in 653, carried to
Constantinople, and thrown into prison. On the day of trial
the far-famed piety of the aged abbot secured the respect of
his judges. He was merely asked to sign a formulary which
had been drawn up for the occasion, and which might have
been shown, by an ingenious interpretation, to include his
doctrinal tenets. But Maximus refused to conceal the very
smallest of his honest convictions under the guise of ambi¬
guous expression. Persuasions, threats, and flatteries were
all tried in vain; and he was therefore sentenced to im¬
prisonment in the castle of Bizya ( Viza) in Thrace. There
the most cruel and most ignominious treatment could not
alter his opinions, and at last his constancy outlived the
patience of his enemies. In 662 he was dragged again to
Constantinople, where, after being publicly scourged, he had
his right hand chopped off and his tongue cut out. The
old man was then banished to the Caucasus to die of his
manifold sufferings.
The writings of Maximus display acute and profound
thought, expressed in language often obscure and inele¬
gant. A collection of his works, published by Combefis in
2 vols. folio, Paris 1675, consists of letters, answers to theo¬
logical questions, controversial tracts, and moral and mon¬
astic pieces. (For a list of his numerous productions, see
Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Homan Biography.)
Maximus, Magnus Clemens, a Roman emperor, was a
native of Spain, was invested with the purple a.d. 383,
and was beheaded by Theodosius a.d. 388. (See Roman
History.)
Maximus, Petronius, a Roman emperor, descended
from the nobility of Rome, was born about a.d. 388, was
proclaimed emperor a.d. 455, and was assassinated in the
same year. (See Roman History.)
Maximus, Tyrannus, a Roman emperor, was raised to
the supreme power by Gerontius a.d. 408, was forced to
abdicate by Constantine a.d. 411, and was put to death a.d.
422. (See Roman History.)
MAXWELLTOWN, a borough of barony in Scotland,
county of Kirkcudbright, is situated on the Nith, opposite
Dumfries, with which it is connected by two bridges, and
MAY
May of which it was formerly a suburb, known by the name of
M ^ r Bridgend. It contains a church, several schools, a town-
^ouse’ ant^ sevei'al iron-works, rope-works, mills, &c. The
N—borough is governed by a provost and two baillies. Pop.
(1851) 3820.
MAY, the fifth month of our modern year, wTas the third
of the old Roman calendar. The name is of doubtful
origin. Ovid {Fasti, v. 483-90) suggests the three deri¬
vations of majestas, majores (the patres of the old Roman
city), and Maia, the mother of Mercury, to whom the
Romans were accustomed to sacrifice on the first day of the
month. Others, again, have been of opinion that its origin
is Teutonic, being derived from some obsolete word signi-
fying youthful beauty and loveliness. The Saxons, after
the Romans, called it Mams monath. It was considered
unlucky among the Romans to contract marriages during
this month, on account of the celebration of the Lemuria,—
a superstition of which traces are still to be found among
ourselves.
May-day, the name given to the first of the month in
this country, when, according to ancient custom, all ranks
of the people rose at early dawn and went out a-Maying to
welcome the first return of the spring. The rites and fes¬
tivities peculiar to this occasion can be traced back, accord¬
ing to some, to the heathen observances with which the
Latin goddess Flora was wont to be honoured. At all
events, some of the English ceremonies of May-day are as
old as the Druids, who were accustomed to light large fires
on the heights on May-eve, to herald with devout joy the
coming spring. In the time of Bourne ( Vulg. Antiq.) the
juvenile part of both sexes in the villages of the north
of England were wont to rise shortly after midnight on
May morning, for according to Chaucer, “May wole have
no sloggardye a night,” and proceed, accompanied by music
and horn-blowing, to some neighbouring wood, where, after
breaking down branches from the trees, and adorning them¬
selves with nosegays and garlands, they returned home at
sunrise and decorated their doors and windows with the
flowery spoil. Nor was this custom limited to the vulgar:
even royalty itself occasionally condescended to share in
this diversion. Chaucer, in addition to his beautiful allusion
to the May-day customs in the Knightes Tale, says in his
Court of Love, that early on May morning—
“ Fourth goeth al the court, both moste and leste,
To feche the floures freshe, and braunch and blome.”
And Hall, in his Chronicle, gives an account of Henry
VIII.’s riding a-Maying with Queen Katherine from Green¬
wich to the high ground of Shooter’s Hill, accompanied by
many lords and ladies, who “ went with their bows and
arrows shooting to the wood.” Shakspeare alludes also to
the custom when he says, in his Henry VIII. (act v., scene
3), that it was impossible to make the people sleep on
May morning; and when, in his Midsummer Night's Dream
(act iv., scene 1), he talks of doing “ observance for a morn
of May.” May-dew was also believed to possess a singular
virtue. Samuel Pepys, in his Diary, informs us that his
wife had gone down to Woolwich “to take a littleayreand
gather May dew,” in consequence of being told by a cer¬
tain lady that “ May-dew was the only thing in the world
to wash her face with.” Other minor observances on May-
day were those of dancing round the May-pole decked with
garlands, still known in England ; the Jack-in-the-Green
of the chimney-sweepers, who still perambulate and dance
in the streets of London (see the Times of May 2, 1844;
also Literary Gazette, May 1847) ; and the custom, now
half a century old, of the London milkmaids, adorned with
a garland of plate (hired for the occasion), and a profusion
of flowers, dancing before the doors of their customers to
the music of a fiddle. Old Stow, in his Survay of London
(1603) sums up a number of the festive details of May-day
in the following sentence:—“ I find also that, in the moneth
MAY 367
of May, the citizens of London, of al estates, lightly in May, Isle
every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes joyning of
togither, had their severall Mayings, and did fetch in May- . II
poles, with diverse warlike shewes, with good archers, v a^en';
morice-dancers, and other devices, for pastime al the day ” v"*-
long, and towards the evening they had stage-players, and
bone-fiers in the streetes.” These May customs were not,
however, wholly limited to England. (But for further infor¬
mation, see Brand’s Popular Antiquities, vol. i., p. 212 ; also
Grimm’s Deutsche Mythologie, p. 448, &c.)
MAY, Isle of, a small island of Scotland, county of
Fife, in the Firth of Forth, 6 miles S.E. of Crail. It is
about a mile in length, and nearly a mile in breadth, con¬
sisting of slaty rock. It affords pasturage for sheep and
cattle, and is frequented by great numbers of sea-birds.
I here is a lighthouse on the island with a fine dioptric light,
240 feet high, and visible from a distance of 21 miles. The
cliffs are for the most part steep and perpendicular, rising
in some places to the height of 160 feet. Pop. (1851) 18.
MAY, Thomas, an English historian and poet, was born
in 1595 of an ancient family in Sussex. He was educated
at Cambridge, and, after taking the degree of B.A., he re¬
paired to London, and became a member of Gray’s Inn.
In the course of time his talents found favour at court, and
several of his poems were published by the special com¬
mand of Charles I. He was thus led to expect the laurel
on the death of Ben Jonson in 1637. But Sir William
Davenant wras preferred ; and May abandoned the court in
a pet, and was ever afterwards a republican. During the
civil wrar he became secretary to the Parliament, and was
employed to write its History. This work, published ori¬
ginally in Latin, was translated into English in 1650. It
is tame and inelegant, yet, on the whole, it is truthful in its
facts, and unbiassed in its judgments. On the night of the
12th of November 1650, May retired to bed in good
health, “ after his chearful bottle as usual,” and died in his
sleep before morning. His remains were laid in West¬
minster Abbey; but soon after the Restoration they were
disinterred, and thrown into a pit in the adjoining church¬
yard of St Margaret’s. A monument that had been erected
over his grave was also demolished.
May is the author of five plays, and of two poems on the
reigns of Henry II. and Edward III. respectively. He
translated into English verse Selected Epigrams of Martial,
Virgil’s Georgies, and Lucan’s Pharsalia. To the last of
these he wrote a continuation both in English and Latin.
His History of the Parliament was edited by Baron Ma-
seres, 4to, 1812.
MAYBOLE, a borough of barony, and market-town of
Scotland, county of Ayr, is pleasantly situated on a hill 5
miles from the sea, and 9 S. of Ayr. The town is well
built, especially the ancient part, owing to its having been
formerly the residence of many of the aristocracy, as the
capital of the district of Carrick. The town possesses
several specimens of baronial residences, among which the
most remarkable is the castle, which was formerly occupied
by the Earls of Cassilis, and now by a factor of the Mar¬
quis of Ailsa. The parish church is a large but clumsy
building; and there are also Free, United Presbyterian, and
Wesleyan churches. Maybole has besides several schools,
libraries, a savings-bank, and other institutions. The inha¬
bitants aie employed to a considerable extent in handloom
weaving. Wbst of the town stand the ruins of Crossraguel
Abbey, one of the abbots of which, Quintin Kennedy, held
a disputation with John Knox in Maybole in 1561. This
discussion lasted for three days, and ended unsatisfactorily,
both disputants claiming the victory. The house where
the disputation took place is now the Red Lion Inn. Pop.
(1851) 3862. P
a wa^e^ town in Rhenish Prussia, capital of
a cncle of the same name, in the government of Coblentz,
368 M A Y
Mayence. is situated on the Nette, 17 miles W. of Coblentz. It has
V'—manufactures of woollen cloth, paper, and earthenware.
Pop. 5288.
MAYENCE (German Mainz, ancient Moguntiacum),
a town of Germany, capital of the province of Rhenish
Hesse, in the grand duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt, is beauti¬
fully situated on a sloping hill on the left bank of the Rhine,
not fir from its confluence with the Main, 20 miles W.S.W.
of Frankfort. The town is built in an irregular and
old-fashioned style; most of the streets are narrow and
gloomy, the houses are in general high, and the squares
have a fine and imposing appearance. Outside the town
there are large public gardens, called Neue Anlage, which
form a fashionable and much frequented promenade, and
command a fine view of the town and surrounding country.
The cathedral, which is of great antiquity, and has been
destroyed by fire not less than six times, exhibits specimens
of the styles of several centuries; and, though interesting
as an illustration of the history of art, it does not possess
much architectural beauty, and is not seen to advantage,
owing to its being blocked up with mean houses. It has
six towers, one of which is above 200 feet in height, while
another, of 70 feet, is surmounted by a cupola. The
building contains many monuments of much interest and of
great antiquity; a handsome pulpit, 14 altars, and 20 chapels.
There is also the church of St Ignatius, built in a beauti¬
ful style, and adorned with fine pictures by Zick. The
other important buildings in Mayence are,—the church of
St Peter, with two towers and a fine peal of bells; that of
St Stephen, whose tower commands a fine view; the an¬
cient palace of the electors, now used as the merchants’
hall; the grand ducal palace, now occupied by the governor,
and formerly the palace of the Teutonic order ; the library,
containing 100,000 volumes ; and the theatre. There was
formerly a college here; but its place is now supplied by a
gymnasium. Opposite the theatre stands a bronze statue by
Thorwaldsen of Gutenberg, a native of this town, who is
one of the claimants of the honour of the invention of print¬
ing, as he was the first to use metal types. In the citadel
stands the Eichelstein, supposed to be the monument men¬
tioned by ancient authors as erected here in memory of
Drusus, brother of the emperor Tiberius, and father of
Germanicus. The town of Mayence is strongly fortified,
and is indeed one of the strongest places in Europe, serving
as a defence for Germany on the side of France. On the
other side of the Rhine stands the suburb of Castel, which
is joined to the town by a bridge of boats, and also fortified ;
and a small island in the river, called Petersan, is no less
securely defended. Mayence has towards the country 4
gates, with double drawbridges, while the whole extent of
the defences is so great as to require a garrison of 30,000
men to man them fully. The fortress belongs to the Ger¬
man Confederation ; and is garrisoned in time of peace by
6000 Austrians, Prussians, and Hessians, under an Aus¬
trian and a Prussian general alternately, each of whom re¬
tains the command for five years. There is believed to
have been a town of the Mediomatrici on the site of the
modern Mayence, before the foundation of a fortress here
by Drusus, in the year 13 b.c. The town does not, how¬
ever, seem to have been of any great importance during
the continuance of the Roman empire ; and was destroyed
by the Vandals in 406. After lying in ruins for some cen¬
turies, Mayence was restored by Charlemagne, and attained
to great prosperity after the time of Bonifacius, bishop of
Mayence. In the middle ages this was the first ecclesias¬
tical city of Germany ; and the archbishop was one of the
electors, and premier prince of the German empire. In
1798 Mayence haying fallen into the hands of the French,
was made the capital of the department of Mont Tonnere ;
but in 1816 it was given to the Grand Duke of Hesse.
Pop. 31,365.
MAY
MAYENNE, a department of France, bounded on the Mayenne,
N. by those of Manche and Orne, E. by that of Sarthe, S.
by those of Maine-et-Loire and Loire Inferieure, and W.
by that of llle-et-Vilaine. It is 55 miles in length by
about 30 in breadth. The department is bounded by low
ranges of hills on the N., E., and W., and has a general slope
towards the S. It consists of gently undulating plains with¬
out any marked elevation or depression. The principal
river, the Mayenne, from which it derives its name, tra¬
verses it from N. to S., dividing it into two nearly equal
parts. The department contains also several small lakes.
The rocks of Mayenne belong almost entirely to the earliest
geological epochs, and contain a considerable amount of
mineral resources. Iron, coal, limestone, marble, slate,
granite, building-stone, &c. are obtained in the department.
The soil is not very fertile, except in the southern parts,
where all sorts of corn are grown, while in the other dis¬
tricts the produce of the soil is not sufficient to supply the
wants of the inhabitants. Of the entire area of the depart¬
ment, 885,000 acres are occupied with arable land, 172,500
are meadow land, and 65,000 wood. Notwithstanding the
small extent of the meadow-land, a great number of live
stock is reared on the heaths and fallow land of the depart¬
ment ; and the cattle are of good breed, and highly prized.
It has been calculated that there are in Mayenne 50,000
horses, 180,000 head of large cattle, 140,000 sheep, 50,000
pigs, &c. The department is very much broken up into
small farms, some of them so small as to be cultivated with
the spade; and the population live in their own separate
farm-houses, instead of congregating in towns and villages.
The effect of this on the character of the people may be
seen in the blunt honesty and obstinate independence by
which the peasant of Mayenne is characterized; but they
are also both unable and unwilling to engage in any en-
terprize for improving their ground, by which their condi¬
tion might be bettered. The fields are in general sur¬
rounded by hedges and rows of trees; and this gives the
country, when seen from a distance, the aspect of a vast
forest. The principal manufacture carried on in the de¬
partment is that of cloth, especially table linen and sail¬
cloth; and there are also several forges and iron-works.
The trade consists principally in iron. Mayenne contains-
several ancient Roman and Druidical remains; and at Ju-
blains there have been preserved the remains of one of the
strongest Roman forts to be seen in France. In the middle
ages this department was the scene of many bloody en¬
counters between the English and the French ; and in the
Vendean war a great victory was gained here by the
Royalists under Larochejacquelin, in 1793, over the Re¬
publican forces. The capital of the department is Laval;
and it is divided into three arrondissements as follows :—
Cantons. Communes. Population.
Laval  9 92 130,523
Chateau-Gonthier  6 72 78,862
Mayenne 12 110 165,181
Total 27 274 374,566
Mayenne, a town of France, capital of the arrondisse-
ment of the same name, in the above department, is irregu¬
larly built on both sides of the River Mayenne, 18 miles
N. by E. from Laval. The streets are extremely steep,
and the houses quaint and old-fashioned. I he principal
building is the old castle on the right bank of the river.
Mayenne has some manufactures, especially of linen fabrics;
and there are also cotton mills, bleachfields, and dye-works.
The trade consists in the productions of its manufacture
and agriculture, especially grain and cattle. T he town was
formerly strongly fortified, and resisted for three months a
siege by the English, under the Earl of Salisbury, to whom
it surrendered in 1424. In 1544 it was made a duchy by
Charles IX., and gave the title of Duke of Mayenne to
MAY
Mayenne Charles of Lorraine, afterwards famous as the head of the
Mavnooth Lea^Ue‘ Pop. (1851) 9588.
v yn001L ) . Mayenne (anciently Meduana), a river of France, rises
in the hdls of the department of Orne, near Pre-en-Pail
and flows westward till its confluence with the Varenne!
it then takes a southerly direction, and empties itself into
the Loire. In the upper part of its course it is inclosed
between rocky banks; but from Laval, where it becomes
navigable, it flows southward with a broad and deep cur¬
rent through extensive and beautiful meadow-lands. The
pnncipal towns on its banks are Mayenne, Laval, Entrames
and Chateau-tronthier. It receives, from the right, the
Ernee and the Oudon, and from the left the Aron and the
Jouanne. Its total length is 125 miles, and it is navigable
for 55 miles. &
MAYER, xObias, one of the greatest astronomers of
the eighteenth century, was the son of a civil engineer, and
was born at Marbach in Wiirtemberg, on the 17th Febru-
ary 1 / 23. The elements of mathematics he received from
his father, but the rest of his knowledge in that science
was self-acquired. At an early age he was left an orphan,
and was forced to earn a livelihood by giving mathematical
lessons. His first publications, A Treatise on Curves for
the Construction of Geometrical Problems, and A Mathe¬
matical Atlas, appeared in 1745. In the following year he
contributed to the establishment of the Cosmographical
Society of Nuremberg. He was appointed director of the
observatory of Gottingen in 1751 ; and therein the midst
of the turmoil of the Seven Years’ War, and in the vicinity
of powder magazines, he prosecuted his studies with untir¬
ing devotion. The Lunar Tables, the chief result of his
labour, appeared in the “Acts of the Academy of Gottin-
gen in 17o5. About this time also, Mayer discovered the
principle of the Repeating Circle. His extreme applica¬
tion, however, had caused a disease which was gradually
undermining his health. He died on the 20th February
17b.., at the age of thirty-nine. Over his grave at Gottin¬
gen, a monument was erected in 1801. (For an account of
Mayers Lunar Tables, and his invention of the Repeating
Gircle, see Dissertation Fifth, § 2, pp. 749, 781.)
An edition of his works had been promised, but of these only
one volume appeared under the care of Lichtenberg, his friend and
associate. It contains, 1. A method for determining more exactly
the variations ot the thermometer, with a formula for calculating
the mean degree of heat in every latitude, and the seasons of the
year in which occur the greatest heat and the greatest cold. 2. A
memoir on the observations which he made with his mural arc of
six feet, and the verifications to which he subjected that instrument,
wf ?Ky mf.th°d calculating eclipses of the sun, being at
bottom the method of Kepler, which Lacaille also reproduced in
his Legons d Astronomic. 4. A memoir on the affinity of the co¬
lours in which he recognised only three primary colours, all the
rest being obtained by different combinations of these. 5. His
new catalogue of the stars, the work of two years, during which he
experienced several interruptions, especially when the old tower on
which h;s observatory stood was converted by the French into a
powder magazine. 6. A memoir, followed by a catalogue of eighty
stars, to which he assigned a peculiar motion, independently of the
general motion of precession. His eloge, pronounced at the aca¬
demy by Kaestner (Gottingen, 1762, in 4to), is followed by a
list of his works, which we shall here subjoin. 1. Description of
a new Globe of the Moon ; 2. Terrestrial Refractions ; 3. Geogra¬
phical Charts, including a Critical Chart of Germany, and a Map
of Switzerland; 4. Description of a new Micrometer; 5. Observa¬
tions on the Eclipse of the Sun in 1748; 6. Conjunctions of the
Moon and the Stars observed in 1747 and 1748 ; 7. Proofs that the
Moon has no atmosphere; 8. Motion of the Earth explained by a
change in the direction of gravity ; 9. Latitude of Nuremberg, and
vr Str°n0I!lical Observations; 10. Memoir on the Parallax of
the Moon and its distance from the Earth, deduced from the length
of a pendulum beating seconds; 11. On the Transmutation of rec-
i meal figures into triangles; 12. Invention of a species of Paint-
ing of which the products may be multiplied ; 13. Inclinations and
ec inations of the Magnetic Needle, deduced from theory ; 14
Inequalities of Jupiter. J
MAYNOOfH, a town of Ireland, in the province of
, VOL. XIV.
MAY
Leinster, and county of Kildare, is situated on the Royal
Canal and Rye Water, 15 miles W. by N. of Dublin. The
tovvn consists of one street, extending from the entrance
to Carston, the seat of the Duke of Leinster, on the E., to
the Roman Catholic college on the W. There are in May-
nooth a parish church, a Roman Catholic chapel and nun¬
nery, a court-house, schools, and a dispensary. The col¬
lege of Maynooth is a plain brick building, in the form of
a quadrangle, with a frontage of 400 feet in length. The
grounds belonging to it occupy an area of 54 acres. (For
urther particulars respecting this institution, see Ireland.)
• TIoA6 Cj lege stand tlle ruins of Maynooth Castle, built
Pop4 (1851) ^the residenCe of the Fitzgorald family.
. MAYO, a maritime county in the province of Connaught
m Ireland, is bounded on the N. and W. by the Atlantic
Ocean, on the E. by the counties of Sligo and Roscommon,
and on the S. by that of Galway. According to the Ord-
naTo7Voey’ 11 comPrises an area of 2131 square miles,
8mV^3’882,aCreS;J of Which 497’587 only are arable,
i’rL7CultlVated’ 8360 in Piantation, 848 in towns
and o6,976 are under water. Although this county con¬
tains a greater extent of unimproved waste lands than any
o ler in Ireland, a large portion, more particularly in the
baronies of Erris and Burrishoole on the western coast
present great facilities for reclamation and cultivation. Of
the great extent of bog and moor land situated in the
barony of lyrawley, W. of Ballina, much might be im¬
proved for cultivation ; but owing to the scarcity of ma¬
nure, so easily obtainable on the coast of Erris and Burris-
noole, not with equal advantage as in those baronies. Of
the entire 800,000 acres of uncultivated land, it is esti-
J70.’00? ^'g1'1 be improved for cultivation,
300,000 might be drained for pasture, and about 330,000
must be considered unimprovable.
According to Ptolemy, the earliest inhabitants of this
region were the Nagnatae. It was afterwards divided into
districts, distinguished by the names of the chieftains or
Kiw-m setllcn?; of whom th°se of greatest note were
O’WI ml g °,Ma,ey’ M<Jordan’ O’Dondey, and
.V l ben’t0 whlch were subsequently addedthe Nangles
the Dillons, and others of British descent.
. The whole of Connaught, except Roscommon, was con¬
sidered as one county by the English, until the beginning
of the reign of Elizabeth, by whom it was made shire
ground, and this county then took its name from the mon¬
astery of Mayo or Mageo in it. It is now divided into the
nine baromes of Burrishoole, Carra, Clanmorris, Costello,
Erris, Gallon, Kilmaine, Murrisk,and Tyrawley. The county
is in the dioceses of Tuam, Killala, and Achonry.
I he appearance of the country varies very much. In the
eastern parts it contains extensive plains capable of culti¬
vation, and rising occasionally into hills of moderate height •
the western part is wholly mountainous, and covered in most
parts with bog, except in some places near the sea, where
the soil, unless when covered with drifted sand, is sufficiently
fertile. In some parts of the flat country, near Lough Mask
the ground appears like one plain of grevstone, which, on
a closer examination, is found to consist of parallel layers
of rock rising edgeways out of the ground, and having the
intervening furrows filled with a productive soil that throws
up an herbage peculiarly grateful to sheep. Amono- the
prinapal mountains, Muilrea (2688 feet high, the most" effi!
. -ted P0,nt in Connaught), is conspicuous. This fine moun¬
tain, which, with Bemmrm (99ka , moun-
orMavo sidP nf Kill (2286,feet), forms the northern
a mile from .hi ^ 7 Ha';l>0",r>has its sum“it level about
a mile from the sea, towards which it presents a grand and
imposing aspect. Croagh-Patrirk (9^ ic /i - i f , d
the southern shore of Clew Bav Tht ™ l”8 ’- ' “0”
thp mnef /•■oink., f i • t, aj. I nis mountain is amongst
the maiestie ^ *le and> not onfy for its height and
J me it presents from the various positions
3 A
whence it can be viewed, but from the tradition that St
Patrick chose its summit as the place to stand on when he
drove all the venomous reptiles of the island into the sea.
Nephin, 2640 feet high, to the W. of Lough Conn, is of
a conical form, with rugged and steep sides, quite isolated
by its o-reat elevation over the neighbouring country, and
covered with Alpine plants to its summit. Nephin-beg, in
its vicinity, is 2065 feet high. In the same district is the
mountain of Berreencurragh, 2290 feet high; and more
westward, Maam-Thomoish and Croughletta, each very
lofty, though less elevated than the preceding. The rivers
which flow from these mountains are small, unless when
their body of waters is increased by a violent fall of rain.
The principal are the Aull, which is navigable for large
boats for 5 miles from Lough Mask ; the Castlebar (or Cly-
dagh) River, in like manner, navigable for 4 miles from
Lmigh Conn ; the Owenmore, an excellent salmon river,
which flows through Erris, and falls into Blacksod Bay;
the Deel, the Robe, the Errive, and the Carnamart. The
splendid River Moy, which separates this county from Sligo,
is navigable to within a mile of Ballina for vessels of 450
tons, and as a salmon river ranks second only to the Bann.
The Black River, which is the boundary on the S., is re¬
markable for having an underground course of some miles
near its embouchure into Lough Corrib. Amongst the
numerous lakes, Lough Mask, situated in the S., and sepa¬
rated from Lough Corrib by a narrow isthmus, is the largest.
It is 10 miles long by 4 broad, but its southern extremity
is included in Galway county. Lough Cana, to the N.E,
of Lough Mask, is a picturesque sheet of water, but much
inferior^in this respect to the beautiful Lough Raheens,
called also Castlebar Lough from the town in its vicinity;
and Lough Conn, still farther N., is a fine sheet of water
12 miles long, including Lough Cullin, but of very incon¬
siderable breadth. The minor lakes are numerous, and
there are several furloughs, in which the water collects in
winter, but is carried off by a natural drainage at the be¬
ginning of summer.
The western and northern coasts are indented with nu¬
merous bays and creeks. Killary Bay, or the Killary, which
separates Mayo from Galway, is a narrow inlet of the sea,
reaching 8 miles from the Atlantic, and only about halt a
mile in breadth, bounded on both sides throughout its en¬
tire length by mountains which, on the Mayo side, rise to
nearly 3000 feet in height, and resembling the scenery ot
a Norwegian fiord. Proceeding northwards, the next inlet
in order, and the most worthy of note for extent and gran¬
deur of scenery, is Clew Bay, protected at its entrance by
Clare Island, and having in its interior the two harbours
of Newport and Westport, besides many creeks and road¬
steads caused by the almost innumerable islets with which
its eastern coast is studded. Blacksod Bay and Bioad-
haven form the peninsula ot the Mullet, and are prevented
from blending their waters only by the very narrow isthmus
of Bellmullet. On the northern coast are Dunfinney and
Killala Bays. The lesser indentations of the coast, afford¬
ing shelter for small craft, and therefore of much import¬
ance to the fisheries, are too numerous to admit of specific
detail.
The principal island is that of Achill. It is the largest
on the Irish coast, containing 35,283 acres, and about 3500
inhabitants, and is formed partly of lofty hills and partly of
flat bogs. The western side presents a rugged and preci¬
pitous line of rock to resist the violence of the Atlantic,
interrupted only by a few small coves, scarcely capable of
sheltering the smallest boats; the eastern coast affords
shelter almost everywhere. The highest mountain on the
island, Slievemore, situated to the W. of the Protestant
missionary settlement, is 2204 feet above the sea; and
other summits attain elevations of 2192, 1800, and 1120
feet. Clare Island is of a triangular form, 3959 acres in
M A Y 0.
extent, and has about 1400 inhabitants.
Innisbofin, the Mayo.
most important island on the coast as respects the fisheries,
is about 4 miles from Connemara in Galw^ay; it had a
garrison in the time ot the republic. The finest cod-bank
on the Irish coast lies near it. Innisturk lies midway be¬
tween the two last-named islands. The want of a landing-
place renders it nearly useless, notwithstanding its advan¬
tageous position for fishing. It comprehends 1450 acres
of poor soil and rock. T he lesser islands are scarcely of
sufficient consequence to deserve enumeration.
The returns of the population of the county, taken at
different periods, present the following results:
Year. Authority. Population.
1760 De Burgo   77,508
1792  Beaufort  140,000
1812 Parliamentary return  261,821
1821  Ditto  293,112
1831  Ditto .366,328
1841  Ditto  388,887
1851  Ditto  274,612
The latest of these returns shows a decrease of popula¬
tion in 10 years of 114,275, or 29 per cent. As far as may
be conjectured from the relative numbers of Protestant and
Catholic children attending public schools in 1824-26, the
proportion between the sects is upwards of 7 to 1 in favour
of the latter persuasion.
The returns of the numbers educated are as follows:—
Total.
9,335
16,993
Girls.
3185
5172
Sex not
ascertained.
Year. Boys.
1821   6,150
1824-6 10,827 5172 694
Of the numbers in the latter return, 1900 only were Pro¬
testants. In 1851 the number of schools, and of pupils at¬
tending them, during the week ending 12th ot April, was
found to be :—■
National 
Church Education,
Endowed 
Boarding 
Private 
Parochial 
Free 
Industrial 
Mission 
Military 
Workhouse 
Gaol 
Total.
No. of
Schools.
119
26
2
2
98
7
11
6
59
1
18
1
350
Number of Pupils.
Males.
2920
462
55
15
1734
152
229
17
860
13
2075
41
8573
Females.
2400
444
32
15
992
136
548
234
1121
5
2162
7
8096
Total.
5320
906
87
30
2726
288
777
251
1981
18
4237
48
16,669
The county was represented in the Irish Parliament by
four members, two for the county at large, and two for the
borough of Castlebar; but the two latter were struck off
at the° Union, and compensation, amounting to L.15,000,
awarded to the Earl of Lucan, as proprietor ot the borough,
for the loss of the patronage. No alteration having been
since made under the Reform Act, the number of repre¬
sentatives is now limited to two. .
The number of resident landed proprietors is small in
comparison with the extent of the county. I be condition
of the peasantry varies considerably according to their situ¬
ation. On the sea-coast, where the occupation ot fishing
can be combined with that of agriculture, the people are
tolerably comfortable. This is particularly the case in the
district around Killala, Westport, Newport, and other places
where an export trade is carried on; and early and impro¬
vident marriages are by no means so common in those parts.
Similar appearances of comfort and prudence are observable
in the inland eastern districts where agriculture is attended
to. In the mountainous and boggy tracts the state ot
Mayo, the peasantry is very deplorable. The houses are of the
—poorest description, and extremely confined in dimensions
Mut in the agricultural districts the case is different. In
these the houses are of stone and mortar, with a chimney
and separate apartments. The men dress in home-made
neze of a dark colour, and the women mostly in cheap
cottons The fuel is universally turf; the food potatoes,
with milk occasionally, and when near the shore, fish. The
Irish language is understood by 65 per cent, of the popu-
latmn and about 50,000 persons are unable to speak the
Jcrnghsh language. In the inland and more retired parts
the peasantry prefer collecting themselves in closely-built
irregular villages, to living in detached cottages. The cus-
tiom of holding large tracts of land in joint tenancy, which
is the favourite tenure in the pasturable regions, may be
considered as the chief cause of this practice.
I he soil in the plain country is chiefly a gravelly loam
on a limestone bottom. Even in the tracts where bogs pre¬
vail, ridges of limestone gravel, called eskers, of a mile and
more in length, several perches broad, and from 40 to 50
feet high, are to be met with. The rocky pastures pro¬
duce a nutritive herbage for sheep and young cattle ; and
m p aces from which these are excluded, timber trees throw
up their shoots spontaneously. Wheat is grown in large
quantities in the southern and eastern baronies ; oats, ba*r-
tey, and flax in the hilly country.
The extent of land under crops, and the number of
acres under each species of crop in 1855 and 1856, was:—
±v± I U.
1855.
^eat  4,6^38
  §3 543
Barley, here, rye, pease, and beans  5 396
£otat.oes  59,037
^rn,P®   9,556
Other green crops  2 193
^ax  745
Meadow and clover  jg 229
1856.
Acres.
6,086
84,249
4,252
67,230
10,604
2,227
923
16,964
Total  183,337 192,535
Where limestone can be had it is the favourite manure
either alone or in a compost with other substances. Where
it cannot be procured, recourse is had to burning. Shellv
sea-sand, and sea-weed thrown up by the high winds, are
much used on the coast. The implements of agriculture
are sti 1 of a clumsy and coarse make. The spade, called
a % having a rest for the right foot only, is substituted
With n °,4lgr T-the mountainous parts. In Erris a spade
with a blade forking out into two points is used where the
soi is rocky The fences are mostly dry-stone walls
formed by collecting the loose stones from the surface’
where they are so abundant that the fences made of them
piesent the appearance of ramparts rather than inclosures
against trespassing.
an Jl856 was^—f ^ St°Ck ^ ^ County of May° in 1855
1855.
No.
n°rses  17,531
Cattle  153,583
SheeP  265,448
Pigs  38,348
1856.
No.
19,300
157,856
270,074
33,372
Towards the close of the last century, planting, both for
ornament in demesnes, and on a more extensive scale for
profit, has been much attended to. The base of Croa^h-
patnck is finely fringed with wood, as is that of Nephin.
I he neighbourhood of Westport is much improved by ex¬
tensive plantations. The baronies of Tyrawley, Burris-
oftimber ^ ^ <"ostell°’ however> are nearly destitute
. manufactures are almost wholly confined to articles
m demand for home consumption, such as linens, furs
anneis, wmollen stockings, and straw hats. The chief
marts for the sale of the superabundant produce are Castle-
lui and Westport. Besides these legal sources of profit
1 om manufactures, illicit distillation is still carried on to
some extent. The exports are grain, fish, and kelp; large
quantities of the latter are manufactured on the shores.
Fishing banks are numerous. The principal one, between
Inmsbofin and Achill, affords an inexhaustible supply of
white fish. Near Achill is a sandbank stocked with turbot
vrni 1 r>r are a'so taken in abundance off
Killala Bay. Near Inniskea Island is a great ling bank.
Ihe sun-fish, or basking shark, is taken from 5 to 8 leagues
from the coast. The fishery commences in the last week in
April; but as the success of the season depends on the
state of the weather, which is very liable to sudden and
vio ent squalls at that season, and as the fish frequently
escapes, bearing away with it the harpoon and tackle, the
average profits, during a continuance of seasons, seldom
compensate the adventurer for his outlay. The herrino-
fishery occupies many hands. The whole fishing trade il
earned on in open boats, as this description of craft is less
expensive, and better adapted for the coasting trade in kelp
and turf, in which it is employed during the intervals of the
fishing seasons. The deep-sea fishing begins in May ; that
of the herring in August. The winter fishing continues
from November to Christmas. Pollock, whiting, sand-eels,
and shell-fish are caught along the shores, and there are
salmon fisheries at Newport, Ballina, and other places.
1 he remains of ancient buildings are numerous, and many
of them highly worthy of note. There are round or pillar
towers at Killala, Turlough, Meeleek, and Bal; but the
first, which stands on an eminence in the town, is the
loftiest and best preserved. The Abbey of Mayo, which
gives name to the county, was once the site of a bishop’s
see. Moyne Abbey, beautifully situated on the banks of
the bay, near Killala, still exhibits some arches of magni¬
ficent size and excellent workmanship, with a tower rising
not less than 100 feet from the top of the centre of the
church. The ruins of Rosserick Abbey, in a sheltered dell
near the estuary of the Moy, about 4 miles from Killala
are amongst the finest specimens of monastic buildino-g in
the county.. I he workmanship of an arch in the centre of
the church is peculiarly admirable. Although Ballyhaunis
Abney is much dilapidated, the remains of its ruins show
!t to have been, as it were, a miniature resemblance of that
of Moyne. At Ballinrobe was the Abbey de Roba, of
which no traces are now visible. Ballintobber'Abbey, about
5 miles from Ballyglass, was founded by Cathal O’Conor
King of Connaught. The Abbey of Burrishoole, 2 miles
distant from Newport, owes its origin to the Bourke family;
its site is the place for holding a patron in honour of St Do-
mimc. The remains of the church of Strade Abbey, on the
Moy, still exist; they are singularly beautiful, and near the
altar are several curious sculptures. Cross, or Holycross
Monastery, was in the peninsula of the Mullet. The Abbev
of Bophm was built in the island of Innisbofin. Many relics
of other monastic buildings of inferior note are to be found
m various parts. Ihe remains of ancient castles and places
of strength are also numerous. At Downpatrick, or Dun-
inste, aie the ruins of a strong castle on a cliff, 300 feet
high, projecting into the sea. A rock of equal elevation
uses at about the same distance from the shore on which
aie also the traces of castellated buildings. The corre-
rS r/ s.iT’Trrand s,
prove that thpv u ' L t separates these structures
prove that they weie once united. Rockfleet Castle near
GraTo’MaCV0 'i™ bfen by the celebrated
fortresses aW , ° ‘°m ‘16 erection of seteraI “‘her
mi tresses along the coast are attributed. This singular
ofheTexMs Z"? ?t*cl,e<l!° Il,e st'a-.tlle.scene of’W
her hni-k ’ ,la .w len 011 shore, she is said to have had
ei baik raoored to her bed-post through a window of the
Mayo.
372 M A Y
Mayomba castle where she slept. Ballylahan Castle, near T oxford,
11 was built by one of the MacJordan family, who erected
Maypu. ot]iers of simiiar construction for each of his ten sons.
/ Deel Castle, near Ballina, stands as yet; it was formerly the
residence of the Earls of Arran, and is still inhabited. In
Lou'di Conn are the ruins of a fort in which O’Conor,
kin" of Ireland, is said to have confined his son. The
smaller castles, or fortified houses, vestiges of which are
visible in many parts, are almost invariably square buildings,
with a narrow entrance and a few contracted windows,
erected solely for security, without any regard to architec¬
tural beauty.
The towns in this extensive county are few and small,
none of them having a population amounting to 5000. The
principal are,—Castlebar, Westport, Ballina, and Ballinrobe,
which will be found described under their respective
heads. (h. s—R.)
M A Y OM B A, or Mayumba, a seaport of A frica, in South
Guinea, is situated at the mouth of the Mayomba River,
120 miles N.W. of Loango. It is the capital of a territory
of the same name, which is governed by a chief dependent
on the King of Loango. The harbour is convenient. The
inhabitants, who are gentle and intelligent, find employ¬
ment in working copper and procuring ivory and gum.
MAYOTTA, an island in the Mozambique Channel, the
farthest S. of the Comoro group, is situated about 160 miles
from Madagascar, in S. Lat. 12. 54., and E. Long. 45. 15.
It. is about 30 miles in length by 20 in breadth, and is for
the most part of volcanic structure. It is mountainous,
rising in some parts to the height of nearly 2000 feet; and
many valleys and ravines occur, while the whole is covered
by forests and luxuriant vegetation. The coast is indented
with numerous bays, &c., and is surrounded by reefs, which
render the landing difficult. The villages are two in num¬
ber,—Choa, or Mayotta, the residence of the chief; and
Zaondzi, on an island of the same name, which is included
within the encircling reef. Mayotta has suffered much from
the Madagascar pirates. It has been in the possession of
the French since 1841. Pop. (1854) 6888.
MAYOW, or Mayo, John, a medical man of some
eminence, but more remarkable for his curious specula¬
tions on some chemical subjects, was born in Cornwall in
1645. His most interesting work is a short Latin trea¬
tise, De Sale Nitro, et Spiritu Nitro-dereo, which ap¬
peared at Oxford in 1674. In this he adopted the theory
of combustion of Dr Hooke, which had appeared about ten
years before ; and he added some ingenious original expe¬
riments, in which he appears to have anticipated some far
more recent investigations on the weight gained by metals
on calcination; and he maintained that atmospheric air
underwent a change in composition during the combustion
of fuel. The apparatus he employed in these experiments
was ingenious, and not very different from that of modern
chemistry. But the attention of chemists was drawn away
from the simple explanations of Hooke and Mayow by the
fanciful speculations of Stahl regarding phlogiston. In the
14th chapter of his little treatise we find that the ideas of
Mayow on chemical affinity were much more accurate than
those of any of his contemporaries ; and we must regard him
as one of the pioneers of modern chemistry, though some of
his views are undoubtedly erroneous, as might be expected
from the period in which he lived. He died at Bristol in
1679, at the early age of thirty-four. (t. s. t.)
MAYPU, a river of Chili, in the department of Santiago,
rises in the Andes, between the volcano of the same name and
the Peak of 1 upungato, flows westward, and, after a course
of 160 miles, falls into the Pacific. For about one-third of
its course, the river flows in narrow ravines among the high
mountain ridges of the Andes ; but in the lower part of its
course it traverses the S. portion of the plain of Santiago,
which it waters by means of a canal. Its waters are much
M A Z
impregnated with salt, and dash along with an impetuosity Maysville
which no ordinary bridge could withstand. It is therefore H
crossed only by swinging bridges of ropes, on the model Mazande-
of those of the ancient Peruvians. The Rio de Colina, v raUDl ,
from the plain of Santiago, falls into this river. In the
plains traversed by the Maypu, a great and decisive victory
was gained in 1818, by the republicans under San Martin,
over the royalists, which put an end to the Spanish domi¬
nion in Chili.
MAYSVILLE, a town in the state of Kentucky, Mason
county, North America, is situated on the S. bank of the
Ohio, 60 miles above Cincinnati, and 73 miles N.E. of
Frankfort. The town, which formerly went by the name
of Limestone from a creek of that name, consists of a num¬
ber of regular streets, crossing each other at right angles,
and containing many well-built houses and shops. The
principal buildings are,—a city-hall, a jail, an hospital, 7
or 8 churches, 12 schools and seminaries, and 2 banks.
Manufactures of iron, cotton, ropes, &c., are carried on
here. Maysville is a place of considerable trade, especially
in the agricultural produce of the north-eastern districts of
the state, and it has an excellent harbour on the Ohio.
Pop. (1853) 6500.
MAZAMET, a town of France, department of Tarn,
situated on the small River Earn, a tributary of the Agout,
at the foot of the Black Mountains, 10 miles S.E. of
Castres. It is within the last forty years that this town
has acquired its present importance; for previously it was
only an obscure village in a barren and thinly peopled
country. The town has a Protestant consistorial church ;
and manufactures of coarse woollen stuffs, moleskins, cloth,
paper, &c. Its trade is also considerable, comprising, besides
its articles of manufacture, corn, wool, cattle, &c. Pop. 9894.
MAZANDERAUN, or Mazenderan, a province of
Persia, bounded on the N. by the Caspian Sea, E. by Khor-
assan, S. by Irak-Ajemi, and VV. by Ghilan, and lying be¬
tween 36.and 37. N. Lat., and 50. and 54. E. Long. Length
about 200 miles from E. to W.; average breadth 50 miles;
area 10,000 square miles. The province is bounded on the
S. by the high mountains of Elburz, which are covered with
wood ; but the most part of it consists of a low plain on the
shores of the Caspian. Near the sea the country is very
marshy; but at a short distance it takes a gradual ascent.
None of the rivers are of great size, and all flow northward
into the Caspian. The climate is not very healthy; but it is
not so insalubriousasthat of the adjoining province ofGhilan.
The soil is good, and produces rice, cotton, mulberry, and
sugar cane; as well as oranges, pomegranates, and other
fruits. Cultivation is carried on to a considerable extent;
the chief article raised being rice. Its trade, which is
principally with Russia, consists in the exportation of rice,
silk, and cotton ; and the importation of woollen stuffs, corn,
tobacco, cutlery, &c. The inhabitants resemble in ap¬
pearance and costume the other Persians; but they have
the reputation of being more warlike and courageous.
They are ignorant, proud, and very scrupulous and bigoted
in their religious observances. There is also a tribe called
Lak or Lek, supposed by some to be Kurds, who have one
of their principal seats here. In the time of limour the
courage and determination of the people of this province,
who defended themselves in their strongholds and mountain
fastnesses, were so great as to give that conqueror consider¬
able trouble in subduing them. Mazanderaun is also cele¬
brated as the scene of some of the most famous exploits of
Rustom, the Persian hero. The province is traversed by
an artificial causeway, extending from W. to E. nearly
parallel to the Caspian ; which, though built more than 200
years ago bv Abbas the Great, Shah of Persia, is in very
good preservation at the present day. The principal towns
are,—Sari, the capital, Amol, Balfrush, and Farahabad.
Pop. 150,000.
Mazarin
MAZARIN, Jules (properly Mazzarino, Giulio), son
of 1 letro Mazzarino, a noble Sicilian, was born at Piscina, in
the Abbruzzi, on the 14th of July 1602. Having received
his elementary education at Rome, he passed into Spain
with the Abbe, afterwards Cardinal, Girolamo Colonna, at
the age of seventeen, where he attended courses of law in
the universities ot Alcala and Salamanca. But he soon aban¬
doned jurisprudence in order to embrace the military pro-
lessmn, and in 1625 was sent, with the rank of captain, into
the Valteline, where the pontiff then had an army. From
tins tune he began to display his talents for diplomacy.
1 he generals of his Holiness, Conti and de Bagni, sent him
successively to the Duca de Feria, general of the Spaniards,
and to the Marquis de Cceuvres, afterwards Marshal d’Est-
rees, who commanded the French troops; and in both
missions he acquitted himself in such a manner as to merit
the commendations of these chiefs. He then returned to
Rome, where he resumed the study of jurisprudence, and
took his doctor’s degree. But the disputed succession to
the duchies of Mantua and Montferrat having kindled up a
new war, he quitted law for diplomacy, in which line na¬
ture had peculiarly qualified him to excel. The competi¬
tors were the Due de Nevers, whose cause was espoused
by me court of France, at which he resided, and the Duca
de Guastalla, who was supported by the emperor, the Kin^
o Spain and the Duke of Savoy. The pope, desirous to
prevent a war, of which Italy was about to become the
theatre, sent Cardinal Sacchetti to Turin to act in favour of
the Due de Nevers; and Mazarin accompanied him in
this mission. Sacchetti returned to Rome unsuccessful
leaving to Mazarin the title of internuncio, with power to
continue the negotiations, and to effect a peace. Mazarin
hrst saw Louis XIII. at Lyons in 1630, and had a Ion-
conference with Cardinal Richelieu. The cardinal enter¬
tained the highest opinio nof him, and feeling that France
wanted an able and devoted man in Italy, he succeeded in
gaining the young diplomatist, who from this time openly
showed himself favourable to the interests of France. He
returned to Italy without having obtained any success in
his mission, and the war continued; but the Duke of
Savoy having died, his son gave his entire confidence to
Mazarin, who immediately resumed the work of peace with
fresh ardour.. The Spaniards were besieging Casale, and
the french wished to relieve the place; but by negotiating
with the chiefs of both armies he induced them to consent
to an armistice for six weeks. When this truce had ex¬
pired he demanded a prolongation, which the French re¬
fused, and at the same time prepared to attack the
lines. Mazarin then proposed a treaty, in which they sti¬
pulated the hardest conditions. To engage them to relax
in their demands, he represented the formidable state of the
Spanish army, and the hazard of an attempt to force their
entrenchments; but failing to persuade them, he passed
over to the Spaniards, reported to them the conditions re-
quired by the French, and, still employing the same logic
urged the superiority of the French, and their ardent
desiie for the combat. This time he succeeded. The
Spanish general assented to everything. Mazarin imme¬
diately quitted the Spanish trenches, and riding at full -al-
lop towards the French, regardless of the balls wdiich
whistled around him, waved his hat, exclaiming “ Peace
peace.” The soldiers repulsed him, crying out “ No peace;”
but he nevertheless addressed himself to the Mareschal de
Schomberg, who accepted the treaty, and caused his troops
to lay down their arms. This peace was confirmed the fol¬
lowing year by the treaty of Cherasco, which was nego¬
tiated by Mazarin. About the same time he secured^to
France the town of Pignerol, and deceived both the Span¬
iards and imperialists, who had only evacuated Casal and
Mantua on condition that the French garrison should quit
Pignerol. Such conduct excited against him all the hatred
mazarin.
373
of the Spaniards; but it earned for him the acknowledge- Mazarin.
ments of Louis XIII. and of Richelieu, who commended vtm- yJ
him favourably to the pope. Through the influence of
Richelieu he wus sent in 1634 to the court of France, in
the capacity of nuncio extraordinary. The object of this
mission was to intercede in favour of the Duke of Lorraine,
who had been deprived of his estates by Louis XIII.
In 1635 the Spaniards, by their intrigues with the sove¬
reign pontiff, procured his recal to Avignon, and even at¬
tempted to get his vice-legation revoked; but he antici¬
pated them, and demanding his immediate recal, he in
1636 returned to Rome, where he openly supported the in¬
terests of trance. He was sent to Savoy by Louis XIII.
duiing the troubles of 1640, with the title of ambassador
extraordinary. The successes of the Compte d’Harcourt in
Piedmont enabled him, in December 1641, to conclude a
treaty between the Duchess of Savoy and her brothers-in-
law, who, supported by Spain, had disputed with her the
guardianship of her son. It was then that Mazarin obtained
the cardinal’s hat long since demanded for him by his friend
Richelieu. He was included in the nomination of the 16th
December 1641, and on the 25th of February 1642 he re¬
ceived the cap from the hands of Louis XIII. The intrigues
which had pursued Richelieu during his whole life assumed
fresh force towards its close, and on his death-bed he re¬
commended Mazarin warmly to the king, who entrusted
him with the direction of all affairs of state. Richelieu had
governed by terror; but Mazarin preferred to make him¬
self friends. He obtained the release of Marshal de Bas-
sompierre, Marshal de Vitry, and many other victims of the
last minister, recalled several exiled members of parliament,
and contributed to the reconciliation of the Due d’Orleans
with the king.
On the death of Louis XIII. on the 14th of May 1643
the adimmstration of affairs was placed entirely in the hands
of Mazarin. The commencement of his sway was attended
with the happiest success; and the advantages gained by
the king’s armies secured to the cardinal the applause of the
nation. But these favourable dispositions were soon suc¬
ceeded by the murmurs, not loud but deep, of an oppressed
people, and also by a combination of the high nobility who
were jealous of his advancement and power. The civil wars
of 1649, 1650, 1651, and 1652, followed ; his dismissal was
at length insisted on, and Mazarin immediately withdrew
from the kingdom. Decree upon decree was fulminated
against him ; his fine library was sold ; and a price was even
put upon his head; yet, in spite of all the rage of his ene¬
mies, he was enabled to return to court with greater power
than ever; and many who had formerly been his bitterest
enemies now became his warmest friends. He put an end
to the war between France and Spain, and, in order to con¬
solidate the peace he had re-established, negotiated a mar¬
riage between the king and the infanta, which was celebrated
at Sant-Jean-de-Luz on the 9th of June 1660. He died
at Vincennes on the 9th of March 1661, in the fifty-ninth
year of his age. Mazarin was but little regretted A
courtier writing at the time, says, “Ze roi est, ouparait, le
seul touche de la mart du cardinal” He had accumulated
immense wealth by very doubtful or equivocal means. His
fortune is said to have amounted to near eight millions
sterling, all acquired in a period of external war or of inter¬
nal commotion. On the approach of death he felt some
scruples of conscience on the subject, which were, however
soon got over. ’ ’
The only productions of Mazarin which have been pub¬
lished are his letters. Of these, thirty-six, written byhim
whilst negotiating the peace of the Pyrenees, made their
appearance in the year 1690; and seventy-seven more on the
same subject were published in 1693. The whole were
co ected and reprinted at Amsterdam, in two volumes,
under the title of Negociations Secretes des Pyrenees. The
374
Mazeppa
ii
li
Mazoocchi.
M A Z
Abbe Allainval afterwards arranged these letters in chrono¬
logical order, and, together with fifty unpublished letters,
brought them out under the title of Lettres du Cardinal
Mazarin, ou Von voit le Secret de la Negotiation de la
Paix des Pyrenees, Paris, 1745, in two vols. 12mo.
The character of Mazarin, who was a thorough Italian
in diplomacy, has been compared, or rather contrasted with
that of Richelieu, and variously shaded according to the
opinions and predilections of those by whom it is delineated.
“ Cardinal Mazarin,” says Renault, “was as gentle as Cardinal
Richelieu was violent; one of his greatest talents consisted in
knowing men thoroughly. The character of his policy was
rather finesse and prudence than force. He thought that
force should never be employed but in default of other
means; and his mind supplied the courage required by
circumstances; bold at Casale, tranquil and active in his
retreat at Cologne; enterprising when it was necessary to
cause the princes to be arrested, but insensible to the plea¬
santries of the Fronde; despising the bravadoes of the
coadjutor, De Retz, and listening to the murmurs of the
people as one listens on the shore to the noise of the waves
of the sea. There was in Cardinal Richelieu something
greater, vaster, and less composed; in Cardinal Mazarin,
more address, more management, and fewer extravagances.
People hated the one and derided the other; but both were
masters of the state.”
MAZEPPA, John, the hero of one of Lord Byron’s
poems, was born about the middle of the seventeenth cen¬
tury, of a poor but noble family, in the palatinate of Podo-
lia. At an early age he became a page at the court of
John Casimir, King of Poland. After some time he returned
to his native province; but engaging in an intrigue with a
Polish matron of high rank, he was detected by the injured
husband, and was sentenced to be bound naked on the back
of an untamed horse. The animal on being let loose gal-
lopped off towards its native wilds of the Ukraine, and
arrived there jaded and worn out. Mazeppa half-dead and
insensible, was released from his fearful position, and restored
to animation by some poor peasants. In a short time, his
agility, courage, and sagacity, rendered him popular among
the Cossacks. He was appointed secretary and adjutant to
Samoilowich, their hetman or chief, and succeeded that
functionary in 1687. The title of prince was afterwards
conferred upon him by his friend and patron, Peter the
Great. Bent, however, upon casting off the Russian yoke,
Mazeppa became, in his seventieth year, an ally of the
Swedish monarch, Charles XII. After the disastrous battle
of Pultowa, fought, it is said, by his advice, he retired to
Bender, and there he died in 1709.
MAZZARA, a seaport of Sicily, province of Trapani,
situated on the W. coast, near the mouth of the Salemi, 11
miles S.E. of Marsala, and 26 S. of Trapani. The town is
ill built; and though from the sea the domes of the churches
present a fine appearance, yet when more closely ap¬
proached it is found to be chiefly characterized by narrow
and dirty streets. There is a public square, of a curious
antique appearance, in which stand the cathedral, with
a fine dome, and an equestrian statue of Count Roger the
Norman (who landed here for the conquest of Sicily) over
the gate; also the bishop’s palace, and the senate-house.
Besides these, the toAvn contains numerous churches and
convents, a college, hospital, theatre, and granary. It is
surrounded by an old Saracenic wall, with small towers,
and there is also an old castle in a ruinous condition. The
harbour, though large, is not good, being shallow, and only
accessible to small vessels. The road also is unsheltered;
but notwithstanding these disadvantages the trade is con¬
siderable ; and the town exports corn, wine, fruits, fish, oil,
soap, &c. Pop. 8400.
MAZZOCCHI, Alessio Simmaco, an Italian writer,
was born near Capua in 1684, and died at Naples in 1771.
M A Z
Having by dint of personal application acquired a knowledge
of the G reek, Latin, and Hebrew languages, he was nominated
a canon of the Neapolitan diocese, and ultimately appointed
professor of biblical exegesis in the university of Naples. ^
His name was first known among learned men through his
commentary DelV Anfiteatro Campano, in which he eluci¬
dates the early history of Capua, and proves, among other
things, that it was the first of the eighteen Roman colonies
established in Italy. In connection with his professorship
he wrote a work named Spicilegium Biblicum, the most
comprehensive of the older encyclopaedias of sacred and pro¬
fane learning extant; in which Homer, Hesiod, Herodotus,
Plato, and most of the ancient authors-, are made to contri¬
bute to the elucidation of Scripture. The other work on
which Mazzocchi’s fame chiefly rests is the Commentario
sopra le due tavole Eraclensi; so called because these
tablets were found in the neighbourhood of Heraclea, in
Magna Grecia. The other works of this author are,—De
dedicatione sub ascia, Naples, 1738; Dissertazione sopra
Vorigine de' Tirreni, Rome, 1740; De antiquis Cor eyres
nominibus schediasma, Naples, 1742 ; In vetus marmoreum
S. Neapolitance ecclesice Kalendarium commentarius, ibid.,
1744; Diatribe de librorum bipatentium et convolutorum
antiquitate, ibid.; Opuscula oratoria, epistolee, carmina,
et diatribe de antiquitate, ibid., 1775 ; an improved edition
of the Etymologia linguee Latince, by Vossius, Naples,
1762; and other less important works. (See Fabroni,
Vitce Italorum.) (e. f.)
MAZZUCHELLI, Conte Giovan Maria, ajearned
jurisconsult and biographer, born at Brescia in 1717. The
first result of his studies was the Notizie Storiche e critiche
intorno alia vita e agli scritti d'Archimede, Brescia, 1737,
in which he explains the inventions of the celebrated Syra¬
cusan, and offers suggestions on the mirrors which are said
to have set fire to the ships of the Consul Marcellus, and
concludes by doubting the authenticity of the fact; thus
anticipating the French academician, who afterwards estab¬
lished mathematically the argument De falso speculo
Archimedeo. The author, encouraged by the success of
this work, formed the vast design of including in one work
all the literary and scientific achievements of Italy from the
earliest times. Accordingly, in 1753, he published at Brescia
the first two folio volumes of his work in alphabetical order,
which completed the letter A. These were followed by
four volumes on the letter B in 1758-63, the last which he
survived to finish. He died a few years after, leaving be¬
hind him a vast collection of ancient codes, manuscripts,
casts, and medals, which were afterwards engraved and
given to the woidd, with a description by the Abbe Pietro
A. Gaetani at Milan. The Dissertazioni Storiche, scienti-
jiche ed erudite, 2 vols. 4to, Brescia, 1765, were the result
of the litterurie conversazioni, or literary society, which
met at his house. Count Mazzuchelli also wrote the Vite
di Scipione Capece e di Giusto de' Conti, Brescia, 1 / 69;
Notizie intorno ad Isotta da Imola, ibid.; essays published
in the literary periodicals of his day; many letters; and an
edition of the Vite d'uomini illustri Fiorentini di Filippo
Villani, with additions, corrections, &c. (See Rodella,
Vita del C. G. B. Mazzuchelli, Brescia, 1766; and Bragnoli,
Elogi de Bresciani, ibid., 1785.) (e. F.)
MEAD, Dr Richard, an eminent English physician,
was born at Stepney, near London, in 1675. At sixteen
years of age he was sent to Utrecht, where he studied three
years under the celebrated Graevius ; and then choosing
the profession of physic he went to Leyden, and attended
the lectures of Pitcairn and Hermann. Having visited
Padua in 1695 he took his degree of doctor of philosophy
and physic; and returning home he settled at Stepney,
and practised physic with great success.
In 1703 Dr Mead was elected a member of the Royal
Society, of which Sir Isaac Newton was then president.
Mazzu¬
chelli
Mead.
Meath.
M E A
Meaday The same year he was elected physician of St Thomas’s
Hospital, and was also employed by the surgeons to read
anatomical lectures in their hall. In 1707 his Paduan di¬
ploma for doctor of physic was confirmed by the university
of Oxford; and on the death of Dr Radcliffe, Mead en¬
joyed the most extensive practice of any physician of his day.
In 1 727 he was made physician to George II., whom he had
served in that capacity whilst he was Prince of Wales.
During almost half a century he was at the head of his
profession, and he was admired no less as a man than as a
physician. His reputation, not only as a physician, but as
a scholar, was so universally established, that he corre¬
sponded with the principal literati in Europe. It was
principally to him that the several counties of England, and
our colonies abroad, applied for the choice of their physi¬
cians, and he was likewise consulted by foreign physicians
from Russia, Prussia, Denmark, and other countries. Mead’s
principal works are,—A Mechanical Account of Poisons,
1702; De impeno Solis et Lunce in Corpora Humana, et
Morhis inde onundis, 1704; A short Discourse concern¬
ing Pestilential Contagion, 1720; On the Scurvg, 1749;
On Small-pox and Measles, 1/48; Medicina Sacra, seu
de Morhis insignioribus qui in Bihliis Memorantur, 1748 ;
Monita et Prcecepta Medica, 1 751. His works, which were
written in Latin, were afterwards translated into English
by Dr Thomas Slack, and received the author’s revision.
They passed through many editions both in this coun¬
try and on the Continent. (See Authentic Memoirs of the
Life of Richard Mead, M.D., by Matthew Maty, M.D.,
8vo, London, 1755.) This great physician, naturalist, and
antiquary, died on the 16th of February 1754.
MEADAY, a town of Eastern India, situated on the left
bank of the River Irrawaddy, in the British province of
Pegue, 35 miles N. of Prome. The frontier line, running
E. and W., and separating the dominions of the King ol'
Burmah from the recently acquired province of Pe^ue,
passes close to this town. Lat. 19. 17., Long. 95. °
MEASURES. See Weights and Measures.
MEATH, a maritime county in the province of Leinster
in Ireland, is bounded on the N. by the counties of Cavan,
Monaghan, and Louth; on the E. by the Irish Sea and
Dublin county ; on the S. by the counties of Kildare, Dub¬
lin, and King’s County; and on the W. by Westmeath.
Its superficial area is 906 square miles, or 579,899 acres, of
which 547,424 are arable, 16,000 uncultivated, 12,767 in
plantations, 464 in towns, and 3244 under water. Meath
contains a much smaller proportion of uncultivated land than
any other county in Ireland ; and of the 16,000 acres of
bog and coarse pasture land comprised within its boundaries,
it is probable that 6000 acres are capable of improvement
for cultivation, 8000 may be improved bv draining, and
not more than 2000 acres are unimprovable.
In the time of Ptolemy it formed part of the territory of
the Eblani, whose settlement extended from the Boyne to
the Liffey. According to the accounts of native writers,
the district known by the name of Meath was of much
greater extent than at present. It comprehended the mo¬
dern counties of Meath, Westmeath, Longford, with parts
of Cavan, Kildare, and the King’s County, and constituted
the least, but the best and most fertile, of the five subordi¬
nate kingdoms into which the island was divided. At the
time of the landing of the English the O’Melaghlins ruled
in Meath, and from them it was wrested by Henry II., who
bestowed it on Hugh de Lacy, to be holden by the service
of fifty knights. This nobleman subdivided it into twelve
parts called baronies, because the persons to whom he
granted those parts were afterwards created barons. In this
state it continued till the reign of Henry VIII., when it was
divided by act of parliament into the two counties of East-
meath and Westmeath. The modern division of the county
is into eighteen baronies. Deece, Lower and Upper ; Du-
M E A
375
leek, Lower and Upper ; Dunboyne; Fore; Kells, Lower Meath,
and Upper; Lune; Morgallion; Moyfenrath, Lower and
Upper; Navan, Lower and Upper; Ratoath; Skreen; and
Slane, Lower and Upper. These bar-onial divisions are
again subdivided into 146 parishes.
According to the ecclesiastical division of Ireland this
county constitutes the greater portion of the diocese of the
same name ; but a few of its parishes are in the dioceses of
Armagh and Kilmore. There were formerly many epis¬
copal sees in Meath, all of which, except Kells and Duleek,
which, however, subsequently shared the same fate as the
otheis, were consolidated previously to the year 1152, when
Cardinal Paparo settled the diocesan divisions of Ireland,
by authority from Pope Eugenius HI. The seat of the see
was then fixed at Clonard. Ihe bishopric of Clonmacnois
was united to it by act of parliament in 1568. The bishop
of Meath has no cathedral church ; his residence has for a
long period been at Ardbraccan, about 3 miles from Navan,
which in the wars or 1641 was a castle of considerable
stiength, but is now a tasteful modern mansion, and one of
the finest of the episcopal palaces in Ireland. The constitu¬
tion of the diocese possesses many singularities. There is
neither dean nor chapter. The only dignitaries are the
dean of Clonmacnois, and the archdeacon of Meath. The
want of a chapter is supplied by a synod, of which every
beneficed clergyman within the diocese is a member. This
synod has a common seal, which is lodged in the hands of
members annually selected for its custody. The Bishop
of Meath takes precedence of all the other suffragan bishops
in Ireland, and is a member of the privy council in right
of his see. °
I he surface of this county, though generally level, is yet
not without its characteristic beauties. The banks of the
Boyne, especially, present a succession of prospects in which
the undulating surface is richly ornamented with the natural
beauties of w’ood and water, studded by numerous buildings,
both ancient and modern. Fevv of the elevations are of
sufficient height to be termed hills, except Slieve Naccal-
liagh (904 feet), and Lloyd (422 feet), in Kells barony;
and even these, where cultivated, are productive to their
summits. The latter is surmounted by a pillar 100 feet
in height, erected by the first Earl of Bective, from
which a fine view of the rich level plain of Meath may be
obtained.
The River Boyne enters the county at its south-western
extremity, and intersects it diagonally in a north-eastern
direction, pursuing a quiet gentle course, through a rich and
fertile country, till it discharges itself into the sea below
Drogheda, where it forms the boundary between the coun¬
ties of Meath and Louth. It receives the Blackwater at
Navan. 1 he Moynalty or Borora is a branch of the Black-
water. ^ The Nannywater discharges itself into the Irish
Sea. The Ryewater forms part of the boundary between
Dublin and Meath. 1 he Boyne is navigable for barges as
far as Navan, whence a canal has been carried to Trim.
The Royal Canal touches the southern border of the county
between Kdcock and Cloncurry. The sea-coast is confined
to the short space between the mouth of the Boyne and the
stream of the Delvin, which is part of the boundary of Dub¬
lin county. It presents a shelving strand, without a port
of any consequence. There is no sheet of water meriting
he name of lake, except that of Lough Sheelin, which
bounds the county on the N., being situated partly also in
the counties of Cavan and Westmeath, and the very incon¬
siderable Lough of Lakefield, in Demifore. *
The soil is extremely variable, being found of every
quality, from a deep rich loam to the lightest sandy earth j
but that most generally to be met with is a strong deep
c ay, res ing on a substratum of limestone gravel. In some
parts, and even on the tops of the hills, as good earth has
been found at the depth of 4 feet as at the surface.
376
MEATH.
Meath.
The county is wholly included within the great central
plain of floetz limestone, which crosses Ireland in a broad
band. The mineral productions are few, owing partly to
the character of the soil, and partly to that of the surface,
which, from its general flatness, prevents the interior from
being explored to any depth, without being impeded by
subterraneous water. A copper mine was for some time
worked in Skreen barony, but the latter of the causes now
mentioned put a stop to the operations. Limestone of large
scantling, well suited for building purposes, and also sus¬
ceptible" of a high polish, is raised at Ardbraccan. It is
white when fresh from the chisel, but assumes a greyish
hue from atmospherical exposure. Argillaceous clay, which
has been applied to the manufacture of coarse earthenware,
is raised in some places. In Slane barony coal-smut has
been found in abundance, at the edges of streams, where
the soil has been washed away by the action of the water;
but coal has not yet been discovered.
The population of a district enjoying so many of the na¬
tural advantages suited to the maintenance of human exist¬
ence, was probably in early times more numerous than in
most other parts of the kingdom ; but in consequence of the
conversion of the greater portion of its surface into pasture
land, the operation of the clearance system has for some
time past reduced the number of its inhabitants, in propor¬
tion to the extent of cultivated land, to much less than in
any other Irish county.
The population of the county in modern times has been
stated as follows :—
1760 De Burgo  81,516
1792 Beaufort 112,400
1812 Par. return 142,579
1821  Do 159,183
1831  Do 176,826
1841  Do 183,828
1851  Do 140,750
Meath returned no fewer than fourteen representatives
to the Irish parliament,—two for the county at large, and
two for each of the boroughs of Trim, Navan, Athboy,
Duleek, Kells, and Ratoath. This number was reduced to
two at the Union, all the representatives for boroughs hav¬
ing been struck off.
In 1851 the number of schools and of pupils attending
them during the week ending 12th April was :—
Schools.
No. of
Schools.
National 
Church Education
Endowed  
Boarding  
Private 
Parochial 
Free 
Workhouse 
Gaol 
Total.
82
6
6
2
54
13
12
7
1
183
No. of Children.
Males. Females. Total
2730
96
495
111
876
179
143
945
87
5662
2690
62
490
610
125
234
896
5107
5420
158
985
111
1486
304
377
1841
87
10,769
is a common practice for farmers to throw open the field
which he intends to fallow to the cottagers, who furnish '
manure and plant their potatoes on it. If the ground be
in good heart, he charges them at the rate of somewhat
more than his own rent, which is termed “paying the stand¬
ing rentbut if poor, he makes no charge. With respect
to the rotation of crops, or system of cropping, no restriction
is imposed on the tenant. Every one is permitted to raise
that kind of grain from which he expects to derive the
greatest produce.
The crops usually cultivated are,—wheat, oats, barley,
here, rye, clover, flax, potatoes, cabbage, rape, turnips, and
pease. The red wheat is preferred by most as agreeing
best with the soil, and having a thinner rind, bearing the
change of season better, and being less apt to lodge than
the white. The latter is cultivated on the lighter and more
gravelly soils. It comes in earlier, but is more liable to
injury from the weather or mildew. Oats are produced in
the greatest variety and of the finest samples. Barley is
sown on the richest land, and requires the nicest tillage;
and it is considered as one of the most profitable crops.
Bere is a good deal sown, particularly after potatoes; it is
also a profitable crop where it succeeds, but it is uncer¬
tain. The straw makes excellent fodder for young cattle.
Rye, by itself or mixed with wheat, when it is called meslin,
is chiefly ground into whole meal for domestic consump¬
tion. Flax is mostly sown in small patches for the use of
the farmer’s family, and seldom offered in quantities for
sale ; it grows strong and luxuriant, so as to be seldom fitted
for the finer fabrics. When a field is laid down for grass,
those parts of it on which flax had been grown produce
the most luxuriant herbage, and show the earliest verdure
in the following year. Rape is grown with the greatest
success on bog which has been reclaimed by burning. Red
clover is much used as a renovating crop; white clover is
seldom sown except on land laid down for pasture.
The total extent of land under each description of crop
in 1855 and 1856 was as follows:—
1855.
Wheat 18,764
Oats 86,831
Barley, bere, rye, beans, and pease  4,876
Potatoes 19.235
Turnips  9,904
Other green crops  4,005
Flax  266
Meadow and clover 64,646
Meath.
1855.
23,398
78,302
3,633
21,898
9,261
4,007
213
60,557
There are charter-schools at Trim and Ardbraccan, a
school endowed at Navan by a bequest of Alderman Pres¬
ton in 1686, and a large free school was established at
Oldcastle by a bequest of Mr Gibson of London.
f he population is chiefly engaged in agriculture. The
soil being principally composed of a deep rich earth, the
deepest ploughing is considered as the best tillage. A
complete summer’s fallow at stated intervals is considered
necessary to keep the land thoroughly clean ; every other
attempt to eradicate the weeds, by means of clover, vetches,
or any other umbrageous green crop, ha\ing proved in¬
effectual. Planting potatoes, even without manure, is
considered as a good method of fallowing where cleansing
is the only object. In the neighbourhood of villages it
Total 208,527 201,269
The quantity of artificial grass sown is very small, as com¬
pared with the extensive tracts producing natural grasses;
the depth and richness of the soil throughout almost the
whole of the county, and its tendency to moisture without
being absolutely wet, making it throw up a coat of nourish¬
ing herbage scarcely equalled in Ireland. In other counties
there are districts which far exceed the richest lands here;
such are the Golden Vale in rI ipperary, and the corcass
lands in Limerick. But no other district can exhibit
560,000 acres in close proximity of such excellent quality,
and so appropriate to every purpose of tillage ami pasture,
as Meath. It is, generally speaking, more friendly to the
latter kind of agriculture, and consequently was almost
wholly applied to grazing, until the legislative measuies
adopted by the Irish parliament for the encouragement of
tillage induced many to break up the large tracts winch
for a-es had continued untouched by the ploughshare.
The superior excellence of the beef reared here over that
of any other district has made the county proverbial for its
feeding All the old pastures are composed of grasses ot
the best kinds. Graziers seldom think of procuring any
particular species, from an opinion that the land, after
three years, will revert to its natural herbage, even though
grasses of other kinds had been sown upon it when laid
MEATH.
Meath.
down. Dry gravelly soils throw, up a rich coat of white
J c|over5 though no red has been sown; and grounds of a
ckyey nature, when drained and manured with limestone
gravel, often exhibit a similar tendency. Natural meadows
are to be met everywhere; few farms, whatever be their
size, are without a sufficiency for the holder’s use. The
artifical grasses chiefly cultivated are clover and trefoil.
Much attention is paid by the graziers to the treatment of
their feeding stock. The first week in May the pastures
are generally opened for the summer stock, which are sel¬
dom reared here, the land being deemed too valuable to be
given up to young cattle. Beasts of this description are
brought from Connaught or Munster. When they arrive
they are bled and turned into the pasture-field, where they
remain till completely fattened, each field being stocked at
once with its full complement. They are then sold partly
in the Dublin market for the consumption of the metropolis,
or for exportation to Liverpool. The sheep, like the cattle,
are seldom bred in the country, but are bought at the
October fair of Ballinasloe. Lands newly laid down are
generally appropriated to the rearing of lambs for the
Dublin market.
The quantity of live stock in the county of Meath in
18o5 and 1856 was—
1855.
Horses  23,310
Cattle 135,485
SheeP 170,582
Pigs  22,425
1856.
23,646
140,813
189,029
17,546
There are about 11,000 holdings exceeding one acre in
extent, and most of the farmers occupying from 30 to 100
acres keep a few cows, the produce of which, both in milk
and butter, that remains after supplying their own families,
k sent to market. There are also a number of dairy farms in
Dunboyne and Ratoath, on which the landlord supplies the
land, houses, and stock; the tenant furnishes labour and
utensils, and pays for the mowing and iiay making. Cheese
is very seldom made, and only for domestic use.
The quantity of natural wood throughout the country is
small, but the plantations in demesnes and about gen¬
tlemen s seats, are numerous and thriving. The trees most
usually met with are ash, elm, sycamore, lime, and larch.
Scotch and spruce fir are less common. The oak is very
scarce, the principal growth of it being at Loughcrew, in
Demifore. There are many osieries, of from 2 to 10 acres
each the produce of which is sold to the basket-makers of
Dublin.
The manufactures are chiefly confined to the making of
sacking from tow, of course linens in the neighbourhood of
Diogheda, where the cotton manufacture is also carried on
to some extent, and of linens of a texture somewhat finer
in the western baronies* Some coarse frieze is also manu-
factored for home consumption. There are paper manu¬
factories, distilleries, breweries, and tanyards in several
localities, but the number of persons in this county em¬
ployed in manufacturing occupations is very small. The
chief outlet for the produce of the county is Drogheda.
There are good markets for grain and provisions at Trim
and Navan, and extensive flour-mills on the Boyne and
Black water.
There are several mansions in this county of great size
and splendour, surrounded by highly improved demesnes,
and numerous seats of resident gentlemen. The farm houses
are generally of very inferior construction, formed of the
earth or clay taken off the surface of the spot on which the
house is to be built; hence the floor is commonly several
inches below the level of the soil, and consequently damp
and unwholesome. The habitations of the labourers and
cottars are of a description still worse, being built of mud,
and often with sunken floors. The owners of some estates
however, have provided comfortable residences for their
VOL. XIV.
labourers, to be held by them on moderate terms. In many
parts the lower classes suffer from want of fuel; bog-land
being extremely scarce, and the expense of carriage pre¬
cluding the purchase of coal, which must be drawn from
Dublin or Drogheda.
1 he peasantry of Meath are generally a fine, well-look¬
ing and healthy race, but more phlegmatic and serious than
the inhabitants of the mountain districts of Ireland; and
owing to the early occupation of this portion of the country,
and its situation within the English pale, the admixture of
races is very great.
Amongst the most ancient remains of antiquity may be
mentioned the round or pillar towers at Kells and Donagh-
moi e. 1 he former is a very perfect specimen of these pecu¬
liar structures, 99 feet high, and has four small apertures near
the top facing the four cardinal points of the compass. The
latter, also very perfect, is remarkable for having a represen¬
tation of the Saviour on the cross, carved on the key-stone
over the entrance, which some antiquaries consider a decided
proof that these structures were not built by the pagans;
while others, anxious to support the theory of the paean
oi igin and the antiquity of the Irish round towers, assert that
this doorway is not the original one. At Kells is a fine ancient
sculptured cross of beautiful workmanship, and another of
plamer construction at St Kieran, about 3 miles from Kells.
At New Grange, near Slane, is a pagan relic of great interest,
consistingofan artificial cavern or underground gallery, in the
form of a cross, 71 feet in its greatest length, 20 feet between
the extremities of the arms of the cross, and 11 feet in its
greatest height, surrounded by a tumulus or hillock raised
by art, which is surrounded by a circle of huge unhewn
stones set upright. “ It is,” says Dr Wilde in his interest-
ing work on the beauties of the Boyne and the Blackwater,
probably one of the oldest Celtic monuments in the world,
which has elicited the wonder and called forth the admira¬
tion of all who have visited it, and has engaged the attention
of nearly every distinguished antiquary, not only of the
British Isles, but of Europe generally.” It is supposed to
have been either a place of Druidical worship or a buryino--
place ; and two skeletons, uncovered with earth, were found
in it when first opened. The Hill of Tara, a few miles S.
of Nayan, is famous as being the place where the kings of
Ireland were crowned, and where the states of the island
held their triennial assemblies, called the Fez of Tara.
1 he traces of some of the localities supposed to have been
connected with this ancient custom, are said by some anti¬
quaries to be still discoverable on it. On the summit of
the sacred hill, which is 512 feet above the level of
sfa» is a rath called the Rath of the Synods, or the
King s Chair, and at a short distance a larger rath called
the King’s Rath. Other raths are to be seen at Lismullen,
Odder, and Ringlestoun. Columbkill’s House, a stone-
roofed crypt or cell at Kells, is said to be the most ancient
budding of that material in Ireland. The ruins of monastic
buddings scattered throughout the county are too mime
rous to admit even of recapitulation. Trim had seven
monastic institutions; Kells, Killeen, Duleek, and Skryne
three each Several of these buildings have b^en converted
into parish churches. The ruins of ancient castles are not
less numerous. Some of them have been altered into
modern residences Of these Slane Castle, the seat ofThe
Marquis of Conyngham, is conspicuous both for architectural
structure and beautiful situation on a richly wooded eleva
tion overhanging the Bovnp n y r . eleva-
wi* King George IV. durig'hU vi™o IreLThlSl'
fo' ^ Earl °f 4^ adS
inff afforded 2 ? * f antl(luity> is memorable as hav-
ihf ;T*c^iornebe,S 1 1798 “
th°ere u^dTdfe's ““ Cf X-d t^ice
ame roof as long as danger existed.
3 B
378
Meaux
Mecca.
M E A
MEG
The principal towns of Meath are Navan, Kells, and
Trim, the county town, none of which has a population
above 4000. These towns will be found described under
their respective heads. t (H- s ^
MEAIJX, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
of the same name in the department of Seine-et-Mai ne, is
situated on the Marne, 25 miles E.N.E. of Paris. It is
well built, though not very regularly laid out; and contains
a fine cathedral, built in the eleventh century, and de¬
dicated to St Etienne, but which is in an imperfect state,
having only one complete tower in the front. Besides
this, the principal buildings are,—the episcopal palace, a
library with 13,000 volumes, a college, town-hall, and
theatre. The chief articles of manufacture are,—cotton,
earthenware, glue, flour, leather, and saltpetre; and the
trade is considerable in grain and cheese. Meaux is an
ancient city, occupying the site of latinum, the capital of
the Meldi, from whom the city derives its modern name.
It is, however, chiefly notable as the see of the celebrated
Bossuet, who became bishop in 1681, and continued in
that office till his death in 1704. His remains are depo¬
sited in the cathedral, where there is also a monument of
white marble erected to his memory. When his tomb was
opened in 1854, the body of the illustrious prelate was
found in a very good state of preservation. Pop. (1851)
8356. _, . .
MECCA, Meccah, or Mekka, a city of Arabia, capital
of the province of El Hejaz, is situated in a narrow valley
stretching N. and S., 70 miles E. of Jiddah, its port on the
lied Sea; Eat. 21. 30. N, Long. 40. 8. E. It is very
closely confined between bare hills from 200 to 500
feet high, and is built in a strong and substantial man¬
ner, the principal materials being brick, granite, and sand¬
stone quarried from the neighbouring hills. The length of
the city and suburbs from N. to S. is about 2|- miles; and
its broadest part is three-quarters of a mile from E. to W.
Near the centre stands the famous mosque containing the
Kaabah, to which Mecca owes its sanctity in the eyes of the
followers of Mohammed. The densest part of the town is
on the slope of the hill to the E., called Abu Kubays.
Mecca was formerly walled on three sides, but is now only
defended by the hills which inclose it, and by a strong
square castle situated on a rising ground called Jiyad, to
the S. The position of the city has been compared by
Lieut. Burton to that of Bath, and by others to that of
Florence, though vastly inferior to either, and especially
to the latter, in beauty. The houses are in general three
storeys in height; and, contrary to the usual custom in
eastern towns, they have windows in front opening into
the street. Most of the houses are fitted up for the ac¬
commodation of pilgrims who frequent the holy shrine at
Mecca, and consist of a number of separate lodgings, each^
containing a sitting-room and a kitchen. On the roofs of
the houses there are terraces surrounded by parapets, which
conceal their occupants from view. Ihe streets are wide,
but unpaved, and in rainy weather are extremely muddy.
The city is remarkably destitute of public buildings, a
fact which Burckhardt has accounted for by the reverence
with which the shrine of their religion is regarded by all
true Mohammedans. This building, which is called by
the Moslems Bait Ullah (the Flouse of Allah) or Kaabah
(the Cube or Square House), stands in the centre of the
mosque, a large open court of an irregular oblong form.
Although the outer walls of the mosque are not perfectly
straight, the unsymmetrical appearance of the exterior is
removed by a colonnade of a more regular form which runs
round the inside. The size of the mosque is, according to
the measurement of Lieutenant Burton, 257 paces by 210,
although most of the Moslem authorities make it consider¬
ably less. The pillars of the colonnade which are ranged
along the east wall in four rows, and on the other three sides
for the most part only three deep, are more than 20 feet high
and about H in thickness, and are crowned with capitals of V-
Saracenic architecture, of which no two can be found ex¬
actly alike. The materials of which they are composed are
white marble, granite, and sandstone. As little icgard has
been paid to uniformity in the arrangement of these pillars
as in their substance and workmanship; it has therefore
been found no easy task for visitors to ascertain their exact
number, but there are probably between 550 and 600 in
all. Springing from every four columns may be seen a
small dome, plastered and whitewashed on the outside ,
and seven minarets, as well as many towers and pinnacles,
are placed among the cloisters and at the corners, 'l l16
number of the domes is said to be 152; and it is stated that
there are in all 1352 towers and pinnacles on the walls.
The minarets and several other parts of the walls and
arches are painted in bright colours; but there are no re¬
presentations of flowers, such as are usually to be met with
in Mohammedan mosques. The floor ot the cloisters is
paved with large stones, and eight raised pavements of the
same sort extend from the outside to the middle of the
area, where stands the Kaabah. They have a sufficient
breadth to allow four or five persons to walk abreast, and
are raised about 9 inches above the rest of the ground ;
serving at once as passages to the central shrine and as par¬
titions to separate the spaces allotted to the different classes
of worshippers. Near the centre of the inclosuie stands
the Kaabah, an oblong edifice of fine grey granite, which,
according to Burton, is 55 feet in length by 45 in breadth.
Its height appeared to that traveller to exceed its length ;
but Burckhardt states it as between 35 and 40 feet. The
ground on which it stands is slightly inclined, and the
roof also has a slope, so as to allow the water to run off, but
not so much as to prevent the entire building from having
the general appearance of a cube, from which it derives its
name. It is surrounded by a covering of black silk hang¬
ing from the roof, with a golden band running round the
top, and a golden curtain in front of the door. The Hajar
el Aswad, or Black Stone, which is the object of so much
adoration on the part of pilgrims and devotees, stands at
the east corner of the building, at a height of 4 or o feet
from the ground, and is composed of a number of small
stones well cemented together and carefully smoothed,
presenting the appearance of having been violently broken
in pieces and then mended. The constant wear which the
stone has undergone from the lips and hands ot the super¬
stitious worshippers has rendered it extremely difficult to
toll the nature of the material \ but most tiavellcrs are
agreed that it is of volcanic origin, and Lieutenant Bur¬
ton expresses his conviction that it is a large aerolite. I he
door of the Kaabah, by which free admission is granted
only ten or twelve times a year, is in the north-west side,
about 7 feet from the ground, not far from the Black Stone,
and is covered with silver, and adorned with ornaments ot
gold. There is a flight of steps of carved wood by which
entrance is gained to the temple, and which is moved
away on rollers and placed at a distance when not used.
The interior is plain, and destitute of windows or any
other opening besides the entrance, except a small door,
called the Bab el Taubah, or Gate of Repentance, lead-
in- to a staircase by which the attendants gain access
to the roof. The floor and walls consist ot a sort of
chequer-work of marble of various colours, principally
white; and the roof and top part of the walls are covered
with red damask embroidered with gold. In the roof there
are three cross rafters resting on the north-eastern and
south-western sides, and on three pillars in the centre.
Between these, at the height of about 9 feet, there is a
metal bar from which many lamps are hung ; and the only
other article of furniture in the apartment is a small press
in one corner, in which the key of the building is some-
Mecca.
M E C
Mecca, times placed. On the outside, in the south-west wall, there
is a stone, distinguished from the rest by its dark red colour,
which, as well as the Black Stone, is touched and kissed by
the devotees. Not far from the door there is a small hol¬
low, paved with marble, where it is reckoned an act of
merit to pray, as being the place where Abraham and Ish-
mael are said to have kneaded the cement for building the
Kaabah. It is called El Maajan, the Place of Mixing or
Kneading. On the N. W. side of the Kaabah are said to be
situated the graves of Ishmael and Hagar, inclosed by a
semicircular wall 5 feet high and 4 thick, covered with white
marble. Round the Kaabah is an oval inclosure, well
paved with marble, and surrounded by thirty-two iron
posts, connected by rods, which support many lamps, said
to exceed 1000 in number. Outside of this inclosure
there are two broad steps, which rise from the level of the
Kaabah to that of the surrounding area. Nearly opposite
to the four sides of the central building stand four makams
—small buildings, somewhat like Indian pagodas, for the ac¬
commodation of the imams of the four orthodox sects in
conducting the devotions of their adherents, who take their
seats near their respective imams. One of these makams
contains a stone which is said to bear the impress of Abra¬
ham’s foot. The Zem Zem, or Sacred Well, believed to be
that of Hagar, is inclosed in a square substantial building
opposite the east corner of the Kaabah, and near one of the
four makams. The interior of this edifice is adorned with
marble of various colours, so as to have a beautiful ap¬
pearance, and the well itself is surrounded by a circular
wall 5 feet high and 10 in diameter. The origin of the
name Zem Zem is doubtful; but the water is believed by
the Moslems to possess great virtues, although its taste is
far from pleasant, and it is apt to cause diarrhoea and boils.
Jars of this water are placed in rows throughout the area
of the mosque. There are two other buildings in the sacred
inclosure, which stand to the north-east of the Zem Zem,
and are used, the one to contain the clocks sent hither by
the sultan, and the other the MSS. belonging to the
mosque. These buildings are called El Kobbateyn, and
are very heavy looking, agreeing ill with the light and
elegant structure of the makams. The mambar, or pul¬
pit, stands opposite to the front of the Kaabah, and is an ele¬
gant structure of white marble, ascended by a straight and
narrow stair from behind, and surmounted by a gilt pin¬
nacle in the form of an obelisk. Jhe mosque is entered by
nineteen gates, most of which have two or three arches;
and as none have doors, it is open at all times. The out¬
side walls are those of the adjoining houses, which, though
originally the property of the mosque, have now fallen into
the hands of private individuals, and are let to the richer
pilgrims, who are allowed to perform their devotions at home,
if within sight of the Kaabah.
Such is the famous mosque of Mecca; a building which
is as much an object of reverence to Mohammedans as
the Holy Sepulchre to Catholics, and which, like that
also, has furnished the model of many other places of wor¬
ship. Christians are not allowed to enter, and would incur
serious danger if discovered within the pale of the sacred
edifice; but this has not hindered enterprising travellers
from penetrating its mysteries in the disguise of pilgrims.
In this manner it has been visited by Burckhardt, Badia,
and Burton, all of whom have embodied the result of
their observations in pretty full accounts of the celebrities
of Mecca. Besides the mosque, Mecca contains the palace
of the sherif,—a large whitewashed building with wooden
balconies, but in no way very remarkable. It stands in the
northern suburb of the town ; and not far off there is a
deserted house, once the abode of the Sherif bin Aun, but
now said to be haunted. The Meccans also show in the
town the birthplace of the prophet, the house in which he
lived, and many other localities connected with various
M E C
379
recorded events of his life. All these places are visited by Mechain.
the pilgrims with great attention and respect. The ceme- i
tery of Mecca, called Jannat el Maala, is also much fre¬
quented by devotees, as it contains the tombs of Moham¬
med’s mother and of his first wife, as well as those of many
other Moslem saints. It is a bare piece of ground at the
foot of the western hills, surrounded by a rude wall, and
entered through a mean-looking gateway. About 12 miles
to the E. of Mecca stands Mount Arafat, which is a place
visited by all the pilgrims to Mecca, and on which certain
devotions are performed, and a sermon preached to the pil¬
grims. It rises from a sandy and gravelly plain to the
height of 180 or 200 feet; and the plain is covered during
the ceremony with the tents of the pilgrims. The numbers
present on these occasions are believed by the Arabs to be
never less than 600,000, as there is a tradition that when
they do not make up this number the angels descend to com¬
plete the assemblage. It was calculated, however, by Bur¬
ton in 1853, that there were only 50,000; and in the follow¬
ing year the number fell to 25,000. Another place visited
by pilgrims is Muna, between Arafat and Mecca, where
there is a rude piece of masonry in a narrow and rugged
defile. The ceremony performed here forms the concluding
act of the pilgrimage : it consists of throwing small pebbles
and muttering certain words, and is called stoning the devil.
I he inhabitants of Mecca are little employed in manufac¬
tures, but a considerable trade is carried on, especially
during the season of pilgrimage. Pop. about 45,000.
MECHAIN, Pierre Francois Andre, a practical as¬
tronomer and geographer, was born at Laon on the 16th
April 1744. His father, who was an architect, educated
him for his own profession, but he accidentally became ac¬
quainted with Lalande, under whose patronage he was sub¬
sequently brought forward as an observer, surveyor, and
computer. He made two voyages with M. de la Breton-
niere, and assisted him in surveying some parts of the coast
of France. He was afterwards employed in various com¬
putations by the Marquis de Chabert and the Due D’Ayen.
Having obtained a prize from the Academy of Science's in
1 782, for a Memoir on Comets, he became a member of
the Academy the same year. About the year 1785 he un¬
dertook the publication of the Connaissance des Terns, and
continued it till he was employed in geodetical operations
at a distance from Paris. He was appointed member of a
committee, along with Cassini, De Thury, and Legendre,
to meet the English astronomers for the determination of
the relative situation of the observatories which had been
proposed by Cassini. It was in these operations that he
first brought Borda’s circle into general use. In 1791 he
was appointed, in conjunction with Delambre, to execute
the intentions of the Constituent Assembly with regard to
the determination of a basis of linear measures. He was
made director of the observatory of Paris, and he entered
with great zeal on a series of observations which were to
rival those of Flamsteed, Bradley, and Maskelyne; but he
afterwards solicited the appointment to assist in the mea¬
surements required for the still farther extension of the arc
of the meridian to the S. of Barcelona. But the secret
motive for his seeking this humbler employment appears to
have been a desire to remove some doubts which he
entertained respecting the latitude of Barcelona, as it ap¬
peared after his death from his papers that there had been
a discordance of 3 in some previous observations. Ship¬
wreck and disease awaited him, however, and he died of
fever on the 20th September 1805.
• ^ h>s publications the most important are to be found
in the Memoires des Savans etrangers; also a Memoir on
he Comets of 1532 and 1661, which gained the prize. In
ie emmrs of the Academy, and in the Connaissance des
ems, fiom 1782 to 1785, there are several of his observa¬
tions.
i.
380
MECHANICS.
Mechanics. 1* Mechanics, Applicate or Applied, is a term which,
v t ) strictly speaking, includes all applications of the principles
of abstract mechanics to human art.1 As in other branches
of knowledge, so in mechanics, art is more ancient than
science, many mechanical inventions having been intro¬
duced into practice ages before the general principles of
their action were discovered; but also, as in other branches
of knowledge, so in mechanics, science is necessary to the
perfecting of art, and mechanical inventions have in all
cases continued rude, wasteful, and inefficient, until their
dependence on general principles has been understood.
Thus have theory and practice in all ages promoted each
others’ advancement; and the greatest obstacle to the ad¬
vancement of both has always been a popular and scho¬
lastic fallacy that they are inconsistent. Happily that fal¬
lacy is now disappearing, and its occurrence in the writ¬
ings of any author may be considered as a mark either of
ignorance, or of the inconsiderate use of words.
PART L—OUTLINE OF THE
3. Support of Structures.—Every structure, as a whole, is
maintained in equilibrio by the joint action of its own weight,
of the external load or pressure applied to it from without
and tending to displace it, and of the resistance of the ma¬
terial which supports it. A structure is supported either by
resting on the solid crust of the earth, as buildings do, or
by floating in a fluid, as ships do in water and balloons in air.
The principles of the support of a floating structure form
an important part of the science of Hydrodynamics,
and of the arts of Aeronautics and Naval Architect
ture, to the articles under which titles the reader is
referred. The principles of the support, as a whole, of
a structure resting on the land, are so far identical with
those which regulate the equilibrium and stability of the
several parts of that structure, and of which a summary
will presently be given, that the only principle which seems
to require special mention here is one which comprehends
in one statement the power both of liquids and of loose
earth to support structures, and which was first demonstrated
in a paper “ On the Stability of Loose Earth,” read to the
Royal Society on the 19th of June 1856, and published in
the Philosophical Transactions for that year, viz.:—
Let E represent the weight of the portion of a horizontal
stratum of earth which is displaced by the foundation of a
structure ; S the utmost weight of that structure, consist¬
ently with the power of the’earth to resist displacement;
</> the angle of repose of the earth; then
S _ /T + sin \2
E \ 1 — sin </>/
To apply this to liquids, must be made = 0, and then
^r-=l, as is well known.
4. Composition of a Structure, and Connection of its
Pieces. A structure is composed of pieces,—such as the
stones of a building in masonry, the beams of a timber
frame-work, the bars, plates, and bolts of an iron bridge.
I hose pieces are connected at \he\v joints or surfaces of mu¬
tual contact, either by simple pressure and friction (as in
masonry with moist mortar or without mortar); by pres¬
sure and adhesion (as in masonry with cement or with
hardened mortar, and timber with glue); or by the resist¬
ance of fastenings of different kinds, whether made by
2. Divisions of the Subject—Structures and Machines. Mechanics.
—The practical applications of Mechanics may be divided
into two classes, according as the assemblages of mate¬
rial objects to which they relate are intended to remain
fixed or to move relatively to each other; the former class
being comprehended under the term “ Theory of Struc¬
tures,” and the latter under the term “ Theory of Machines.”
As the details of the theory of structures are amply set
forth in this Encyclopaedia, in the articles relating to the
art of Construction,—such as Aqueduct, Arch, Brick¬
making, Bridge, Building, Carpentry, Centre, Dock,
Drainage, Embankment, Fortification, Harbours,
Iron, Iron Bridges, Joinery, Masonry, Naval Archi¬
tecture, Railroads, Strength of Materials, &c.,—that
theory will be treated of in the present article to such
extent only as may be necessary in order to state certain
general principles applicable to all these subjects. The
greater part of the article will relate to machines.
THEORY OF STRUCTURES.
means of the form of the joint (as dovetails, notches, mor¬
tises and tenons); or by separate fastening pieces (as tre¬
nails, pins, spikes, nails, holdfasts, screws, bolts, rivets, hoops,
straps, and sockets).
5. Stability, Stiffness, and Strength.—A structure may
be damaged or destroyed in three ways,—first, by displace¬
ment of its pieces from their proper positions relatively to
each other or to the earth; secondly, by disfigurement of
one or more of those pieces, owing to their being unable to
preserve their proper shapes under the pressures to which
they are subjected; thirdly, by breaking of one or more of
those pieces. The power of resisting displacement consti¬
tutes stability; the power of each piece to resist disfigure¬
ment is its stiffness; and its power to resist breaking, its
strength.
6. Conditions of Stability.—The principles of the stability
of a structure can be to a certain extent investigated inde¬
pendently of the stiffness and strength, by assuming, in the
first instance, that each piece has strength sufficient to be
safe against being broken, and stiffness sufficient to prevent
its being disfigured to an extent inconsistent with the pur¬
poses of the structure, by the greatest forces which are to
be applied to it. The condition that each piece of the struc¬
ture is to be maintained in equilibrio by having its gross
load, consisting of its own weight and of the external pres¬
sure applied to it, balanced by the resistances or pressures
exerted between it and the contiguous pieces, furnishes the
means of determining the magnitude, position, and direc¬
tion of the resistances required at each joint in order to
produce equilibrium; and the conditions of stability are,
first, that the position, and secondly, that the direction, of
the resistance required at each joint shall, under all the
variations to which the load is subject, be such as the joint
is capable of exerting,—conditions which are fulfilled by
suitably adjusting the figures and positions of the joints,
and the ratios of the gross loads of the pieces. As for the
magnitude of the resistance, it is limited by conditions, not
of stability, but of strength and stiffness.
7. Principle of Least Resistance.—Where more than
one system of resistances are alike capable of balancing the
same system of loads applied to a given structure, it has
been demonstrated by Mr Moseley, that the smallest of
those alternative systems is that which will actually be ex-
1 For the exposition of the principles of abstract mechanics, see the articles Dynamics and Statics.
ec amcs. erted ;l because the resistances to displacement are the effect
™ °^,a strained state of the pieces, which strained state is the
effect of the load, and when the load is applied the strained
state and the resistances produced by it increase until
the resistances acquire just those magnitudes which are suf¬
ficient to balance the load, after which they increase no
further.
1 his principle of least resistance” renders determinate
many problems in the statics of structures which were
formerly considered indeterminate.
8. Eelations between Polygons of Loads and of Resist¬
ances.—-In a structure in which each piece is supported at
two joints, only, the well-known laws of statics show that
the directions of the gross load on each piece, and of the
two resistances by which it is supported, must lie in one
plane,—must either be parallel, or meet in one point,—and
must bear to each other, if not parallel, the proportions of
the sides of a triangle respectively parallel to their direc¬
tions : and if parallel, such proportions that each of the three
forces shall be proportional to the distance between the
other two; all the three distances being measured alonsr
one direction. °
Considering, in the first place, the case in which the load
and the two resistances by which each piece is balanced
MECHANICS.
381
Xz
Fiff. 2.
Fig. 1.
meet in one point, which may be called the centre of load,
there will be as many such points of
intersection, or centres of load, as
there are pieces in the structure; and
the directions and positions of the re¬
sistances or mutual pressures exerted cp
between the pieces will be represented
by the sides of a polygon joining those
points, as in fig. 1, where Pj, P2, P3,
P4, represent the centres of load in
a structure of four pieces; and the
sides of the 'polygon of resistances
■P1P2P3P4 represent respectively the
directions and positions of the resistances exerted at the
joints. Further, at any one of the centres of load let
PL represent the magnitude and direction of the gross
load, and Pa, Pb tne two resistances by which the piece
to which that load is applied is supported; then will those
three lines be respectively the diagonal and sides of a
parallelogram ; or, what is the same thing, they will be equal
to the three sides of a triangle; apd they must be in the
same plane, although the sides of the polygon of resistances
may be in different planes.
According to a well-known principle of statics, because
the loads or external pressures P^p&c,, balance each other,
they must be proportional to the sides of a closed polygon
drawn respectively parallel to their directions. In fig. 2
construct such a polygon of loads by drawing the lines Lj,
&c., parallel and proportional to, and joined end to end in
the order of, the gross loads on the pieces of the structure.
Then from the proportionality and parallelism of the load,
and the two resistances applied to each piece of the struc¬
ture, to the three sides of a triangle, there results the fol¬
lowing—
Theorem.—If from the angles of the polygon of loads Mechanics.
there be draivn lines (RN2, &c.), each of which is par- v 
adlel to the resistance (as P,P9, &c.) exerted at the
joint between the pieces to which the two loads repre¬
sented by the contiguous sides of the polygon of loads
(such as L15 L2, &c.) are applied; then will all those
lines meet in one point (O), and their lengths, mea¬
sured from that point to the angles of the polygon, icill
represent the magnitudes of the resistances to which they
are respectively parallel.
(The particular case of this theorem which relates to a
system of parallel vertical loads, has long been known ; but
in its general form the theorem is now published in type
for the first time, having appeared originally in a litho¬
graphed abstract of some lectures.)
When the load on one of the pieces is parallel to the re¬
sistances which balance it, the polygon of resistances ceases
to be closed, two of the sides becoming parallel to each
other and to the load in question, and extending indefinitely.
In the polygon of loads the direction of a load sustained
by parallel resistances traverses the point O.
9. How the Earth's Resistance is to be treated.—When
the pressure exerted by a structure on the earth (to which
the earth’s resistance is equal and opposite) consists either
of one pressure, which is necessarily the resultant of the
weight of the structure and of all the other forces applied to
it, or of two or more parallel vertical forces, whose amount
can be determined at the outset of the investigation, the re¬
sistance of the earth can be treated as one or more upward
loads applied to the structure. But in other cases the
earth is to be treated as one of the pieces of the structure,
loaded with a force equal and opposite in direction and
position to the resultant of the weight of the structure and
of the other pressures applied to it.
Partial Polygons of Resistance.—In a structure in
which there are pieces supported at more than two joints,
let a polygon be constructed of lines connecting the cen¬
tres of load of any continuous series of pieces. This may
be called 0. partial polygon of resistances. In considerin''-
its properties, the load at each centre of load is to be
held to include the resistances of those joints which are
not comprehended in the partial polygon of resistances,
to which the theorem of section 8 will then apply in every
respect. By constructing several partial polygons, and
computing the relations between the loads and resistances
which are determined by the application of that theorem
to each of them, with the aid, if necessary, of Mr Moseley’s
principle of the least resistance, the whole of the relations
amongst the loads and resistances may be found.
11. Line of Pressures—Centres and Line of Resistance.
The line of pressures is a line to which the directions
of all the resistances in one polygon are tangents. The
centre of resistance at any joint is the point where the line
representing the total resistance exerted at that joint in¬
tersects the joint. The line of resistance is a line travers¬
ing all the centres of resistance of a series of joints; its
form, in the positions intermediate between the actual joints
of the structure, being determined by supposing the pieces
and their loads to be subdivided by the introduction of in¬
termediate joints ad infinitum, and finding the continuous
line, curved or straight, in which the intermediate centres
of resistance are all situated, how great soever their num¬
ber. The difference between the line of resistance and the
fine of pressures was first pointed out by Mr Moseley.
12. stability of Position, and Stability of Friction.—
The resistances at the several joints having been deter¬
mined by the principles set forth in sections 7, 8, 9, 10, and
11, not only under the ordinary load of the structure, but
1 Mechanics of Engineering and Architecture, by the Eev. Henry Moseley
382
MECHANIC S.
Mechanics, under all the variations to which the load is subject as to
i  / amount and distribution, the joints are now to be placed
and shaped so that the pieces shall not suffer relative displace¬
ment under any of those loads. 1 he relative displacement
of the two pieces which abut against each other at a joint
may take place either by turning or by sliding. Safety
against displacement by turning is called stability of posi¬
tion ; safety against displacement by sliding, stability of
friction. „ . . T„ ,
]3, Condition of Stability of Position—It the mate¬
rials of a structure were infinitely stiff and strong, sta¬
bility of position at any joint would be insured simply by
making the centre of resistance fall within the joint un¬
der all possible variations of load. In order to allow' for
the finite stiffness and strength of materials, the least dis¬
tance of the centre of resistance inward from the nearest
edge of the joint is made to bear a definite proportion to the
depth of the joint measured in the same direction, which
proportion is fixed, sometimes empirically, sometimes by
theoretical deduction from the laws of the strength of ma¬
terials. That least distance is called by Mr Moseley the
modulus of stability. The following are some of the ratios
of the modulus of stability to the depth of the joint which
occur in practice :—
Retaining walls, as designed by British engineers .... i
Retaining walls, as designed by French engineers .... i
Rectangular piers of bridges and other buildings,
and arch-stones   »
Rectangular foundations, firm ground  i
Rectangular foundations, very soft ground    y
Rectangular foundations, intermediate kinds of
ground  * ^ ^
Thin, hollow towers (such as furnace chimneys ex¬
posed to high winds), square  i
Thin, hollow towers, circular  I
(In the last two cases, the depth of the joint is to be un¬
derstood to mean the diameter of the tower.)
Frames of timber or metal, under their ordinary or
average distribution of load ^  £
Frames of timber or metal, under the greatest irre¬
gularities of load  ts
14. Condition of Stability of Friction.—If the resist¬
ance to be exerted at a joint is always perpendicular to
the surfaces which abut at and form that joint, there
is no tendency of the pieces to be displaced by sliding.
If the resistance be oblique, let
JK (fig. 3) be the joint; C its centre
of resistance; CR a line represent¬
ing the resistance; CN a perpen¬
dicular to the joint at the centre ot
resistance. The angle NCR is the
obliquity of the resistance. Prom
R draw RP parallel and RQ per¬
pendicular to the joint; then by the
principles of statics, the compo¬
nent of the resistance normal to the
joint is—
Fig. 3,
CP = CR • cos ^ PCR;
and the component tangential to the joint is—
CQ = CR • sin ^ PCR = CP * tan ^ PCR.
If the joint be provided either with projections and recesses,
such as mortises and tenons, or with fastenings, such as
pins or bolts, so as to resist displacement by sliding, the
question of the utmost amount of the tangential resistance
CQ which it is capable of exerting depends on the strength
of such projections, recesses, or fastenings, and belongs to
the subject of strength, and not to that of stability. In
other cases the safety of the joint against displacement by
sliding depends on its power of exerting friction, and that
power depends on the law, known by experiment, that
the friction between two surfaces bears a constant ratio,
depending on the nature of the surfaces, to the force by
which they are pressed together. In order that the sur- Mechanics,
faces which abut at the joint JK may be pressed together,
the resistance required by the conditions ot equilibrium, CR,
must be a thrust and not a pull; and in that case the force
by which the surfaces are pressed together is equal and
opposite to the normal component CP of the resistance.
The condition of stability of friction is, that the tangential
component CQ of the resistance required shall not exceed
the friction due to the normal component; that is, that
CQ -</■ CP
where f denotes the coefficient of friction for the surfaces
in question. The angle whose tangent is the coefficient of
friction is called the angle of repose, and is expressed sym¬
bolically by—
<p = arc * tan /.
Now'CQ =_CP * tan ^ PCR;
consequently the condition of stability of friction is fulfilled if
PCR ;
that is to say, if the obliquity of the resistance required
at the joint does not exceed the angle of repose ; and this
condition ought to be fulfilled under all possible variations
of the load.
It is chiefly in masonry and earthwork that stability of
friction is relied on.
15. Stability of Friction in Earth.—The grains of a
mass of loose earth are to be regarded as so many sepa¬
rate pieces abutting against each other at joints in all pos¬
sible positions, and depending for their stability on fric¬
tion. To determine whether a mass of earth is stable at
a given point, conceive that point to be traversed by planes
in all possible positions, and determine which position gives
the greatest obliquity to the total pressure exerted be¬
tween the portions of the mass which abut against each
other at the plane. The condition of stability is, that
this obliquity shall not exceed the angle of repose of the
earth. The consequences of this principle are deve¬
loped in a paper On the Stability of Loose Earth,” already
cited in sect. 3.
16. Parallel Projections of Figures.—If any figure be
referred to a system of co-ordinates, rectangular or ob¬
lique ; and if a second figure be constructed by means
of a second system of co-ordinates, rectangular or ob¬
lique, and either agreeing with or differing from the first
system in rectangularity or obliquity, but so related to
the co-ordinates of the first figure that for each point
in the first figure there shall be a corresponding point in
the second figure, the lengths of whose co-ordinates shall
bear, respectively, to the three corresponding co-ordinates
of the corresponding point in the first figure, three ratios
which are the same for every pair of corresponding points
in the two figures ; that pair of figures are called paral¬
lel projections of each other. The properties of parallel
projections of most importance to the subject of the present
article are the following:— _
(1.) A parallel projection of a straight line is a straight
line.
(2.) A parallel projection of a plane is a plane.
(3.) A parallel projection of a straight line or a plane sur¬
face divided in a given ratio, is a straight line or a plane
surface divided in the same ratio.
(4.) A parallel projection of a pair of equal and parallel
straight lines, or plain surfaces, is a pair of equal and pa¬
rallel straight lines, or plane surfaces, whence it follows
(5.) That a parallel projection of a parallelogram is a
parallelogram;— .
(6.) That a parallel projection of a parallelepiped is a
parallelopiped.
(7.) A parallel projection of a pair of solids having a
given ratio is a pair of solids having the same ratio.
& Though not essential for the purposes of the present
MECHANICS.
383
Mechanics, article, the following consequence will serve to illustrate the
principle of parallel projections :—
(8.) A parallel projection of a curve, or of a surface of a
given algebraical order, is a curve, or a surface of the same
order.
For example, all ellipsoids referred to co-ordinates pa¬
rallel to any three conjugate diameters are parallel pro¬
jections of each other, and of a sphere referred to rect¬
angular co-ordinates.
17. Parallel Projections of Systems of Forces.—If a
balanced system ot forces be represented by a system of
lines, then will every parallel projection of that system of
lines represent a balanced system of forces.
For the condition of equilibrium of forces not parallel
is, that they shall be represented in direction and magnitude
by the sides and diagonals of certain parallelograms;—and
ot parallel forces, that they shall divide certain straight lines
in certain ratios ; and the parallel projection of a parallelo¬
gram is a parallelogram, and that of a straight line divided
in a given ratio, is a straight line divided in the same
ratio.
The resultant of a parallel projection of any system of
forces is the projection of their resultant; and the centre
of gravity of a parallel projection of a solid is the projec¬
tion of the centre of gravity of the first solid.
18. Principle of the Transformation of Structures.—
Theorem.—If a structure of a given figure have stability
of position under a system of forces represented by a
given system of lines, then will any structure, whose
figure is a parallel projection of that of the first struc¬
ture, have stability of position under a system of forces
represented by the corresponding projection of the first
system of lines.
For in the second structure the weights, external pres¬
sures, and resistances, will balance each other as in the first
structure ; the weights of the pieces, and all other parallel
systems of forces, will have the same ratios as in the first
structure; and the several centres of resistance will divide
the depths of the joints in the same proportions as in the
first structure.
If the first structure have stability of friction, the se¬
cond structure will have stability of friction also, so long
as the effect of the projection is not to increase the ob¬
liquity of the resistance at any joint beyond the angle of
repose.
The lines representing the forces in the second figure
show their relative directions and magnitudes. To find
their absolute directions and magnitudes, a vertical line is
to be drawn in the first figure, of such a length as to
represent the weight of a particular portion of the struc¬
ture. Then will the projection of that line in the projected
figure indicate the vertical direction, and represent the
weight of the part of the second structure corresponding to Mechanics,
the before-mentioned portion of the first structure.
The foregoing “principle of the transformation of struc¬
tures” was first announced, though in a somewhat less com¬
prehensive form, to the Royal Society on the 6th of March
1856. It is here published in its most general form for
the first time in type, having previously appeared only in the
lithographed abstract of some lectures. It is useful in
practice, by enabling the engineer easily to deduce the
conditions of equilibrium and stability of structures of com¬
plex and unsymmetrical figures from those of structures
of simple and symmetrical figures. By its aid, for ex¬
ample, the whole of the properties of elliptical arches,
whether square or skew, whether level or sloping in their
span, are at once deduced by projection from those of
symmetrical circular arches, and the properties of ellipsoidal
and elliptic-conoidal domes from those of hemispherical
and circular-conoidal domes ; and the figures of arches
fitted to resist the thrust of earth, which is less horizontally
than vertically in a certain given ratio, can be deduced by
projection from those of arches fitted to resist the thrust
of a liquid, which is of equal intensity, horizontally and
vertically.
19. Conditions of Stiffness and Strength.—After the
arrangement of the pieces of a structure, and the size and
figure of their joints or surfaces of contact have been de¬
termined so as to fulfil the conditions of stability,—con¬
ditions which depend mainly on the position and direc¬
tion of the resultant or total load on each piece, and the
relative magnitude of the loads on the different pieces,—
the dimensions of each piece singly have to be adjusted so
as to fulfil the conditions of stiffness and strength,—condi¬
tions which depend not only on the absolute magnitude of
the load on each piece, and of the resistances by which it
is balanced, but also on the mode of distribution of the load
over the piece, and of the resistances over the joints.
The effect of the pressures applied to a piece, consisting
of the load and the supporting resistances, is to force the
piece into a state of strain or disfigurement, which increases
until the elasticity, or resistance to strain, of the material
causes it to exert a stress, or effort to recover its figure,
equal and opposite to the system of applied pressures. The
condition of stiffness is, that the strain or disfigurement
shall not be greater than is consistent with the purposes of
the structure ; and the condition of strength is, that the
stress shall be within the limits of that which the material
can bear with safety against breaking. The ratio in which
the utmost stress before breaking exceeds the safe working
stress is called factor of safety, and is determined em¬
pirically. It varies from three to twelve for various mate¬
rials and structures.
The Strength of Materials forms the subject of a
special article, to which the reader is now referred.
PART II.—THEORY OF MACHINES.
20.—Parts of a Machine—Frame and Mechanism.—
The parts of a machine may be distinguished into two
principal divisions,—the frame, or fixed parts, and the me¬
chanism, or moving parts. The frame is a structure which
supports the pieces of the mechanism, and to a certain extent
determines the nature of their motions. The form and
arrangement of the pieces of the frame depend upon the
arrangement and the motions of the mechanism ; the dimen¬
sions of the pieces of the frame required in order to give it
stability and strength, are determined from the pressures
applied to it by means of the mechanism. It appears,
therefore, that in general the mechanism is to be designed
first and the frame afterwards, and that the designing of
the frame is regulated by the principles of the stability
of structures and of the strength and stiffness of materials ;
care being taken to adapt the frame to the most severe
load which can be thrown upon it at any period of the ac¬
tion of the mechanism.
Each independent piece of the mechanism also is a
structure, and its dimensions are to be adapted, according
to the principles of the strength and stiffness of materials’
to the most severe load to which it can be subjected
during the action of the machine.
21. Definition and Division of the Theory of Machines.
From what has been said in the last section, it appears
that the department of the art of designing machines which
has reference to the stability of the frame, and to the stiff¬
ness and strength of the frame and mechanism, is a branch
o the art of construction. It is therefore to be separated
from the theory of machines, properly speaking, which has
I
384
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, reference to the action of machines considered as moving.
In the action of a machine the following three things take
place :—
First, Some natural source of energy communicates
motion and force to a piece or pieces of the mechanism,
called the receiver of power, or prime mover.
Secondly, The motion and force are transmitted from the
prime mover through the train of mechanism to the working
piece or pieces, and during that transmission the motion
and force are modified in amount and direction, so as to be
rendered suitable for the purpose to which they are to be
applied.
Thirdly, The working piece or pieces, by their motion,
or by their motion and force combined, produce some use¬
ful effect.
Such are the phenomena of the action of a machine,
arranged in the order of causation. But in studying or
treating of the theory of machines, the order of simplicity
is the best; and in this order the first branch of the subject
is the modification of motion and force by the train of me¬
chanism ; the next is the effect or purpose of the machine;
and the last, or most complex, is the action of the prime
mover.
The modification of motion and the modification of force
take place together, and are connected by certain laws;
but in the study of the theory of machines, as well as in
that of pure mechanics, much advantage has been gained
in point of clearness and simplicity by first considering
alone the principles of the modification of motion, which
are founded upon a branch of geometry called Cinematics,
and afterwards considering the principles of the combined
modification of motion and force, which are founded both
on geometry and on the laws of dynamics. The separa¬
tion of Cinematics from Dynamics is due mainly to Monge,
Ampere, and Professor Willis.
The theory of machines in the present article will be
considered under the following four heads:—
I. Pure Mechanism, or Applied Cinematics; being the
theory of machines considered simply as modifying
motion.
II. Applied Dynamics ; being the theory of machines
considered as modifying both motion and force.
III. Purposes and Effects of Machines.
IV. Applied Energetics ; being the theory of prime
movers and sources of power.
CHAP. I.—ON PURE MECHANISM.
22. Division of the subject.—Proceeding in the order of
simplicity, the subject of Pure Mechanism, or Applied
Cinematics, may be thus divided:—
Division 1. Motion of a point.
Division 2. Motion of the surface of a fluid.
Division 3. Motion of a rigid solid.
Division 4. Motions of a pair of connected pieces, or of
an “ elementary combination ” in mechanism.
Division 5. Motions of trains of pieces of mechanism.
Division 6. Motions of sets of more than two connected
pieces, or of “ aggregate combinations.”
A point is the boundary of a line, which is the boundary
of a surface, which is the boundary of a volume. Points,
lines, and surfaces have no independent existence, and
consequently those divisions of this chapter which relate
to their motions are only preliminary to the subsequent
divisions, which relate to the motions of bodies.
DIVISION I.—MOTION OF A POINT.
23. Path and Direction.—The motion of a point is the
change of its place relatively to some portion of space,
which for the time is considered as fixed. In the theory of
machines, the portion of space which is considered as fixed Mechanics,
is usually that which is occupied by the frame of the machine.
A moving point traces in the fixed space a line called its
path, which may be straight or curved. The direction of
the motion of the point at any instant is that of a tangent
to the path drawn forwards from the position of the point at
the instant in question, and is uniform if the path is straight
—variable if it is curved.
24. Uniform Velocity.—The velocity or speed of a moving
point is the length of the portion of its path which it traces
in some given portion or unit of time. In calculations re¬
specting dynamical questions, the unit of time commonly
employed is the second; in considering the purposes of
machines, the minute, the hour, and the day are also em¬
ployed. When not otherwise specified, the second is the
unit of time employed in this article. When a point con¬
tinues always to trace equal lengths of its path in equal
times, its velocity is said to be uniform, and is expressed
numerically by dividing the length of any portion whatso¬
ever of the path of the point by the time occupied by the
point in tracing it. The unit of length employed in Britain
to express velocities is usually the foot, but in some cases
the mile. In the present article the foot is employed, where
not otherwise specified; so that velocities will generally be
stated in feet per second.
25. Varied Velocity.—When a moving point does not
trace equal lengths of its path in equal times, its velocity
is said to be varied. In this case it is no longer possible to
compute the velocity simply by dividing the length traced
between two given instants by the time occupied in tracing
it, because such a computation gives different results for
different pairs of instants: it gives, not the velocity at
a particular instant, but the mean velocity between the pair
of instants.
For example, let A, B denote a pair of instants of time,
the interval of time between them, As the length of path
As
the
traced by the moving point in that interval, then is
mean velocity in the interval between A and B.
Now let C denote an instant of time anywhere between
A and B, and let it be required to find the exact velocity
of the moving point at the instant C. — will be an ap¬
proximation to that velocity. To find a closer approxima¬
tion, take two instants A' and B', nearer to C than A and
B are; let A*' be the interval of time, and As' the length
traced between A' and B'; then will —, be a closer ap¬
proximation than Having obtained a series of such
approximations,
As As' As"
A? A?’ A?’ C'’
by taking pairs of instants continually nearer and nearer to
C, compare their results; it will be found that they follow
some law, and that each of the mean velocities denoted
above consists of a constant part, and of a variable part
which continually diminishes and approximates to nothing
as A£ grows smaller; that is to say, as A and B approxi¬
mate to C. The constant part of the mean velocity, being
the limit towards which — approximates as A£ diminishes,
is the exact velocity at the instant C, and is thus denoted,—
ds
V~ dt
(1-)
The process above described is well known in the differ¬
ential calculus by the name of differentiation ; that is to
say, finding the rate of variation of one quantity s as com¬
pared with that of another quantity t.
In order to distinguish between motions in two opposite
directions along the same path, one of those directions is
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, called forward, and treated as positive in algebra; while
^ the other is called backward, and treated as negative. Thus,
let n denote a certain number of feet per second; then
ds
„r +„,
will express that the velocity of the moving point is n feet
per second forwards ; and
ds
V~lt= ~n
will express that the velocity is of equal magnitude, but
backivard.
26. Direct Deviation, or Acceleration and Retardation.
—When the motion of a point is said to be uniform, with¬
out further qualification, it is to he understood to be uniform
both in velocity and in direction.
The word deviation in its general sense denotes the
amount of any departure from uniformity of motion, whether
of velocity or of direction; and the rate at which any de¬
viation takes place is ascertained by differentiation.
The rate of direct deviation is the rate at which the
velocity varies, and is denoted by
dv (Ts
~dt~d(1? 
being deduced from the changes of velocity in different
intervals of time in the same way that the velocity is de¬
duced from the changes of position; that is, by differen¬
tiation. Direct deviation is acceleration if the velocity is
increased, retardation if it is diminished; it is positive if
forward velocity is increased, or backward velocity dimin¬
ished ; negative if forward velocity is diminished, or back¬
ward velocity increased.
27. Lateral Deviation or Deflection—Angular Velocity
of Deviation—Revolution.—The rate of lateral deviation,
being the rate at which the moving point swerves from a
straight course, is found for any instant by multiplying the
velocity of the moving point by the rate at which the an¬
gular direction of its path varies. Symbolically, let 6 denote
the angle (expressed in length of arc to radius unity) which
at any instant the path of the point makes with some fixed
direction in the plane in which, for the instant, the deflec¬
tion takes place ; then —, found as before, is the rate at
which the angular direction of the path varies. Let p
denote the radius of curvature of the path at the instant in
question ; then, by the geometry of curves, it is known that
385
instant; and the directional relation, which is the relation Mechanics,
borne to each other by the respective directions of the -—Y-»-y
motions of the twTo points at the same given inst nt.
It is obvious that the motions of a pair of pci ,ts may be
varied in any manner, whether by direct or by lateral de¬
viation, and yet that their comparative motion may remain
constant, in consequence of the deviations taking place in
the same proportions, in the same directions, and at the
same instants for both points.
Mr Willis has the merit of having been the first to sim¬
plify considerably the theory of pure mechanism, by point¬
ing out that that branch of mechanics relates wholly to
comparative motions.
Ihe comparative motion of two points at a given instant
is capable of being completely expressed by one of Sir Wil¬
liam Hamilton’s Quaternions,—the “Tensor” expressing the
velocity-ratio, and the “ Versor” the directional relation.
29. Resolution and Composition of Motion.—Let OPQ
be part of the path of a moving point, and P the position
of that point at any given instant. Let OX, OY, OZ, be
any three axes, or fixed directions, traversing a fixed point
O called the origin. Let three points, P„ Py, P„ start
from O at the same instant with P, moving respectively
along the straight paths OX, OY, OZ, in such a manner
that at each instant
OPx=x, OPy=y, OP, = s,
shall be respectively equal to
PA, PB, PC,
the respective distances of P from the co-ordinate planes,
YOZ, ZOX, XOY,
measured respectively in directions parallel to the three axes,
OX, OY, OZ.
dd_\_
ds p’
consequently,
dd ds v
dt pdt p ’
and the rate of lateral deviation is expressed by
dd _v1
dt p
(3.)
Lateral deviation is considered as positive or negative,
according to arbitrary arrangements respecting the sign
of the radius of curvature of the path.
d6
The quantity above represented by is sometimes called
the angular velocity of deviation.
A point wrhose path deviates continually until it returns to
its primitive direction is said to revolve ; and the mean an¬
gular velocity of revolution is the circumference of a circle
of the radius unity, divided by the time of one revolution.
28. Comparative Motion.—The comparative motion of
two points is the relation which exists between their motions,
without having regard to their absolute amounts. It con¬
sists of two elements,—the velocity ratio, which is the ratio
of any two magnitudes bearing to each other the proportions
of the respective velocities of the two points at a given
VOL. xtv.
Then are P,, Py, P,, called the projections of P on the
three axes respectively ; their motions are called the com¬
ponents of the motion of P parallel to the three axes ; and
the operation of determining those component motions is
called the resolution of the motion of P relatively to the
three axes. The operation of determining the motion of
P, when its components are given, is called the composition
of those components; and the motion of P is called the
resultant of the motions of its projections. The followino-
propositions are the main principles of the composition and
resolution of motion :—
(1.) The straight line joining P and O is the diagonal of
the parallelepiped OP*PyP,ABCP, of which x, y, z, are
the edges.
(2.) If a straight line be drawn representing in direction
and magnitude the velocity v~~^ of P at any instant, that
straight line will be the diagonal of the parallelepiped
whose edges respectively represent in direction and mag¬
nitude the component velocities of P„ Py, and P,; viz.,
dx dy dz
dt ’ 'dt, di’
(3.) If the three respective motions of P,, Py, P„ during
one and the same interval of time, be determined, and if a
moving point, starting from O, be made to perform in three
3 c
386
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, consecutive intervals of time, motions equal and parallel to
those three motions respectively, in any order ot succes¬
sion, then will the last-mentioned point'arrive at the posi¬
tion’ occupied by P at the end of the first-mentioned in¬
terval of time.
(The path of the last-mentioned point may be any one of
the six routes from O to P along the edges of the parallele¬
piped.)
(4.) If a plane always parallel to one of the co-ordinate
planes (such as YOZ) be made to start from O at the same
instant with P, and to move with the same motion as the
projection of P on one of the axes (such as P*); and if a
line in that moving plane, always parallel to another of the
axes (such as OZ), be made to start from O, and move
relatively to that plane with a motion parallel and equal to
that of the projection of P on the remaining axis (such as
Py); and if a point in that moving line be made to start
from O, and move along that line with a motion parallel
and equal to that of the third projection of P (such as P*) ;
then will this moving point coincide at every instant with
P itself.
For example, let a plane start from the position APyOP*
and move along with Px to the position PBPXC; let a
line in that plane start from the position OP,, and move
with a motion relatively to the plane which is equal and
parallel to that of Py, so as to arrive at the position CP;
let a point on that line start from O, and move along the
line with a motion equal and parallel to that of P,; that
point will be the point P itself.
The last-mentioned illustration of the resolution and
composition of motion is capable of being exhibited by
mechanism.
When the motion of P takes place entirely in one plane,
two axes may be assumed in that plane; when the motion
of P will have but two components along those two axes
respectively, and the parallelepiped will be reduced to a
parallelogram.
30. Rectangular Projection, Resolution, and Composi¬
tion.—The choice of the three or two axes is a matter of
convenience. When there is no special reason for making
them oblique, they are made perpendicular to each other,
or rectangular; and when obliquity of the axes is not
specified, rectangularity is to be understood. In this case
the projection of a moving point upon any one of the axes
is found by letting fall a perpendicular from the point on
that axis.
Let OP = r denote the distance of the point from the
A
origin at any given instant, and xr =-^XOP, the angle
which that distance makes with any given axis; then for
rectangular projection,
  A
a;= OPx = r. cos .... (4.)
Also let v be the velocity of P at any given instant, and
xn the angle which the direction of its motion, or tangent
to its path, makes at the same instant with the direction of
OX; then the velocity of the rectangular projection P* at
the same instant is
dx
-y~ = V.COSXV .... (O.)
at
Adopting an analogous notation for other two rectangular
axes, we have—
, A , A A
cos xr + cos yr + cos2 zr= 1;
A A - a
cos2 XV + cos2 yv + cos2 zv= l ;
xl + y~ + z1 == r2;
2 S 1
v1.
/dxX
\dt)
(6.)
31. Resolution and Composition of Deviations.—As the Mechanics,
three projections of a moving point move in straight lines, ^
their rates of deviation, if any, are wholly direct, and are
represented by
drx d2y < d2z
dt~ ’ df ’ dt1'
If three lines be drawn representing those three rates of
deviation in direction and magnitude, the diagonal of the
parallelepiped of which they are the edges is the total or
resultant rate of deviation, and is the same in magnitude
and direction with the diagonal of a rectangular parallelo¬
gram one of whose sides is parallel to the direction of
motion of P, and represents in magnitude its rate of direct
deviation ^rc. = -^r, while the other is drawn in the direction
dt- dt
of the radius of curvature of the path of P, and represents
in magnitude its rate of lateral deviation — . This is easily
° P
verified by the aid of well-known formulae of the geometry
of curved lines. If the motion of a point be uniform both
in velocity and in direction, the components of that motion
are uniform also; but if the motion of the point be deviated
either in velocity or in direction, or in both, the compo¬
nents are deviated in velocity.
DIVISION II.—MOTION OF THE SURFACE OF A FLUID MASS.
32. General Principle.—A mass of fluid is used in me¬
chanism to transmit motion and force between two or more
moveable portions (called pistons or plungers) of the solid
envelope or vessel in which the fluid is contained ; and when
such transmission is the sole action, or the only appreciable
action of the fluid mass, its volume is either absolutely con¬
stant, by reason of its temperature and pressure being main¬
tained constant, or not sensibly varied.
Let a represent the area of the section of a piston made
by a plane perpendicular to its direction of motion, and v
its velocity, which is to be considered as positive when
outward, and negative when inward. Then the variation
of the cubic contents of the vessel in a unit of time by
reason of the motion of one piston is va. The condition
that the volume of the fluid mass shall remain unchanged,
requires that there shall be more than one piston, and that
the velocities and areas of the pistons shall be connected by
the equation
2 • ra = 0 . . . . (7.)
33. Comparative Motion of two Pistons.—If there be
but two pistons whose areas are «1 and a2, and their veloci¬
ties %\ and their comparative motion is expressed by the
equation—
-2 = - -1; . (8.)
that is to say, their velocities are opposite as to inwardness
and outwardness, and inversely proportional to their areas.
34. Applications: Hydraulic Press—Pneumatic Power-
Transmitter.—In the Hydraulic Press the vessel consists of
two cylinders, viz., the pump-barrel and the press-barrel, each
having its piston, and of a passage connecting them having a
valve opening towards the press-barrel. The action of the
inclosed water in transmitting motion takes place during the
inward stroke of the pump-plunger, when the above-men¬
tioned valve is open; and at that time the press-plunger
moves outwards with a velocity which is less than the
inward velocity of the pump-plunger, in the same ratio that
the area of the pump-plunger is less than the area of .the
press-plunger. (For details respecting this machine, &c.,
see Hydrodynamics.)
In the Pneumatic Power-Transmitter the motion of one
piston is transmitted to another at a distance by means of
a mass of air contained in two cylinders and an intervening
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, tube. When the pressure and temperature of the air can be
v / maintained constant, this machine fulfils equation 8, like
the hydraulic press. The amount and effect of the varia¬
tions of pressure and temperature undergone by the air
depend on the principles of the mechanical action of heat,
or Thermodynamics, and are foreign to the subject of pure
mechanism.
387
DIVISION III.
-MOTION OP A RIGID SOLID.
35. Motions Classed: Shifting and Turning.—In pro¬
blems of mechanism, each solid piece of the machine is
supposed to be so stiff and strong as not to undergo any
sensible change of figure or dimensions by the forces applied
to it; a supposition which is realized in practice if the ma¬
chine is skilfully designed.
. This being the case, the various possible motions of a
ngid solid body may all be classed under the following
heads:— ”
{l.) Shifting or Translation, when every point in the
body has the same motion at the same instant, and when
consequently no point in the body has any motion relatively
to another. J
(2.) Turning or Rotation, being the only kind of relative
motion amongst the points of a body which is possible with¬
out change of dimensions or figure.
(3.) Motions compounded of shifting and turning.
36. Shifting or Translation.—In a motion of simple shift-
ing oi tianslation all the points of the body are moving
with the same velocity, and in the same direction, at the
same instant. The path of a given point may be a line of
any figure—straight, curved, or angular; and the path of
eveiy other point will be a line of the same figure and di¬
mensions. Every plane and every straight line fixed in the
body moves parallel to itself.
I he relative motion of any two points is null; that is to
say, the line joining them alters neither in length nor in
direction.
The comparative motion of any two points is expressed
by the ratio of equality between their velocities, and the
relation of parallelism between their directions.
. The most common forms for the paths of the points of a
piece of mechanism, whose motion is simple shifting, are the
straight line and the circle.
Shifting in a straight line is regulated either by straight
fixed guides, in contact with which the moving piece slides
or by combinations of link-work, called parallel motions,
which will be described in the sequel. Shifting in a straight
line is usually reciprocating ; that is to say, the piece, after
shifting through a certain distance, returns to its original
position by reversing its motion.
Circular shifting is regulated by attaching two or more
points of the shifting piece to ends of equal and parallel rotat¬
ing cranks, or by combinations of wheel-work to be afterwards
described. As an example of circular shifting, may be cited
the motion of the coupling rod, by which the parallel and
equal cranks upon two or more axles of a locomotive engine
are connected and made to rotate simultaneously. The
coupling rod remains always parallel to itself, and all its
points describe equal and similar circles relatively to the
frame of the engine, and move in parallel directions with
equal velocities at the same instant.
37. Turning or Rotation in general.—Turning or rota¬
tion is a motion of a body such that a line fixed in or
relatively to the body changes its direction. The plane
of rotation is a plane parallel to those lines in the body'
whose change of direction is most rapid. As the rigidity
of the body makes all lines in it preserve unchanged their
directions relatively to each other, all lines in the body
parallel to the plane of rotation change their direction
by the same amount in the same interval of time. The
rate of change of direction of such lines, which, if uniform,
is the angle swept through by each of them in an unit of Mechanics,
time, and, if variable, is the limit towards which that angle - ■- '
approximates in the operation of differentiation, is the an¬
gular velocity of rotation of the body, and is denoted by
dO
where Q is the angle made by a line fixed in the body
with some fixed direction in the plane of rotation.
Each one of the parts of a rigid turning body, how small
soever, turns in the same manner and in the same time
with the whole body, and has obviously the same angular
velocity of rotation with the whole body.
Ihe direction of the axis of rotation is perpendicular to
the plane of rotation, and is the direction of all those lines
in the body whose rate of change of direction is null. This
direction may either be permanent or instantaneous. It,
or any line parallel to it, is sometimes called the axis sim¬
ply J but the use of the word axis alone more commonly
implies, in speaking of mechanism, a line in the body (such
as the central line of an arbor or shaft) whose position as
well as its direction is unchanged, either relatively to the
rame (in which case it is a. fixed axis), or relatively to some
other piece of mechanism which carries the turning piece
under consideration. When there is no fixed axis, the in¬
stantaneous axis is an ideal line, which at a given instant is
at rest relatively to the turning body and to the frame.
Rotation is said to be right-handed relatively to an ob¬
server looking in the direction of the axis, when it is like
that of the hands of a watch; left-handed when the con-
trary. Rotation may be alternately right and left handed,
in which case it is called oscillation. Angular velocity of
rotation may be deviated either by acceleration, by retarda¬
tion, or by change in the direction of the axis.
38. Relative Motions of Two Points in a Turning Bodtp
—Let A and B denote any two points in a turning body
and let it be required to express the motion of B relatively
to A. Through A draw a line AO in the direction of the
axis, on which let fall a perpendicular from B ; let r denote
the length of that perpendicular. Then is the motion of
B relatively to A a translation in a circular path of the radius
r about the axis AO ; the angular velocity of deviation of
^ 18 d$ Same WUh tlie an°ular velocity °f rotation of the
b°dy and the linear velocity of B relatively to A is
dd .
m a direction perpendicular to the plane AOB.
The motion of A relatively to B is exactly the same with
that of B relatively to A.
39. Comparative Motion of Two Points relatively to a
IInrd.—li'there be a point C at the perpendicular distance r
rom AO, the velocity of that point in its motion relatively to
A will be r —; and the comparative motion of B and C
relatively to A will be expressed by the ratio r : f between
their velocities, and by the angle A between their direc-
ptnes AO°B0a;deA(?rhe tT Th the “S’6 betTO!"
] anes AOB and AOC. Ihus that comparative motion is
mdependent of the angular velocity of the turning body
40 RotationaboutaFixed Axis—Lever, Wheel,and Axle
— I he fixed axis of a turning body is a line fixed relatively
to the body and relatively to the fixed space in which the
body turns. In mechanism it is usually the central line
either of a rotating shaft or axle having journals -udeeon?
or pivots turning in fixed bearings, or°of a fixed spindle oJ
dead centie iound which a rotating bush turns; but it may
sometunes be entirely beyond the limits of he turning
fixed* Jdes^th? - " S,iding Piece moves circular
xed guides, that piece rotates about an ideal fixed axis
traversing the centre of those guides.
Let the angular velocity of the rotation be denoted bv
388
MECHANICS.
Mechanics. a = ^ then the jjnear velocity of any point A at the dis¬
tance r from the axis is ar ; and the path of that point is
a circle of the radius r described about the axis.
If the directions of motion of any two points A and B in
the rotating body, at any one instant, be given, the axis
may be determined by its being the line of intersection of
two planes drawn through A and B, and perpendicular to the
respective direction^ of motion of those points.
The comparative motion of A and B is expressed, like
that of B and C in sec. 39, by a constant velocity-ratio, which
is that of their perpendicular distances from the axis, and a
constant directional relation, which is an angle equal to
the angle between the two planes traversing the axis and
the two points respectively. This is the principle of the
modification of motion by the Lever, which consists of a
rigid body turning about a fixed axis called a fulcrum, and
having two points at the same or different distances from
that axis, and in the same or different directions, one of
which receives motion and the other transmits motion,
modified in direction and velocity according to the above
law- . . .11
In the Wheel and Axle motion is received and trans¬
mitted by two cylindrical surfaces of different radii described
about their common fixed axis of turning, their velocity-
ratio being that of their radii.
41. Velocity-ratio of Components of Motion.—As the
distance between any two points in a rigid body is inva¬
riable, the projections of their
velocities upon the line joining
them must be equal. Hence it
follows, that it A in fig. 5 be a
point in a rigid body CD, rotating
round the fixed axis F, the com¬
ponent of the velocity of A in
any direction AP parallel to the
plane of rotation, is equal to the
total velocity of the point m,
found by letting fall Fm perpen¬
dicular to AP ; that is to say, is equal to
a • I'm.
Hence also the ratio of the components of the velocities of
two points A and B in the directions AP and BW respec¬
tively, both in the plane of rotation, is equal to the ratio
of the perpendiculars Fm and F«.
42. Instantaneous Axis of a Cylinder rolling on a Cy¬
linder.—Let a cylinder bbb, whose axis of figure is B, and
angular velocity y, roll on a fixed cylinder aaa, whose axis of
figure is A. either outside (as in fig. 6), when the rolling
will be towards the same hand with the rotation, or inside
(as in fig. 7), when the rolling will be towards the opposite
hand; and at a given instant let T be the line of contact
of the two cylindrical surfaces, which is at their common
intersection with the plane AB traversing the two axes of
figure.
the line T on the fixed Mechanics.
instant it touches, without sliding,
surface aaa.
The line T on the surface bbb has also for the instant
no velocity in the plane AB; for it has just ceased to move
towards the fixed surface aaa, and is just about to begin to
move away from that surface.
The line of contact T, therefore, on the surface of the
cylinder bhb, is for the instant at rest, and is the instan¬
taneous axis about which the cylinder bbb turns, together
with any body rigidly attached to that cylinder.
To find, then, the direction and velocity at the given in¬
stant of any point P, either in or rigidly attached to the
rolling cylinder T, draw the plane PT ; the direction of
motion of P will be perpendicular to that plane, and towards
the right or left hand according to the direction of the ro¬
tation of bbb ; and the velocity of P will be
VP = y
PT
(9.)
PT denoting the perpendicular distance of P from F. The
path of P is a curve of the kind called epitrochoids. If P is
in the circumference of bbb, that path becomes an epi¬
cycloid. .
The velocity of any point in the axis of figure B is
Wb= 7
TB
(10.)
and the path of such a point is a circle described about A
with the radius AB; being for outside rolling the sum,
and for inside rolling the difference, of the radii of the
cvlinders. _ ,. , . 7
“ Let a denote the angular velocity with which the plane
of axes AB rotates about the fixed axis A. Then it is
evident that
t'B = a
Eig. 5.
AB
TB
AB
(11.)
(12.)
and consequently that a = y *
For internal rolling, as in fig. 7, AB is to be treated as
negative, which will give a negative value to a, indicating
that in this case the rotation of AB round A is contrary to
that of the cylinder bbb. . . 7 ,
The angular velocity of the rolling cylinder, relatively to
the plane of axes AB, is obviously given by the equation
= y - a;
w hence /3 = y '
TV
AB
(13.)
Fig. 6.
Fig. 7.
The line T on the surface bbb has for the instant no
velocity in a direction perpendicular to AB ; because for the
care being taken to attend to the sign of a, so that when
that is negative the arithmetical values of y and a are to
be added in order to give that of /?.
The whole of the foregoing reasonings are applicable,
not merely when aaa and bbb are actual cylinders, but also
when they are the osculating cylinders of a pair of cylin-
droidal surfaces of varying curvature, A and B being t ie
axes of curvature of the parts of those surfaces which are in
contact for the instant under consideration. . Tt
43 Composition and Resolution of Rotations about I a-
rallel Axes.-Yhc plane AB may be considered as an arm
rotating about the fixed axis A with the angular velocity ^
and carrying the moving axis B round which a body bbb
rotates with the angular velocity (3 relatively to tlm plane or
arm AB ; so that the actual rotation o? bbb about the in-
stantaneous axis T, with a total or actual angu ar velocty
y, is the resultant of the two component rotations about
A and B respectively.
The relations between the angular velocities of the com¬
ponent and resultant rotations and the distances between
their axes, are expressed by the following proportions de¬
duced from equations 12 and 13:
Mechanics. a : B : y
' ::TB:TA:XB ] * * * * (14)
or in words as follows:—The angular velocity of the rota¬
tion resulting from the composition of two rotations about
parallel axes, is the sum of the component angular velo¬
cities if they are in the same direction, and their difference
if they are contrary : the axis of the resultant rotation lies
in the plane of and parallel to the axes of the component
rotations—between them if they are in the same direction,
beyond them if they are contrary; and its respective dis¬
tances from these two axes are inversely as the angular
velocities of the respective component rotations round them.
44. Composition of a Rotation with a Translation in the
same Plane.—The motion of the body bbb, and of any body
attached to it, may also be regarded as compounded of the
rotation, with the total angular velocity y, about the moving
axis B, and a translation of that axis, carrying the body along
with it, in a direction perpendicular to BA with the velo¬
city vB. Hence is deduced the following rule for finding the
motion resulting from the combination of a rotation, with a
given total angular velocity y, about a moving axis B, and
a translation in a given direction perpendicular to B with
the velocity :—
Draw BA perpendicular to the direction of translation,
and deviating from that direction to that side towards which
the rotation takes place. In BA take
MECHANICS. 339
Let vc denote the linear velocity of the point C. Then Mechanics,
t’c = a * CF = y • CG
y : a :: CF : CG :: OE : OD ;
which is one part of the solution above stated.
BT =
^'b
(15.)
Fig. 8.
then the instantaneous axis for the instant under consider¬
ation is a line drawn through T parallel to B ; so that the
motion of any point P, in or attached to the body, is for
the instant perpendicular to PT, with the velocity
vP = y * TP (16.)
4o. Instantaneous Axis of a Cone rolling on a Cone.
—Let Oaa (fig. 8) be a fixed cone, OA its axis, Obb a
cone rolling on
it, OB the axis
of the rolling
cone, OT the
line of contact of
the two cones at
the instant under
consideration.
By reasoning si¬
milar to that of sec. 42, it appears that OT is the instan¬
taneous axis of rotation of the rolling cone.
Let y denote the total angular velocity of the rotation
of the cone B about the instantaneous axis, /3 its angular
velocity about the axis OB relatively to the plane A OB,
and a the angular velocity with which the plane AOB
turns round the axis OA.
It is required to find the ratios of those angular velocities.
Solution. In O 1 take any point E, from which draw
EC parallel to OA, and ED parallel to OB, so as to con¬
struct the parallelogram OCED. Then
OD : OC : OE 1
:: a : /3 : y J ‘ ^
Or because of the proportionality of the sides cf triangles
to the sines of the opposite angles,
sin ^ TOB : sin TOA : sin ^ AOB) .
:: a : /S : y f (17’A->
that is to say, the angular velocity about each axis is pro¬
portional to the sine of the angle between the other two.
Demonstration.—From C draw CF J_ OA, and CG
1 OE.
'T’u rrn n area ECO
ihen CF = 2 x
and CG = 2 x
CG : CF
CE ’
area ECO
_OE
CE = OD : OE.
  From E
draw Eli OB, and EK J_ OA. Then it can be shown
as before that
EK : EH :: OC : OD.
Let vE be the linear velocity of the point Yu fixed m the
plane of axes AOY. Then
rE = a * EK.
Now as the line of contact OT is for the instant at rest on
the rolling cone as well as on the fixed cone, the linear ve¬
locity of the point E fixed to the plane AOB relatively to
the rolling cone, is the same with its velocity relatively to
the fixed cone. That is to say,
/?* EH = = a • E"K
a : : EH : EK :: OD : OC,
which is the remainder of the solution. Q.E.D.
The path of a point P in or attached to the rolling cone
is a spherical epitrochoid traced on the surface of a sphere
of the radius OP. From P draw PQ perpendicular to the
instantaneous axis. Then the motion of P is perpendicular
to the plane OPQ, and its velocity is
= y * PQ (18.)
The whole of the foregoing reasonings are applicable, not
merely when A and B are actual regular cones, but also
when they are the osculating regular cones of a pair of
irregular conical surfaces, having a common apex at O.
46. Composition of Rotations about Two Axes meeting in
a Point.— The plane AOB, carrying the moving axis OB,
rotates about the fixed axis OA with an angular velocity a, to
which OD is proportioned ; the cone B, or any other body,
rotates about the moving axis OB with an angular velocity /?,
to which OC is proportional; then the resultant angular ve¬
locity y of the body B is proportional to, and the direction
of the resultant rotation coincides with, the diagonal OE
of the parallelogram OCED.
In drawing lines, such as OC, OD, and OE, to represent
in direction the axes, and in magnitude the angular veloci¬
ties, of rotations, care is to be taken to make each line point
from the origin O in such a direction that each rotation,
looked at from the quarter towards which the line denot¬
ing it points, shall be of the same kind with all the rest,
viz., right-handed or left-handed. Right-handed rotation
is usually selected in applying this rule.
47. Screiv-like or Helical Motion.—As it has been
shown in section 44 that the combination of
a rotation round a given axis, with a transla¬
tion of that axis in a path parallel to the plane
of rotation, is equivalent simply to a rotation
round a different axis, it follows that every
possible movement of a rigid body parallel
to one plane is either a translation or a ro¬
tation ; and that the only combination of1
translation and rotation, in which a complex
movement which is not a mere rotation is produced, occurs
when the ^translation is perpendicular to the plane and
parallel to the axis of rotation.
Such a complex motion is called screw-like or helical
motion ; for each point in the body describes a helix or
screw round the axis of rotation, fixed or instantaneous as
the case may be. I o cause a body to move in this man-
net it is usually made of a helical or screw-like figure, and
moves in a guide of a corresponding figure. Helical mo¬
tion and screws adapted to it are said to be right or left-
handed according to the appearance presented by the rota¬
tion to an observer looking towards the direction of the
translation. Urns the screw G in fig. 9 is right-handed.
Fig. 9.
I
390
Mechanics.
MECHANICS.
^ = ta„ »;
v, 27rr
The translation of a body in helical motion is called its
advance. Let vx denote the velocity of advance at a given
instant, which of course is common to all the particles of
the body; a the angular velocity of the rotation at the
same instant; 27r=6*2832 nearly, the circumference of a
circle of the radius unity. Then
T = —   (19.)
a v
is the time of one turn at the rate a ; and
p = *’*T=^£ .... (20.)
is the pitch or advance per tarn ; a length which expresses
the comparative motion of the translation and the rotation.
The pitch of a screw is the distance, measured parallel
to its axis, between two successive turns of the same thread
or helical projection.
Let r denote the perpendicular distance of a point in a
body moving helically from the axis. Then
?;r=ar, . , . . . . (21.)
is the component of the velocity of that point in a plane
perpendicular to the axis, and its total velocity is
r=V'(u«2 + ^r2} .... (22.)
The ratio of the two components of that velocity is
. . (23.)
where 0 denotes the angle made by the helical path of the
point with a plane perpendicular to the axis.
48. To find the Motion of a Rigid Body from the Mo¬
tions of Three Points in it.—When the directions and ve¬
locities of the motions of any three points in a rigid body,
not being in the same straight line, are given, the mo¬
tion of the whole body is deter¬
mined, and may be found.
Case 1. When the veloci¬
ties of the three points are equal
and parallel, the motion of the
whole body is an equal and
parallel translation.
Case 2. When the three
points are in one plane, and
their velocities are perpendicu- ~~ c*-
lar to that plane and unequal.—
Draw three lines from the three
points representing in length
and direction their velocities.
Through the extremities of
those lines, draw a plane which
will intersect the plane of the
three points in the axis of rota¬
tion. The velocity of any one
of the points being divided by
its distance from that axis will Fis-10-
give the angular velocity.
Case 3. When the motions of the three points are parallel
to one plane, hut not to each other.—Through any two of the
three points draw planes perpendicular to their directions
ot motion; those planes will cut each other in the axis
of rotation ; and the angular velocity may be found as in
Case 2.
Case 4. In every other case the motion is helical.—
Let A, B, C (fig. 10) be the three points, and let the lines
represent their velocities. Through any point O
draw
Oa = and || to v„ 06 = and || vs, Oc = and fl vc.
Through a, b, and c, draw a plane, on which let fall
the perpendicular Ox. This will represent the velocity of
translation or advance. Join xa, xb, xc ; these lines will
represent in direction and magnitude the components of the
velocities of A, B, C, respectively, parallel to the plane of
rotation. Through any two of the three points draw planes
perpendicular respectively to these rotatory components of Mechanics,
their velocities ; those planes will intersect in the axis of's »
rotation. Find the angular velocity as before.
DIVISION IV.—ELEMENTARY COMBINATIONS IN MECHANISM.
49. Definitions.—An elementary combination in me¬
chanism consists of two pieces whose kinds of motion are
determined by their connection with the frame, and their
comparative motion by their connection with each other;
that connection being effected either by direct contact of
the pieces, or by a connecting piece, which is not con¬
nected with the frame, and whose motion depends entirely
on the motions of the pieces which it connects.
The piece whose motion is the cause is called the driver ;
the piece whose motion is the effect, the folloiver.
The connection of each of those two pieces with the
frame is in general such as to determine the path of every
point in it. In the investigation, therefore, of the com¬
parative motion of the driver and follower, in an elementary
combination, it is unnecessary to consider relations of an¬
gular direction, which are already fixed by the connection
of each piece with the frame ; so that the inquiry is con¬
fined to the determination of the velocity-ratio, and of the
directional-relation, so far only as it expresses the connec¬
tion between forward and backward movements of the
driver and follower. When a continuous motion of the
driver produces a continuous motion of the follower, for¬
ward or backward, and a reciprocating motion a motion
reciprocating at the same instant, the directional-relation
is said to be constant. When a continuous motion produces
a reciprocating motion, or vice versa ; or when a recipro¬
cating motion produces a motion not reciprocating at the
same instant, the directional-relation is said to be variable.
The line of action or of connection of the driver and
follower is a line traversing a pair of points in the driver
and follower respectively, which are so connected that the
component of their velocity relatively to each other, re¬
solved along the line of connection, is null. There may be
several, or an indefinite number of lines of connection, or
there may be but one ; and a line of connection may con¬
nect either the same pair of points or a succession of dif¬
ferent pairs.
50. General Principle.—From the definition of a line of
connection it follows, that the components of the velocities
of a pair of connected points along their line of connection
are equal. And from this, and from the property of a rigid
body, already stated in sect. 41, it follows, that the com¬
ponents, along a line of connection, of all the points tra¬
versed by that line, whether in the driver or in the follower,
are equal; and consequently, that the velocities of any pair
of points, traversed by a line of connection, are to each
other inversely as the cosines, or directly as the secants, of
the angles made by the paths of those points with the line of
connection. .
The general principle, stated above in different forms,
serves to solve every problem in which the mode of con¬
nection of a pair of pieces being given it is requited to find
their comparative motion at a given instant, or vice versa.
51. Application to a Pair of Shifting Pieces.—fig. 11,
let PiP2 be the line of con¬
nection of a pair of pieces,
each of which has a motion
of translation or shifting.
Through any point T in that
line draw TV15 TV2, respec¬
tively parallel to the simul¬
taneous direction of motion
of the pieces; through any Tig. n.
other point A in the line of connection draw a plane per¬
pendicular to that line, cutting TVj, TV2,in Vj, V2; then,
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, velocity of piece 1: velocity of piece 2 :: TVj : TV2. Also,
TA represents the equal components of the velocities of
the pieces parallel to their line of connection, and the line
ViV2 represents their velocity relatively to each other.
52. Application to a Pair of Turning Pieces.—Let al, a0
be the angular velocities of a pair of turning pieces; 0., 02,
the angles which their line of connection makes with their
respective planes of rotation; r2, the common perpendi¬
culars let fall from the line of connection upon the respective
axes of rotation of the pieces. Then the equal components,
along the line of connection, of the velocities of the points
where those perpendiculars meet that line, are,—
a1r1 • cos 01 ~ a2r2 • cos 02;
consequently, the comparative motion of the pieces is given
by the equation
a, r, • cos 6,
~1  1 ... (24.)
391
cq r2 • cos 02* * ’ *
53. Application to a Shifting Piece and a Turning Piece.
Let a shifting piece be connected with a turning piece,
and at a given instant let cq be the angular velocity of the
turning piece, rx the common perpendicular of its axis of
rotation and the line of connection, Bx the angle made by
the line of connection with the plane of rotation, 02 the
angle made by the line of connection with the direction of
motion of the shifting piece, v2 the linear velocity of that
piece. Then
axrx • cos 0x = v2- cos <92; . . (25.)
which equation expresses the comparative motion of the
two pieces.
54. Classification of Elementary Combinations in Me¬
chanism.—-The first systematic classification of elementary
combinations in mechanism was that founded by Monge,
and fully developed by Lanz and Betancourt, which has
been generally received, and has been adopted in most
treatises on applied mechanics. But that classification is
founded on the absolute, instead of the comparative motions
of the pieces, and is, for that reason, defective, as Mr Willis
has pointed out in his admirable treatise On the Principles
of Mechanism.
The classification of Mr Willis is founded, in the first
place, on comparative motion, as expressed by velocity-
ratio and directional-relation; and, in the second place, on
the mode of connection of the driver and follower. He
divides the elementary combinations in mechanism into
three classes, of which the characters are as follows: 
Class A : Directional-relation constant; velocity-ratio
constant.
Class B : Directional-relation constant; velocity-ratio
varying.
Class C : Directional-relation changing periodically; ve¬
locity-ratio constant or varying.
Each of those classes is subdivided by Mr Willis into
five divisions, of which the characters are as follows: 
Division A : connection by rolling contact.
... B: ... sliding contact.
••• C: ... wrapping connectors.
... D: ... link-work.
••• E: ... reduplication.
In the present article the principle of the classification of
Mr Willis is followed; but the arrangement is modified by
taking the mode of connection as the basis of the primary
classification, and by removing the subject of connection
by reduplication to the section of aggregate combinations.
This modified arrangement is adopted as being better suited
than the original arrangement to the limits of an article in
an Encyclopaedia; but it is not disputed that the original
arrangement may be the best for a separate treatise.
55. Rolling Contact—Smooth Wheels and Racks. 
In order that two pieces may move in rolling contact, it is
necessary that each pair of points in the two pieces which Mechanics,
touch each other should at the instant of contact be
moving in the same direction with the same velocity. In
the case of two shifting pieces this would involve equal and
parallel velocities for all the points of each piece, so that
there could be no rolling, and, in fact, the two pieces would
move like one; hence, in the case of rolling contact, either
one or both of the pieces must rotate.
I he direction of motion of a point in a turning piece be¬
ing perpendicular to a plane passing through its axis, the
condition, that each pair of points in contact with each other
must move in the same direction, leads to the following
consequences:— °
I. 1 hat when both pieces rotate, their axes, and all their
points of contact, lie in the same plane.
II. That when one piece rotates and the other shifts, the
axis of the rotating piece, and all the points of contact, lie
m a plane perpendicular to the direction of motion of the
shifting piece.
I he condition, that the velocities of each pair of points
of contact must be equal, leads to the following conse¬
quences :—
III. 1 hat the angular velocities of a pair of turning
pieces in rolling contact must be inversely as the perpen¬
dicular distances of any pair of points of contact from the
respective axes.
IV. That the linear velocity of a shifting piece in rolIin°-
contact with a turning piece is equal to the product of the
angular velocity of the turning piece, by the perpendicular
distance from its axis to a pair of points of contact.
I he line of contact is that line in which the points of
contact are all situated. Bespecting this line, the above
piinciples III. and IV. lead to the following conclu¬
sions :—
V. That for a pair of turning pieces with parallel axes, and
for a turning piece and a shifting piece, the line of contact
is straight, and parallel to the axes or axis; and hence that
the rolling surfaces are either plane or cylindrical (the term
‘cylindrical” including all surfaces generated by the motion
of a straight line parallel to itself).
VI. That for a pair of turning pieces, with intersecting
axes, the line of contact is also straight, and traverses the
point of intersection of the axes ; and hence that the rolling
surfaces are conical, with a common apex (the term “ coni¬
cal ” including all surfaces generated by the motion of a
straight line which traverses a fixed point).
I urning pieces in rolling contact are called smooth, or
toothless wheels. Shifting pieces in rolling contact with
turning pieces may be called smooth or toothless racks.
VII. In a pair of pieces in rolling contact every straight
line traversing the line of contact is a line of connection!
56. Cylindrical Wheels and Smooth Racks.—In design-
ing cylindrical wheels and smooth racks, and determining
their comparative motion, it is sufficient to consider a sec¬
tion of the pair of pieces made by a plane perpendicular to
the axis or axes.
The points where axes intersect the plane of section are
called centres ; the point where the line of contact intersects
it, the point of contact ov pitch-point; and the wheels are
described as circular, elliptical, &c., according to the forms
ot their sections made by that plane.
When the point of contact of two wheels lies between
t teir centres, they are said to be in outside gearing; when
because Aeroll-
g surface of the larger wheel must in this case be turned
inwaras, or towards its centre.
From principle III. of sect. 55 it appears, that the an-
gu ar velocity.ratio of a pair of wheels is the inverse ratio
ot the d stances of the point of contact from the centres.re-
spectively.
Foi outside gearing that ratio is negative, because the
\
392
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, wheels turn contrary ways; for inside gearing it is positive,
because they turn the same way. # ,
If the velocity-ratio is to be constant, as m Mr YY illis s
Class A, the wheels must be circular; and this is the most
common form for wheels. -r..v ,
If the velocity-ratio is to be variable, as in Mr YVilliss
Class B, the figures of the wheels are a pair of rolling
curves, subject to the condition that the distance between
their poles (which are the centres of rotation) shall be con¬
stant. # ,
The following is the geometrical relation which must
exist between such a pair of curves. (See fig. 12.)
Let Cj, C2 be the poles of a pair of rolling curves; Tj, P2
any pair of points of contact; U,, U2 any other pair of points
of contact. Then, for every possible pair of points of con¬
tact, the two following equations must be simultaneously
fulfilled:—
Sum of radii, C1U1 + C2U2=C1T1 + C2i2 —constant;
arc, T2U2=T1U1 . •
A condition equivalent to the above,
and necessarily connected with it, is, that
at each pair of points of contact the in¬
clinations of the curves to their radii-
vectores shall be equal and contrary; or,
denoting by rv r2 the radii-vectores at any
given pair of points of contact, and s the
length of the equal arcs measured from a
certain fixed pair of points of contact—
dr,
dt
2 — _
dr^
ds
(27.)
each other inversely as the sines of the angles which the Mechanics,
axes of the wheels make with the line of contact. Hence
follows the following construc¬
tion (figs. 13 and 14).—Let O
be the apex or point of meet¬
ing of the two axes OC15 OC2.
The angular-velocity-ratio be¬
ing given, it is required to find
the line of contact. On PC,,
OC2 take lengths OA15 OA2,
respectively proportional to the
angular velocities of the pieces
on whose axes they are taken.
Complete the parallelogram
OAjEAj; the diagonal OET will be
required.
When the velocity-
ratio is variable, the line
of contact will shift its
position in the plane
Fig. 12.
(28.)
Fig. 13.
the line of contact
which is the differential equation of a pair
of rolling curves whose poles are at a
constant distance apart. }
[For full details as to rolling curves, see Mr Willis s
work, already mentioned, and Mr Clerk Maxwell’s paper on
Rolling Curves in the Transactions of the Royal Society of
Edinburgh^
A rack, to work with a circular wheel, must be straight.
To work with a wheel of any other figure, its section must
be a rolling curve, subject to the condition, that the per¬
pendicular distance from the pole or centre of the wheel to
a straight line parallel to the direction of the motion of the
rack shall be constant. Let rx be the radius-vector of a
point of contact on the wheel, the ordinate from the
straight line before mentioned to the corresponding point
of contact on the rack. Then
dx2 _ drx
ds ds
is the differential equation of the pair of rolling curves.
To illustrate this subject, it may be mentioned that an
ellipse rotating about one focus rolls completely round in
outside gearing, with an equal and similar ellipse also rotating
about one focus, the distance between the axes of rotation
being equal to the major axis of the ellipses, and the velo-
. c 1 + eccentricity 1—eccentricity
city-ratio varying from-r 7—- to   
J & 1 - eccentricity 1 + eccentricity
a hyperbola rotating about its further focus rolls, in inside
gearing, through a limited arc, with an equal and similar
hyperbola rotating about its nearer focus, the distance
between the axes of rotation being equal to the axis of
the hyperbolas, and the velocity-ratio varying between
eccentricity — 1 an^ un^y ’ and a parabola rotating about
its focus rolls with an equal and similar parabola, shifting
parallel to its directrix.
57. Conical or Revel, and Disc Wheels.—From principles
III. and VI. of sect. 55 it appears, that the angular veloci¬
ties of a pair of wheels whose axes meet in a point, are to
Fig. 15.
CjOCjj, and the wheels
will be cones, with ec¬
centric or irregular bases.
In every case which
occurs in practice, how-
over, the velocity-ratio is constant; the line of contact is
constant in position, and the rolling surfaces of the wheels
are regular circular cones (when they are called bevel
wheels); or one of a pair of wheels may have a flat disc for
its rolling surface, as W2 in fig. 14, in which case it is a
disc wheel. The rolling surfaces of actual wheels consist
of frusta or zones of the complete cones or discs, as shown
by W15 W2, in figs. 13 and 14. ^ , tt/7 7 *
58. Sliding Contact—lateral: Skew-Bevel Wheels. A
hyperboloid of revolution is a surface resembling a sheaf
or a dice box, generated by the rotation of a straight line
round an axis from which it is at a constant distance, and
to which it is inclined at a con¬
stant angle. If two such hyper¬
boloids, equal or unequal, be A
placed in the closest possible
contact, as in fig. 15, they will
touch each other along one of B
the generating straight lines of
each, which will form their line
of contact, and will be inclined to
the axes AG, BH in opposite directions. The axes will
neither be parallel nor will they intersect each other.
The motion of two such hyperboloids, turning in contact
with each other, has hitherto been classed amongst cases
of rolling contact; but that classification is not strictly cor¬
rect: for although the component velocities of a pair of
points of contact in a direction at right angles to the line
of contact are equal, still, as the axes are neither parallel to
each other nor to the line of contact, the velocities of a
pair of points of contact have components along the line of
contact which are unequal, and their difference constitutes
a lateral sliding. .
The directions and positions of the axes being given,
and the required angular-velocity-ratio, the following con¬
struction serves to determine the line ot contact, by whose
rotation round the two axes respectively the hyperboloids
are generated :— -n .v •
In fig. 16, let 6,0,, B2C2 be the two axes ; B,B2 their
common perpendicular. Through any P°[ntO in this com¬
mon perpendicular draw OA, parallel to 6,0,, OA2 parallel
to B C ; make those lines proportional to the angular velo¬
cities about the axes to which they are respectively parallel;
complete the parallelogram OA,EA2, and draw the dia¬
gonal OE; divide B,B2 in D into two parts, inversely pro¬
portional to the angular velocities about the axes which they
MECHANICS.
Pig, 16.
Mechanics, respectively adjoin; through D parallel to OE draw DT
^ This will be the line of contact.
A pair of thin frusta of a
pair of hyperboloids are used
in practice to communicate mo¬
tion between a pair of axes
neither parallel nor intersect¬
ing, and are called sheiv-bevel
wheels.
In skew-bevel wheels, the
properties of a line of connec¬
tion are not possessed by every
line traversing the line of con¬
tact, but only by every line
traversing the line of contact at
right angles.
If the velocity-ratio to be communicated were variable,
the point D would alter its position, and the line DT its
direction, at different periods of the motion, and the wheels
would be hyperboloids of an eccentric or irregular cross
section ; but forms of this kind are not used in practice.
oy. sliding Contact—circular : Grooved Wheels.—As
the adhesion or friction between a pair of smooth wheels is
seldom sufficient to prevent their slipping on each other
contrivances are used to increase their mutual hold. One
of those consists in forming the rim of each wheel into a
series of alternate ridges and grooves parallel to the plane
of rotation ; it is applicable to cylindrical and bevel wheels,
but not to skew-bevel wheels. The comparative motion
of a pair of wheels so ridged and grooved is the same with
that of a pair of smooth wheels in rolling contact, whose
cylindrical or conical surfaces lie midway between the tops
of the ridges and bottoms of the grooves, and those ideal
smooth surfaces are called the pitch surfaces of the wheels.
1 he relative motion of the faces of contact of the ridges
an grooves is a rotatory sliding, or grinding motion, about
the line of contact of the pitch-surfaces as an instanta¬
neous axis.
Grooved wheels have hitherto been but little used.
60. Sliding Contact—direct: Teeth of Wheels, Number
aiid b itch.— The ordinary method of connecting a pair of
wheels, or a wheel and a rack, and the only method which
insures the exact maintenance of a given numerical velo¬
city-ratio, is by means of a series of alternate ridges and
hollows parallel or nearly parallel, to the successive lines
o contact of the ideal smooth wheels, whose velocity-ratio
would be the same with that of the toothed wheels. The
ridges are called teeth ; the hollows, spaces. The teeth of
the driver push those of the follower before them, and in
so doing sliding takes place between them in a direction
across their lines of contact.
The pitch-surfaces of a pair of toothed wheels are the
ideal smooth surfaces, which would have the same com¬
parative motion by rolling contact which the actual wheels
have by the sliding contact of their teeth. The pitch-
circles of a pair of circular toothed wheels are sections of
their pitch-surfaces, made for spur-wheels (that is, for
wheels whose axes are parallel) by a plane at right angles
to the axes, and for bevel wheels by a sphere described
about the common apex. For a pair of skew-bevel wheels
the pitch-circles are a pair of contiguous rectangular sec¬
tions of the pitch-surfaces. The pitch-point is the point of
contact of the pitch-circle.
1 he pitch-surface of awheel lies intermediate between
the points of the teeth and the bottoms of the hollows be-
tween them. That part of the acting surface of a tooth
which projects beyond the pitch-surface is called the/ace;
that part which lies within the pitch-surface, the flank.
Teeth, when not otherwise specified, are understood to
be made in one piece with the wheel; the material beino-
generally cast-iron, brass, or bronze. Separate teeth, fixed
VOL. XIV.
393
into mortises in the rim of the wheel, are called cogs. A Mechanics.
pinion is a small toothed wheel; a trundle b a pinion with ^ —i '
cylindrical staves for teeth.
The radius of the pitch-circle of a wheel is called the
geometrical radius ; a circle touching the ends of the teeth
is called the addendum circle, and its radius the real ra¬
dius; the difference between these radii, being the projec¬
tion of the teeth beyond the pitch-surface, is called the
addendum.
The distance, measured along the pitch-circle, from the
face of one tooth to the face of the next, is called the
pitch. I he pitch and the number of teeth in wheels are
regulated by the following principles :—
I. In wheels which rotate continuously for one revolu¬
tion or more, it is obviously necessary that the pitch should
be o?i aliquot pavt of the circumference*
In wheels which reciprocate without performing a com¬
plete revolution this condition is not necessary! Such
wheels are called sectors.
II. In order that a pair of wheels, or a wheel and a rack,
may work correctly together, it is in all cases essential that
the pitch should be the same in earn.
HE Hence, in any pair of circular wheels which work
togethei, the numbers of teeth in a complete circumference
are directly as the radii, and inversely as the angular-velo¬
cities.
IV. Hence also in any pair of circular wheels which
rotate continuously for one revolution or more, the ratio of
the numbers of teeth and its reciprocal, the angular-velo¬
city-ratio, must be expressible in whole numbers.
From this principle arise problems of a kind which will
be referred to in treating of Trains of Mechanism.
V. Let n, N be the respective numbers of teeth in a
pair of wheels, N being the greater. Let t, T be a pair
of teeth in the smaller and larger wheel respectively, which
at a particular instant work together. It is required to find,
first, how many pairs of teeth must pass the line of contact
of the pitch-surfaces before t and T work together again
(let this number be called a); and, secondly, with how many
different teeth of the larger wheel the tooth t will work at
different times (let this number be called b); thirdly, with
how many different teeth of the smaller wheel the tooth T
will work at different times (let this be called c).
Case 1. If w is a divisor of N,
N
a = N;£= —;c=l. . . . (29.)
Case 2. If the greatest common divisor of N and n be d,
a number less than n, so that n = md; N = Mc/,- then
a = mN. = Mn = Mmd; b = M; c = m. . (30.)
Case 3. If N and n be prime to each other,
a = Nn; 6 = N; c = n. . . . (31.)
It is considered desirable by millwrights, with a view to
the preservation of the uniformity of shape of the teeth of
a pair of wheels, that each given tooth in one wheel should
work with as many different teeth in the other wheel as
possible. They therefore study that the numbers of teeth
in each pair of wheels which work together shall either be
prime to each other, or shall have their greatest common
divisor as small as is consistent with a velocitv-ratio suited
for the purposes of the machine.
„3'J;lfn9?7tactrFo™so-ftheTeel,‘<>fSp«r-wMs
and Racks.—\ line of connection of two pieces in sliding
Xt ,r\ hPerp,fdi?U,ar t0 tl,eir ^ces at a point
vliere they touch. Bearing this in mind, the principle of
the comparative motion of a pair of teeth belonging to a
n„n!|SpUr‘S, eelS’ °- ',0 a sPur'Wheel and a rack: is found
by applymg the principles stated generally in §§ 52 and 53
to the case of parallel axes for a pair of spur-wheels, and to
the case of an axis perpendicular to the direction of shifting
for a wheel and a rack. &
3 D
394
MECHANICS.
17, let C1? C, be the centres of a pair of spur-
BJB',, BoIBV
Afechanics. In fig.
wheels;
portions of their pitch-
eircles, touching at I, the
pitch-point. Let the wheel
1 be the driver, and the
wheel 2 the follower.
Let D/TBA, D2TB,,A2
be the positions, at a
<;iven instant, of the acting
surfaces of a pair of teeth
in the driver and follower
respectively, touching each
other at T; the line of con¬
nection of those teeth is
P, P2, perpendicular to their
surfaces at T. Let CjPj,
C2P2, be perpendiculars
let fall from the centres of
the wheels on the line of contact,
angular-velocity-ratio is
a0 C,P
C„P,
)C2
Fig 17.
Then, by sect. 52, the
 (32.)
The following principles regulate the forms of the teeth
and their relative motions :—
It is divided by the pitch-point I into two parts : the arc Mechanics.
or line of approach described by T in approaching the line
of centres, and the arc or line of recess described by T
after having passed the line of centres.
During the approach, the flank of the driving tooth
drives the face D2B2 of the following tooth, and the teeth
are sliding towards each other. During the recess (in which
the position of the teeth is exemplified in the figure by
curves marked with accented letters), the face B'jA'j of the
driving tooth drives the flank B'2A'2 of the following tooth,
and the teeth are sliding/row each other.
The path of contact is bounded where the approach
commences by the addendum-circle of the follower, and
where the recess terminates by the addendum-circle of the
driver. The length of the path of contact should be such
that there shall always be at least one pair of teeth in con¬
tact ; and it is better still to make it so long that there shall
always be at least two pairs of teeth in contact.'
V. The ohliquit)/ of the action of the teeth is the angle
EIT = IC1P1 = IC2P2.
In practice it is found desirable that the mean value of
the obliquity of action during the contact of teeth should
not exceed 15°, nor the maximum value 30°.
It is unnecessary to give separate figures and demonstra¬
tions for inside gearing. The only modification required
in the formulae is, that in equation 3 the difference of the
Mechanics, wheels is the involute of a circle; and the obliquity of the
V'"”" v~"1'y action of such teeth is the angle whose cosine is the ratio
of the radius of their base-circle to that of the pitch-circle
of the wheel.
All involute teeth of the same pitch work smoothly to¬
gether. J
To find the length of the path of contact on either side of
the pitch-point I, it is to be observed that the distance be-
tween the fronts of two successive teeth, as measured along
1 2» less than the pitch in the ratio of cos * obliquity : 1;
and, consequently, that if distances equal to the pitch be
marked off either way from I towards P, and P2 respec¬
tively, as the extremities of the path of contact; and if ac¬
cording to principle IV. of sect. 61, the addendum-circles
be described through the points so found, there will always
be at least two pairs of teeth in action at once. In prac¬
tice it is usual to make the path of contact somewhat longer,
viz., about 2^th times the pitch; and with this length of
path, and the obliquity already mentioned of 141°, the ad¬
dendum is about -j^j-ths of the pitch.
The teeth of a rack, to work correctly with wheels havino-
involute teeth, should have plane surfaces perpendicular to
the line of connection, and consequently making, with the
direction of motion of the rack, angles equal to the comple¬
ment of the obliquity of action.
63. Teeth for a given Path of Contact—Mr Sang’s method.
—in the preceding section the form of the teeth is found by
assuming a figure for the path of contact, viz., the strahdit
line. Any other convenient figure may be assumed for the
path of contact, and the corresponding forms of the teeth
found, by determining what curves a point T, moving alon^
the assumed path of contact, will trace on two discs rotat¬
ing round the centres of the wheels with angular velocities
bearing that relation to the component velocity of T alon°-
11, which is given by principle II. of sect. 61, and bv eoua-
mechanics.
395
'Artw * ™Tarn,ner as always t0 touch a fixed Mechanics,
straight line EIE (or ElE, as the case may be) at a fixed
point I (or 1).
If the same rolling curve and tracing point be used to
trace both the faces and the flanks of the teeth of a number
of wheels of different sizes but of the same pitch, all those
wheels will work correctly together, and will form a set.
1 he teeth of a rack, of the same set, are traced by rollinn-
the rolling curve on both sides of a straight line.
The teeth of wheels of any figure, as well as of circular
wheels, may be traced by rolling curves on their pitch-
surfaces; and all teeth of the same pitch, traced by the
same rolling curve with the Same tracing-point, will work
ogether correctly if their pitch-surfaces are in rolling-
contact. 8
6o. Epicycloidal Teeth.—The most convenient rolling
curve is the circle. The path of contact which it traces is
identical with itself; and the flanks of the teeth are in-
teimal and their faces external epicycloids for wheels, and
both flanks and faces are cycloids for a rack.
For a pitch-circle of twice the radius of the rolling or
describing circle (as it is called), the internal epicycloid is
a straight line, being, in fact, a diameter of the pitch-circle
so that the flanks of the teeth for such a pitch-circle are
planes radiating from the axis. For a smaller pitch-circle
the flanks would be convex and incurved or under-cut,
which would be inconvenient; therefore the smallestwhee
of a set should have its pitch-circle of twice the radius of
the describing circle, so that the flanks may be either
straight or concave.
In fig. 20, let BB' be part of the pitch-circle of a wheel
with epicycloidal teeth •
rpr {f. , . — ^ vciuuiiy ui x along
11, which is given by principle II. of sect. 61, and by equa-
tion 34. This method of finding the forms of the teeth of
wheels forms the subject of an elaborate and most interest¬
ing treatise by Mr Edward Sang.
All wheels having teeth of the same pitch, traced from
the same path of contact, work correctly together, and are
said to belong to the same set.
64. Teeth traced by Polling Curves.—If any curve II
be rolled on the inside of the pitch-circle BB of a wheel
it appears, from sect.
42, that the instan¬
taneous axis of the
rolling curve at any
instant will be at
the point I, where
it touches the pitch-
circle for the mo¬
ment, and that con¬
sequently the line
A f, traced by a Fig. 19.
tracing-point T, fixed to the rolling curve upon the plane
o the wheel, will be everywhere perpendicular to the
straight line FI; so that the traced curve AT will be suit¬
able for the flank of a tooth, in which T is the point of
contact corresponding to the position I of the pitch-point.
If the same rolling curve II, with the same tracing-point T
be rolled on the outside of any other pitch-circle, it will
have the face of a tooth suitable to work with the flank
In like manner, if either the same or any other rolling
curve li be rolled the opposite way, on the outside of the
pitch-circle BB, so that the tracing point T' shall start from
A, it will trace the/ace AT' of a tooth suitable to work
with & flank traced by rolling the same curve R' with the
same tracing-point T inside any other pitch-circle.
I he figure of the path of contact is that traced on a
fixed plane by the tracing point, when the rolling curve
CIC the line of centres; I
the pitch-point; EIE' a
straight tangent to the pitch-
circle at that point; R the
internal, and R' the equal
external describing circles,
so placed as to touch the
pitch-circle and each other
at I. Let DID' be the path
of contact, consisting of the
arc of approach DI, and the
arc of recess ID’. In or¬
der that there may always
be at least two pairs of
teeth in action, each of
those arcs should be equal to the pitch.
notW^hT'^ °f the aC!i,0n in Passin£ fbeline of centres is
not.nng, the maximum obliquity is the angle EID = E'lD •
and the mean obliquity is one-half of that angle
not eSeed 1 that mean obliquity should
about 30°d !f ’ i e?)re the maximum obliquity should be
about 30 , therefore the arcs DI = ID' should each be one-
s xth of a circumference; therefore the circumference o<'
the describing cn-cle should be six times the pitch.
. . follows, that the smallest pinion of a spt , 1 • 1
pn.™ Ae flanks are straight, should have twetat teeth
To
the other convex t fl e ,f°r the flank ’
radius the mean radius of curvaturp"^f°r itS
Mr Willis’s formulae are founded on the fol W C> a-"•
of epicycloidsU following properties
descrLi cm:. °f / * - that of the
the epicycloid at a ‘ ven flfr tF'10 n0™al T*
circle at T- tW • f eo point I, with a tangent to th«
Then the ? 1S’ ?e Gblicluity of the action af T.
I hen the radius of curvature of the epicycloid at T is,—
306
M E C II A N I C S.
• nR~r1
Mechanics. For an internal epicycloid, p—4r
 v / f R + r \ C3'-)
For an external epicycloid, p = 4r • sin 6 ^jr2rJ
41.o, to find the position of the centres of curvature rela¬
tively to the pitch-circle, we have (denoting the chord ot
the describing circle TI by c) II = c = 2/’,sin #; and
therefore
For the flank, p-c = 2r,sin $jF- 2r
. „ • ^ R
For the face, p -c = 2r ' sin
(38.)
Forthe proportions approved of by Mr Willis, sin 6 — ^ nearly;
(the pitch) nearly; nearly; and if N be the
number of teeth in the wheel, ^ =-^ nearly; therefore ap¬
proximately,
„ P
P ~c=o-
R N
N
P -c=o
2 " N — 121
p N
(39.)
2 * N + 12j
Hence the following construction (fig. 21) Let BB be
part of the pitch-circle;
a the point where a tooth d s
is to cross it. Set off
/ P
ab = ac = -.
Draw radii
hd, ce ; draw fb, eg, mak¬
ing angles of 75^° with
those radii. Make bf—
p—c,cg = p — c. From/,
with the radius fa, draw
Fig, 21.
the circular arc ah; from g, with the radius ga, draw the
circular arc ak. 1 hen ah is the face, and ah the flank ot
the tooth required.
To facilitate the application of this rule, Mr Willis has
published tables of p-e and p-c, and invented an instru¬
ment called the “ Odontograph.”
67. Trundles and Pin- Wheels—& wheel or trundle have
cylindrical pins or staves for teeth, the faces of the teeth ot
a wheel suitable for driving it are described by first tracing
external epicycloids, by rolling the pitch-circle of the pin-
wheel or trundle on the pitch-circle of the driving-wheel,
with the centre of a stave for a tracing-point, and then
drawing curves parallel to, and within the epicycloids, at a
distance from them equal to the radius of a stave. Trundles
having only six staves will work with large wheels.
68. Backs of Teeth and //aces.—Toothed wheels being
in general intended to rotaie either way, the backs of the
teeth are made similar to the fronts. I he space between
two teeth, measured on the pitch-circle, is made about £th
part wider than the thickness of the tooth on the pitch-
circle ; that is to say,
5
Thickness of tooth = —j pitch.
Width of space = ^ pitch.
The difference of of the pitch is called the back-lash.
The clearance allowed between the points of teeth and the
bottoms of the spaces between the teeth of the other wheel
is about TVth of the pitch.
69. Stepped and Helical Teeth.—Dr Hooke invented the
making of the fronts of teeth in a series of steps with a view
to increase the smoothness of action. A wheel thus formed
resembles in shape a series of equal and similar toothed discs
placed side by side, with the teeth of each a little behind Mechanics.
those of the preceding disc. He also invented, with the
same object, teeth whose fronts, instead of being parallel to
the line of contact of the pitch-circles, cross it obliquely,
so as to be of a screw-like or helical form. In wheel-work
of this kind the contact of each pair of teeth commences
at the foremost end of the helical front, and terminates at
the aftermost end; and the helix is of such a pitch that
the contact of one pair of teeth shall not terminate until
that of the next pair has commenced.
Stepped and helical teeth have the desired effect ot in¬
creasing the smoothness of motion, but they require more
difficult and expensive workmanship than common teeth;
and helical teeth are, besides, open to the objection that
they exert a laterally oblique pressure, which tends to in¬
crease resistance, and unduly strain the machine! y.
70. Teeth of Bevel-Wheels.—The acting surfaces of the
teeth of bevel-wheels are of the conical kind, generated by
the motion of a line passing through the common apex of
the pitch-cones, while its extremity is carried round the
outlines of the cross section of the teeth made by a sphere
described, about that apex.
The operations of describing the exact figures of the teeth
of bevel-wheels, whether by involutes or by rolling curves,
are in every respect analogous to those for describing the
figures of the teeth of spur-wheels, except that in the case
of bevel-wheels all those operations are to be performed
on the surface of a sphere described about the apex instead
of on a plane, substitutingpofes for centres, and great circles
for straight lines. . .
In consideration of the practical difficulty, especially in
the case of lanje wheels, of obtaining an accurate spherical
surface, and of drawing upon it, when obtained, the follow¬
ing approximate method, proposed originally by Tredgok,
is generallv used:— . ,
Let O (fig. 22) be the common apex of a pair ot bevel-
wheels; OB/,OB2I their
pitch-cones; OCx, OC2
their axes ; 01 their line
of contact. Perpendi¬
cular to 01 draw A/A^
cutting the axes in Aj,
A,; make the outer rims
of the patterns and of
the wheels portions of
the cones AjBJ, A2B2I,
of which the narrow
zones occupied by the
|3J2
A2
teeth will be sufficiently near to a spherical surface de¬
scribed about O for practical purposes. To find the figures
of the teeth, draw on a flat surface circular arcs IDX, ID2,
with the radii A/, A2I; those arcs will be the developments
of arcs of the pitch-circles BJ, B2I, when the conical sur¬
faces A/3J, A2B2I are spread out flat. Describe the figures
of teeth for the developed arcs as for a pair of spur-wheels ;
then wrap the developed arcs on the cones, so as to make
them coincide with the pitch-circles, and trace the teeth
on the conical surfaces.
71. Teeth of Skew-Bevel Wheels.—The crests of the teeth
of a skew-bevel wheel are parallel to the generating straight
line of the hyperboloidal pitch-surface ; and the transvei se
sections of the teeth at a given pitch-circle aie similar to
those of the teeth of a bevel-wheel whose pitch-surface is
a cone touching the hyperboloidal surface at the given
circle.
72. Cams—A cam is a single tooth, either rotating con¬
tinuously or oscillating, and driving a sliding or turning
piece either constantly or at intervals. All the principles
which have been stated in sect. 61 as being applicable to
teeth, are applicable to cams; but in designing cams it is
not usual to determine or take into consideration the form ot
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, the ideal pitch-surface, which would give the same compa-
^ ~ J rative motion by rolling contact that the cam gives by sliding
contact.
73. Screws.-—The figure of a screw is that of a convex
or concave cylinder, with one or more helical projections,
called threads, winding round it. Convex and concave
screws are distinguished technically by the respective names
of male and. female ; a short concave screw is called a nut;
and when a screw is spoken of without qualification, a convex
screw is usually understood.
1 he relation between the advance and the rotation, which
compose the motion of a screw working in contact with a
fixed screw or helical guide, has already been demonstrated
in sect. 47; and the same relation exists between the mag¬
nitudes of the rotation of a screw about a fixed axis and the
advance of a shifting nut in which it rotates. The advance
of the nut takes places in the opposite direction to that of
the advance of the screw in the case in which the nut is
fixed. The pitch or axial pitch of a screw has the mean¬
ing assigned to it in that section, viz., the distance, measured
parallel to the axis, between the corresponding points in two
successive turns of the same thread. If, therefore, the
screw has several equidistant threads, the true pitch is equal
to the divided axial pitch, as measured between two adja¬
cent threads, multiplied by the number of threads.
If a helix be described round the screw, crossing each
turn of the thread at right angles, the distance between two
corresponding points on two successive turns of the same
thread, measured along this normal helix, may be called the
normal pitch; and when the screw has more than one thread,
the normal pitch from thread to thread may be called the
normal divided pitch.
The distance from thread to thread, measured on a circle,
described about the axis of the screw, called the pitch-circle,
may be called the circumferential pitch ; fora screw of one
thread it is one circumference; for a screw of n threads,
one circumference
n
Let r denote the radius of the pitch circle;
n the number of threads ;
0 the obliquity of the threads to the pitch circle, and
of the normal helix to the axis.
397
p
'-Va
P
{pitch,
diva
Then-
divided pitch;
{pitch,
divided pitch;
Pc the circumferential pitch ;
Pc = Pc * cotan 0 = pn' cosec6 =
Pa =pn
P» - Pc
sec 6 ~ Pc
sin 6 = pa'
tan 6 =
cos 6 =
‘1-xr
n ’
27rr' tan (9
n 5
27rr * sin 6
(40.)
If a screw rotates, the number of threads which pass a
fixed point in one revolution is the number of threads in
the screw.
A pair of convex screws, each rotating about its axis, are
used as an elementary combination to transmit motion by the
sliding contact of their threads. Such screws are commonly
called endless screws. At the point of contact of the screws
their threads must be parallel; and their line of connection
is the common perpendicular to the acting surfaces of the
threads at their point of contact. Hence the following
principles:—
I. If the screws are both right-handed or both left-
handed, the angle between the directions of their axes is
the sum of their obliquities; if one is right-handed and Mehnicsoa.
the other left-handed, that angle is the difference of their v'—
obliquities.
II. The normal pitch for a screw of one thread, and the
normal divided pitch for a screw of more than one thread,
must be the same in each screw.
III. The angular velocities of the screws are inversely as
their numbers of threads.
Dr Hooke’s wheels with oblique or helical teeth, are in
fact screws of many threads, and of large diameters as com¬
pared with their lengths.
I he ordinary position of a pair of endless screw’s is with
their axes at right angles to each other. When one is of
considerably greater diameter than the other, the larger is
commonly called in practice a wheel, the name screw being
applied to the smaller only; but they are nevertheless both
screws in fact.
To make the teeth of a pair of endless screws fit correctly
and work smoothly, a hardened steel screw is made of the
figure of the smaller screw, with its thread or threads
notched so as to form a cutting tool; the larger screw, or
“wheel,” is cast approximately of the required figure; the
larger screw and the steel screw are fitted up in their proper
relative position, and made to rotate in contact with each
other by turning the steel screw, which cuts the threads of
the larger screw’ to their true figure.
74. Coupling of Parallel Axes—Oldham's Coupling.—
A coupling is a mode of connecting a pair of shafts so that
they shall rotate in the same direction with the same mean
angular velocity. If the axes of the shafts are in the same
straight line, the coupling consists in so connecting their
contiguous ends that they shall rotate as one piece; but if
the axes are not in the same straight line, combinations of
mechanism are required. A coupling for parallel shafts
which acts by sliding contact was invented by Oldham, and
is represented in fig. 23. €„ C2
are the axes of the two parallel
shafts; Dj, D2 two discs facing
each other, fixed on the ends of
the two shafts respectively; EjEj,
a bar sliding in a diametral groove
in the face of D1; E2E2 a bar
sliding in a diametral groove in
the face of D2: those bars are fixed
together at A, so as to form a rigid
cross. The angular velocities
of the two discs and of the cross
are all equal at every instant; the middle point of the cross,
at A, revolves in the dotted circle described upon the line
of centres Cj C2 as a diameter, twice for each turn of the
discs and cross; the instantaneous axis of rotation of the
cross at any instant is at I, the point in the circle C,G\
diametrically opposite to A.
Oldham’s coupling may be used with advantage where
the axes of the shafts are intended to be as nearly in the same
straight line as is possible, but where there is some doubt as
to the practicability or permanency of their exact continuity.
7o Wrapping Connectors—Belts, Cords, and Chains.—
flat belts of leather or of gutta percha, round cords of cat¬
gut, hemp, or other material, and metal chains, are used as
wrapping connectors to transmit rotatory motion between
pairs of pulleys and drums.
Belts (the most frequently used of all wrapping connec¬
tors) require nearly cylindrical pulleys. A belt tends to
^ Pari.0' a H1^ radius is greatest;
pulley, tor belts, therefore, are slightly swelled in the mid-
die, in order that the belt may remain on the pulley, unless
forcibly shifted. A belt when in motion is shifted off a
^.U, e^?1 lom one PuHey on to another of equal size along¬
side of it, by pressing against that part of the belt which is
moving toivards the pulley
Fig. 2a
, 398
Mechanics.
MECHANICS.
Cords require ..either cylindrical drums with ledges or
grooved pulleys. ^ , . . . .1
Chains require pulleys or drums, grooved, notched, and
toothed, so as to fit the links of the chain.
Wrapping connectors for communicating continuous
motion are endless.
Wrapping connectors for communicating reciprocating mo¬
tion have usually their ends made fast to the pulleys or drums
which they connect, and which in this case may be sectors.
The line of connection of two pieces connected by a
wrapping connector is the centre line of the belt, cord, or
chain ; and the comparative motions of the pieces are
determined by the principles of sect. 52, if both pieces turn ;
and of sect. 53, if one turns and the other shifts, in which
latter case the motion must be reciprocating.
The pitchrline of a pulley or drum is a curve to which
the line of connection is always a tangent; that is to say, it
is a curve parallel to the acting surface of the pulley or
drum, and distant from it by half the thickness of the wrap¬
ping connector.
Pulleys and drums for communicating a constant velocity-
ratio are circular. The effective radius, or radius of the
pitch-circle of a circular pulley
or drum, is equal to the real
radius added to half the
thickness of the connector.
The angular velocities of a
pair of connected circular
pulleys or drums are inversely
as the effective radii.
A crossed belt, as in fig.
24, A, reverses the direc¬
tion of the rotation commu¬
nicated ; an uncrossed belt,
as in fig, 24, B, preserves that
direction. Fig. 24.
The length L of an endless belt connecting
pulleys whose effective radii arer^r,,, with parallel axes* whose
distance apart is C, is given by the following formulre, in
each of which the first term, containing the radical, expresses
the length of the straight parts of the belt, and the re¬
mainder of the formula the length of the curved parts.
For a crossed belt,—
L = 2Vc2-(r1-t-r2)2 + (r1 + r2) —2 arc • sin ) . . (41 A.)
For an uncrossed belt,—
L=2V {c3 — (jq — r2)3} +r(r1—r£) + 2(r1 — r2) arc • sin—1.—H2 (41 B.)
in which rl is the greater radius, and r2 the less.
When the axes of a pair of pulleys are not parallel,
the pulleys should be so placed that the part of the belt
which is approaching each pulley shall be in the plane of
the pulley.
76. Speed-Cones—(See fig. 25.)—A pair of speed-cones
is a contrivance for
varying and adjusting
the velocity-ratio com¬
municated between a
pair of parallel shafts by
means of a belt. The
speed-cones are either
continuous cones or co¬
noids, as A, . B, whose
velocity-ratio can be va¬
ried gradually while they
are in motion by shifting
the belt, or sets of pulleys
whose radii vary by steps,
as C, D, in which case the
velocity - ratio can be 25.
changed by shiftin g th e bel t from on e pair of pulleys to anoth er.
pair of
In order that the belt may fit accurately in every possi- Mechanics,
ble position on a pair of speed-cones, the quantity L must
be constant, in equations 41 A or 41 B, according as the
belt is crossed or uncrossed.
For a crossed be\t, as in A and C, fig. 25, L depends
solely on c and on rl + r.r Now c is constant, because the
axes are parallel; therefore the sum of the radii of the pitch-
circles connected in every position of the belt is to be
constant. That condition is fulfilled by a pair of continu¬
ous cones generated by the revolution of two straight fines
inclined opposite ways to their respective axes at equal
angles. j ■
For an uncrossed belt, the quantity L in equation 41 B is
to be made constant. The exact fulfilment of this condition
requires the solution of a transcendental equation; but it
may be fulfilled with accuracy sufficient for practical pur¬
poses by using, instead of 41 B, the following approximate
equation:—
L nearly = 20 + 77(^4-r2)-P ^ ' ’ (42.)
The following is the most convenient practical rule for
the application of this equation :—
Let the speed-cones be equal and similar conoids, as in B,
fig. 25, but with their large and small ends turned opposite
ways. Let rl be the radius of the large end of each, r2
that of the small end, r0 that of the middle ; and let v be
the sagitta, measured perpendicular to the axes, of the arc
by whose revolution each of the conoids is generated, or,
in other words, the bulging of the conoids in the middle of
their length. Then
n + ^-O’i-r,)2
2 27TC
(43.)
27r = 6*2832; but 6 maybe used in most practical cases
without sensible error.
The radii at the middle and end being thus determined,
make the generating curve an arc either of a circle or of a
parabola.
77. Linkivork in General.—The pieces which are con¬
nected by linkwork, if they rotate or oscillate, are usually
called cranks, beams, and levers. The link by which they
are connected is a rigid rod or bar, which may be straight,
or of any other figure; the straight figure, being the most
favourable to strength, is always used when there is no
special reason to the contrary. The fink is known by
various names under various circumstances, such as coup¬
ling-rod, connecting-rod, crank-rod, eccentric-rod, &c. It
is attached to the pieces which it connects by two pins,
about which it is free to turn. The effect of the fink is to
maintain the distance between the axes of those pins in¬
variable ; hence the common perpendicular of the axes of
the pins is the line of connection, and its extremities may be
called the connected points. In a turning piece, the per¬
pendicular let fall from its connected point upon its axis of
rotation is the arm or crank-arm.
The axes of rotation of a pair of turning pieces connected
by a fink are almost always parallel, and perpendicular to
the fine of connection ; in which case the angular velocity-
ratio at any instant is the reciprocal of the ratio of the
common perpendiculars let fall from the line of connection
upon the respective axes of rotation.
If at any instant the direction of one of the crank-arms
coincides with the fine of connection, the common perpen¬
dicular of the line of connection and the axis of that crank-
arm vanishes, and the directional relation of the motions
becomes indeterminate. The position of the connected
point of the crank-arm in question at such an instant is
called a dead-point. The velocity of the other connected
point at such an instant is null, unless it also reaches a
dead-point at the same instant, so that the fine of connec¬
tion is in the plane of the two axes of rotation, in which
I
MECHANICS
Mechanics, case tlje velocity-ratio is indeterminate. Examples of
dead points, and of the means of preventing the incon¬
venience which they tend to occasion, will appear in the
sequel.
78. Coupling of Parallel Axes.—Two or more parallel
shafts (such as those of a locomotive engine, with two or
more pairs of driving wheels) are made to rotate with con¬
stantly equal angular velocities by having equal cranks,
which are maintained parallel by a coupling-rod of such a
length that the line of connection is equal to the distance
between the axes. The cranks pass their dead points simul¬
taneously. To obviate the unsteadiness of motion which
this tends to cause, the shafts are provided with a second
set of cranks at right angles to the first, connected by means
of a similar coupling-rod, so that one set of cranks pass
their dead points at the instant when the other set are
furthest from theirs.4
79. Comparative Motion of Connected Points.—the
link is a rigid body, it is obvious that its action in communi¬
cating motion may be determined by finding the comparative
motion of the connected points, according to the principles
laid down in sect. 48; and this is often the most convenient
method of proceeding.
If a connected point belongs to a turning piece, the
direction of its motion at a given instant is perpendicular to
the plane containing the axis and crank-arm of the piece.
If a connected point belongs to a shifting piece, the direc¬
tion of its motion at any instant is given, and a plane can
be drawn perpendicular to that direction.
The line of intersection of the planes perpendicular to the
paths of the two connected points at a given instant, is the
instantaneous axis of the link at that instant; and the
velocities of the connected points arc directly as their dis¬
tances from that axis.
In drawing on a plane surface, the two planes perpendi¬
cular to the paths of the connected points are represented
by two lines (being their sections by a plane normal to
them), and the instantaneous axis by a point (fig. 26);
and should the length of
tne two lines render it
impracticable to produce
them until they actually
intersect, the velocity-
ratio of the connected
points may be found by
the principle, that it is
equal to the ratio of the
segments which a line
parallel to the line of con¬
nection cuts off from any
two lines drawn from a
399
Fig. 2G.
given point, perpendicular respectively to the paths of the
connected points.
To^ illustrate this by one example: Let Cj be the axis,
and 1j the connected point of the beam of a steam-engine ;
IjT2 the connecting or crank-rod; ;F2 the other'connected
point, and the centre of tW: crank-pin ; C2 the axis of the
crank and its shaft. Let n; denote the velocity of Tt at
any given instant; v, that of T2. To find the ratio of these
velocities, produce GjTp, C2T2, till they intersect in K;
K is the instantaneous axis of the connecting rod, and the
velocity-ratio is
v.-.v.,:: in^ : KT2 .... (44.)
Should K be inconveniently far off, draw any triangle with
its sides respectively parallel to C/T*, C2T2, and TjT2 ; the
ratio of the two sides first mentioned will be the velocity-
ratio required. For example, draw C„A parallel to C,T,,
cutting TjT2 in A ; then
^ : u2: C7T, .... (45.)
80. Eccentric.—An eccentric circular disc fixed on n
shaft, and used to give a reciprocating motion to a rod, is in Mechanics,
effect a crank-pin of sufficiently large diameter to surround
the shaft, and so to avoid the weakening of the shaft which
would arise from bending it so as to form an ordinary crank.
The centre of the eccentric is its connected point; and its
eccentricity, or the distance from that centre to the axis of
the shaft, is its crank-arm.
An eccentric may be made capable of having its eccen¬
tricity altered by means of an adjusting screw, so as to vary
the extent of the reciprocating motion which it communi¬
cates.
81. Reciprocating Pieces—Stroke—Dead Points.—The
distance between the extremities of the path of the con¬
nected point in a reciprocating piece (such as the piston of
a steam-engine) is called the stroke or length of stroke of
that piece. When it is connected with a continuously
turning-piece (such as the crank of a steam-engine) the
ends of the stroke of the reciprocating piece correspond to
the dead points of the path of the connected point of the
turning piece, where the line of connection is continuous
with, or coincides with the crank-arm.
Let 8 be the length of stroke of the reciprocating piece,
L the length of the line of connection, and R tlnf crank-
arm of the continuously turning piece. Then, if the two
ends of the stroke be in one straight line with the axis of
the crank,
S=2R; . . . . (46.)
and if these ends be not in one straight line with that axis,
then S, L — R, and L + R, are the three sides of a triamde
having the angle opposite S at that axis; so that if 6°he
the supplement of the arc between the dead points,
S*=2(L2 + R2) — 2(L2 — R2) cos 6\ '
...(47.)
»• 2(L — R-) J ,, v
82. Coupling of Intersecting Axes: Hooke's Universal
Intersecting axes are coupled by a Contrivance of
Hooke’s, known as the “universal joint,” which belongs to
the class of linkwork (see fig. 27). Let O be the point of inter¬
section of the axes OC„
OC2,and 0 their angle of
inclination to each other. Cl
The pair of shafts C,, C ,
terminate in a pair of forks
Fz, F2, in bearings at the
extremities of which turn
the gudgeons at the ends
of the arms of a rectangular
cross, having its centre at
O. This cross is the link ; Fig. 27.
the connected points are the centres of the bearings F , F .
At each instant, each of those points moves at right angles
to the central plane of its shaft and fork ; therefore the fine
of intersection of the central planes of the two forks at anv
instant is the instantaneous axis of the cross, and the
velocity-ratio of the points F,, F2 (which, as the forks are
equal, is also the angular velocity-ratio of the shafts) is
equ'al to the ratio of the distances of those points from that
instantaneous axis. 1 he mean value of that velocity-ratio
is that of equality; for each successive quarter-turn is
made by both shafts in the same time, but its actual value
fluctuates between tire limits—■ ...p
. : a1='ST6iwh<!n F.is!n *eplaneOC^j
an(V~= cos & when F2 is in that plane.
Its value at intermediate insfahts is' given by the following
equations:—Let be the angles respectively made by
the central planes of the forks and shafts with the plane
UtjLj at a given instant; then
(48.)
MECHANICS.
400
Mechanics.
cos 0 = tan <&] • tan 4>2
a2 dcfi., _ tan ^>1 + cotan
_ defy_ tan </>2 + cotan </>
go ittent Linhwork dick and I\(• tcJivt* A.
click acting upon a ratchet-wheel or rack, which it pushes
or pulls through a certain arc at each forward stroke, and
leaves at rest at each backward stroke, is an example of in¬
termittent linkwork. During the forward stroke, the action
of the click is governed by the principles of linkwork;
during the backward stroke that action ceases. A catch
or pall, turning on a fixed axis, prevents the ratchet-wheel
or rack from reversing its motion.
DIVISION V.—TRAINS OF MECHANISM.
84. General Principles.—A train of mechanism consists
of a series of pieces, each of which is follower to that which
drives it, and driver to that which follows it,
The comparative motion of the first driver and last
follower is obtained by combining the proportions express¬
ing by their terms the velocity-ratios, and by their signs the
directional relations of the several elementary combinations
of which the train consists.
85. Trains of Wheelwork.—I.et Aj, A.,5 A^, &c., A„_ij
A„, denote a series of axes; and cij, <x2, a3, &c., a^y,
aOT , their angular velocities. Let the axis A^ carry a wheel
of Ni teeth, driving a wheel of w2 teeth on the axis A2,
which carries also a wheel of N2 teeth, driving a wheel of
teeth on the axis A3, and so on; the numbers of teeth in
drivers being denoted" by N’s, and in followers by rc’s, and
the axes to which the wheels are fixed being denoted by
numbers. Then the resulting velocity-ratio is denoted by
^=-2*^-&c. . . -_Ni ‘ N2• • ^ N,»ri. (50>)
ttj ttj a2 am—1 W n > ‘ &c* • " nti
B
) then, instead of the exact ratio some ratio approximating Mechanics.
to that ratio, and capable of resolution into convenient fac-
tors, is to be found by the method of continued fractions.
Should be greater than 6, the best number of elemen¬
tary combinations m—l will lie between
that is to say, the velocity-ratio of the last and first axes is
the ratio of the product of the numbers of teeth in the
drivers to the product of the numbers of teeth in the fol¬
lowers. . .
Supposing all the wheels to be in outside gearing, then,
as each elementary combination reverses the direction of
rotation, and as the number of elementary combinations
ttc - 1 is one less than the number of axes m, it is evident
that if m is odd, the direction of rotation is preserved, and,
if even, reversed. .
It is often a question of importance to determine the
number of teeth in a train of wheels best suited for giving
a determinate velocity-ratio to two axes. It was shown by
Touno- that, to do this with the least total number of teeth,
tl e velocity-ratio of each elementary combination should
approximate as nearly as possible to 3 59. rhis would in
many cases give too many axes; and, as a useful practical
rule, it may be laid down that from 3 to 6 ought to be the
limit of the velocity-ratio of an elementary combination
in wheelwork. The smallest number of teeth in a pinion
ought to be,—for epicycloidal teeth (see sect.65), tivelve; but
it is still better, for smoothness of motion, not to go below
fifteen, and for involute teeth the smallest number is about
twenty-four.
Let ^ be the velocity-ratio required, reduced to its least
L B .
terms, and let B be greater than C. If ^-is not greater
than 6, and C lies between the. prescribed minimum num¬
ber of teeth (which may be called t), and its double 2t, then
one pair of wheels will answer the purpose, and B and C
will themselves be the numbers required. Should B and C
be inconveniently large, they are, if possible, to be resolved
into factors, and those factors (or if they are too small, mul¬
tiples of them) used for the number of teeth. Should B or
C, or both, be at once inconveniently large and prime,
log B — lo<r C , log B — log C
log 6 ~
Then, if possible, B and C themselves are to be resolved
each into m-l factors (counting 1 as a factor), which fac¬
tors, or multiples of them, shall be not less than t, nor
greater than 6t; or if B and C contain inconveniently large
prime factors, an approximate velocity-ratio, found by the
method of continued fractions, is to be substituted for
as before.
So far as the result and velocity-ratio is concerned, the
order of the drivers N and of the followers n is immaterial;
but to secure equable wear of the teeth, as explained in
sect. 60, the wheels ought to be so arranged that, for each
elementary combination, the greatest common divisor of N
and n shall be either 1, or as small as possible.
86. Double Hooke's Coupling.—It has been shown in
section 82 that the velocity-ratio of a pair of shafts,
coupled by an universal joint, fluctuates between the limits
cos Q and —Hence one or both of the shafts must
cos t)
have a vibratory and unsteady motion, injurious to the
mechanism and framework. To obviate this evil a short
intermediate shaft is introduced, making equal angles with
the first and last shaft, coupled with each of them by a
Hooke’s joint, and having its own two forks in the same
plane. Let cq, a2, a3, be the angular velocities of the first,
intermediate, and last shaft in this train of two Hooke’s
couplings. Then, from the^principles of sect. 82, it is evi¬
dent that at each instant ^- = —, and consequently that
ai a3 , , .
a3 = a,; so that the fluctuations of angular velocity-ratio
caused by the first coupling are exactly neutralized by
the second, and the first and last shafts have equal angular
velocities at each instant.
87. Converging and Diverging Trains of Mechanism.
—Two or more trains of mechanism may converge into one;
as when the two pistons of a pair of steam-engines, each
through its own connecting-rod, act upon one crank-shaft.
One train of mechanism may diverge into two or more; as
when a single shaft, driven by a prime mover, carries
several pulleys, each of which drives a different machine.
The principles of comparative motion in such converging
and diverging trains are the same as in simple trains.
DIVISION VI.—AGGREGATE COMBINATIONS.
88. General Principles.—Uv Willis has designated as
“Aggregate Combinations” those assemblages of pieces of
medianism in which the motion of one follower is the re¬
sultant of component motions impressed on it by moie
than one driver. Two classes of aggregate combinations
may be distinguished, which, though not different in then
actual nature, differ in the data which they present to the
designer, and in the method of solution to be followed m
questions respecting them. _ ,
Class I. comprises those cases in which a piece A is not
carried directly by the frame C, but by another piece B,
relatively to which the motion of A is given,—the motion
of the piece B relatively to the frame C being also given.
Then the motion of A relatively to the frame C is the re¬
sultant of the motion of A relatively to B, and of B rela¬
tively to C; and that resultant is to be found by the
Mechanics, principles already explained in Division III. of this chapter
sects. 36 to 47.
Class II. comprises those cases in which the motions of
three points in one follower are determined by their con¬
nections with two or with three different drivers, so that
the motion of the follower, as a whole, is to be determined
by the principles of sect. 48.
I his classification is founded on the kinds of problems
arising from the combinations. Mr Willis adopts another
classification, founded on the objects of the combinations,
which objects he divides into two classes, viz.,—1. To
produce aggregate velocity, or a velocity which is the re¬
sultant of two or more components in the same path; and,
2. To produce an aggregate path ; that is, to make a given
point in a rigid body move in an assigned path by com¬
municating certain motions to other points in that body.
It is seldom that one of these effects is produced without
at the same time producing the other; but the classifica¬
tion of Mr Willis depends upon which of those two effects,
even supposing them to occur together, is the practical
object of the mechanism.
89. Reduplication of Cords—Differential Windlass—
Blocks, Sheaves, and Tackle.—The axis C carries a larger
barrel AE, and a smaller barrel DB, rotating
as one piece with the angular velocity a: in
the direction AE. The pulley or sheave EG
has a weight W hung to its centre. A cord
has one end made fast to and wrapped round
the barrel AE ; it passes from A under the
sheave EG, and has the other end wrapped
round and made fast to the barrel BD. Re¬
quired the relation between the velocity of
translation v., of W, and the angular velocity
Oj of the differential barrel.
In this case v2 is an aggregate velocity,
produced by the joint action of the two drivers
AE and BD, transmitted by wrapping con¬
nectors to EG, and combined by that sheave so as to act
on the follower W, whose motion is the same with that of
the centre of FG.
The velocity of the point F is cq* AC, upward motion
being considered positive. The velocity of the point G is
-cq-CB, downward motion being negative. Applying
the principles of sect. 48, it appears that the instantaneous
axis of the sheave EG is in the diameter EG, at the dis¬
tance
mechanics.
401
Fig. 28.
FG AC - BC
IT- AC + BC
from the centre towards G; that the angular velocity of
the sheave is 3
AC + BC
a, = a, *  •
EG
and that, consequently, the velocity of its centre is
AC ^
EG
‘ 2
■  B^ = a1(AC-BC)> .(51.)
AC+BC 2
or the mean between the velocities of the two vertical parts
of the cord.
If the cord be fixed to the frame-work at the point B,
instead of being wound on a barrel, the velocity of W is'
one-half of that of AF.
A case containing several sheaves is called a block. A
fall-block is attached to a fixed point; a running-block is
moveable to and from a fall-block, with which it is con¬
nected by two or more plies of a rope. The whole com¬
bination constitutes a tackle or purchase.
I he two plies of a rope at opposite sides of a sheave in
the fall-block have equal and opposite velocities. The two
VOL. XIV.
phes at opposite sides of a sheave in the running-block Mechanics
have velocities (as in the case of the sheave EG) differing v -
equally in opposite directions from the velocity of the run-
mng-block.
One end of the rope is fastened either to the fall-block
or the running-block. The other, or free end, is called the
fall. Let v1 be the velocity of the fall, v2 that of the run¬
ning-block ; and let it be required to find their ratio; and
let velocities towards the fall-block be positive, and from it
negative.
i ^nEiV fastened end of the rope be attached to
the fall-block its velocity is 0, and this also is the velocity
et the first ply. I he rope passes under a sheave in the
l unmng-block, so that the velocity of the second ply is2iq.
It then passes over a sheave in the fall-block; the velocity
o the third ply is — 2v2; then under a sheave in the run¬
ning-block ; the velocity of the fourth ply is i.v2; and so on;
t le general law being this :—Let n be an even number, then
The velocity of the n* ply = nvp, )
” , (rc+1) * ply = - nv2 f . (52.)
=*V if the fall be the (rc+ 1)'* ply. )
Case 2. If the fastened end of the rope be attached to
the running-block, the velocity of the first ply is v2; of the
second, - v2; of the third, 3v2; of the fourth - 3v,; and,
generally, it n be an odd number,—
Velocity of the n* ply = nv2 )
(n + iy* ply =-nv2 {■ . (53.)
= v15 if the fall be the (n + l)‘.h ply;)
and generally,—-
G _
.... (54.)
where n is the number of plies of rope by which the run¬
ning-block hangs.
The sheaves in a block are usually made all of the same
diameter, and turn on a fixed pin, and they have, conse¬
quently, different angular velocities. But by making the
diameter of each sheave proportional to the velocity, Rela¬
tively to the block, of the ply of rope which it is to carry
tne angular velocities of the sheaves in one block may be
rendered equal, so that the sheaves may be made all in one
piece, and may have journals turning in fixed bearings
This is called White's tackle, from the inventor.
For details and technical terms as to tackle and trains of
tackle, see Ship-building.
90. Differential Screw.—On the same axis let there be
two screws of the respective pitches py and pv made in one
piece, and rotating with the angular velocity a. Let this
piece be called B. Let the first screw turn in a fixed nut
C, and the second in a sliding nut A. The velocitv of
advance of B relatively to G is (according to sect. 47)
aPi 5 and of A relatively to B (according to sect. 73)
- ap2; hence the velocity of A relatively to C is ’ '
a(Pi-p2), (55.)
being the same with the velocity of advance of a screw of
the pitch Pl -p2. This combination, called Hunter’s or
the differential screw, combines the strength of a lanre
thread with the slowness of motion due to a small one. ^
, ^ fy^'/chc -The term epicyclic train is used
by Mr Willis to denote a train of wheels carried by an arm
and havmg certain rotations relatively to that arm, which
itself rotates. The arm may either be driven by the wheels
wheel181 in4 F + g ™tions of the
ee s and of the arm, and the aggregate paths traced by
points in the wheels, are determined by the principles o^f
the composition of rotations, and of the description of roll¬
ing curves, explained in sects. 42 to 46.
92. Link Motion.—Let S be the shaft of a steam-engine,
u its axis, L, the fonvard eccentric, suitably placed for
3 E
402
MECHANICS.
Mechanics moving the slide-valve when the shaft rotates forwards, F C, c on the lines CT2, ct.^ that the path of P between the Mechanics.
  _ ) jts celitre, OF its crank-arm, Cf its rod, E4 the bachvard
eccentric, suitably placed for moving the slide-valve when
the shaft rotates backwards, B its centre, OB its cranK-arm.
C6 its rod. L is a long narrow box called the link, jointed
at Tj- and T,, to the eccentric rods; R is the valve-rod
which works the slide-valve, jointed to P, a slider, which,
either by moving E or R, or both, can be adjusted to any
required position in the link. When P is at 1^, the valve
is said to be in full forward gearing, being acted upon by
Ey alone. When P is at Ft, the valve is said to be \wfidl
backivard gearing, being acted upon by E;, alone.
When P is placed in an intermediate position, the valve
has an aggregate motion due to the joint action of Ey and
E6. The most exact mode of determining that motion is
to make a skeleton drawing of the apparatus in various
positions ; but an approximation to the motion of the valve
may be obtained by joining FB, and taking Q, so that
%P: 1\P:: “FQ: BQ;
then the valve will move nearly as if it were worked by one
eccentric, having its centre at Q.
93. Parallel Motions—Exact.—A parallel motion is a
combination of turning pieces in mechanism designed to
guide the motion of a reciprocating piece either exactly or
approximately in a straight line, so as to avoid the friction
which arises from the use of straight guides for that pur¬
pose.
Fig. 30 represents an exact parallel motion, first proposed,
it is believed, by Mr Scott Russell.
The arm CD turns on the axis C, and is jointed at D to
the middle of the bar ADB,
whose length is double of
that of CD, and one of
whose ends B is jointed to
a slider, sliding in straight
guides along the line CB.
Draw BE perpendicular to
CB, cutting CD produced
in E, then E is the instan¬
taneous axis of the bar
ADB; and the direction
of motion of A is at every
instant perpendicular to
EA; that is, along the straight line ACa. While the stroke
of A is ACa extending to equal distances on either side of
C, and equal to twice the chord of the arc D<Z, the stroke
of B is only equal to twice the sagitta; and thus A is
guided through a comparatively long stroke by the sliding
of B through a comparatively short stroke, and by rotatory
motions at the joints C, D, B. (For details, see Steam
Engine.')
94. Parallel Motion—Watt’s Approximate.—(See fig.
31.)—Let CT, c£ be a pair of levers connected by a link
Tt, and oscillating about the axes Cc, between the positions
marked 1 and 3. Let the middle positions of the levers
CT2, ct2 be parallel to each other. It is required to find a
point P in the link Tt, such that its middle position P2, and
its extreme positions Py P3, shall be in the same straight
line SS, perpendicular to CT2, ct2, and so to place the axes
positions Pj, P2, P3, shall be as near as possible to a straight
line.
The axes C, c are to be so placed that the middle M of
the versed sine VT2, and the middle tn of the versed sine
vti, of the respective arcs whose equal chords T, T3 = t1 t3
represent the stroke, may each be in the line SS. Then
Tt and T3 will be as far to one side of SS as T2 is to the
other, and tl and t3 will be as far to the latter side of SS as
t2 is to the former; consequently, the two extreme positions
of the links 'T1*1, T3<3 are parallel to each other, and in¬
clined to SS at the same angle in one direction that the
middle position of the link T„t2 is inclined to that line in
the other direction; and the three intersections Pj, P2, P^
are at the same point on the link.
The position of the point P on the link is found by the
following proportional equation :—
Tt iTT : Pt )
:: TV + tv: T V: f ♦ (56 )
:: CM + cm : cm : CM )
Suppose the axes C, c to be given, the line of stroke SS,
and the length of stroke L — TiT3 = tf# and that it is
required to find the dimensions of the levers and link. Let
fall CM and cw SS; then
TV =-
L2
t ~ -L - •
8 cm
(57.)
8CM
CT = CM + £T V; ct = cm A-\tv ;
T<=x/[L! + SAh^)|
If C and c are at the same side of SS, the smaller of the
two perpendiculars is to be treated as negative in the for¬
mulae, and the difference of the versed sines used instead of
their sum; and the point P will lie in the prolongation of
the link beyond Ttf to the side of the longer lever. When
the arcs of oscillation of the levers on either side of their
middle positions do not exceed 20°, the intermediate por¬
tions of the path of P between P,, P2, and P3, are near
enough to a straight line for practical purposes; and that
point may be used to guide a sliding piece, such as the
piston-rod of a steam-engine, for which purpose this parallel
motion was originally invented by WTatt. (For details re¬
specting the various modes of practically applying it, see
Steam Engine.)
CHAPTER II.—ON APPLIED DYNAMICS.
95. Laics of Motion.—The action of a machine in trans-
mitting/orce and motion simultaneously, or performing worA,
is governed, in common with the phenomena of moving
Mechanics, bodies in general, by two “ laws of motion,” with respect
to the proof of which, see Dynamics. They are as fol¬
lows :—
Law I. A body under the action of no force, or of mu¬
tually balanced forces, either remains at rest or moves in
a straight line with an uniform velocity.
Law II. The deviation of the motion of a given mass,
caused in a given time by a given unbalanced force, takes
place in the direction of the force, and is proportional to
the magnitude of the force and the time during which it
acts directly, and inversely to the mass.
(As to the determination of deviations, see sects. 25,
26, 27.)
The law of the equality of action and reaction is some¬
times added as a third law of motion but it is properly
to be classed as a law of force, whether balanced or unba¬
lanced ; being equivalent to the statement that every force
is a pair of actions of equal magnitudes and opposite di¬
rections exerted mutually between a pair of bodies.
96. Comparison of Deviating Force with Gravity. A
body’s own weight,—that is, its tendency to approach the
earth, acting unbalanced on the body, produces deviation
at a rate per second denoted by the symbol g, whose nu¬
merical value is as followsLet A denote the latitude of
the place, h its elevation above the mean level of the sea;
<71 = 32'169545 feet per second, the value of g for A = 45°
and /< = 0; and II. = 2088/540^f'(1-j-0‘00164 cos 2A), the
earth’s radius at the locality of observation. Then
9=9, • (1 -0-00284 cos 2A) • (l -—) . (58.)
Foi latitudes exceeding 45 it is to be borne in mind
that cos 2A is negative, and the terms containing it as their
factor have their signs reversed.
Foi practical purposes connected with ordinary machines
it is sufficiently accurate to assume
g=32-2 feet per second nearly. . . (59.)
If^ then, a body of the weight w be deviated bv an unba¬
lanced force/ expressed in units of iveight, the deviation
produced in a second will be
M E C H A N I C S.
403
fg
(60.)
- is sometimes called the mass, or inertia of the body.
97. Deviating Forces Classed: Deflecting Force—Acce-
lei ating and Retarding Forces.— The forces to be specially
considered, in treating of machines as distinguished from
structures, act upon bodies already in motion, and may be
resolved into components and classed with reference to their
directions as compared with the directions of motions of the
bodies.
A force acting on a body in a direction at right angles
to its path, produces lateral deviation or deflection of the
path alone, without change of velocity. Such a force may
be called a deflecting force.
A force acting in the direction of the body’s path pro¬
duces acceleration or retardation according as it acts with or
against the motion of the body, but no deflection.
98. Division of the Subject.—On this classification of the
deviating forces in machines is founded the following divi¬
sion of the subject of dynamics as applied to machines :—
Division I. Balanced forces in machines of uniform ve¬
locity.
Division II. Deflecting forces in such machines.
Division III. Working of machines of varying velocity.
DIVISION I.—BALANCED FORCES IN MACHINES OF UNIFORM
VELOCITY.
99. Application of Force to Mechanism.—Forces are
expressed in units of weight; and the unit most commonly
employed in Britain is the pound avoirdupois. The action Mechanics,
of a force applied to a body is always in reality distributed ^
over some definite space, either a volume of three dimen¬
sions, or a surface of two. An example of a force distri-
buted throughout a volume is the weight of the body itself,
which acts on every particle, how small soever. The pressure
exerted between two bodies at their surface of contact, or
between the two parts of one body on either side of an ideal
surface of separation, is an example of a force distributed
over a surface. The mode of distribution of a force applied
to a solid body requires to be considered when its stiffness
and strength are treated of; but in questions respecting
the action of a force upon a rigid body considered as a whole,
the resultant of the distributed force, determined according
to the principles of statics (q. v.), and considered as act¬
ing in a single line and applied at a single point, may, for
the occasion, be substituted for the force as really distri¬
buted. Thus, the weight of each separate piece in a ma¬
chine is treated as acting wholly at its centre of gravity, and
eacli pressure applied to it as acting at a point called the
centre of pressure of the surface to which the pressure is
really applied.
100. Forces applied to Mechanism Classed.—It 6 be the
obliquity of a force F applied to a piece of a machine,—that
is, the angle made by the direction of the force with the
direction of motion of its point of application,—then, by the
piinciples of statics {q. vf), F may be resolved into two rect¬
angular components, viz.:—
Along the direction of motion, P = F* cos#)
Across the direction of motion, Q = F- sin (9) W1*)
If the component along the direction of motion acts with
the motion, it is called an effort; if against the motion, a
resistance. The component across the direction of motion
is a lateral pressure ; the unbalanced lateral pressure on
any piece, or part of a piece, is deflecting force. A lateral
pressure may increase resistance by causing friction : the
faction so caused acts against the motion, and is a resist¬
ance ; but the lateral pressure causing it is not a resistance.
Ivesistances are distinguished into useful and prejudicial
according as they arise from the useful effect produced by
the machine or from other causes.
consists in moving against resistance,
i he work is said to be performed, and the resistance over¬
come. Work is measured by the product of the resistance
into the distance through which its point of application is
moved. I he unit of work commonly used in Britain is
a resistance of one pound overcome through a distance of
one foot, and is called a foot-pound.
Work is distinguished into useful work and prejudicial
or lost ivork, according as it is performed in producing the
useful effect of the machine, or in overcoming prejudicial
resistance. ‘ J
102. Energy Potential Energy.—Energy means capa-
city for performing work. The energy of an effort or no-
tential energy, is measured by the product of the effort into
the distance through which its point of application is capable
of being moved. The unit of energy is the same with the
unit of work. c
When the point of application of an effort has been moved
through a given distance, energy is said to have been e*-
ertedio an amount expressed by the product of the effort
been moved 6 thr°USh Which itS P°int of ^P^ation has
IGS. Variable Effort and Resistance.—It an effort has
different magnitudes during different portions of the motion
o its point of application through a given distance let each
tfnTTrZ * °f the f°rt P be -Itiplied by die
length As of the corresponding portion of the path of
the point of application ; the sum P
• i S'PA.s .... (Q2)
is the whole energy exerted. If the effort varies’by insen-
404
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, sible gradations, the energy excited is the integral or limit
s — y > towards which that sum approaches continually as the divi¬
sions of the path are made smaller and more numerous,
and is expressed by
/
P^.
(63.)
Similar processes are applicable to the finding of the w ork
performed in overcoming a varying resistance.
104. Dynamometer or Indicator.—A dynamometer or
indicator is an instrument which measures and records the
energy exerted by an effort. It usually consists essentially,
first, of a piece of paper moving with a velocity propor¬
tional to that of the point of application of the effort, and
having a straight line marked on it parallel to its direction
of motion, called the zero line; and secondly, of a spring
acted upon and bent by the effort, and carrying a pencil
whose perpendicular distance from the zero line, as regu¬
lated by the bending of the spring, is proportional to the
effort. The pencil traces on the piece of paper a line such
that its ordinate perpendicular to the zero line at a given
point represents the effort P for the corresponding point in
the path of the point of effort, and the area between tico
ordinates represent the energy exerted^Pcfc, for the
responding portion of the path of the point of effort.^
105. Principle of the Equality of Energy and Work.—
From the first law of motion it follows, that in a machine
whose pieces move with uniform velocities the efforts and
resistances must balance each other. Now from the laws^
of statics (7.V.) it is known, that, in order that a system of
cor-
forces applied to a system of connected points may be in
equilibrio’ it is necessary that the sum formed by putting
together the products of the forces by the respective dis¬
tances through which their points of application are capable
of moving simultaneously, each along the direction of the
force applied to it, shall be zero ; products being considered
positive or negative according as the direction of the forces
and the possible motions of their points of application are
the same or opposite.
In other words, the sum of the negative products is
equal to the sum of the positive products. 1 his principle,
applied to a machine whose parts move with uniform velo¬
cities, is equivalent to saying, that in any given interval of
time the energy exerted is equal to the work performed.
The symbolical expression of this law is as follows .
Let efforts be applied to one or to any number of points
of a machine ; let any one of these efforts be represented
by P, and the distance traversed by its point of application
in a given interval of time by ds ; let resistances be ovei-
come at one or any number of points of the same machine ,
let any one of these resis;ances be denoted by R, and the
distance traversed by its point of application in the given
interval of time by ds1; then
%-?ds = %'lldsl .... (64.)
energy exerted, and the effect, the useful work performed, Mechanics,
in some interval of time of definite length, such as a ^ ^ ^ ^
second, a minute, an hour, or a day.
The unit of power, called conventionally a horse-power,
is 550 foot-pounds per second, or 33,000 foot-pounds per
minute, or 1,980,000 foot-pounds per hour.
108. Modulus of a Machine.—In the investigation of the
properties of a machine, the useful resistances to be over¬
come and the useful work to be performed are usually
given. The prejudicial resistances are generally functions
of the useful resistances of the weights of the pieces of the
mechanism, and of their form and arrangement; and having
been determined, they serve for the computation of the lost
work, which, being added to the useful work, gives the ex¬
penditure of energy required. The result of this inves¬
tigation, expressed in the form of an equation between the
energy and the useful work, is called by Mr Moseley the
modulus of the machine. The general form of the modulus
of a machine may be expressed thus
E = U + f(U, A) + ^(A), . . . (66.)
where A denotes some quantity or set of quantities depend¬
ing on the form, arrangement, weight, and other properties
of the mechanism. Mr Moseley, however, has pointed out
that in most cases this equation takes the much more
simple form of
E = (1+A)U + B, .... (67.)
where A and B are constants, depending on the form, ar¬
rangement, and weight of the mechanism. The efficiency
corresponding to the last equation is
U 1 ... (68.)
E
l + A + l
PJ
The lengths ds, dsx are proportional to the velocities of
the points to whose paths they belong, and the proportions
of those velocities to each other are deducible from the con¬
struction of the machine by the principles of pure me¬
chanism explained in chapter I.
106. Efficiency.—The efficiency of a machine is the
ratio of the useful work to the total work, that is, to the
energy exerted,—and is represented by
2Tl^i
2'Rcfc1
1 <65->
: 2-Ruefci + 1-Rffis1 ~ 2,-Pds
R„ being taken to represent useful, and R^ prejudicial re¬
sistances.
The more nearly the efficiency of a machine approaches
to unity, the better is the machine.
107. Power and Effect.—The power of a machine is the
109. Trams of Mechanism.—In applying the preceding
principles to a train of mechanism, it may either be treated
as a whole, or it may be considered in sections consisting
of single pieces, or of any convenient portion of the train;
each section being treated as a machine driven by the eftort
applied to it and energy exerted upon it through its line
of connection with the preceding section, performing use¬
ful work by driving the following section, and losing work
by overcoming its own prejudicial resistances.
It is evident that the efficiency of the whole train is the
product of the efficiencies of its sections.^
110. Rotating Pieces: Couples of Forces. It is often
convenient to express the energy exerted
upon, and the work performed by, a turning
piece in a machine, in terms of the moment
of the couples of forces acting on it, and ot
the angular velocity. A couple of forces
consists of two forces equal in magnitude
and opposite in direction, but not acting in
the same line (as P15 P?, in fig. 32). The perpendicular
distance between the lines of action of the forces is the
leverage or arm of the couple (as AB). Ihe tendency of
a couple is to turn the body to which it is applied about an
axis perpendicular to the plane containing the couple and
its arm, and the magnitude of that tendency, called the
moment of the couple, is measured by the product of the
common magnitude ot the forces into the length of their
arm. That is to say, let P = Pl = P2, Ali = r; then the move-
ment is
M = Pr (69.)
The ordinary British unit of moment is a foot-pound;
but it is to be remembered that this is a foot-pound of a
different sort from the unit of energy and work.
If a force be applied to a turning piece in a line not
passing through its axis, the axis will press against its bear¬
ings with an equal and parallel force, and the equal and op-
Fig. 32.
Mechanics, posite reaction of the bearings will constitute, together with
V*-' the first-mentioned force, a couple whose arm is the per-
pendicular distance from the axis to the line of action of
the first force.
A couple is said to be right or left handed with refer¬
ence to the observer, according to the direction in which it
tends to turn the body, and is a driving couple, or a re¬
sisting couple according as its tendency is with or against
that of the actual rotation.
Let dt be an interval of time, a the angular velocity of
the piece; then adt is the angle through which it turns in
the interval dt, and ds=vdt=radt is the distance through
w nch the point of application of the force moves. Let
i represent an effort, so that Pr is a drivin
then
MECHANICS. 405
Morin, published in his Notions Fondamentales de Meca- Mechanics.
couple,
Vds=Vvdt= Vradt — Madt
(70.)
is the energy exerted by the couple M in the interval dt;
and a similar equation gives the work performed in over¬
coming a resisting couple. When several couples act on
one piece, the resultant of their moments is to be multiplied
by the common angular velocity of the whole piece.
111. Reduction of Forces to a given Point, and of
Couples to the Axis of a given Piece.—In computations
respecting machines it is often convenient to substitute
tor a force applied to a given point, or a couple applied
to a given piece, the equivalent force or couple applied to
some other point or piece; that is to say, the force or
couple, which, if applied to the other point or piece, would
exert equal energy or employ equal work. The principles
of this reduction are, that the ratio of the given to the
equivalent force is the reciprocal of the ratio of the veloci¬
ties of their points of application ; and the ratio of the
given to the equivalent couple is the reciprocal of the
ratio of the angular velocities of the pieces to which they
are applied. J
These velocity-ratios are known by the construction of
the mechanism, and are independent of the absolute speed.
112. Balanced Lateral Pressure of Guides and Bear¬
ings. The most important part of the lateral pressure on
a piece of mechanism is the reaction of its guides, if it is a
sliding piece, or of the bearings of its axis, if it is a turning
piece; and the balanced portion of this reaction is equal
and opposite to the resultant of all the other forces applied
to the piece, its own weight included. There may or may
not be an unbalanced component in this pressure, due to
deviated motion. Its laws will be considered in the sequel.
IIo. Lnotion Unguents.—The most important kind of
resistance in machines is the friction or rubbing resistance
of surfaces which slide over each other. The direction of
the resistance of friction is opposite to that in which the
sliding takes place. Its magnitude is the product of the
normal pressure or force which presses the rubbino- sur¬
faces together in a direction perpendicular to themselves
into a specific constant already mentioned in part I., sect.
14, as the coefficient of friction, which depends on the
nature and condition of the surfaces and of the unguent
if any, with which they are covered. The total pressure
excited between the rubbing surfaces is the resultant of
the normal pressure and of the friction, and its obliquity, or
inclination to the common perpendicular of the surfaces, is
the angle of repose formerly mentioned in sect. 14, whose
tangent is the coefficient of friction. Thus, let N be the
normal pressure, R the friction, T the total pressure,/the
coefficient of friction, and <p the angle of repose; then
nique, and republished in Britain in the works of Moseley
and Gordon. The following is an exceedingly condensed
abstract of the most important results, as regards machines,
of these experiments :—•
Surfaces. j
Wood on wood, dry  o-25 to 0-5
Do., soaped  0-2
Metals on oak, dry  o-5 to 0-6
wet  0-24 to 0-26
Do., soaped  0'2
Do. on elm, dry 0-2 to 0 25
Hemp on oak, dry  0-53
Do., wet  Q.33
Leather on oak, wet or dry  0'27 to 0#35
Leather on metals, dry       0-56
Do-> wet  o-36
Do., grea«y  o-23
Do., oiled  o-15
Metals on metals, dry  0'15 to 0-2
Do-> wet  o-30
Smooth Surfaces with Unguents—
Occasionally greased  0-07 to 0-08
Well greased  0*05
Do., best results  0 03 to 0-036
It is to be understood that the above-stated law of fric-
tion is true for dry surfaces, only when the pressure is not
sufficient to indent or abrade the surfaces; and for greased
surfaces, when the pressure is not sufficient to force out the
unguent from between the surfaces. If the proper limit be
exceeded, the friction increases more rapidly than in the
simple ratio of the normal pressure.
The limit of pressure for unguents diminishes as the
speed increases ; and the following are some of its approxi¬
mate values as inferred from the ‘results of experience in
railway, locomotive, and carriage axles :—
Velocity of rubbing in feet per second... 1
Intensity of normal pressure per lb. per 1
square inch of surface J
In pivots, the intensity of the pressure is usually fixed at
about one ton per square inch.
Unguents should be comparatively thick for heavy pres¬
sures, that they may resist being forced out; and compara¬
tively thin for light pressures, that their viscidity may not
add to the resistance.
Unguents are of three classes, viz.:—
1. Fatty ; consisting of animal or vegetable fixed oils,
such as tallow, lard, lard-oil, seal-oil, whale-oil, olive-oil.
Drying oils, which absorb oxygen and harden, are obviously
unfit for unguents. J
2. Soapy ; composed of fatty oil, alkali, and water. The
best grease of this class should not contain more than about
25 or 30 per cent, of water; bad kinds contain 40 or 50
pei cent. The additional water diminishes the cost, but
spoils the unguent.
3. Bituminous; composed of solid and
compounds of hydrogen and carbon.
114. Work of Friction—Moment of Friction.— The
work performed m an unit of time in overcoming the fric¬
tion of a pair of surfaces is the product of the friction
2i
224
140
liquid mineral
ov
/= tan l
R—-/N = N tan p = T sin £>;J *
(71.)
Experiments on friction have been made by Coulomb
Vince, Rennie, Wood, D. Rankine, and others. The
most complete and elaborate experiments are those of
he velocity of sliding of the surfaces over each other if
that is the same throughout the whole extent of the rubbing
nf fb °Clty ‘S different for different portion?
of the rubbing surfaces, the velocity of each port on is fo
be multiplied by the friction of that portion and the
results summed or integrated. 1 ’ and the
of w/e f ?'i0n :>f.the rubbi"S surfa«* is one
tion of ili tu k of *nctlon ^ an unit of time, for a por-
axis of rotation ln» s^*ces ^ a given distance from the
axis of rotation, may be found by multiplying together the
IngX fe£rTh"’ US “ the'axitand [lie
gulai velocity. The product of the force of friction bv
. 406
Mechanics.
MECHANICS.
the distance at which it acts from the axis of rotation is
called the moment of friction. The total moment of fric¬
tion of a pair of rotating rubbing surfaces is the sum or in-
teoral of the moments of friction of their several portions.
^To express this symbolically, let du represent the area
of a portion of a pair of rubbing surfaces at the distance r
from the axis of their relative rotation ; p the intensity of
the normal pressure at du per unit of area; and f the co¬
efficient of friction. Then the moment of friction of du is
• fprdu, \
the total moment of friction,
fj^pr ’ du;
and the work performed in an unit ot
time in overcoming friction, when the
angular velocity is a,
afj'pr ' du.
. . (72.)
It is evident that the moment of friction, and the work
lost by being performed in overcoming friction, are less in
a rotating piece as the bearings are of smaller radius. But
a limit is put to the diminution of the radii ot journals and
pivots by the conditions of durability and of proper lubrica¬
tion stated in sect. 113, and also by conditions of strength
and stiffness.
115. Total Pressure between Journal and Bearing. A
single piece rotating with an uniform velocity has four mutu¬
ally balanced forces applied to it: the effort exerted on it by
the piece which drives it; the resistance of the piece which
follows it,—which may be considered for the purposes of the
present question as useful resistance; its weight, and the
reaction of its own cylindrical bearings. T-here are given
the following data:—
The direction of the effort.
The direct'iQn of the useful resistance.
The weight of the piece and the direction in which it
acts.
The magnitude of the useful resistance.
The radius of the bearing r.
The angle of repose corresponding to the friction
of the journal on the bearing.
And there are required—
The direction of the reaction of the bearing.
The magnitude of that reaction.
The magnitude of the effort.
Let the useful resistance and the weight of the piece be
compounded by the principles ot statics into one force, and
let this be called the given force.
The directions of the effort and of the given force are
either parallel or meet in a point. It they are parallel, the
direction of the reaction of the bearing is also parallel^ to
them ; if they meet in a point, the direction of the reaction
traverses the same point.
Also, let AAA, fig. 33, be a section of the bearing, C
its axis; then the direction of the
reaction, at the point where it in¬
tersects the circle AAA, must
make the angle $ with the radius
of that circle; that is to say, it
must be aline such as PT touch¬
ing the smaller circle BB, whose
radius is r * sin <£. The side on
which it touches that circle is
determined by the fact that the
obliquity of the reaction is such as
to oppose the rotation.
Thus is determined the direction of the reaction of the
bearing ; and the magnitude of that reaction and of the
effort are then found by the principles of the equilibrium
A
of three forces, already stated in part I., sect. 8, and proved Mechanics,
in the article Statics.
The wmrk lost in overcoming the friction of the bearing
is the same with that which would be performed in over¬
coming at the circumference of the small circle BB a re¬
sistance equal to the whole pressure between the journal
and bearing.
In order to diminish that pressure to the smallest possible
amount, the effort, and the resultant of the useful resistance,
and the weight of the piece (called above, the “ given
force”), ought to be opposed to each other as directly as is
practicable consistently with the purposes of the machine.
116. Frictions of Pivots and Collars.—When a shaft is
acted upon by a force tending to shift it lengthways, that
force must be balanced by the reaction of a bearing against
a pivot at the end of the shaft; or, if that be impossible,
against one or more collars, or rings projecting from the
body of the shaft. The bearing of a pivot is called a step
or footstep. Pivots require great hardness, and are usually
made of steel. The flat pivot is a cylinder of steel having
a plane circular end as a rubbing surface. Let N be the
total pressure sustained by a flat pivot of the radius r; it
that pressure be uniformly distributed, which is the case
when the rubbing surfaces of the pivot and its step are
both true planes, the intensity of the pressure is
N
27rr2
(73.)
and introducing this value into equation
friction of the flat pivot is found to be
72, the moment of
. . . . (74.)
or two-thirds of that of a cylindrical journal of the same
radius under the same normal pressure.
The friction of a conical pivot exceeds that of a flat pivot
of the same radius, and under the same pressure, in the
proportion of the side of the cone to the radius of its base.
The moment of friction of a collar is given by the for¬
mula—
where r is the external, and r the internal radius.
In the cup and ball pivot the end of the shaft and the
step present two recesses facing each other, into which are
fitted two shallow cups of steel or hard bronze. Between
the concave spherical surfaces of those cups is placed a
steel ball, being either a complete sphere, or a lens having
convex surfaces of a somewhat less radius than the concave
surfaces of the cups. The moment of friction of this pivot
is at first almost inappreciable from the extreme smallness
of the radius of the circles of contact of the ball and cups;
but as they wear, that radius and the moment ot triction
increase.
It appears that the rapidity with which a rubbing surface
wears away is proportional, jointly to the friction and
to the velocity, or nearly so. Hence the pivots already
mentioned wear unequally at different points, and tend to
alter their figures. Mr Schiele has invented a pivot which
preserves its original figure by wearing equally at all points
in a direction parallel to its axis. The following are the
principles on which this equality of wear depends:
The rapidity of wear of a surface measured in an oblique
direction is to the rapidity of wear measured normally as
the secant of the obliquity is to unity. Let OX (fig. 34)
be the axis of a pivot, and let RPC be a portion of a
curve such, that at any point P the secant of the obliquity
to the normal of the curve of a line parallel to the axis
is inversely proportional to the oidinate P\, to which the
velocity of P is proportional. The rotation of that curve
round OX will generate the form of pivot required. Now,
let PT be a tangent to the curve at P, cutting OX in
!
J
Mechanics.
MECHANIC
   . i K i
T; P1 = P Y x secant obliquity, and this is to be a constant
quantity; hence the curve is that
known as the tractoryof the straight
line OX, in which PT = OR = con¬
stant. This curve is described by
haying a fixed straight edge pa¬
rallel to OX, along which slides a
slider carrying a pin whose centre
is T. On that pin turns an arm,
carrying at the point P a tracing-
point, pencil, or pen. Should the
pen have a nib of two jaws, like those
of an ordinary drawing-pen, the
s.
407
118. Friction of Cords and Belts.—A flexible band, such
as a cord, rope, belt, or strap, may be used either to exert *
an effort or a resistance upon a pulley round which it
wraps. In either case the tangential force, whether effort
or resistance, exerted between the band and the pullev is
tiieir mutual friction, caused by and proportional to the nor¬
mal pressure between them.
Pet Tj be the tension of the free part of the band at that
side towards which it tends to draw the pulley, or from
v nc ie pulley tends to draw it; T2 the tension of the
tree part at the other side; T the tension of the band at any
intermediate point of its arc of contact with the pulley; 6
tie rat!0 of the length of that arc to the radius of the pulley;
d0 the ratio of an indefinitely small element of that arc to
the radius; F = T, - T2 the total friction between the band
plane of the jaws must pass through
X P wTll'ho llr116 T r Sll<? al°ng the axis from 0 towards ^ radlus ’IF = Ti“ T2 the total friction between the band
tmctorv Thf , 'n ^ fr0m R t0Wards C aIo"S the and ‘he Pulley 5 the elementary portion of that friction
canablJ'of be.W ^t an asymPtote to its axis, is t0 th^ elementary arc dd; / the coefficient of friction
infeignin^ Di vof,1"?, IS Prolo"*ed towards X ; but be^een the of the band and nullev.
• j • • piuiongea towards A: hut
esigmng pivots it should stop before the angle PTY
ecomes less than the angle of repose of the^ubbW
bearing’ °themiSe the Pivot vvi11 be liable to stick in it!
The moment of friction of “ Schiele’s Anti-friction Pivot ”
raffiu ^ ^ 0fa cylindricaI journal of the
pressure R ~P1 the constant tangent, under the same
e2Z'*urJCti°n °f Te.ethrhet N be the normal pressure
exerte^ between a pair of teeth of a pair of wheels • s the
tofol distance through which they slide upon each other •
» the number of pairs of teeth which pass the plane 0f
axis in a unit of time. Then 1 1
• u , nfNs .... (*a ^
is the work lost in unity of time by the friction of the teeth.
duhrin??hn/ ^ 18 CTP°SId °f tW0 Parts’ wIlich take place
ng the approach and recess respectively. Let those
be denoted by ^ and *2, so that s = t+* In sec 61 the
velocity of sliding at any instant has been given, viz.,
rt~anvaint5niWfhere 1 ^ th.at Ve,0city’ c the distanoe fl
the nitrh ^ i 16 P?int °f COntact of the teeth to
of the wheels^ ^ ^ resPective angular velocities
Let v be the common velocity of the two pitch-circles
l’ r‘i their radl15 4,1611 the above equation becomes ’
-  w.1/ , ^ mt; coemciei
between the materials of the band and pulley.
hen, according to a principle proved in the articles
oTATics and Arch, it is known that the normal pressure at
the e!ementary arc M is Trfd, T being the mean tension
ot the band at that elementary arc; consequently the fric-
tion on that arc is dV-fTdQ. Now that friction is also
the difference between the tensions of the band at the two
ends ot the elementary arc, or <nWF=/Td0; which
equation being integrated throughout the entire arc of con-
tact, gives the following formulas :—
T
hyp-log r+=fe
^ 2
'P ~e
F = T,-T1=T1(l-e-^ = TI («-,)
I (78.)
M = Ct’ { — 4-
Vri r2J
To apply this to involute teeth, let c, be the lemrth of
0f the ,recess; “■the velofity of
Then” d S * aPProac1'. that during the recess.
u=—fL+l\. ev (Y 1\
also, let 6 be the obliquity of the action ; then the times
occupied by the approach and recess are respectively
C1 c2
V cos 6’ Vcofd ’
?fVtee8thfina"y’ ^ ‘he lenSth °f Sl!lling betWeen each Pair
C.2-f-C,2
+ =
(77.)
2 cos 6
which, being substituted in equation 76, gives the work lost
m a unit of time by the friction of involute teeth. This re¬
sult, which is exact for involute teeth, is approximately true
tor teeth of any figure. j
For inside gearing, if be the less radius and r, the
11. 4 ii
- - - is to be substituted for - +-.
i '2 r, r„
greater,
When a belt connecting a pair of pulleys has the tensions
IT l70 !LdeS 017^inalIy e(lua1’ the Pubeys being at rest;
and when the pulleys are next set in motion, so that one of
them dnvcs the other by means of the belt; it is found
that the advancing side of the belt is exactly as much
tightened as the returning side is slackened ; so that the
tTrformula-™118 Unchan«ed Its value is given by
Il+T2, eft+l ’>'•
2 2(^-1)’ * * * (79,)
which is useful in determining the original tension required
o enable a belt to transmit a given force between two
pulleys.
The equations 78 and 79 are applicable to a kind of
brake called a friction-strap, used to stop or moderate
the velocity of machines by being tightened round a pul-
wood 1 16 StraP 18 USUally of iron’ and the pulley of hard
Let a denote the arc of contact expressed in turns and
fractions of a turn ; then
f{ 0=6*2832a >
e —number whose common logarithm is 2-7288/a)
beta^beS^nTjf^r1—110?65 offer a resistance to
a” ain ng the Pu,Iey> and then to straighten it
408
Mechanics.
MECHANICS.
The following empirical formulae for the stiffness of
hempen ropes have been deduced by Morin from the ex¬
periments of Coulomb: . - ,
Let F be the stiffness in pounds avoirdupois; d the dia¬
meter of the rope in inches, rc = 48<?2 for white ropes, 3otf2
for tarred ropes ; r the effective radius of the pulley in
inches; T the tension in pounds. Then
For white ropes, F =^(0'0012 + 0-001026n + 0'0012T)|
For tarred ropes, F =—(0-006 + 0 001392n + 0-00168T) I
(81.)
120. Friction-Couplings.—Friction is useful as a means
of communicating motion where sudden changes either of
force or velocity take place; because, being limited in
amount, it may be so adjusted as to limit the forces which
strain the pieces of the mechanism within the bounds of
safety. Amongst contrivances for effecting this object are
friction-cones. A rotating shaft carries upon a cylindrical
portion of its figure a wheel or pulley turning loosely on it,
and consequently capable of remaining at rest vvhen the shaft
is in motion. This pulley has fixed to one side, and con¬
centric with it, a short frustum of a hollow cone. At a
small distance from the pulley the shaft carries a short frus¬
tum of a solid cone accurately turned to fit the hollow
cone. This frustum is made always to turn along with the
shaft by being fitted on a square portion of it, or by means
of a rib and groove, or otherwise; but is capable of a slight
lono-itudinal motion, so as so be pressed into, or withdrawn
from, the hollow cone by means of a lever. When the
cones are pressed together or engaged, their friction causes
the pulley to rotate along with the shaft; when they ate
disengaged, the pulley is free to stand still. The angle
made by the sides of the cones with the axis should not be
less than the angle of repose. In the friction-clutch, a
pulley loose on a shaft has a hoop or gland made to em¬
brace it more or less tightly by means of a screw : this hoop
has short projecting arms or ears. A fork or c/wteA rotates
along with the shaft, and is capable of being moved longi¬
tudinally by a handle. When the clutch is moved towards
the hoop, its arms catch those of the hoop, and cause the
hoop to rotate and to communicate its rotation to the pulley
by friction. There are many other contrivances of the
same class, but the two just mentioned may serve for
cxamj.e^^ 0f Friction—Unguents.—The work lost in
friction is employed in producing heat. Ihis fact is very
obvious, and has been known from a remote period ; but
the exact determination of the proportion of the work lost
to the beat produced, and the experimental proof that that
proportion is the same under all circumstances, and with
all materials, solid, liquid, and gaseous, are recent achieve¬
ments of Mr Joule. The quantity of work which produces
a British unit of heat (or so much heat as elevates the
temperature of one pound of pure water, at or near or i-
narv atmospheric temperatures, by one degree of Fahren¬
heit) is 772 foot-pounds. This constant, now designated
as “Joule’s Equivalent,” is the principal experimental
datum of the science of Thermodynamics, which treats of
the relations between heat and mechanical work.
The heat produced by friction, when moderate in amount,
is useful in softening and liquifying thick unguents; but
when excessive it is prejudicial, by decomposing the un¬
guents, and sometimes even by softening the metal of the
bearings, and raising their temperature so high as to set
fire to neighbouring combustible matters.
Excessive heating is prevented by a constant and co¬
pious supply of a good unguent. The elevation of tem¬
perature produced by the friction of a journal is sometimes
used as an experimental test of the quality of unguents.
When the velocity of rubbing is about 4 or 5 feet per se¬
cond the elevation of temperature has been found by Mechanics,
some recent experiments to be, with good fatty and soapy '
unguents, 40° to 50° Fahrenheit; with good mineral un¬
guents, about 30°. ^ n ^
122. Rolling Resistance.—By the rolling of two sur¬
faces over each other without sliding, a resistance is caused
which is called sometimes “rolling friction,” but more cor¬
rectly rolling resistance. It is of the nature of a couple,
resisting rotation. Its moment is found by multiplying the
normal pressure between the rolling surfaces by an arm,
whose length depends on the nature of the rolling sur¬
faces, and the work lost in a unit of time in overcoming
it is the product of its moment by the angular velo-
citu of the rolling surfaces relatively to each other. Ihe
following are approximate values of the arm in decimals of
afoot:—
Oak upon oak  0-006 (Coulomb.)
Lignum vitas on oak  0-004 (Do)
Cast-iron on cast-iron  0*002 (Tredgold.)
123. Reciprocating Forces—Stored and Restored
Energy.—When a force acts on a machine alternately as
an effort and as a resistance, it may be called a reciprocating
force. Of this kind is the weight of any piece in the
mechanism whose centre of gravity alternately rises and
falls; for during the rise of the centre of gravity that
weight acts as a resistance, and energy is employed in lift¬
ing it to an amount expressed by the product of the weight
into the vertical height of its rise ; and during the fall of
the centre of gravity the weight acts as an effort, and ex¬
erts in assisting to perform the work of the machine an
amount of energy exactly equal to that which had pre¬
viously been employed in lifting it. Thus that amount of
energy is not lost, but has its operation deferred; and it
is said to be stored when the weight is lifted, and restored
when it falls. _ . ,
In a machine of which each piece is to move with an
uniform velocity, if the effort and the resistance be constant,
the weight of each piece must be balanced on its axis, so that
it may produce lateral pressure only, and not act as a recipro¬
cating force. But if the effort and the resistance be alter¬
nately in excess, the uniformity of speed may still be pre¬
served by so adjusting some moving weight in the mechanism,
that when the effort is in excess it may be lifted, and so ba¬
lance and employ the excess of effort; and that when the
resistance is in excess it may fall, and so balance and
overcome the excess of resistance; thus storing the periodi¬
cal excess of energy, and restoring that energy to perform
the periodical excess of work.
Other forces besides gravity may be used as reciprocat¬
ing forces for storing and restoring energy; for example,
the elasticity of a spring or of a mass of air.
In most of the delusive machines commonly called
“ perpetual motions,” of which so many are patented in
each year, and which are expected by their inventors to
perform work without receiving energy, the fundamental
fallacy consists in an expectation that some reciprocating
force shall restore more energy than it has been the means
of storing.
DIVISION H.—DEFLECTING FORCES.
124. Reflecting Force for Translation in a Curved
Path. If a body have a motion of translation with the
velocity v, so that each point in it moves in a curved path
of the radius p, then, as we have already seen (sect. 27.)
the rate of deflection of that body’s motion in unity of time,
which is common to all its points, is expressed by
if a be substituted for the expression in equa-
— = pa
dt
tion 3 for the angular velocity of deflection.
Mechanics. To produce this deviation the body must (according
to sect. 96, equation 60) be acted upon by a lateral pres¬
sure at right angles to, and towards the centre of cur-
tionUre °f ltS ^ath’ W*10Se is given by the equa-
MECHANICS.
(82.)
F = wv~ wPa
, . , $p ~~!T
where w is the weight of the body, and g the deviation
produced by gravity in a second (see sect. 96) ; and as
this total deflecting force F is the resultant of deflecting
torces acting upon each particle of the body and pro¬
portional respectively to the masses of the particles, its
body0* aCtl°n mUSt traverse the centre of gravity of the
In machinery, deflecting force is supplied by the tenacity
ot some piece, such as a crank, which guides the deflected
body in its curved path, and is unbalanced, being employed
m producing deflection, and not in balancing another force.
, Centrifugal Force.—The deflecting body reacts
upon the guiding body with a lateral pressure equal and
opposite to the deflecting force, and called the centrifugal
force, because of its arising from the tendency of the de¬
flected body to move in a straight line, and so to fly from
the centre of its curved path ; and also because of its tend¬
ing to pull the guiding body away from that centre.
in fact, as has been stated in section 95, every force is a
pair of equal and opposite actions between a pair of bodies;
and deflecting force and centrifugal force are but two differ¬
ent names for the same force, applied to it according as its
action on the deflected body or on the guiding body is under
consideration for the time. The action on the deflected
body is to produce deflection at a rate proportional to the
force; the action on the guiding body is to strain it and
the framework which carries it, to be balanced by the stiff¬
ness which resists that strain, and to cause increased fric¬
tion at rubbing surfaces. Hence it appears that the action
409
of co-ordinates before-mentioned. Let W be the entire Mechanics,
weight of the body ; let a be its angular velocity of rota- ^—v-»-y
tion; this, as shown in section 38, is also the angular velo¬
city of deflection of each particle of the body in its revolu¬
tion round the axis. Conceive the body to be divided into
an indefinite number of indefinitely small particles; denote
one of them by cfW, and let its co-ordinates be x and y.
The components of the centrifugal force exerted by it on
the axis O are respectively
xa?dW and .yq2^W
9 9 ’
and the components of the centrifugul force exerted by the
whole body on that axis, being the sums or integrals of the
centrifugal forces exerted by all the particles, are expressed
= *Vl&Vy = alJ'y.dW.
Now, by the properties of the centre of gravity (for
which see Statics), if ^ and Vl be the co-ordinates of
the centre of gravity of the body BB,
J vdW=XlW ;,J'ydW=y1W;
consequently
being precisely the same values which were found in sec-
mn 126, equanon 83, for the components of the centrifu¬
gal force due to a circular translation with a radius equal to
the distance of the centre of gravity of the body from the
axis of rotation. J
Hence the centrifugal force exerted by a rotating bodu
on its axis of rotation, is the same in magnitude as if the
mass of the body were concentrated at its centre of qravitu
and acts in a plane passing through the axis of rotation
ana t ie centre n'r'nwi+n *\-P yA
“7 S Places. Hence it appears that the action and acts in a plane passing throuo
gsawss' F"-
For convenience in mathematical
investigation, centrifugal force may
be resolved into rectangular com¬
ponents as follows:—In fig. 35
let O be the centre of curvature
and p the radius of the path of the
centre of gravity of the body w,
whose angular velocity of deflec¬
tion is a. Let OX, OY be a
pair of rectangular axes in the
plane of motion of w, and x, y
perpendiculars let fall from the
centre of gravity of w upon these axes. It is evident
that the centnfugai force exerted by w upon „„ axis afo
maybe resolved into two rectangular comoonents F F
parallel to OX OY respectively.ga„d bearing to eadfotfe
lions1-1—^ " i0 C Ctntri uf-’a foice F the following propor-
F: F.
: : p: i
consequently their values are—
o,2
Fig. 35.
F,=
wxa*
9
'• v;
_ wyaf
9
(83.)
\p. Centrifugal Farce of a Rotating Bod,,.—ha a
body of any figure BB rotate about the axis of rotation
(J. Dernennipiilar tn vrw
rr» , i . cdLii uuier, cinti qo not
affect the resultant centrifugal force exerted on the axis of
rotation.1
thi ?X*Si °f rotation traverses the centre of gravity
of the body, the centrifugal force exerted on that axis is
nothing.
Hence, unless there be some reason to the contrary, each
piece of a machine should be balanced on its axis of rota¬
tion ; otherwise the centrifugal force will cause strains
vibration, and increased friction, and a tendency of the
shafts to jump out of their bearings.
128. Centrifugal Couples of a Rotating Body.—Besides
the tendency (if any) of the combined centrifugal forces of
the particles of a rotating body to shift the axis of rotation
they may also tend to turn it out of its original direction’
I he latter tendency is called a centrifugal couple
1° determine its amount, or the amount of its compo¬
nents let z denote the distance (positive towards, negatne
n li Y nVPe^nt01’ i° any glVen Particle <AV from the
o Y/wi?!' 1 I00 116 te'ldencies of the centrifugal force
of rfW to turn the axis of rotation O towards the right
hand, about OX, is the moment of the couple,
9 ’
and about O Y, the moment of the couple, + ZXc^^. }
o, perpendicufar to the plane XO y" of tlTe racLgura^ whTfogy^fSfbe^teSg ““P'68 °f
3 F
410
Mechanics.
MECHANICS.
= -?- * fzx'
9 J
for regulating the speed of prime Mechanics.
(85.)
A permanent or principal axis of rotation is one for which
each of the centrifugal couples, as well as the centrifugal
force, is nothing, and is the only kind of axis about which a
body not acted upon by an external force can steadily rotate.
It can be proved that every body, of what shape soever,
has at least turee permanent axes at right angles to each
other.
It is essential to the steady motion of every rapidly
rotating piece in a machine, that its axis of rotation should
not merely traverse its centre of gravity, but should be a
permanent axis ; for otherwise the centrifugal couples will
increase friction, produce oscillation of the shaft, and tend
to make it leave its bearings.
The principles of this and the preceding section are those
which regulate the adjustment of the weight and position
of the counterpoises which are placed between the spokes
of the driving-wheels of locomotive engines.
129. Revolving Pendulum—Governors.—In fig. 36 AO
represents an upright axis or spin¬
dle ; B a weight called a bob, sus¬
pended by a rod OB from a hori¬
zontal axis at O, carried by the
vertical axis. When the spindle
is at rest the bob hangs close to
it; when the spindle rotates, the
bob, being made to revolve round
it, diverges until the resultant of
the centrifugal force and the weights
of the bob is a force acting at O
in the direction OB, and then it
revolves steadily in a circle. This
combination is called a revolving,
centrifugal, or conical pendulum. Revolving pendulums
are usually constructed with pairs of rods and bobs, as
OB, Ob, hung at opposite sides of the spindle, that the
centrifugal forces exerted at the point O may balance each
other.
In finding the position in which the bob will revolve with
a given angular velocity a, for most practical purposes con¬
nected with machinery the mass of the rod may be con¬
sidered as insensible compared with that of the bob. Let the
bob be a sphere, and from the centre of that sphere draw
BH=y perpendicular to OA. Let OH = z; let W be the
weight of the bob, F its centrifugal force. Then the condi¬
tion of its steady revolution is W : F \ \z\y\ that is to say,
y_ F -2
run
Fig. 38.
Fig. 36.
consequently,
z=K
. (86.)
• /% CC OL
Ur, if ft = —=    
2tt 6-2832
be the number of turns or fractions
of a turn in a second,
g 0-8165 foot
z=
9-79771 inches
/hrn~
(87.)
z is called the altitude of the pendulum.
If the rod of a revolving pendulum be jointed, as in
not to a point in the vertical axis, but
to the end of a projecting arm C, the
position in which the bob will revolve
will be the same as if the rod were
jointed to the point O, where its pro¬
longation cuts the vertical axis.
A revolving pendulum is an essen¬
tial part of most of the contrivances Fig. 37.
fig. 37,
called governors,
movers.
The earlier kinds of governors act on the prime mover
by the variations of their altitude. Thus, in Watt s steam-
eno-ine governor the rods, through a combination of levers
and linkwork Cc, Dd (fig. 36), act on a lever EF, w ici
acts upon the throttle-valve for the admission ot steam so
as to enlarge its opening when the speed becomes too
small, and contract it when the speed becomes too Sy63**
In a more recent kind of governors invented by the
Messrs Siemens, which
may be called differen¬
tial governors, the regu¬
lation of the prime mover
is effected by means of
the difference between
the velocity of a wheel
driven by it and that of
a wheel regulated by a
revolving pendulum. Fig.
38 illustrates this class of
governors : A is a verti¬
cal dead-centre or fixed
shaft, about which the ,
after-mentioned pieces turn; C is a pulley driven by the
prime mover, and fixed to a bevel-wheel, which is seen
below it; E is a bevel-wheel similar to the first, and
having the same apex. To this wheel are hung the bobs
B, of which there are usually four, although two only
are shown. Those bobs form sectors of a ring, and are
surrounded by a cylindrical casing F. When the bobs
revolve with their proper velocity, they are adjusted so
as nearly to touch this casing; should they exceed that
velocity, they fly outwards and touch the casing, and are
retarded by the friction. For practical purposes their ve¬
locity of rotation about the vertical axis may be considered
constant. G, G are horizontal arms projecting from a socket,
which is capable of rotation about A, and carrying vertical
bevel wheels which rest on E and support C, and transmit
motion from C to E. There are usually four of the arms
G, G with their wheels, though two only are shown. H is one
of those arms which projects, and has a rod attached to its
extremity to act on the throttle-valve of a steam-engine,
the sluice of a water-wheel, or the regulator of the prime
mover, of what sort soever it may be.
When C rotates with an angular velocity equal and con¬
trary to that of E with its revolving pendulums, the arms
G, G remain at rest; but should C deviate from that velo¬
city, those arms rotate in one direction or the other, as the
case may be, with an angular velocity equal to one-half ot
the difference between the angular velocity of C and that
of E, and continue in motion until the regulator is adjusted
so that the prime mover shall impart to C an angular velo¬
city exactly equal to that of the revolving pendulums.
There are various modifications of the differential go¬
vernor, but they all act on the same principle.
DIVISION III.—WORKING OF MACHINES OF VARYING
VELOCITY.
130. General Principles.—In order that the velocity of
every piece of a machine may be uniform, it is necessary
that the forces acting on each piece should be always exactly
balanced. Also, in order that the forces acting on each
piece of a machine may be always exactly balanced, it is
necessary that the velocity of that piece should be uniform.
An excess of the effort exerted on any piece, above that
which is necessary to balance the resistance, is accompanied
with acceleration; a deficiency of the effort, with retar¬
dation.
MECHANICS.
Mechanics. When a machine is being started from a state of rest,
and brought by degrees up to its proper speed, the effort
must be in excess; when it is being retarded for the pur¬
pose of stopping it, the resistance must be in excess.
An excess of effort above resistance involves an excess
of energy exerted above work performed; that excess of
energy is employed in producing acceleration.
An excess of resistance above effort involves an excess
of work performed above energy expended; that excess of
work is performed by means of the retardation of the ma¬
chinery.
W hen a machine undergoes alternate acceleration and
retai dation, so that at certain instants of time, occurring
at the end of intervals called periods or cycles^ it returns to
its original speed, then in each of those periods or cycles
the alternate excesses of energy and of work neutralize each
other; and at the end of each cycle the principle of the
equality of energy and work stated in sect. 105, with all
its consequences, is verified exactly as in the case of ma¬
chines of uniform speed.
At intermediate instants, however, other principles have
also to be taken into account, which are deduced from the
second law of motion, sect. 95, as applied by the aid of
the principles of sect. 96, to direct deviation, or acceleration
and retardation.
131- Energy of Acceleration and Work of Retardation
for a Shifting Body. Let w be the weight of a body which
has a motion of translation in any path, and in the course
of the interval of time let its velocity be increased at
an uniform rate of acceleration from «?! to r2. The rate of
acceleration will be
dv v„ — v,
dt
and, according to sect. 96, equation 60, to produce this
acceleration a uniform effort will be required, expressed bv
411
g^t
(88.)
(The product— of the mass of a body by its velocity is
called its momentum ; so that the effort required is found
by dividing the increase of momentum by the time in which
it is produced.)
fo find the energy which has to be exerted to produce
the acceleration from vx to t>2, it is to be observed that the
distance through which the effort P acts during the acce¬
leration is °
consequently, the energy of acceleration is
PA? = (p2 + *>i) _ wff - vf)
 2g ’ ' (89->
being proportional to the increase in the square of the
velocity, and independent of the time.
In order to produce a retardation from the greater velo¬
city v to the less velocity vx, it is necessary to apply to the
body a resistance, connected with the retardation and the
time by an equation identical in every respect with equation
88, except by the substitution of a resistance for an effort;
and in overcoming that resistance the body performs work
to an amount determined by equation 89, putting R* for
Pds.
132. Energy Stored and Restored by Deviations of
Velocity. Thus a body alternately accelerated and re¬
tarded, so as to be brought back to its original speed, per¬
forms work during its retardation exactly equal in amount
to the energy exerted upon it during its acceleration; so
that that energy may be considered as stored during the Mechanics,
acceleration, and restored during the retardation, in a manner '
analogous to the operation of a reciprocating force (sect.
Let there be given the mean velocity V = —1 of a body
whose weight is w, and let it be required to determine the
fluctuation of velocity r2 — Vi, and the extreme velocities
vv v-2> which that body must have, in order alternately to
store and restore an amount of energy E. By equation 30
we have
V_w{vf-vf)
2g ’
which, being divided by V = --t5) gives
and consequently
E_mK>2-p,)
V“ g *
_v _g,E
\w
v2 - Vi
(90.)
The ratio of this fluctuation to the mean velocity, some¬
times called the unsteadiness of the motion of the body, is
v2 — v, gE
V -V^ 
(91.)
133. Actual Energy of a Shifting Body.—The energy
which must be exerted on a body of the weight w, to
accelerate it from a state of rest up to a given velocity of
translation v, and the equal amount of work which that
body is capable of performing by overcoming resistance
while being retarded from the same velocity of translation
v to a state of rest, is
f (92-)
This is called the actual energy of the motion of the
body, and is one-half of the quantity which is called vis-viva
in some treatises on mechanics.
The energy stored or restored, as the case may be, by
the deviations of velocity of a body, or a system of bodies,
is the amount by which the actual energy is increased or
diminished, as the case may be.
134. Principle of the Conservation of Energy in Machines.
— The following principle, expressing the general law of
the action of machines with a velocity uniform or varying,
includes the law of the equality of energy and work stated
in sect. 105 for machines of uniform speed.
In any given interval during the working of a machine,
the energy exerted added to the energy restored is equal
to the energy stored added to the ivork performed.
135. Actual Energy of Circular Translation—Moment
of Inertia.—Let a body of the weight w undergo transla¬
tion in a circular path of the radius p, with the angular ve¬
locity of deflection a, so that the common linear velocity of
all its particles is v = ap. I hen the actual energy of that
body is
ivv _ wd^p2
2g 2g~
.... (93.)
By comparing this with equation 82, sect. 124, it appears
that the actual energy of a revolving body is equal to the
potential energy ^ due to the action of the deflecting force
along one-half of the radius of curvature of the path of the
body. r
The product ~~ by which the half-square of the angular-
412
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, velocity is multiplied, is called the moment of inertia of
the revolving body.
136. Actual Energy and Moment of Inertia of Rotation
—Radius of Gyration.—Let a body of any figure BB
(see fig. 35, sect. 126) rotate about the axis of rotation O,
perpendicular to the plane XOY ; let w be the entire
weight of the body ; let a be its angular velocity of rota¬
tion, being also the angular velocity of deflection of each
of its particles in its revolution round the axis. Conceive
the body to be divided into an indefinite number of inde¬
finitely small particles; denote the weight of one of them
by dW ; and let its perpendicular distance from the axis
be p. The actual energy of that particle, according to
sect. 135, is
J-'dW
a p
p2 • dWzzl,
(95.)
of inertia of a body about an axis traversing its centre of Mechanics,
gravity in a given direction, is less than about any other
axis parallel to that direction.
The respective moments of inertia of a body about its
permanent axes of rotation (sect. 128), are called its princi¬
pal moments of inertia.
137. Examples of Radii of Gyration.—The following
are some examples, useful in practice, of the radii of gyra¬
tion of homogeneous solids about permanent axes
I. A sphere of the radius r rotating about a ^
diameter,   
II. A spheroid of revolution rotating about ^
its polar axis, its equatorial radius being r,
sum or
2g ’
and the actual energy of the whole body, being the
integral of the actual energies of its particles, is
4/>dW- • • • O4-)
The integral in this expression, by which the half-square
of the angular velocity is multiplied, viz., —
R2= —
* W’
(97.)
III. An ellipsoid whose semi-axes are a,
b, c, rotating about the axis 2a, .... R02 =
E + c2
is the moment of inertia of the whole body relatively to
the given axis O, being the sum of the moments of inertia
of all its particles. The actual energy of the body may be
thus expressed:
Y (9«-)
w
If the moment of inertia be divided by the mass — of the
body, the result is ^
IV. A cylindrical disc of the radius r, ro¬
tating about its axis of figure, ...
V. A cylindrical ring, or hollow cylinder,
rotating about its axis of figure, the external
and internal radii being r, r1, 
(This is applicable to many cases of rims of
fly-wheels.)
R 2 = —
0 2
Rn
: + r
VI. A rectangular parallelepiped whose
dimensions are 2a, 2b, 2c, rotating about the tf + c2
axis whose length is 2a,  Ro2=—o—
VII. A slender rod of uniform section and
length 21, rotating about an axis crossing it
at right angles in the middle of its length,
(This case is also applicable to any system
of rods of equal length l, radiating from a
common axis, like the spokes of a fly-wheel.)
Z2
R 2 =—
0 3
the square of a length called the radius of gyration ; being
the distance from the axis O at which, if the whole mass of
the body were collected at one or more points, or in a ring,
or hollow cylinder, the moment of inertia would be the
same with that of the actual body.
If the given axis O do not already traverse the centre of
gravity of the body, conceive an axis parallel to it to be
drawn through that centre of gravity, and designated by
the symbol G. Let px= OG be the perpendicular distance
between those axis. Let R0 be the radius of gyration,
and L = , the moment of inertia of the body about the
g
axis G. Then, from geometrical properties of the centre
of gravity, the proof of which belongs to the subject of
statics, it is known that
R2 = R02 + Pi ; .... (98.)
from which it follows that
I = L
Pl2W
. . (99.)
that is to say, the moment of inertia of a body about any
axis O, not traversing its centre of gravity, is equal to the
moment of inertia of the whole body about an axis G, tra¬
versing the centre of gravity parallel to O, added to the
moment of inertia due to a circular translation of the whole
body with the radius OG.1
From equation 99 it follows obviously, that the moment
VIII. A system of bodies of respective
weights w, w, tv", &c., rotating about a
common axis, and having the respective ra- ^
dii of gyration p,p, p", &c., R02~'
138. Fly-Wheels.—A fly-wheel is a rotating piece in a
machine, generally shaped liked a wheel (that is to say,
consisting of a rim with spokes), and suited to store and
restore energy by the periodical variations in its angular
velocity.
The principles according to which variations of angular
velocity store and restore energy are the same with those
of sect. 132, only substituting moment of inertia for mass,
and angular for linear velocity.
Let W be the weight of a fly-wheel, R its radius of gyration,
a2 its maximum, ^ its minimum, and A ^ a- “t its mean
angular velocity. Let
1 _a2-1a1
S A
denote the unsteadiness of the motion of the fly-wheel; the
denominator S of this fraction is called the steadiness. Let
e denote the quantity by which the energy exerted in each
cycle of the working of the machine alternately exceeds
and falls short of the work performed, and which has con¬
sequently to be alternately stored by acceleration, and re¬
stored by retardation of the fly-wheel. The value of this
periodical excess is—
1 This is a particular case of a more general proposition, that the whole actual energy of any system of masses is equal to the actual energy
due to a motion of the whole of those masses with the velocity of their common centre of gravity, added to the sum of the actual energies due to
the several motions of the several masses relatively to that common centre of gravity.
MECHANICS.
Mechanics.
. (100.)
^ _ R2W(a22 — g,2)
2^ ’
from which, dividing both sides by A2, we obtain the fol¬
lowing equations : —
e _ R2W;
413
9s
R2WA2 Se
. . (101.)
2g 2 ‘
The latter of these equations may be thus expressed in
words :—The actual energy due to the rotation of the fly,
icitk its mean angular velocity, is equal to one-half of the
periodical excess of energy multiplied by the steadiness.
In ordinary machinery, S = about 32 ; in machinery for
fine purposes S = from 50 to 60.
The periodical excess e may arise either from variations
in the effort exerted by the prime mover, or from varia¬
tions in the resistance of the work, or from both these causes
combined. When but one fly-wheel is used, it should be
placed in as direct connection as possible with that part of
the mechanism where the greatest amount of the periodical
excess originates; but when it originates at two or more
points, it is best to have a fly-wheel in connection with each
of those points. For example, in a machine-work, the
steam-engine, which is the prime mover of the various
tools, has a fly-wheel on the crank-shaft to store and re¬
store the periodical excess of energy arising from the
variations in the effort exerted by the connecting-rod upon
the crank; and each of the slotting machines, punching
machines, rivetting-machines, and other tools, has a fly!
wheel of its own to store and restore energy, so as to
enable the very different resistances opposed to those tools
at different times to be overcome without too great un¬
steadiness of motion.
According to the computation of General Morin, the
periodical excess e in steam-engines with single cranks is
from ^th to nearly ^th of the energy exerted during one
revolution of the crank. For a pair of steam-engines driv¬
ing one shaft, with a pair of cranks at right angles to each
other, the value of e is one-fourth of its value for a single
cranked engine of the same kind, and of the same power
with the two combined.
The ordinary radius of gyration of a steam-engine fly¬
wheel is from three to five times the length of the crank-
arm. (For further particulars on this subject, see Steam-
Engine.)
For tools performing useful work at intervals, and having
only their own friction to overcome during the intermediate
intervals, e should be assumed equal to the whole work
performed at each separate operation.
139. Brakes,—A brake is an apparatus for stopping or
diminishing the velocity of a machine by friction, such as
the friction-strap already referred to in sect. 118. To find
the distance s through which a brake, exerting the friction
F, must rub in order to stop a machine having the total
actual energy E at the moment when the brake begins
to act, reduce, by the principles of sect. Ill, the various
efforts and other resistances of the machine which act at
the same time with the friction of the brake to the rub¬
bing surface of the brake, and let R be their resultant,
—positive if resistance, negative if effort preponderates.
Then
. . (102.)
140. Energy distributed between two Bodies—Project
tion and Propulsion.—Hitherto the effort by which a
machine is moved has been treated as a force exerted be¬
tween a moveable body and a fixed body, so that the
whole energy exerted by it is employed upon the move¬
able body, and none upon the fixed body. This conception Mechanics,
is sensibly realized in practice when one of the two bodies i
between which the effort acts is either so heavy as com¬
pared with the other, or has so great a resistance opposed
to its motion, that it may, without sensible error, be treated
as fixed. But there are cases in which the motions of both
bodies are appreciable, and must be taken into account;
such as the projection of projectiles, where the velocity of
the recoil or backward motion of the gun bears an appre¬
ciable proportion to the forward motion of the projectile;
and such as the propulsion of vessels, where the velocity of
the water thrown backward by the paddle, screw, or other
propeller, bears a very considerable proportion to the velo¬
city of the water moved forwards and sideways by the ship.
In cases of this kind the energy exerted by the effort is
distributed between the two bodies between which the
effort is exerted, in shares proportional to the velocities of
the two bodies during the action of the effort; and those
velocities are to each other, directly as the portions of the
effort unbalanced by resistance on the respective bodies,
and inversely as the weights of the bodies.
To express this symbolically, let W1( W2 be the weights
of the bodies; P the effort exerted between them ; S the
distance through which it acts ; Rj, ll2 the resistances op¬
posed to the effort overcome by W„ W2 respectively; E^
E2 the shares of the whole energy E exerted upon W15 W2
respectively. Then
E : E, : E2 )
-F j (103.)
:: W2(P — R,) + Wt(P — R2) ‘ P -If ' P - R0
' w, • w2
If R1 = ITj, which is the case when the resistance, as well
as the effort, arises from the mutual actions of the two
bodies, the above becomes,
E : Ex : E2 1 .
: W2 : Wj J ’
(104.)
: :W1 + W2 _ .
that is to say, the energy is exerted on the bodies in shares
inversely proportional to their weights; and they receive
accelerations inversely proportional to their weights, ac¬
cording to the principle of dynamics, already quoted in a
note to sect. 127, that the mutual actions of a system of
bodies do not affect the motion of their common centre of
gravity.
lor example, if the weight of a gun be 160 times that
of its ball, of the energy exerted by the powder in
exploding will be employed in propelling the ball, and T^T
in producing the recoil of the gun ; provided the gun, up
to the instant of the ball’s quitting the muzzle, meets with
no resistance to its recoil except the friction of the ball.
141. Centre of Percussion.—In order that a rigid solid
body may have a given deviation imparted to it, it is
sufficient that the resultant of the unbalanced force or
forces applied to it should be identical in magnitude, direc¬
tion, and position, with the resultant of the forces, which,
if applied separately to the several particles of the body’
would give each of them the deviation which it is required
to have as forming a part of the body.1 The nearest point
in the line of action of this resultant to the centre of °Ta-
vity of the body is called the centre of percussion of the
body for the given kind of deviation. It indicates the po¬
sition and direction in which a single force must act in
order to produce deviation in the required manner. (Details
respecting the centre of percussion will be found in the
article Dynamics.)
It is obviously desirable that the deviations or changes
of motion of oscillating pieces in machinery should, as far
as possi e, be effected by forces applied at their centres of
percussion.
If the deviation be a translation,—-that is an equal change
This is a particular case of the principle of Dynamics, known as “ D’Alembert’s principle.”
414
MECHANICS.
Mechanics, of motion of all the particles of the body, the centre of per-
cussion is obviously the centre of gravity itself; and, as
already stated (sect. 96, equation 60), if dv be the deviation
of velocity to be produced in the interval dt, and W the
weight of the body,—
W dv^
r ' dt
(105.)
9
is the unbalanced effort required.
If the deviation be a rotation about an axis traversing
the centre of gravity, there is no centre of percussion ; for
such a deviation can only be produced by a couple of
forces, and not by any single force. Let da be the devia¬
tion of angular velocity to be produced in the interval dt;
I the moment of inertia of the body ; then £lc?(a2) = Iac/a
is the variation of the body’s actual energy. Let M be
the moment of the unbalanced couple required to pioduce
the deviation; then, by equation 70, sect. 110, the energy
exerted by this couple in the interval dt is Macfa, which,
being equated to the variation of energy, gives
the imperfection of the elasticity of the bodies, in per-Mechanics,
manently altering their figures, and producing heat. The
determination of the distribution of the actual energy after
collision, and of the loss of energy, is effected by means
of the following principles:—
I. The motion of the common centre of gravity of the
two bodies is unchanged by the collision.
II. The loss of energy consists of a certain proportion of
• that part of the actual energy of the bodies which is due to
their motion relatively to their common centre of gravity.
Unless there is some special reason for using impact in
machines, it ought to be avoided, on account not only of
the waste of energy which it causes, but of the damage
which it occasions to the frame and mechanism.
T da R0 W da
M = I -r=—q— J7
dt a dt
(106.)
Now, let the required deviation be a rotation of the body
BB about an axis O, not traversing
the centre of gravity G, da being, as
before, the deviation of angular velo¬
city to be produced in the interval dt.
According to the principle of sect. 44,
a rotation with the angular velocity a
about an axis O may be considered
as compounded of a rotation with the
same angular velocity about an axis
drawn through G parallel to O, and a
translation with the velocity a* OG;
OG being the perpendicular distance
between the two axes. Hence the
required deviation may be regarded as compounded of a
deviation of translation dv= OG * da, to produce which
there would be required, according to equation 105, a force
Fig. 39.
applied at G perpendicular to the plane OG—
P = — *OG •
a dt
. (107.)
and a deviation da of rotation about an axis drawn through
G parallel to O, to produce which there would be required
a couple of the moment M given by equation 106. Ac¬
cording to the principles of statics, the resultant of the
force P applied at G perpendicular to the plane OG, and
of the couple M, is a force equal and parallel to P, but
applied at a distance GC from G, in the prolongation of the
perpendicular OG, whose value is
GC=u =
R 2
-1-vo
OG
. . (108.)
CHAPTER III.—PURPOSES AND EFFECTS OF
MACHINES.
Thus is determined the position of the centre of percussion
C, corresponding to the axis of rotation O. It is obvious
from this equation that, for an axis of rotation parallel to O
traversing C, the centre of percussion is at the point where
the perpendicular OG meets O.
142. Impact.—Impact or collision is a pressure of short
duration exerted between two bodies. (For the detailed in¬
vestigation of its laws the reader is referred to Dynamics.)
The effects of impact are sometimes an alteration of
the distribution of actual energy between the two bodies,
and always a loss of a portion of that energy, depending on
143. Observing Machines and Working Machines. 1 he
present chapter must necessarily be limited to some very
general observations on the principal classes into which
machines may be divided, with reference to their purposes
and effects, leaving the reader to find, under special heads
in this Encyclopaedia, the detailed descriptions of parti¬
cular examples.
Machines may be divided, in the first instance, into two
great divisions, viz.:—
I. Observing machines, in which either the modification
of motion alone, or the balancing of forces alone, is the ob¬
ject in view,—the performance of work being either null or
incidental, and being limited to that which arises from the
resistance of the machine.
II. Working machines, in which the performance of work
is the main object.
144. Classification of Observing Machines.—Observing
machines might very properly have been classed as instru¬
ments, being designed to aid the human senses and me¬
mory in obtaining and recording information. They may
be divided, in the first instance, into four classes, accord¬
ing as the subject of observation by their aid is number,
measure, or weight, into—
A: Counting machines.
B : Measuring machines.
C : Copying and drawing machines.
D: Weighing machines.
And to these may be added a fifth class, in which the func¬
tions of the first four are more or less combined, viz.,—
E: Recording machines.
145. Counting Machines.—The most important as well
as the most common of counting machines are time-keepers,
which count and indicate the numbers of oscillations of
bodies which oscillate isochronously (viz., pendulums for
clocks, balance-wheels for watches and marine chrono¬
meters) so as to measure time. In constructing such ma¬
chines, the objects to be aimed at are the exact iso-
chronism of the pendulum or balance, and the equable
action of the motive power, so that it shall overcome
the friction of the mechanism without affecting the rate.
(See Chronometer; Clock and Watch Work; Pen-
Other counting machines count the oscillations of the
beam of a steam-engine, the revolutions of the cylinder of
a p-as-meter, or of the wheel of a water-meter.
‘Others perform additions, subtractions, and multiplica¬
tions, and of these the most elaborate kind (of which there
are but two in existence—the machine of Mr Babbage
and that of Messrs Scheutz) compute tables of functions
by the addition of differences.
146. Measuring Machines.—Measuring machines are
pieces of mechanism, by means of which the motion of
MECHANICS.
415
Mechanics, some body of the nature ot an index through some geo-
metrical magnitude, such as a distance or an angle, is
connected with some other motion, either equal or greater
or smaller in some given ratio, and capable of being more
readily compared with some standard of measure.
lo this class belong all those astronomical and survey¬
ing instruments in which the motion of a line of sight
(generally the line of collimation of a telescope) through a
given angle is connected with the motion of an index or
vernier round a corresponding arc of a graduated circle;
also those micrometers in which the advance of the end of
a screw of fine pitch is measured by observing the simul¬
taneous arc of rotation of a graduated circle which is at¬
tached to it.
Such micrometers have attained increased importance by
the discovery of Mr Whitworth,—that the mechanical mag¬
nifying of small distances by a train of screws affords a more
accurate means of measurement than optical magnifying by
the microscope,—and by the perfection to which that en¬
gineer has brought that art of accurate workmanship which
is necessary in order to render mechanical magnifying
possible.
Amongst measuring machines are included the plato-
meters or planimeters of Mr Sang, General Morin, and Mr
Clerk Maxwell, which measure areas by means of me¬
chanism. The amount of resistance in a measuring-machine
should be perfectly uniform, and sufficiently great to pre¬
vent accidental forces from disturbing the machine, with¬
out being so great as to render it inconveniently stiff. To
combine these objects requires great accuracy of workman¬
ship, together with strength and rigidity in the structure of
the frame and mechanism.
147. (C.) Copying cmd Drawing Machines.—In copying-
machines for enlarging or reducing drawings there is usually
a combination of levers and linkwork connecting a tracing-
point, which is moved over the lines of the original figure
with a drawing-point, which draws the copy in such a
manner that the velocity-ratio of their motions is a given
constant quantity, and that the directions of their motions
make a constant angle.
Mechanism, depending for its principles on the theory of
the composition of rotations, is used to draw ellipses, epicy¬
cloids, epitrochoids, and other curves.
148. (D.) Weighing Machines.—In weighing machines
the motion of the mechanism is used only for the purpose
that its cessation, or its becoming an oscillation about a
certain position, may indicate the equilibrium of the forces
applied to the machine. Those forces may either be
weights, which are to be compared with each other, or forces
of other kinds, to be compared directly or indirectly with
weights.
The machine for comparing weights, which is capable of
the most minute accuracy, is also the simplest, being the
balance, in which the equality of two weights is ascer¬
tained by their balancing each other at the ends of a lever
of equal arms. In the steelyard, consisting either of one
lever or of a train of levers, the unknown weight has an
unchangeable point of application, and is compared with a
known weight by shifting the latter along the lever to
which it is applied until the machine is balanced ; the ratio
of the weights is then the reciprocal of the velocity-ratio of
their points of application. The steelyard is more conve¬
nient for weighing very heavy loads than the balance, but
not capable of such minute accuracy.
It is essential to accuracy in balances and steelyards
that the friction should be less than the smallest admissible
amount of error. To diminish the friction as much as pos¬
sible, the axes of motion are all knife-edges, as they are
termed, of steel or hardened iron, resting on hard surfaces
of hardened iron or steel for ordinary purposes, and of some
hard mineral, such as agate, for scientific purposes.
The weight of a column of fluid is determined by balan- Mechanics,
cing it against a column of fluid whose weight is known,
as in the barometer, where the weight of a column of the
atmosphere is balanced against that of a column of mer¬
cury.
Weights are compared with each other indirectly, and
other forces compared with weights, by means of their
effects in bending a spring,—a convenient method, but not
susceptible of minute accuracy.
The elastic pressure exerted by a fluid may be compared
with weight, either by balancing the pressure against the
weight of a column of liquid, or by maintaining a piston in
equilibrio against that pressure, by means of a weight press¬
ing it directly, or of a weight acting through a steelyard, or
of the elasticity of a spring which has been compared with
weights.
149. (E.) Recording Machines. — Recording-machines
may be divided into two classes: self-registering instruments,
which, by the aid ot clockwork, record measurements either
of space or of force, together with the instants of time at
which these measurements were made ; and dynamometers,
already mentioned in chap. II. of this article, which register
measurements of force, together with the space through
which it has acted, thus recording energy or work.
150. Working Machines Classed.—The object or pur¬
pose of working-machines is to perform useful work; and
their classification relatively to their objects and purposes is
founded on the kind of useful work which they perform. In
this point of view they may be classed as follows:—
A : Machines for lifting or lowering solid weights.
B : Machines for the horizontal transport of weights,
either combined or not with lifting or lowering.
C : Machines for projecting solids.
U: Machines for lifting fluids.
E : Machines for propelling or projecting fluids.
F : Machines for dividing bodies.
G: Machines for shaping bodies by removing portions
of them.
H: Machines for shaping bodies by pressure.
I: Machines for uniting bodies into fabrics.
J : Machines for printing.
K : Machines for producing sound.
L : Miscellaneous machines.
The author of this article does not pretend to assert that
the above classification (taken to a considerable extent from
the writings of Young and of Mr Babbage) exhausts all
kinds of machines: he brings it forward merely as an at¬
tempt to introduce method to a certain extent into a subject
which would otherwise be exceedingly confused.
151. (A.) Machines for Lifting and Lowering Solids.—
The most common machines of this class are capstans,
cranes, and ivindlasses. They are usually worked by
manual labour, but sometimes by hydraulic engines, or by
steam-engines. The useful resistance, when a load is lifted,
being the weight of that load, is in general greater than the
effort exerted by the prime mover, so that the mechanism
has to be adapted to giving the working-piece a less velo-
city than the piece to which the effort is applied. In lower¬
ing solid loads the weight of the load acts as the effort, and
the energy exerted by it is expended in overcoming the
friction of a brake in order that the speed of descent may
not be excessive.
152. (B.) Transporting Machines.—The mechanism of
transporting machines consists of two parts : that by which
the resistance is diminished, as the wheels and axles of
ve es ’ ant^ ^ia‘- by which the resistance is overcome and
t le load propelled, comprising all kinds of locomotive and
propelling machinery. Transporting machines are treated
o m the articles relating specially to the lines of conveyance
to which tney are applied; such as Canals, Railroads,
Roads, and Steam Navigation.
-4
416 MECHANICS.
Mechanics. 153. (C.) Machines for Projecting Solids.—This class
comprehends all kinds of artillery.
154. (D.) Machines for Lifting Fluids.—(See Hydro¬
dynamics and Pneumatics.)
155. (E.) Machines for Propelling or Projecting Fluids.
—(See the same articles.)
156. (F.) Machines for Dividing Bodies.—This class
comprehends all machines for separating solid masses into
parts, whether by digging, cutting, sawing, grinding, tear¬
ing, crushing, pounding, pressing out fluids, or otherwise;
and whether applied to earth, stones, metals, timber, fruit,
grain, fibres, or other materials.
157. (G.) Machines for Shaping Bodies hy removing
portions of them.—This class of machines to a certain extent
resembles the preceding. It includes machines for cutting,
grinding, and polishing blocks of stone into required figures ;
shaping pieces of wood, metal, or other material, whether
by turning, to produce spherical, cylindrical, and other
curved surfaces,—by boring, punching, slotting, or goug¬
ing, to produce cylindrical, rectangular, or other orifices
and grooves,—by screw-cutting, by planing, by grinding
and polishing, to produce curved or plane surfaces. The
most difficult and important of all these operations is to
produce a surface truly plane; and the perfecting of this
operation by Mr Whitworth is the most important step
recently made in Constructive Mechanics, or the art of mak¬
ing machines and instruments. Next in point of difficulty
may be placed the art of forming the concave reflecting
surfaces of great specula for telescopes, such as those of the
Herschels, of Mr Lassell, and of Lord Rosse.
158. (H.) Machines for Shaping Bodies by Pressure
comprehend amongst others, rolling-mills for iron, steam-
hammers, wire-dratving machines, pinmaking and nail-
making machines, coining and other stamping machinery,
brickmaking machines, presses for packing and compress¬
ing, &c., &c.
159. (I.) Machines for Uniting Bodies into Fabrics com¬
prise spinning machinery, whether applied to ropes, yarn,
or thread, weaving machinery of all kinds, papermaking
machinery, felting machinery, and sewing machinery.
160. (J.) Machines for printing are used to apply either
colouring matters or matters for discharging colour to paper,
cloth, and other materials.
161. (K.) Machines for Producing Sound.—(See Acous¬
tics, and Music.)
162. (L.) Miscellaneous Machines.—There are numerous
machines which perform processes, especially in the prepa¬
ration of textile fabrics for the market, which it would be
almost impossible to class. Examples of such machines
will be found by referring to the articles relating to the
various branches of manufacture.
CHAPTER IV.—APPLIED ENERGETICS, OR
THEORY OF PRIME MOVERS.
163. Prime Movers in general: their Efficiency.—Prime
movers, or receivers of power, are those pieces or combi¬
nations of pieces of mechanism, which receive motion and
force directly from some natural source of energy. The
point where the mechanism belonging to the prime mover
ends, and that belonging to the train for modifying the
force and motion begins, is somewhat arbitrary ; in general,
however, the mechanism belonging to the prime mover may
be held to include all pieces which regulate or assist in re¬
gulating the transmission ot energy from the sourceof energy.
I hus in the ordinary rotative steam-engine, the crank-shaft
belongs to the prime mover, because it carries the eccentric
which moves the valves, and the fly-wheel which stores and
restores the periodical excess of energy of the engine, and
drives the governor (when there is one) which regulates
the admission of steam.
The useful work of the prime mover is the energy exerted Mechanics,
by it upon that piece which it directly drives; and the ratio
which this bears to the energy exerted by the source of
energy is the efficiency of the prime mover.
It is often convenient to divide the prime mover into
sections, and resolve its efficiency into factors, each factor
being the efficiency of one of those sections. Thus the
efficiency of a steam-engine may be resolved into the fol¬
lowing factors:—
Efficiency of the furnace and boiler ; being the propor¬
tion of the total heat of combustion of the fuel which takes
effect in heating and evaporating the water.
Efficiency of the steam in driving the piston ; being the
proportion of the energy exerted by the steam on the pis¬
ton (called the indicated energy or power, as being mea¬
sured by an indicator), to the mechanical equivalent of the
heat received by the water.
Efficiency of the mechanism from the piston to the crank¬
shaft inclusive ; being the proportion of the effective energy
transmitted by the crank-shaft to the indicated energy.
The product of those three factors is the efficiency of
the engine as a whole.
In all prime movers the loss of energy may be distin¬
guished into two parts; one being the unavoidable effect
of the circumstances under which the machine necessarily
works in the case under consideration ; the other the effect
of causes which are, or may be, capable of indefinite dimi¬
nution by practical improvements. Those two parts may
be distinguished as necessary loss and waste.
The efficiency which a prime mover would have under
given circumstances if the waste of energy were altogether
prevented, and the loss reduced to necessary loss alone, is
called the maximum or the theoretical efficiency under the
given circumstances.
For some prime movers there is a combination of circum¬
stances which makes the theoretical efficiency greater than
any other combination does. The theoretical efficiency
under those circumstances is the absolute maximum effi¬
ciency.
The duty of a prime mover is its useful work in some
given unit of time ; as a second, a minute, an hour, a day.
In some cases, such as that of the work of animals, the duty
can be ascertained, while the efficiency can only be in¬
ferred indirectly or conjecturally from the want of precise
data as to the whole energy expended.
164. Sources of Energy Classed.—The sources of energy
used in practice may be classed as follows:—
A : Strength of men and animals.
B : Weight of liquids.
C : Motion of fluids.
D: Heat.
E : Electricity and magnetism.
165. (A.) Strength of Men and Animals.—The mecha¬
nical daily duty of a man or of a beast is the product of three
quantities: the effort, the velocity, and the number of units
of time per day during which work is continued. It is well
known that for each individual man or animal there is a
certain set of values of those three quantities which make
their product the daily duty a maximum, and that any de¬
partures from those values diminishes the daily duty. At¬
tempts have been made to represent by a formula the law
of this diminution ; they have met with imperfect success.
That which agrees on the whole best with the facts is the
formula of Maschek, which is as follows:—Let Pj be the
effort, V1 the velocity, and Tj the time of working per day,
which give the maximum daily duty; let P, V, T, be any
other set of values of those quantities. I hen
PVT
E+v1+t;=3 • • • • (109-)
One consequence of this formula is, that the best time
mechanics.
Mechanics of working per day for men, and for all animals, is one-third
part of a day, or eight hours; a conclusion in accordance
with experience.
1 he best effort P,, and the best velocity V,, are much
Jess certain ; the difficulty of determining their true mean
values for particular species being rendered very great by
the differences not only between individuals, but between
races or varieties of the same species. The following table
ot values is proposed by Maschek as approximately true:—
Animals.
Man 
Horse (draught)
Ox 
Ass 
Mule  
150 lb.
600 lb.
6001b.
360 lb.
5001b.
Pi
lb.
30
120
120
72?
100?
Vi
Feet per
second.
2-5
4-0
2-5
2- 5
3- 5
3600
PlVi
Hours Ft.-lb.
per day. per sec,
75
480
300
180
350
PlViTj
Ft.-lb.
2,160,000
13,824,000
8,640,000
5,184,000?
10,080,000?
Man.—
15. Walking unloaded,transport of)
own weight  >
Do. do.'..." }
16. Wheeling load L in 2-wheeied’r
barrow, returning empty; V l
=i velocity )
rr. -R?: 1 wheeled barrow do.
lo. rravelling with burden 
19. Conveying burden, returning!
Feet per
second
T
3600
unloaded
20. Carrying burden for 30 seconds I
only  <
House.—
21. Walking with cart always loaded
22. Trotting do. do..
23. YValking with cart, going
loaded, returning empty; V
„ = i mean velocity 
24. Carrying burden, walking
L;>- do. trotting
1500
750
11-7
23T
3-6
7-2
Hours
per day
1500
2-0
3-6
7-2
10
44
lb. con¬
veyed
veyed
1 foot.
700
840
373
225
225
233
1474-2
0
5400
5400
3000
972
1296
LVT
lb. con¬
veyed
1 foot.
25,200,000
30,240,000
13,428,000
8,100,000
5,670,000
5,032,800
194,400,000
87,480,000
108,000,000
34,992,000
32,659,200
Of the numbers in this table those for the draught horse
are probably the most accurate. For the thorough-bred
that of p1S 7he °f V> is much grea^, and
that of P much less, than for the draught horse ; the effect
being probably that the maximum daily duty PVT is
nearly the same ; but experimental data are wanting to de¬
termine these quantities with precision.
The following table, chiefly extracted from the works of
Poncelet and Morin, with the addition of some results of
experiments by Lieutenant David Rankine and by the
author of this article, shows the daily duty of men and horses
under certain specified circumstances
Man—,
1. Raising his own weight up)
stair or ladder  f
2. Do. do. do.
143
Feet
p. sec.
3600
Hours
p. day
05
3. (Tread-wheel—See 1.)
4, Hr-12  - - ■
.. ..auling up weight with rope
5. Lifting weights by hand 
6. Carrying weights up stairs ...
7. shovelling up earth to a)
height of5 ft. Sin  j
8. Wheeling earth in barrow
40
44
143
 .& ViA 111 uaiivw
up slope of 1 in 12; 1 horiz.
Vttlrw. H-O 4>4-     _ _ y ^
veloc. 0-9 ft. per sec. (re- i
^ turning empty) J
9. Pushing or pulling" hori-)
    - j
  6 t'lAAAIIlg
zontally (capstan or oar)
10. Turning a crank or winch |
11. Working pump
12. Hammering ...,
House—
13. (Thorough-bred) cantering)
and trotting, drawing a >
light railway carriage..../
ICKIAYTO.y Uctrrietge....
14. Horse (draught) drawing)
cart or boat, walking /
132
26-5
12- 5
18-0
20-0
13- 2
15
min. 22)
mean 30i
max. 50
120
0-75
0-55
0-13
1-3
0075
PV
Foot- lb
per sec.
PVT
Foot-lb.
per day.
72-5 2,088,000
2,616,000
2-0
5-0
2-5
14-4
2-5
143
3-6
10
8
2min.
10
30
24-2
18-5
7-8
648,000
522,720
399,600
280,800
9-9
53
62-5
45
288
33
I !
4474
432
356,400
1,526,400
1,296,000
1,188,000
480,000
6,444,000
12,441,600
167. (B.) IFeiyht of Liquids.—(C.) Motion of Fluids.—h
water-wheels and other hydraulic engines the weight anc
motion of a liquid usually act together as sources of energy
1 o determine the necessary loss of energy and the
theoretical efficiency, let Q denote the weight of liquid
which acts on the wheel or other engine per second; H
the vertical fall from the point where the liquid first begins
to act directly or indirectly on the wheel or other engine, to
the point where it ceases to act; \l the velocity of the
liquid when it begins to act; and V2 the least velocitv,
when it ceases to act, which will properly discharge the
hqmd, and prevent its accumulating so as to impede the
wheel or engine. Then the power or energy exerted per
second is— r
«(»*?)' '
the necessary loss,—
V 2
the theoretical effect or useful work
per second—
q(h+t)
the theoretical efficiency—
V^-Vs2
%
H + -
V 2
29
(118.)
(For details as to the actual efficiency and duty, and the
construction of water-wheels and other hydraulic engines
COO T4 'V'T'VT»/'\T'l-\7-WT A W m-T si \
166. Horizontal Transport.—When men and animals
carry burdens, or draw or propel loads in certain vehicles
it is difficult, and sometimes impossible, to determine the
duty performed in foot-pounds of work, because of the
uncertainty of the amount in pounds of the resistance over¬
come. In this case, for the purpose of comparing perform¬
ances of the same kind with each other, a unit is em¬
ployed called afoot-pound of horizontal transport; mean¬
ing the conveying of a load of 1 pound 1 foot horizon¬
tally. The following table, compiled from the sources
referred to in sect. 165, gives some examples of the daily
duty of men and horses in units of horizontal transport; L
denoting the load in lb., V the velocitv in feet per second
and T the number of seconds per day of working’
YOL. xiy. °'
see Hydrodynamics.)
In windmills, the air, being in motion, presses against and
moves four or five radiating vanes or sails, whose surfaces are
approximately helical, their axis of rota¬
tion being parallel, or slightly inclined
in a vertical plane, to the direction of the
wind. Ihe best form and proportions
for windmill sails, as determined experi¬
mentally by Smeaton, are as follows (see
fig. 40) :—Angle of each sail with the
plane of rotation ; at DE . . ] 8°
at BC . . 7°
OD = £ of whip OA.
Bar DE = ; bar BC = —
° 3
AC - DE.
Tracts.)31011 “ ^ WindmiIIs>” in Tredgold’s Hydraulic
3 G
417
Mechanics.
418 M E C
Mechlin. 168. (D.) Heat—In sect. 163 the three factors into
which the efficiency of an engine moved by heat can be
resolved have already been stated. The efficiency of the
furnace and boiler in steam-engines varies from 0'4 to 0-85.
It may be considered that the loss of heat to the extent of
0T5 by the chimney, is necessary in order to produce a suf¬
ficient draught; any loss beyond this is waste. The theo¬
retical efficiency of the steam, or other elastic fluid which
serves as the mechanism for converting heat into mechanical
energy, is regulated by a law which will now be explained.
Heat acts on bodies in two ways: to elevate temperature
and make the bodies hotter, and to produce mechanical
changes. Heat employed in producing mechanical changes
disappears or becomes latent, as it is termed, and can be
reproduced by reversing those mechanical changes. When
a cycle of mechanical changes, ending by the restoration
of the body to its original condition, produces mechanical
energy, heat disappears to an amount equal to that which
would be generated by employing the mechanical energy
in overcoming friction; that is to say, a British unit of
heat (or one degree of Fahrenheit in one lb. of liquid water)
for every 772 foot-pounds of energy (being the constant
already mentioned in sect. 121 as Joule’s equivalent). This
is called the conversion of heat into mechanical energy.
The efficiency of the fluid in a heat-engine is the pro¬
portion which the heat converted into mechanical energy
bears to the whole heat received by the water or other
fluid; and the theoretical or maximum value of that effi¬
ciency depends solely upon the respective temperatures at
which the fluid receives heat and rejects the unconverted
heat, according to the following law :—Let tx represent the
temperature at which the fluid receives heat, and f the
temperature at which it rejects the unconverted heat, as
measured from the absolute zero; that is, from a point
493°'2 Fahrenheit, or 274° Centigrade, below the tem¬
perature of melting ice. (Temperatures so measured are
called absolute temperatures.) Then maximum theoretical
efficiency of the water or other fluid in a steam-engine or
other heat-engine—
JlZb (111.)
n
The necessary loss of heat by the fluid is jof the wffiole
7
heat received by it; and any loss beyond this is waste.
M E C
The theoretical efficiency of the steam in ordinary steam- Mechlin,
engines seldom exceeds £th; the greatest actual efficiency
is about ^th; the efficiency in good ordinary engines is
about 0-1 or 0*08, and in bad and wasteful engines 0-04, or
even less. (For details, see Steam-Engine.)
169. (E.) Electricity and Magnetism.—Electricity de¬
veloped by chemical action in a galvanic battery has been
to a small extent used to produce mechanical energy by
alternately magnetizing and unmagnetizing soft-iron bars.
The data for determining the actual efficiency of such
engines are deficient. Their theoretical efficiency depends
on the following law demonstrated by Mr Joule :—
Let denote the strength of the electric current which
would be developed in the conducting wire of the battery
if there were no iron bar to be magnetized ; y2 the strength
to which the current is reduced by the reaction of the iron
bar, tending to induce a contrary current. rI hen the theo¬
retical efficiency of the engine is
AT-X?. ..... (112.)
7l
The proportion of the energy expended, which is neces¬
sarily lost, is -, and is employed in producing heat in the
71
conducting circuit.
This law is exactly analogous to that of the theoretical
efficiency of heat-engines given in equation 111.
There is reason to believe that electro-magnetic engines
are capable of a higher efficiency than heat-engines; but
the greater cost of the materials consumed renders them
much less economical commercially.
170. Transformation of Energy in General.—The laws
of the efficiency of heat-engines and electro-magnetic en¬
gines are particular cases of a general law which regulates
all transformations of energy. (See Proceedings of the
Philosophical Society of Glasgow, January 1853; Edin¬
burgh Philosophical Journal, July 1855.)
171. Recent Authorities—On the subject of applied
mechanics in general the following are some of the best
recent authorities:—Poncelet, Mecanique Industrielle ;
Morin, Notions Fondamentales de Mecanique ; Moseley’s
Mechanics of Engineering and Architecture ; Whewell’s
Mechanics of Engineering. Other authorities have been
referred to in the course of the article. (w. j. m. k.)
MECFILIN (Flemish Mechelen, French Malines), a
town of Belgium, province of Antwerp, in the midst of a
rich level country on both sides of the Dyle, 14 miles
S.S.E. of Antwerp. The town is well built, and has broad
and clean streets, as well as a large and handsome square
called the Place d’Armes. The most remarkable edifice
in Mechlin is the cathedral, built in the fifteenth century,
and dedicated to St Rombaud. This fine building, which
is in the Gothic style of architecture, has a square tower
348 feet in height, with a fine peal of bells; and although
in its present state it is nearly as high as St Paul’s in Lon¬
don, yet, according to the original design, it was to have
been surmounted by a spire which would have made the
total height 640 feet. Even the present tower, however,
is out of all proportion to the body of the building. The
cathedral contains a picture of the Last Supper by Rubens,
which, though in some respects a fine picture, is not con¬
sidered on the whole to be a favourable specimen of its
artist, and is not in a good state of preservation. There
are several side-chapels containing pictures, of which the
most celebrated is the “ Crucifixion,” by Vandyke, which
was declared by Sir Joshua Reynolds to be not only the
best of the productions of that painter, but also one of the
finest paintings in the w'orld. The pulpit is adorned with
a carved representation of the Conversion of St Paul.
There are several other churches in Mechlin, some ot
which contain pictures by Rubens. Of these, the finest is
that of the “ Adoration of the Magi,” in the church of St
John. The other remarkable buildings in Mechlin are,—
the archbishop’s palace, a modern edifice, which, though
plain, is handsome; the Beguinage, an asylum for aged
women, having a chapel with a beautiful front attached;
the arsenal and cannon foundry ; and the town-hall. I he
town also possesses a college, an academy of paintings, a
society of fine arts, a botanic garden, and several chai itable
institutions. Mechlin has long been distinguished by the
manufacture of fine lace ; but this branch ot industry has in
the present day much fallen off, and there are now only
eight houses in operation; while the lace made heie is
coarser and less valuable than that of Brussels. There aie
also manufactures of straw and felt hats, woollen and linen
fabrics, oil, leather, candles, paper, &c. Mechlin pos¬
sesses several breweries, and the beer which is produced
is of a peculiar quality, and acquires, when kept, a flavour
resembling that of wine. Among the articles for which
Mechlin is famous is a sort of gingerbread, and the de¬
jeuner de Malines, a dish much esteemed by epicures,
made up of pigs’ ears and feet, along w ith other ingredients.
Mecklen¬
burg.
M E C
Mechoacan The trade of the place is considerable ; the principal articles
are corn, oil, hemp, and flax, together with the various
products of manufacture. The town also derives much
/ importance from its situation on a navigable river and a
canal to Louvain, as well as from being the place of junc¬
tion of four lines of railway. The earliest period to which
the history of Mechlin can be traced is the fifth century ;
when it seems to have been a place of some importance,
and the capital of a lordship. It then belonged to the
French. It was sacked by the Normans in the ninth cen¬
tury ; and in 910 was given over to the Bishop of Liege.
In the fourteenth century it had risen to great importance ;
but in alter times it suffered many calamities, especially
from the ravages of war. Sacked by the Spanish troops in
1572, it was again taken, six years after, by the Prince of
Orange. Mechlin was captured by Marlborough in 1706,
and by the French in 1746. Finally, it was again taken
by the French in 1792, by whom, in 1804, its fortifica¬
tions were destroyed. Pop. (1851) 30,372.
MECHOACAN, a province of Mexico. (See Mexico.)
MECKEL, Johann Friedreich, was born at Halle in
1781, of a family of some note in the annals of medicine.
On receiving his doctor’s degree at the university of his
native town, he already gave evidence of the possession of
distinguished talents'for physical research by his inaugural
thesis De Conditionibus Cordis Abnormibus. Flaving di¬
rected his attention almost exclusively to the study of com¬
parative anatomy, he undertook travels into Germany,
Italy, and France, to widen the sphere of his observation,
and perfect his knowledge of his favourite science. After
his return to Halle in 1809, he published a translation of
the Lemons d’Anatomic Comparee of Cuvier, enriched with
notes containing new and interesting observations. He
was subsequently appointed professor of anatomy and phy-
siology in his native university ; and gave to the world in
1813 his Essay on Comparative Anatomy, which formed a
fitting prelude to his great work, System des Veryleicken-
den Anatomic, 5 tom., Leipsic, 1821-31, which estab¬
lished Meckel’s scientific reputation. In addition to various
memoirs on anatomy, he likewise published a work entitled
Tabulcc Anatomico-Pathologicce, modos omnes quibus par-
tium corporis humani omnium forma interna atque ex¬
terna d norma reced'd, exhibentes, Lipsiae, 4 vols. fob,
1817-26. He laboured fora long time with great indus¬
try in perfecting the excellent collection commenced by
Red, and known at the present day by the name of the
Physiological Archives of Meckel, 12 vols. 8vo, Halle,
1815-1827. After gaining for himself a distinguished name
among the most eminent scientific men of Germany, he died
at Halle on the 13th of October 1833, aged fifty-two years.
MECKLENBURG, a territory of Northern Germany,
lying between 53. 8. and 54. 2. N. Lat., and between 10. 40.
and 13. 45. E. Long., is bounded on the N. by the Baltic,
E. and S. by Prussia, and W. by Hanover, Denmark, and
Liibeck. It consists of the two grand duchies of Mecklen-
burg-Schwerin and Mecklenburg-Strelitz; and has a total
area of 5588 square miles.
1. Mecklenburg-Schwerin consists of a low tract of
country, forming part of the plain of N. Germany. It is,
however, by no means destitute of elevations or depres¬
sions ; these are numerous, but not very marked ; and the
only hills of any importance in the duchy are those of the
Ruhneburg, which separate the waters of the Elbe from
those of the Baltic; but they do not exceed 600 feet in
height. The duchy contains numerous lakes of consider¬
able size, the largest of which, Lake Muritz, is 18 miles
in length by 8 in breadth. The principal rivers are,—
the Trave, Stepenitz, Warnow, Recknitz, and Peene, flow¬
ing into the Baltic ; and the Elde and Havel, which join
the Elbe. I he sea-coast is not much indented, but there
are a few large bays, of which the most extensive is that of
M E C
419
w ismar. In some places the shore is steep and elevated, Mecklen-
and in others low and sandy. The nature of the soil varies burg,
very considerably in different parts. On each side of the
central ridge there is a tract of land consisting of sandy
heaths and moors; near the sea, too, the country is of a
sandy character; but the greater part of the surlace con¬
sists of rich and fertile ground, covered in some places with
large forests, and presenting in general a picturesque and
lively aspect. The scenery of many of the lakes and of
the sea-coast is very beautiful. Although the climate of
Mecklenburg is mild, the cold in winter is severe ; and the
moisture of the soil and atmosphere gives rise to frequent
fogs, which render the country somewhat unhealthy. The
people are chiefly employed in agriculture; and the land
is divided into extensive farms, which are well cultivated.
The principal crops raised are,—wheat, rye, barley, oats,
peas, beans, potatoes, and turnips. The timber from the
forests, and which consists of oak, beech, and fir, is of ex¬
cellent quality. Horses, cattle, and sheep, are numerous
in the duchy, and of good breed. Mecklenburg, besides,
has large herds of swine, which wander over the country ;
and extraordinary numbers of geese, which stock the rivers
and lakes, and which supply a great part of Europe with
quills, and are much esteemed for their large size and ex¬
cellent quality. Minerals exist but scantily, and mines not
at all, in Mecklenburg. The manufactures consist chiefly
of linen and woollen stuffs ; while there are also breweries,
distilleries, cotton factories, paper-mills, &c.; but although
encouraged by the government, they are on the whole
unimportant. The trade of Mecklenburg is of more value,
and consists in the export of agricultural and manufacturing
produce. This flourishing condition of commerce is to be
ascribed in a great measure to the favourable position of
the country between the Baltic and the Elbe, and to the
comparative freedom of the trade from the restrictions of
duties and imposts. The peasantry were till a recent
period in a state of serfdom, such as was common through¬
out Europe in the middle ages; but the last trace of
this disappeared by law in 1820, and in fact in 1825.
A great part of the inhabitants are nobles ; but of these
the greater number, though “ proud of pedigree, are poor
of purse,” and are obliged to condescend often to the
most menial employments to gain a livelihood. The
executive power of the duchy is in the hands of the so¬
vereign ; and the legislature consists of two estates—the
landowners, amounting to about 572 ; and the deputies of
the 44 towns, who are more than 200 in number. This
body forms the legislature of the two duchies together,
and meets annually, alternately at Sternberg and Malchin.
They have, however, no power to originate motions, but
must decide on the proposals submitted to them by the
sovereign. The established religion, and that of the ma¬
jority of the people, is Lutheran ; there are, however, a
few Calvinists, Romanists, and Jews. The duchy contains
a university at Rostock, and many public schools' throuMi-
out the country. The revenue of Mecklenburg-Schwerin
for the year ending June 1854 amounted to L.480,193,
and the expenditure to L.500,211. Pop. (1854) 538,997!
2. Mecklenburg-Strelitz is distinguished by the same
general physical features as the other duchy. The sur¬
face, however, is in general lower than Mecklenburg-
Schwerin ; and the inhabitants are, like those in the ad¬
joining district, chiefly employed in agriculture. The 'm-
vernment is of the same nature as that of Mecklenbur<>--
Schwerin, with which it is very closely connected ; and the
two duchies together hold the fourteenth place in the
Geiman Confederation, and have a single vote in the
be ect Council. In the full diet, however, Mecklenburg-
*“Chwerin has two suffrages, and Mecklenburg-Strelitz only
one. Pop. (1851)99,628.
I he most ancient inhabitants of Mecklenburg were the
420 MED
Medals Vandals, who afterwards migrated southwards, and the
II country was taken possession of by the Obotriti and other
Medea. g]avonic nations. The ancestor of the present ducal
family of Mecklenburg was Pribislav, who was made a
prince of the empire by Charles IV. in 1340. Mecklen¬
burg was afterwards given by Ferdinand II. to Wallen¬
stein, and was conquered in more recent times by Napo¬
leon ; but the reigning family was always restored, and in
1815 assumed the title of Grand Dukes. The House of
Mecklenburg is thus one of the most ancient in Europe ;
and by the marriage of a princess of that family to George
III. of England, is connected with the royal family of
Great Britain.
MEDALS. See Numismatics.
MEDE, Joseph, a learned English divine, was born at
Berden in Essex in October 1586. While attending school
at Wetherfield in his native county, he taught himself
Hebrew from a copy of Bellarmine’s Grammar, which he
had picked up during a visit to London. He entered
Christ’s College, Cambridge, at the age of sixteen, and took
his degree of M.A. in 1610. At this time his accomplish¬
ments and his devotion to study might have set him on a
fair road to church preferment; but, passionately fond of
academic retirement, he settled down contentedly in a
fellowship which he obtained through the interest of Bishop
Andrews. Soon after this he was appointed reader of the
Greek lectures of Sir Walter Mildmay’s foundation, an
office which he occupied till his death. The time not oc¬
cupied with these duties was spent in the study of history,
both sacred and profane, and in applying his acquisitions in
that branch of knowledge to the elucidation of Holy Writ.
In 1618 he took the degree of Bachelor of Divinity, and
modesty alone prevented him from taking that of Doctor.
In 1627 Archbishop Usher paid a tribute to his learning
and worth by recommending him to the provostship of
Trinity College, Dublin ; but this appointment Mede de¬
clined, nor had he altered his mind when the offer was
repeated in 1630. Not less remarkable for piety than for
learning, he was a strenuous promoter of the design for the
universal pacification among Protestants; and he regularly
devoted a tithe of his income to charitable and pious pur¬
poses. He died in October 1638.
Mede’s principal work is his ClavisApocalyptica, published
in 1627, and translated into English in 1643. According
to Bishop Hurd, it was the first rational attempt to interpret
the Apocalypse. A collection of Mede’s works was pub¬
lished, with a Life by Dr Worthington, in 1 vol. folio, Lon¬
don, 1672.
MEDEA, a celebrated sorceress in Greek mythology,
was the daughter of JEetes, King of Colchis. Her mother
is variously supposed to have been Idyia, Eurylyte, Hecate,
and Antiope. (Apollod. i., Schol. Apollon, iii., Schol. Hesiod.
957, Hygin. 25.) Medea first appears in fabulous history
at the time when the Argonauts landed in her father’s
kingdom. She then became enamoured of Jason, the
leader of the expedition, and promised him her assistance
on condition that she should become his wife and return
with him to Greece. By her magical arts the Golden
Fleece, the object of the enterprise, was obtained, and she
set sail with her betrothed in the ship Argo. JEetes, how¬
ever, gave chase, and was on the point of overtaking the
fugitives, when Medea murdered her brother Absyrtus,
tore him to pieces, and strewed the sea with his bleeding
limbs. T he father tarried to gather up the remains of his
son, and his daughter escaped, and continued on her
course towards lolcus, the native city of her husband. On
arriving at the land ot the Phaeacians, the Argonauts and
their companions were overtaken by the Colchians, who
demanded the restoration of Medea. The case was then
brought before Alcinous, King of Phaeacia, who decided
that Medea must be given up unless she was married to
MED
Jason; but, by the assistance of his wife Arete, the mar- Medellin
riage was hurriedly performed, and Jason was allowed to H
take his wife with him to lolcus, without any further
delay or hinderance. There Jason learned for the first
time that his brother had been murdered, and that his
father and mother had been driven to commit suicide
by the ruler Pelias. He therefore called upon Medea
to employ all her arts for the purpose of revenge. The
sorceress summoning the daughters of Pelias, showed
them by actual experiment how an animal might be restored
to youth by being seethed in a cauldron, and persuaded
them to try the same process on their aged father. The
limbs of Pelias failed to be revived, and thus the revenge
of Jason was glutted. Owing to this barbarous deed,
Medea and her husband were forced to quit lolcus. An¬
other version of the story is given by Ovid, who relates
that on his return to lolcus, Jason found his father Jison
still alive, and that he was restored to youth by the arts of
Medea. Medea and Jason then fled to Corinth, and
there, after the lapse of ten years, Jason fell in love with
Glauce or Creusa, daughter of Creon, King of Thebes. Full
of revenge at being thus deserted, Medea presented her
rival with a poisonous garment, which, as soon as it was put
on, consumed its new owner to ashes. She then killed her
own sons, Pheres and Mermerus, and escaping from the
enraged father, fled through the air in a chariot drawn
by winged dragons. Alighting at Athens, she underwent
the purification for murder, and was then married to King
JEgeus. In no long time, however, she began to plot the
destruction of Theseus, the son of her husband by a for¬
mer marriage; but her intentions having been discovered,
she was again compelled to mount her airy chariot and
flee. According to one account, she repaired to Asia and
gave to the nation of the Medes their name. (Paus. ii.,
Ovid. Met. vii.) But other authorities state that she re¬
turned to her native Colchis, and, with the aid of her son
Medus, restored her father ^Eetes to his throne. (Apollodor.
i.) Medea is also said to have become latterly reconciled
to Jason. (Tacit. Ann. vi.) After death she was married
to Achilles in the Elysian Fields. (Schol. Apollon, iv.)
The story of Medea is the subject of several tragedies.
Those of Euripides and Seneca are the most famous.
MEDELLIN, a city of South America, capital of a pro¬
vince of the same name, in the department of Cundinamarca,
New Granada, is situated on the Porse, a small affluent of
the Cauca, 40 miles S.E. of Antioquia. It carries on a
considerable trade in the products of the district; and had
in 1851, 14,800 inhabitants.
MEDGYES, Mediasch, or MEDWisCH,a royal free town
of Transylvania, capital of a district of the same name,
stands on the left bank of the Great Kokel, 38 miles E. of
Carlsburg. It is surrounded by walls, with six gates ; and
has a Roman Catholic, Calvinistic, and Greek churches, a
Franciscan monastery, and a gymnasium with small library.
It has some trade in wine, the produce of the district.
Pop. 6200.
MEDIA, a country in the western part of Asia, was
bounded, according to Ptolemy, on the N. by part of the
Caspian Sea; on the S. by Persia proper, Susiana, and
Assyria; on the E. by Parthiaand Hyrcania ; and on the W.
by Armenia and Assyria. It was anciently divided into
the provinces of Tropatene, Charomithrene, Darites, Mar-
ciane, Amariace, and Syro-Media. In a later division,
however, all these were reduced to two—Media Magna,
and Media Atroptia, or Atropatene. Media Magna was
bounded by Susiana, Parthia, Hyrcania, the Caspian Sea,
and Atropatene, and contained the cities of Ecbatana,
Hamadan, Laodicea, Ragae, &c. The greater part of Media
Magna is lofty and mountainous, with a cold climate, espe¬
cially in the northern parts. The southern region, how¬
ever, consisting of plains and valleys, was in the time of
Media.
. Strabo productive of all sorts of vegetables, except the
°hve. Ibis region was also celebrated for its pasturage
and for its horses; the Nissan plain especially being de¬
voted to the rearing of those animals, and containing the
royal herds of the Persian monarchs, amounting, it was
said, to no less than 50,000 in number. This country, in
addition to the money tribute, supplied to the Persian
empire 30,000 horses, 40,000 mules, and 100,000 sheep;
so great at that time were its pastoral riches. (Strabo, xi.,
p. 525.) Media Atroptia, or Atropatene, lay between
the Caspian Mountains and the Caspian Sea. Media de¬
rived its narne from Madai, the third son of Japhet; as is
plam from Scnpture, where the Medes were constantly
called Medai. Amongst profane authors, Strabo derives
the name from Medus, the son of Jason and Medea, others
10m Medea herself, and some from the medial position of the
country. Sextus Rufus tells us that in his time it was called
Medena ; and from Herodotus we learn that its inhabitants
were called Ani.
The government of the various tribes into which the
country was divided was originally monarchical, and they
seem to have had their own kings even in the earliest
times. They were first brought under a foreign yoke by
Pul said to have been the founder of the Assyrian mo¬
narchy, or by his immediate successor Tiglath-Pileser. From
the time of Pul, or Tiglath-Pileser, who succeeded his
father in the year 740 b.c., they remained subject to the
Assyrians till about the latter end of the reign of Senna¬
cherib, 710 B.C., when, emancipating themselves from
Assyrian bondage, they fell into a state of anarchy. It was
accordingly found necessary to appoint a king; upon which
Dejoces was named to the sovereignty, and with universal
applause placed upon the throne 710 b.c. No sooner had
he been vested with the supreme power, than he threw off
the mask and became a tyrant. Ecbatana was built and
chosen for the royal residence, and a stately palace was
erected. Dejoces having enacted various laws for the
government of the kingdom, and having in a considerable
degree civilized his unpolished subjects, entertained thoughts
of extending the limits of his new kingdom, and with this
view he invaded Assyria. Nebuchodonosor, however, at that
time king of Assyria, met him in the plain of Rhagae, and
a battle ensued, in which the Medes were utterly defeated
and Dejoces was slain, after a reign, according to Hero¬
dotus, of fifty-three years. The Assyrian king, followim,
up his success, reduced several cities of Media, and almost
utterly destroyed Ecbatana. Dejoces was succeeded by his
son Phraortes 647 B.c. This prince, not satisfied with the
kingdom of Media, invaded Persia, and is said to have
brought that nation under subjection. Such is the account of
Heiodotus. Others, however, ascribe the conquest of Persia
not to I hraortes, but to his son and successor Cyaxares.
raortes, however, subdued several neighbouring nations,
and made himsdf master of almost all Upper Asia, lying
between Mount Taurus and the River Halys. Emboldened
by his success, he invaded Assyria, subdued a great part
of the country and even laid siege to Nineveh, the metro-
polis. He fell before that city in the twenty-third year of
his reign. J
His son Cyaxares was not less valiant and enterprising
than his father, and had better success against the Assyrians
With the remains of that army which had been defeated
under Phraortes, he not only drove the conquerors out of
Media, but obliged Chyniladan to shut himself up in
Nineveh. To this place he immediately laid close siege-
but was obliged to abandon the enterprise on account of an
irruption of the Scythians into his own country. Cyaxares
engaged these new enemies with great resolution, but was
utterly defeated; and the conquerors overran not only all
M Ei 1) I A.
Media, but the greater part of Upper Asia, extending their
conquests into Syria, and as far as the confines of E«-ypt
they continued masters of this vast tract of country for
twenty-eight years, till at last Media was delivered from
tneir yoke by a general massacre at the instigation of
I he Medes afterwards encountered the Lydians; and
urmg the engagement there happened a total eclipse of
t ie sun, which is said to have been foretold by Thales the
Milesian. Roth nations were terrified, and soon afterwards
concluded a peace by the mediation of Nebuchadnezzar,
King of Babylon, and Syennesis, King of Cilicia. This
peace was confirmed by the marriage of Aryenis, the
g ten of Halyattes, and Astyages, the eldest son of
vlTn65 ’’ andTT)f t llS niarriaee was born in the ensuing
year Cyaxares II., who, in the book of Daniel, ch. v. 31,
is called Darius the Mede. Cyaxares, disengaged from the
Lydian war, resumed the siege of Nineveh; and having
foimea a strict alliance with Nebuchadnezzar, Kino- 0f
tbJ1r^yj0rtt^ir forces> and took and destroyed
ie city (60o b.c.). With this prosperous event commenced
tie great successes of Nebuchadnezzar and Cyaxares ; and
thus was laid the foundation of the two collateral empires,
as they may be called, of the Medes and Babylonians
which rose upon the ruins of the Assyrian monarchy!
ter the reduction of Nineveh, the two conquerors led
the confederate army against Pharaoh-Necho, King of
Egypt, defeated him near the Euphrates, and compelled
bun to resign what he had formerly taken from the Assv-
nans. After this victory they reduced all Ccelesyria and
Phoenicia; they then invaded and laid waste Samaria,
ia dee, and Scythopohs; and at last besieged Jerusalem,
and took Jehoiakim prisoner. Nebuchadnezzar afterwards
pursued his conquests in the West, and Cyaxares subdued
the Assyrian provinces of Armenia, Pontus, and Cappa¬
docia. Again uniting their forces, they reduced Persia
and Susiana, and accomplished the conquest of the Assy¬
rian empire. The prophet Ezekiel (ch. xxxii. 22, &c.)
enumerates the chief nations who were subdued and
buchadnezza^ ^ tW° concluerors Cyaxares and Ne-
After this victory the Babylonian and Median empires
seem to have been united; but upon the death of Ne-
buchadnezzar, or rather towards the close of his life, a war
ensued, which was only extinguished by the dissolution of
the Babylonian empire. The Medes, under Astyages, the
son of Cyaxares I., withstood the power of the Babylonian
monarchs, and, under Cyrus and Cyaxares II., utterly
destroyed their empire by the taking of Babylon. After
the death of Cyaxares II. the kingdom fell to Cyrus, bv
whom the seat of the empire was transferred to Persia.
L ter tlle tlme °f Cyrus, the union between the Medes and
Persians became so close that many of the customs of the
lattei are believed to have been derived from Media • and
the name by which the Persians were known to the Greeks
that of Medes, while in sacred history they are always
called Medes and Persians. On the dismemberment of
the Persian empire they came under the dominion of the
Seleucidae, and subsequently of the Partisans.
1 he Medes were fond of eauestrian i
great adepts m archery. The priests of the Median TeR6
gion were called Ma<?i ; and the principal objects of wor‘
ship were the sun, moon, and five nlanets Ti *
concentric walls of Ecbatana the canLl 1 f S€^en
by the discove v ^SCr'Pt,101! !*“ recently confirmed
oy me discovery of similarly co cured terrares at Rirc
Nimroud, near the ruins of Babylon
421
Media.
422
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
History. The connection between medicine and legislation had
v —— y — ^ been perceived long before it was considered as a peculiar
branch of study, or had even obtained a distinctive appella¬
tion. Since its importance has been recognized, it is known
in Germany, the country in which it took its rise, by the
name of State Medicine; in Italy and in France it is
termed Legal Medicine, and with us it is usually deno¬
minated Medical Jurisprudence, or Forensic Medi¬
cine. It is founded on the relations which ought to subsist
between human nature and social institutions, and con¬
sists in the application of the principles of medical science
to the administration of justice, and to the preservation ot
the public health. Its nature and objects will be best elu¬
cidated by a sketch of its progress.
HISTORY OE LEGAL MEDICINE.
Notwithstanding the importance of the objects which it
embraces, and their intimate relation to the interests ot so¬
ciety, the true origin of Medical Jurisprudence is of com¬
paratively recent date. It is true that traces of its princi¬
ples may be perceived in very remote times. In the Mosaic
institutions the judges are enjoined to consult the priests,
who were the sole physicians of that age and country, on
the modes of distinguishing leprosy from other diseases, on
the marks of defloration, and the examination ot wounds.
In the slight notices handed down to us of the ancient code
of Egypt, attributed to Menes, we may observe one trace
of the "influence of medicine on legislation, in the law which
forbade the infliction of corporal punishment on a pregnant
female ; but among the ancient states of Greece the prin¬
ciples of medical science, though successfully cultivated,
seem scarcely to have been applied to legislation, except
in certain questions respecting the legitimacy of children,
a subject on which the notions even of Aristotle were not
very definite. In the writings of Galen, however, we find
more distinct traces of legal medicine ; as in his various re¬
marks on the difference between the lungs of a foetus and
of an adult, in his treatise on simulated diseases, and in
his observations on the legitimacy of seven months chil-
dr<The laws of ancient Rome were borrowed from Greece,
and we could scarcely expect to find in them a more re¬
fined legislation ; but it is worthy of notice, that the laws
of the Twelve Tables fix on 300 days as the extreme dura¬
tion of utero-gestation, the precise term fixed by the Code-
Napoleon. Some writers contend that the Roman law
authorized the inspection of dead bodies by medical men,
because of the twenty-three wounds by which Caesar fell,
the physician Antistius pronounced one only mortal; and
because Tacitus has spoken of the marks of poison on the
bodies of Germanicus and Agricola : yet we have no proof
that such opinions were required by any positive law, or
that the judge was in the habit of demanding the assistance
of the physician. In the Justinian code, however, we find
more obvious traces of the relation between medicine and
law ; as in the titles De statu Hominum ; De Pcenis et
Manumissis ; De Sicariis ; De Inspiciendo ventre Custo-
diendoque partu ; De Muliere quce peperit undecimo men-
se ; De Impotentid ; De Hermaphroditis : yet in the Jus-
tinian code it was not by the testimony of living medical
witnesses that such quesions were to be decided, but “ on
the authority of the learned Hippocrates.”
It was chiefly on questions of medical police, as to what History,
regarded the salubrity of cities and stations, that tne ancient
Greek or Roman magistrates had recourse to medical
assistance ; and it appears that it was to such subjects that
the public functions of the Archiater of the lower empire
were confined. _ _ ,
Medical Jurisprudence, as a science, cannot date farther
back than the 16th century. Various German emperors
had in vain attempted the introduction of an uniform crimi¬
nal code ; but George, bishop of Bamberg, in 1507, pro¬
claimed a penal code, drawn up for his states by Baron
Schwartzenberg, in which the necessity of medical evi¬
dence, in certain cases, was recognized: and though this
improvement was for some time resisted by the greatest
part of Germany, the emperor Charles V. eventually suc¬
ceeded in persuading the diet of Ratisbon, in 1532, to adopt
a uniform code of German penal jurisprudence, founded on
that of Bamberg, in which the civil magistrate vas,
in all cases of doubt or difficulty, enjoined to obtain the evi¬
dence of medical witnesses ; as in cases of personal injuries,
infanticide, murders by poison or other means, pretended
pregnancy, simulated diseases, &c. The celebrated uo/i-
stitutio Criminalis Carolina was published in 1553 ; this
must be considered as the true dawn of Legal Medicine,
and Germany the country which gave it birth. To the
same country must be ascribed the glory of having hist
thrown the shield of medical science over the victims of a
dark fanaticism. The belief in the powers of witches and
sorcerers was in full force in the l6th century.' It is com¬
puted that in Lorrain above 900 persons were burnt alive
within 19 years, for the imputed crime of sorcery; and
that in the Electorate of Treves alone, within a few years,
6500 individuals had perished in the flames for the same ini-
aoinary crime. In Germany and France instances of pretem -
ed demoniacal possession were perpetually occurring ; and at
Freidbergpublic prayers were offered up to assuage that due
affliction. Weiher, physician to William, duke of Cleves,
had the boldness to impugn these superstitious notions, m
a tract published at Basle in 1564, and undertook to prove
that witches and demoniacs ought to be considered as un¬
happy persons subject to hypochondriasis and hysteria,
whose maladies should rather excite pity, than render them
obnoxious to punishment; while he ridiculed the ordinary
modes by which these unfortunate beings were proved to
be guilty of the alleged crimes. This attack on a popular
superstition aroused alike indignation and vengeance against
the daring innovator; and, but for the powerful interces¬
sion of his patron, Weiher himself would have perished in
the flames, from which he had tried to save others.
In the close of that century many treatises on different
branches of Legal Medicine appeared in various countries.
Ambrose Pare wrote on monstrous births, on simulated dis¬
eases, and a memoir on the art of drawing up medical re¬
ports. In 1598 Severin Pineau published at Pans the
treatise De Notis Integritatis et Corruptioms Yirginum;
a book still quoted as an authority. The first system oj
Leqal Medicine appeared about the same time m bici y, in
the work of Fortunate Fidele De Belatiombus Medico-
rum ; in which, as might be expected in his age and coun¬
try, the opinions of the physician are too much warped Dy
his servile deference for the canon law and its clerical ex-
pounde s^^ {)r0gress 0f anatomy in the commencement
JIEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Qu^stimes rf^rZaVchi^Xhtp! excePdo.n of ** rapports m
pear-ed m successive volumes from 1621 to 16.^ • * wil f BIe^ny’ whlch was - ’ 1 ' ’ '
peared in successive volumes from 1621 to lesJ- a wX ^.nirur/™ ot B1egny, which was superseded in the begin-
which will ever be regarded as a landmrk in the Wstorv of T® °i ' succeedi"g “ntury by the more useful X’artrfe
Legal Medicine ; amfwhich, by its leading and CM C/‘”^ ?f D—•
emus indications, in an age in which chemistry was in'its our science commen«<I with happier auspices for
ynfo^r y °ur and the press teemed with important works on
Legal Medicine. As early as 1700 the admirable treatise
cions indications, in an age in ihich chemfst^ S
acumen’ of fl phyS1° ^ very ^perfect, places the medical
able point of vifr °man m a very favour-
The noble discovery of the circulation of the blood gave
‘ neW. 1fht t0 physiological reasoning, which was broadly
reflected on Legal Medicine : and to&Harvey we also owe
sf r*  i
rV  r* " ™ n w uie aamiraDle treatise
nearpd d*sc^ses of artificers by Bernardino Ramazzini ap¬
ed hL P P5dr Jn the following year Valentini publish¬
ed his Pandecta Medico-leg ales ; his Novella appeared in
' / and^°ih w7ere incorporated in the excellent Cor-
?liUriS Medico-legale m 1722. This work contains a
the idea how the application of Galen’s remark resnectino- . uris M^co-legale in 1722. This work contains a
the difference between the adult and the foetal fungs^might 1 vas^storeho ° thaJ.had be™ done before him, and is
be applied to elucidate cases of infanticide S c ^ sto1reh°nse of medico-legal information.
AU„”b -- ’ th^eVer- f°r teaching this subject were about
ucceS o^r^ " the ^ U“es; and the
succession of German writers becomes now so numerous
that we cannot attempt to give a catalogue, far Tess to
characterize their works. Zittman, Boerner, Kannegeiser,
knLTed^d Si6" SySten|^ °,f varioas yet ac-
be applied to elucidate cases of infanticide.
Ahlv appt;ared two valuable treatises by
?,erv» W1 TSeuZ’ ^ ^0tlS Vlr9imtatis, and Examen Vul-
nerum. In the first he maintained that the existence of
e lymen was the real mark of virgin purity ; an inference
wa, mly denied by Orazio Augenio and Pietro Gassendi: in
tne seronn itp nmnfori ^,,4- ^ •   . r* . _
the second be Tno JeleS^ ^
between wounds incidentally ^necessarily fatal.8 & tlu f ^ \ P1\e ^tUutiones Medicinal Legalis of
. In 1663 Thomas Bartholin, a Danish phyfician carefullv and K g f°rmed th,e manual of the stadent: the clear
investigated the period of human utero-g citation’ and pro7 TJtilZ^ rfsomnS of Storch in his work Be Medicinal
PpS^d the Hydrostatic Test, or observin^whethCT the lungs vindicated the bigb
of the infant floated or sunk in water, as proving whether of ?A lirU f f § branch op knowledge : but the Sgsterna
It had ever breatlmd —1_ ^P, . 8 etfier °t Alberti, professor of Legal Medicine at Halle in siv
quarto volumes. WOC   1 i 111 . ?
breathed The rationale of'this prececal
more fully explained by Swammerdam in 1677; but was
first applied to practical use by Jan Schreyer in 1682 : after
having been investigated by Thruston and Rayger.
. .i11 e tbese important steps were in progress, Germany
set the example of the first public prelections on Medical
Junsnriidpnr'o _ r* ^ ,
quarto volumes, was the most complete and laborious work
ever published on this subject. The writings of this learned
man are obscured by his attachment to the mysticism of the
Stahhan school; yet the industry with which he has col¬
lected facts renders his work a precious mine of information.
arii0US addltlons t0 our knowledge were made by the
smaller publications of T.npwo   ^ ^
Jurisprudence. About the middle of the 17th century smaUer Jhf T ,.°rur kn0'*1edge were made by the
Michaelis gave the first course in the university of SS ne^- FHtci 7 w i^o6’ Richter’ Budffius’ TroPPM-
these were soon followed by the lectures of the relphmmri P g ’ bntcb’a^d olff’ Hermann, Clauder, Herzog, and
Bohn, who, before the close of the cent^, hrf niwuhld cITto’ ^ valuable to those who ^y“e
his valuable worts 2)e A,Germany. I„y,he
taltones Medicinal Foremis, which were speedily succeeded of those X i N .'’"“I1"1 wil1 be fti™1 the names
by the tract Z)e Offiaiis Medici Duplicis) ClinicUt Fcren- of n^tfclr b. n 7 u? themsd''e» to the illustration
sls- Ibe two first were nearly contemporary with the in ri / A bran7ches of this extensive subject; and in the
vestigations of Welsch and Amman Z the fataHtu ^f thfbfs °f ¥Ie^el wiI1 be found some of
wounds, and the celebrated work of Licetus DeMonstrJ- last ^^iturvot Xt E ^ three-fourths of the
and the latter with the valuable Sepulchretum of Bonnet. ’ cide ut^roLeLu SUbj6 • °f W°1Unds’ poisoninfer’ infanti-
The mode of conducting medico-legal investigations had dead’ hnd- g ^tion, insanity, and the legal inspection of
attracted attention in France, from the time of Ambrose voloaia /?' 4boatdle same tirne appeared the Anthro-
Pare, through the 17th century. French authors love to 1^re7lsist.of Hebenstreit, the Spccimena of Furs-
trace the rudiments of the science in their country from the Fazelius ThT W°/ Budwig’ the Elementa of
12 th century, in the rules given in the Assizes of Jerusalem period thnno-h f tures ot Haller belong to this same
for drawing up exemptions from certain civil and military war^’the efo^n/fE61'? T pubbsbed tiI1 H81-2. To-
duties, and m several subsequent ordonnances of their almost the nnl f the |ast c.entury» the Germans were
monarchs. for the J   . Leb 01 almost the only successful cultivators of Medical Jurisnr,.
clence. rPllP T-t]]o'mo'Yi+rt r\P   i  f
.  ——unjuiuicixices ox tneir
monarchs, for the inspection of wounds : enactments from
^1?;v/e TVuaoVt116 inSTtdution of the Chirurgiens da
Chatelet. In 1603 Plenn IV. authorized his physician to
appoint persons, skilled in medicine and surgery, to make
judicial inspections and reports in all cities and royal juris
dictions. The difficulty of rarrvino- th;0 iwfw i _
deuce. The Elementa of Plenck appealed "in ITSl^nd
Theb^/-S/f i considered a good introduction to the study.
I he Bibhothek of Daniel appeared in 1784 ; and in it we
find the name of state medicine given to this branch of
knowledge. Between .790 and ,800, appealed the cl
dictions. The difficulty of carrying this into effect induced ^ and 18?0’ aPPe^d the Con-
Louis XIV. to create, in 1692, hereditary royal physicians Metzger and the’??/ of Loder5 the System of
and surgeons, for the same purpose, with vafiouf immnnT TW f tbet^^^r/of Muller,
ties and privileges; but their corruption and venality soon time of^Ramaz^hiD^nd7 'r6 ^ n°ne in ItaIy after thc
became notorious, and the office was suppressed in 1790. ed little attention ,nHI fl th,G subJect bad attract-
Various decrees, however, of the parliament of Paris, called forth the mpm5 the,CTelebrated case of Villeblunche
from the middle to the end of the 17th century, were di frestatinn A ! i n ^ ' ° i L,oms on the period of utero-
rected to the improvement of legal medicine; and that body protracted pregnaL^wfflT^ ^ pretended instances of
acquired great celebrity by the general equity and good Londed b? AstS^
sense of its judgments Notwithstanding this auspicious by Le Bas Ind Antoine Pet^ TR1 Vehemently opposed
commencement, Legal Medicine did not then flourish in to manv ahlp nnRl T Thls controversy gave rise
France ; and the work of Gendry, Sur les Moyens de bien part; Lt lictory rfmab’ed ^ and ^el took
rapporter a Justice, shews how imperfect were the then ap- Louis wrote ainT TdiI h L°mS and his adberents.
proved modes of investigation; though it proves that the examination of bodies 111 °n the domical
importance of the subject began to be acknowledged. No mode bv whirh ™,p uiind banSed5 be pointed out the
other French work on Legal Medicine appeared in that sOOTde
rcumstances. He applied them to the
424
medical jurisprudence.
History.
celebrated cases of Galas, of Syrven, Montbaillet, and Baro-
' net in which are models of medico-legal investigation ; and
he may be considered as the first who publicly taught in
France the just application of medical knowledge to juns-
prudence. ect of p0jsoning was examined by Sallin, in a
case where a person had been buried sixty-seven days ; and
he made a very ingenious attempt to investigate the effects
of poisons ; but has sometimes substituted speculation for
facts*
In 1789 professor Chaussier read his excellent Memoire
before the Academy of Dijon ; in which he shewed the
necessity of careful inspection by the medical witness in all
cases of death from blows or wounds, and gave admirable
models of medico-legal reports. Next year he delivered a
course of lectures on Legal Medicine to numerous pupils.
The last year but one of the last century gave to the
•world the very excellent Traite de Medecine Legale of
Fodere. ,
It may excite surprise that in this sketch we have made
no mention of British authors. The fact is, that with the
exception of the short Elements of Medical Jurisprudence
published by Dr. Samuel Farr in 1788, which is little else
but an abridgement of Fazelius, there was no treatise on
Forensic Medicine in the English language.
It is true that some medico-legal questions are ably but
incidentally treated in the writings of Mead, Monro, Den¬
man, Percival, and John Hunter, and that an interesting
Essay was published by Dr. Wm. Hunter “ On the uncer¬
tainty of the signs of murder in the case of bastard chil¬
dren but the importance of the study, as a whole, was
not understood in this country till long after the publication
of many valuable systems in Germany, Italy, and France.
In the present century France took the lead. The
end of the last century was marked by the institution of
three professorships of Forensic Medicine. Mahon was
the first French professor, and his reputation as a teacher
gave him a name, which the posthumous publication of his
lectures has not sustained. The short Cours de Medicine
Legale of Belloc appeared in 1802. Tartra’s excellent
Essay on Poisoning by Nitric Acid was published in the
same year, between which and the year 1810 various short
treatises appeared, chiefly on detached branches by Ach-
art, Drouard, Lavort, Masson, Faulaure, Desortieux, Vigne,
Lamarre, Banc-Cave, Godemar, Raffenaut, De Lisle, and
F aure.
In 1814 appeared the important Toxicologic of Orfila, (a
Spaniard naturalized in France), which has changed the
face of this part of Medical Jurisprudence, by the number
of experiments, the original views on the nature and action
of poisons, and the disquisitions on the modes of detecting
them, it contains. The French practitioner may consult
with advantage the Manuel of Bertrand, published in
1817 ; and the admirable La Medecine Legale relative a
Vart des Accouchemens of Capuron, has scarcely left us any
thing to desire on this branch of the subject. In 1819 ap¬
peared the excellent Essays of Lecieux on Infanticide, of
Renard on Medico-legal examinations of dead bodies, of
Laisne on Perforations of the Stomach, and of Rieux on Ec-
chymosis, Suggillation and Contusion, in the same volume.
Valuable detached essays by Fodere and Marc are con¬
tained in the Dictionnaire des Sciences Medicates : and we
may close our French list with the Manuel of Briand and
Brosson, republished in 1828 ; the Secours a donner aux
Asphyxiees of Orfila, which appeared in 1833 ; and the use¬
ful Manuel Complet of Sedillot.
During the present century Germany has not been idle.
We have good compends by Schmidmfiller, Masius, and
Willberg. Rose published a very valuable essay on Me¬
dico-legal Dissection, which has been translated and en ¬
larged by Marc, (Paris, 1808); and an excellent treatise on History.^
Pharmaco-chemico-Medical Police, was given to the world v v '
by Remer. This last treatise has been translated into
French by Lagrange and Vogel, in 1816. Among many
works which have appeared in Germany of later years,
connected with our subject, we may mention the curious
collection of cases by Von Fuerbach, published in 1828,
entitled Merhwurdiger Verbrechen—Remarkable Crimes ;
the little tract of Drs. Bunsen and Berthold, on the power
of Hydrated Peroxide of Iron as an antidote for Arsenic,
which appeared at Gottingen in 1834; the Contributions
to Legal Medicine of Bernt; and the masterly analysis of
various poisons, by Buchner and Herberger.
Only two medico-legal works of any consequence have
proceeded from the press of Italy within the present cen¬
tury : the Instituzione di Medicina Legale, by Tortosa of
Vicenza, and the Medicina Legale of Barzellotti.
Medical Jurisprudence may fairly be said to have only
commenced in Britain within the present century. The
first lectures ever delivered in Britain were given in the
University of Edinburgh, in 1801, by the elder Dr. Duncan;
and the first established Professorship was conferred by
government on his son in 1803, since which period it has
been regularly taught in that seminary.
The first original British work on Medical Jurisprudence
was Dr Male’s Epitome of Juridical or Forensic Medicine,
for the use of Medical Men, Coroners, and Barristers,
which appeared in 1816; and, though a short sketch, it
contains interesting notices of English cases, and English
law. Medical Jurisprudence, as it relates to Insanity, ac¬
cording to the Law of England, was published, in 1818, by
Dr Haslam, in a little volume, illustrated by original cases.
But the most valuable work then presented to the public,
in an English dress, was the Principles of Forensic Medi¬
cine of Dr Gordon Smith; a volume commendable as an
elementary treatise, less diffuse than most of the continen¬
tal systems, and interesting to the British practitioner, by
the numerous references to British cases and to our nation¬
al codes. In 1820 Dr. William Hutchinson published his
useful dissertation on Infanticide, in which its relation to
physiology and Jurisprudence is very ably considered.
These works were soon followed by the more costly publi¬
cation of Paris and Fonblanque, in three octavo volumes;
in which, among some matter little interesting to the gene¬
ral student, are important references to English Jurispru¬
dence.
The last British work we shall mention is the admirable
Toxicology of Professor Christison, which appeared first in
1829, and has since gone through a second, a third, and a
fourth edition ; a work the most philosophical and perfect
which has yet appeared on the subject of poisons.
It would be improper to pass over the labours of our
trans-atlantic brethren in this branch of science. In 1819
Dr Cooper of Philadelphia republished in America the
treatises of Farr, Male, and Haslam, with the remarks of
Mr Dease, intended for the information of juries and young
surgeons ; a letter originally addressed “ to the Chief Jus¬
tice of Ireland, by a surgeon of that country.” Dr Cooper
added some notes, and a good digest of the laws relating
to insanity and nuisance. Four years afterwards the Ame¬
rican press presented us with the excellent work of Dr
Beck, which is a compend of all known on the subject.
The author has freely availed himself of the writings of his
predecessors ; but his references to original authorities are
copious and correct; and we must consider the last edition
as the best work, on the general subject, which has appeared
in the English language. We may here also notice the
smaller works, Outlines of Medical Jurisprudence, by Pro"
fessor Traill, and the Manual of Medical Jurisprudence of
Dr Alfred Taylor.
MeTine. ,,.Me;IiCal 'IurIsPi;u(lence maybe divided into two great
V ^ y blanches, Forensic Medicine, and Medical Police. The
hrst may be conveniently subdivided into, 1st, Questions
affecting the civil rights, or social duties of individuals;
d, Injuries to Property; 3d, Injuries to the person. The
second part may also be subdivided into, 1st, Questions
affecting the preservation of individuals; 2d, What relates
to the health of men collected into communities.
It is obviously impossible, in the limits of a dissertation
oi this nature, to do much more than allude in general
terms to most of the subjects included under these
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
425
PART I—FORENSIC MEDICINE.
SECTION I QUESTIONS AFFECTING THE CIVIL OR SOCIAL
RIGHTS OF INDIVIDUALS.
mentoTtbe VT™0™3''1, THE FuAME.-The
Body. !1Sual clevelopment of the corporeal and mental powers
becomes of high importance in establishing personal iden
tity, in determminp- oriminal  j • • •
various changes take place are accelerated and retarded by Forensic
constitution, climate, food, habits, education, and occupa- Medicine,
tion. e y _ ^ ^ ,
II Duration of Human Life.—The ordinary chances Duration of
ot human life are an important subject of inquiry, deduced Life.
Irom accurate comparisons of registers of births and deaths.
Un this is founded the system of annuities, the principles
ot benefit societies, and of insurances on lives. Unfortu¬
nately these registers have been so ill kept in Britain, that
our own tables have generally been calculated from foreign
registers, especially those of Sweden and Finland. It°is
w ell known that Dr Price’s calculations, from the Northamp¬
ton tables, gave far too high a rate of mortality; and have
caused much loss to the nation, in the payment of public
annuitants. The later tables, calculated from the last Swe-
dish and Carlisle registers, have proved this most decisively;
and the labours of Messrs. Milne, Lyon, and Finlaison have
since furnished us with surer data for our calculations of pro¬
babilities of survivorship, and the payment of benefit clubs.
Ihe important questions connected with this subject, and the
light which a better system of registration is capable of throw¬
ing on many subjects connected with population, and the
nrnrrrpsc nt W  • 1 . 1 . . ,
tity, in determining criminal responsiMity S in riw TY !,Ubjf,tS with population, and the
validity to various civil contracts/ " ’ S & P ^Srmess medical knowledge, the important civil rights of
J; is the period from birth until the completion marruS§ accu^acy f registers of births,
ot the seventh year; and its progress is best determined bv nfe & u’ n, 1deatlls’. Ilas lnt,,lced the government to
attention to the' size of the body, the evobtion of bs rro7 ! the whole question of registration, and place it on
portions, and the state of the fijt’ “ W'' ^
portions, and the state of the first teeth. Its conclusion is
marked by the loss of the milk incisors, and coming of the
hrst permanent teeth.
2. Childhood may be considered as extending from the
last period to the 14th or 15th year, or the commencement
of puberty. The expansion of the body, the state of the
teeth, and of the genitals, are its principal characteristics.
. Adolescence is marked by changes in the whole con¬
stitution, by the commencement of the beard in males, and
of the catamenia m females; this is of uncertain duration,
but may be considered, with us, as extending to the 17th
or 18tn year.
4. Youth is the period between adolescence and the full
perfection of the bodily powers. In it the generative func¬
tion is perfected. We may consider it as terminating with
the age of egal majority, though probably it should be ex-
tended to the 25th year, as it is with some nations.
o. Virility is that period during which all the bodily
pov ers are perfect, and the mental faculties are matured.
It has no definite bounds in man ; but the perfection of
the bodily powers of the female may be considered as
bounded by the time when the catamenia cease, or woman
is incapable of being a mother. That period is usually
about her 45 th year. It is during this period that all the
bochly and mental faculties have generally acquired their
full perfection in both sexes.
HL—Personal Identity.—To those little familiar Person*
with such inquiries, the danger of mistaking one person for Identity
another will not appear very considerable; but the fatal
errors which have arisen from this source are too well known
m the jurisprudence of every country. It becomes, there-
fore, of consequence to point out the circumstances by
which personal identity may be rendered doubtful, and to
indicate the marks by which it is best established. The
first may include the effects of age, climate, aliment, ha-
bits, passions, wounds, diseases, &c. The circumstances
w nch chiefly enable us to identify one long absent from
his native country are, accurate observation of his likeness to
ms family ; his resemblance to what he once was; in some
instances his dialect; his recollection of past events ; but,
above all, the occurrence of scars, or ruevi materni, known
to have been on the individual in question.
IV77?lAERIv G]?,“_Under this head the Principal busi- Marriage,
ness of the medical jurist is with the nubile age, according
to nature, and legislative enactments; and with physical
circumstances affecting the legality of marriages, which may
justify divorce. 3
1. The nubile age, with us, is not below fourteen for the
male, and twelve for the female, that being the ordinary
period of puberty in our climate ; but young persons may
after this age be prevented from marrying till the age of
majority, by parents and guardians, in England, though this
6. Old has no absolute beginning, fixed by nature,
except in what we have just noticed of the female. It is 9 TLo „• i •
exceedingly difficult to ascertain the ao-e of ner'sons nf m • G P yfical circumstances which may invalidate a
either sex in this period of life, so that no general rule can nhv^icfnnlbilif11^7 m either ofthe Parties at the time, and
be fixed, and the limits of old age on either hand cannot be this last boino- ^ to. c°nsu™mate-. There are instances of
determined. Its general characteristics are stiffness of the ta n dteasPs Ss ^ ^ sustained in our Courts. Cer-
hmbs, wrinkling of the skin, loss of teeth, blanching of the to invalidate’ mmria/rp61}! ?87f ^ m SOme countries
hair, impaired vision, and decay of all the bodily faculties. boL" Wlth USl
; # o    7 ^ uiaiiumng or tne
hair, impaired vision, and decay of all the bodily faculties
Its approaches are often marked by the appearance of fan-
hke wrinkles at the outer canthus of the eye, by increased
obesity, and by the shoulders becoming round.
7. Decrepitude is the last stage of human existence, in
which the bodily vigour is decayed; the knees and spine
are curved, from the inability of the muscles to support the
weight of the superior parts of the body, or by alterations
m the form of the cartilages; the senses are blunted; and
the only refuge is the grave. The periods at which these
VOL. XIV.
V.—Impotence and Sterility may arise from t
1. Functional CWs_Of these, habitual intoxication I'’’p0'“''e
leucorrhcea, dysmenorrlKea, anaphrodisia, &c
in Lh‘:eZ7TtZ7?r maIfratim °f s™'-*
must be cSl bit deficienc5' »f of them. We
06 Care<ul> oonover, not to infer the want of testes,
3 u
MiiDlCAL JURISPRUDENCE.
426
Forensic because none are found in the scrotum. In some indivi-
Medicine. duals they have remained through life in the abdomen, as
—' occurs in the unripe foetus. j. i i
Pregnancy. VI. Pregnancy presents a wide field for medico-legal
evidence.
1. The limits between which it is possible, belong to the
province of the medical jurist. It may be limited to the
period during which the catamenia recur ; but this varies
from under ten to more than fifty years of age. A few re¬
markable instances of impregnation after sixty are recorded;
and instances of very early puberty also have occurred, even
so early as about four years ; but these are exceptions to a
general rule, which should be kept in mind, in judging of
imputed pregnancy.
2. The signs of true pregnancy should be impressed on
the mind of the jurist; for he may be called to determine
whether a capital sentence is to be suspended on this plea,
or whether an accusation of pregnancy may not, from the
effect of disease, be made against a virtuous female. It h in
the early months that the principal risk of error lies. The
usual signs are, the cessation of the catamenia, the darken¬
ing of the areola round the nipple, the general state of the
breasts, the state of the os uteri, the form of the womb as
felt over the pubes ; and as the pregnancy advances, the
tumefaction of the abdomen, and the motions of the foetus.
At this period, the stethoscope, applied to the abdomen, af¬
fords a certain indication. The female, for this last exami¬
nation, should be in bed, lying on her back, with a sheet
drawn smoothly over the abdomen : place the stethoscope
between the navel and the pubes, and an attentive ear will
readily distinguish two sounds ; a tvhirring one, synchro¬
nous with the maternal pulse; and the pulsations of the
foetal heart, considerably quicker and of a sharper tone.
3. Limits of Utero-gestation. Pregnancy may be pro¬
tracted beyond nine months, or forty weeks, its usual term ;
but not so considerably as was once imagined. Ihe Jus¬
tinian and some modern codes were very indulgent in this
respect. Ten kalendar months, or three hundred days, is
the extreme limit allowed by the present French code ;
the Prussian extends it to three hundred and two days, a
period sufficient to include every case of protracted preg¬
nancy. The law of England at present has no definite
limit; but a case beyond the usual term would go to a
jury. The difficulty of any female ascertaining the precise
period of her conception is the cause of the discrepant
opinions of the physiologists on this subject.
Parturition. VIE Parturition. This subject is also one of great
delicacy, and involves several questions
1. Whether it be approaching in general, may be known
by indications described in all books on midwifery. The
steps of natural, protracted, and preternatural labour should
be familiar.
2. But the signs of recent delivery are more important to
the jurist. These are, the bruised state of the genitals,
relaxation of the vagina and of the uterus, the presence of
the lochial discharge, the general appearance of the fe¬
male, and the formation of milk in her breasts.
3. The viability of the child is very important, and is
recognized by the perfection of its organs, the position of
the mesial line, the appearance of its nails, and skin, the
cry of the infant, and its capability of sucking. This is a
subject of interest; because in some instances, if a child be
born not viable, it may affect the succession to property,
when the mother dies in childbed ; and it may bear on cer¬
tain cases of alleged infanticide. One other question con¬
nected with this subject is, when there is a considerable
interval between the birth of twins, whether these ave tv>
be considered as conceived at the same time. Many deny
the possibility of superfetation, which in such cases is con¬
tended for by others ; but it is a subject involved in much
obscurity.
VIII. Monsters and Hermaphrodites. No living Forensic
human birth, however much it differ from human shape, Medicine.^
can be destroyed without committing a capital crime;
The law states that monsters cannot inherit; but it has left
us in the dark, as to what should be considered sufficient
deviation from the human form to constitute a monster.
Hermaphrodites are now considered as beings with mal¬
formations of the organs of either sex : and physiology does
not admit the existence of true hermaphrodites with duplex
perfect organs in the human species.
IX. Paternity and Aefieiation become medico-le- Paternity,
gal questions when a considerable interval has elapsed be¬
tween the birth of a child and the death or absence of its
reputed father: ten kalendar months being the utmost
limit to which modern physiology would extend the period
of utero-gestation. This subject involves questions re¬
specting children born during a second wedlock ot the
mother, the circumstances of posthumous children, the laws
of bastardy, and the mode of treating alleged cases of sup¬
positious children.
X. Presumptions of Survivorship. Presump-
1. When a mother and her new-born infant are found tions of
dead, important civil rights depend on the question, which vPlvor’
lived the longest; as the husband’s right to be tenant to
the curtesy, or the descent of property derived from the
mother. The law of England in such cases admits such
slender proofs of life in the foetus as would not be received
elsewhere, and leaves much to the evidence of a medical
witness. Elsewhere the child must either cry or look
around, to constitute a quick birth; but in England a quiver
of the lips has been received as a proof of life, in defiance
of physiology.
2. When two or more persons perish by a common acci¬
dent, without any but probable means ot ascertaining who
perished first, as in cases of shipwreck, or on a field of
battle, the descent of property may become the subject ot
dispute. Such questions have been rarely decided in Bri¬
tain ; but probably should be determined on the principles
laid down in ancient Roman law, or in the Code-Napoleon.
XI. Mentae Alienation. This interesting subject Mental
presents a wide field for speculation to the medical jurist. Alien; Hon.
1. He should be familiar with the four forms of insanity,
Mania, Monomania, Dementia, and Amentia, and be able
to indicate the leading symptoms and the most judicious
treatment of each. He should be able to detect feigned
cases of insanity, and to prevent real lunatics from being
treated as criminals.
2. The chief questions that may fall under his decision
are, how to distinguish the disease, and to prove a man in¬
sane ; if there be a real lucid interval; what period of life
is most liable to insanity ; what diseases are most liable to
be confounded with it; whether it has increased in these
kingdoms.
3. The nature and management of Lunatic hospitals are
also in his province. It must never be forgotten, that, in
such establishments, no more restraint should be employed
than is necessary to prevent the unfortunate being froin
hurting himself or others : while the order and economy of
the house is to be maintained by a mild but firm adminis¬
tration ; rather like the authority of a parent over children,
than the rigid severity of a task-master towards a depen-
dant. f
XII. The Rights of the Deaf and Dumb are secur- Fights oi
ed by law ; and if the intellect be perfectly sound, there is
now no question of their perfect competence to enjoy all
the civil rights of other subjects of the state. They can
intimate legal consent by signs, or by writing ; and should
be considered as responsible agents. Maladies
XIII. Maladies Exempting from Public Duties Exernpting
belong to the medical man, both in his civil and military from pub-
capacity. He may be called to decide whether a man be fit, ljc Duties-
orens'e without imminent injury to his health, or danger to his life,
^etunne^ t° perform the duties of a juryman, of an officer of justice,
or to serve in the navy or the army. In all such cases the
certificate of health must be carefully drawn up, on an
honest consideration of each case, and a fearless determina¬
tion to do justice.
XIV. Simulated Diseases present a field of investi¬
gation, requiring caution and discrimination. It may be
the duty of the medical man to aid the magistrate in the
detection of the guilty impostor, or the military tribunal in
consigning to merited punishment the pretended invalid.
No questions require more professional skill, more self-pos¬
session, or more knowledge of human character.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
427
Simulated
Diseases.
SECTION II. INJURIES TO PROPERTY.
Nuisances. !• Nuisances from Manufactories, &c. These may
affect the property of our neighbour in different ways ; or
the nuisance may be a public one. The first is what is
termed a private nuisance, and may be abated by an ac¬
tion for damages ; the second is a common or public nui¬
sance, and the proper remedy is by indictment. In certain
cases the injunction of a court of equity will stay the
nuisance in a summary manner.
It was at one time ruled, “ that usefulness shall com¬
pensate for noisesomness, and that unless it could be proved
deleterious to the health, a manufacture, however disagree¬
able, might be introduced into a townbut by several
later decisions of our judges, it is sufficient to prove that
the nuisance complained of is very disagreeable, and ren-
deis the property of a neighbour less valuable, or diminishes
in a marked degree the comfort of his life. In judging of
such cases, a medical man is often on delicate ground, ^be¬
tween parties deeply interested in the issue of the cause :
but we may in general terms conclude, that what is very
disagreeable to the olfactory organs of most persons is in¬
jurious to health ; and now it is sufficient to prove the very
offensive nature of the nuisance, to obtain its abatement or
suppression.
The principal nuisances which are likely to become the
subjects of an action are :
1. Establishments or manufactures in which offensive
odours are either naturally given out, or generated by pu¬
trefaction,—such as the erection of privies, piggeries, cattle-
pens, slaughter-houses, cemeteries, collections of decaying
animal and vegetable substances, steeping of hemp and
flax, starch making, dealing in various animal matters, as
in the trades of the knacker and gut-spinner.
2. Manufactures which evolve noxious or offensive efflu-
via by the aid cf heat,—as in sugar refining, dyeing, glue¬
making, hartshorn and ivory-black works, Prussian blue
making, rendering of fat and tallow, boiling of whale and
fish oil, leaf-horn manufactories, varnish making, soap
works, acid making, alkali works, preparation of chlorine,
smelting houses, coal-gas works, turpentine making, uncon-
eumed smoke from steam-boilers, &c.
3. Manufactures which corrupt or pollute streams or
springs,—as bleaching, dyeing, tanning, gas making, lime¬
burning, and the like.
4. Establishments that become nuisances from their noises
—as the business of the tin-plate worker, the copper-smith,
the trunk-maker, the boiler-maker, tilting machinery, &c. ’
Arson. IE Arson. The crime of wilful fire-raising can rarely
become the subject of medico-legal investigation, except
when there is a doubt whether the alleged fire may have
arisen from spontaneous combustion. Spontaneous com¬
bustion may arise in inert matter from
\. Friction or percussion^ by which the latent heat of bo¬
dies is suddenly converted into sensible heat.
2. By fermentation of vegetable matter,—as in the fir- Forensic
mg of new hay, of collections of linen rags, roasted bran, Medicine,
and powdered charcoal; in which the heat excited appears
to be owing to the rapid absorption of watery vapour,
which, when condensed, gives out its latent caloric in
sufficient quantity to cause ignition.
3. By chemical action,—as in the effect of drying oils on
hemp, flax, cotton, and on some powders,—as that of char¬
coal, and black oxide of manganese; the action of nitric acid
on essential oils, indigo, &c., or the mixture of oil with
wool. Under this head also may be advantageously dis¬
cussed the singular combustions of the human body, which
have sometimes led to accusations of murder, when the
event was due to spontaneous changes in the living body.
HI—Forgery and Falsification of Documents Forgery.
This may be of two kinds :
1. Forgery of Engraved or Printed Bills The im¬
portance of preventing forgeries, in a great commercial
country, where public and private bills form an immense
portion of the circulating medium, has given rise to various
contrivances for the prevention of frauds. This has been
attempted by introducing peculiarities in the manufacture
of the paper, as the use of water marks, and colouring the
pulp, but ingenious knaves have imitated both successfully.
It has been also attempted by employing complicated de-
signs, not easy of imitation. The most ingenious and suc¬
cessful effort of this kind is the multiplication of the same
design, by Mr. Perkins’s machinery, through which the
same figure cut on steel afterwards hardened, may be inde¬
finitely multiplied, by being transferred to copper. The
success of this method is proved by the very few forgeries
which have taken place on the banks which have employed
his plates. Substitution of one sum for another has some¬
times been made. This is easiest prevented by the multi¬
plication of the word or figures on the face of the note, and
also by care in the manufacture of the printing-ink. It is
found that an ink composed of lamp-black, Prussian blue
or smalt,-with copal varnish, is more difficult of erasure than
common printer’s ink.
2. Falsification of Deeds, and forgeries of names, have
been committed by the erasure of the common ink used in
the signatures. Common ink is usually effaced by diluted
or °Jxalic acids, by solutions of chlorine, by caustic
alkalis, and by butter of antimony. All these substances
soften or injure the texture of the paper, but the traces of
this injury have been effaced by washing, sizing, and press¬
ing the paper. If these steps have not been carefully per¬
formed, however, the writing may, in some instances, be
restored; the erasure by acids, in that case, becomes mani¬
fest on the application of an alkali—the effect of alkalis by
acids; but chlorine may leave no trace of its employment,
except the extreme whiteness of the paper. In deeds and
writings of importance the best preventive would be to use
as an ink a solution of copal in oil of lavender, coloured bv
lamp-black. The defect of this ink is, that it is apt to
become thick; and, on this account, a solution of gluten of
wheat, as the vehicle, has been proposed. (See Ink )
,h» a,ALSE The care with 4; h
the die is prepared will not always secure against frauds 0f g’
th,s sort, as the coin itself offers a’ready means ofobtaMnf
Tl7l ’ °f C1tnt sharPness for the purpose of the coiner
T ie object of such persons is to pass off base alloys for
pieces of gold and silver. These may be detected by defi¬
cient specific gravity; but, in the ordinary business of life
this is not a practicable test. Most of the base alloys are
SthereforeTmnffi8 dT the Predous metals, and the Lund
coin is alloyed wifh co^TwffiffihlLpStrdnt;, atd
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
428
Forensic silver, or 1-12th. The simplest method of detecting the
Medicine, intermixture oi too large a quantity of alloy is by the cnange
' v ' of colour produced when a streak is made on touchstone,
and compared with the streak formed by needles of metal
of ascertained purity; but chemical examination is to be
preferred.
1. Debasement of Gold is ascertained by dissolving a
given weight of the alloy, cut into small pieces, in puic
nitric acid? This will leave the gold, but dissolve the baser
metals; and the weight of the residue, washed and dried,
gives the quantity of gold present. The nature of the alloy
may be found by different chemical tests. There is only
one debasement of gold coin not to be thus detected. Gold
coin has been debased by platinum. If the attempt be
made to form an alloy, it spoils the colour of the gold; but
at Rouen it was accomplished by plating the platinum w ith
gold so nicely, as to give the piece its due weight. Cutting
such a coin will detect the fraud. If an alloy has been
made, it may be detected by the colour being greyish, or
by dissolving the whole in nitro-muriatic acid; when the
addition of muriate of potassa, or of ammonia, to the acid
solution, throws down a yellow precipitate, if platinum be
present.
2. Debasement of Silver is usually detected by cupella-
tion. The weight of the button of silver left on the cupel
gives the quantity of silver in the alloy. It may also be
found by dissolving the alloy in nitric acid, and precipitat¬
ing the solution by muriate of soda; the precipitate blackens
by*light, and affords the means of ascertaining the quantity
of silver in the compound.
SECT. III. INJURIES AGAINST THE TERSON.
These may be A, such as do not imply the loss of life \
or B, such as usually endanger or destroy life.
Defloration I Defloration—The signs of defloration are ob¬
scure. The state of the sexual organs have been chiefly
relied on as indications of the loss of virginity, and in
particular the rupture of the hymen; but the hymen lias
been found entire in some females who have had carnal
intercourse with man, and is sometimes naturally wanting,
or may be destroyed by disease. The appearance of the
nymphae, and the size of the vaginal orifice, aie not cer¬
tain indications, any more than the appearance of the
carunculae mystiformes, or the firmness of the mammae.
It is only by considering all the signs together, that we can
arrive at any just conclusion.
p II, Rape This crime consists in the forcible know-
^ ledge of a woman against her will; her resistance must be
continued to the utmost, w hile she retains her senses or the
power of struggling with the ravisher, unless she may have
yielded to the immediate fear of death. It is not a rape,
without these conditions being complete ; the woman other¬
wise is supposed to have consented to the act, which may
indeed have commenced in violence, but have terminated
w ith her consent. An infant, however, under ten years of
age, cannot give legal consent; and whoever has carnal
knowledge of such an infant, either with or without her
consent, is guilty of a felony. The proofs of rape, be¬
sides the consistency of the woman’s story, mainly depend
on the marks of violence on her person. If a virgin hath
been violated, the injury to the sexual organs, with the
precautions mentioned under defloration, will be taken into
consideration. If a married female be the victim, we must
look for bruises on her own person, or injuries she may
have inflicted on the ravisher during her resistance, which
last are accessory proofs of no small importance. The
crime may even be perpetrated on a prostitute. It is rape. Forensic
if the act be forcible, and against her will. The slightest Medicim^
penetration is sufficient; emission is not now required to
be proved. The physical signs of rape soon pass away;
and unless the female be inspected within ten days after
the alleged violence, we shall, in most cases, vainly seek
for confirmation of the allegation from inspection, flhe
charge of rape is not invalidated by the female conceiving,
nor by the occurrence of syphilis in the woman.
HI. Mutilation Demembration, mutilation of the Mutilation.
face, cutting or maiming, were capital crimes by Lord Ellen-
borough’s act t but are not now capital felonies under Loid
John Russell’s act. The extent of the injury may often be
referred to a medical man ; and in a case of slitting the nose, .
an English judge overruled the objection of the prisoner s
counsel, “that the nose was only cut, by stating, the sui-
geon sware it wras slit and that slit was anciently synony¬
mous with cut. Castration was always in Britain considered
as a capital offence, even when other mayhems (as mutila¬
tions are termed in English law) were punished by fine and
imprisonment. In France, the perpetrator is condemned to
hard labour for life, except where it has been “ immediately
provoked by an outrage against modesty.” Castration, long
after the infliction, may be recognised by the cicatrix of
the wound.
B.
IV.—Criminal Abortion—The laws of Britain recog- Criminal
nise this crime only after the period of quickening, on the aEQrtion.
false idea that then only life enters into the foetus. Quick¬
ening is merely the mechanical escape of the gravid uterus
from the pelvis into the abdomen, and usually takes place
in the fourth month of utero-gestation. Before this has
taken place, causing a woman to abort was not a ciime in
our code, until the act of 1st of Victoria, where no mention
is made of quickening, which has nothing to do with the
life of the foetus: and the penalty for causing abortion is
transportation for a period not less than fifteen years. Ihe
chief means by which abortion is sought to be accomplished
are, by blows and bruises on the abdomen, by the admini¬
stration of drastic purgatives, or other medicines acting vio¬
lently on the human frame, by repeated venesection, and by
the introduction of pointed instruments into the womb.
None of the means, except the last, are certain in then
operation, but all are highly dangerous to the mother ; and
one who only essays abortion may thus commit a double
murder. In cases of alleged abortion, the medical witness
has to consider the involuntary causes which may produce it;
as accidental falls and blows, strong mental emotions, errors
of diet and regimen, or spasmodic diseases ; and he should
balance these against the marks of premeditated design.
V. Infanticide By the laws of Britain, the mother infanticide.
who concealed her pregnancy till she was delivered of a
dead child, or who, during labour, failed to cry out for
assistance, or whose infant disappeared after birth, was for¬
merly held guilty of infanticide ; and many convictions and
executions took place on this cruel statute. In later times
very moderate proof of these three circumstances was held
sufficient to invalidate the capital charge. Even in Eng¬
land, in cases of the murder of bastard children, conti ary to
all the usual forms of justice, a statute of James I. threw
the onus of proving her innocence on the mother; and it
was not until the 43d year of George III. that this iniqui-
tous law was repealed, and the same rules of evidence here
applied as in other cases of murder.
This subject involves some very nice points of legal
medicine. The proofs of the child being born alive enter
into the case. It must be proved to have arrived at the
period when there was a probability of its living ; its body
should be carefully inspected for marks of wounds or
bruises ; its cavities should be opened, lest there be traces
Forensic
Medicine
medical jurisprudence.
Homicide.
of injuries sufficient to have caused death, found in the
head, abdomen, or chest; the state of the peculiarities in
t .e ioetal circulation, and of the organs of respiration, must
be examined; and we must observe whether the lungs seem
to have been dilated by breathing, or remain in the dense
condition and backward position they have before respira¬
tion has commenced. This leads us to consider the cele¬
brated docimasia pulmonum, or test by their sinking or
oating in water, which was at one time regarded as indis¬
putable proof of the death of the child, before or after
birth, but has now been considered as ambiguous. If,
however, we try the lungs together with the heart, with
that organ separated, each lung separately, and also detached
portions of the lungs, we shall generally find little difficulty
in deciding the important question, especially if attention
be paid to the quantity of blood in the lungs, and the state
of the ductus venosus and d. arteriosus, the contents of the
air-tubes, and of the alimentary canal. We must carefully
distinguish between the effects of artificial insufflation of
t e lungs after death, and their floating from respiration, or
from incipient putrefaction. In cases of artificial insuffla¬
tion, the whole lungs will not float, and the air may be
squeezed out of a cut portion of the lungs, so as to sink in
\vater ; whereas, it is not possible, by compression with the
thumb and finger, so to free from air a portion of lung that
has respired, that it will not float. Putrefaction maybe
distinguished by the smell, and the air not being in the
cells, but in oblong globules in the cellular tissue uniting:
the cells. °
Infanticide from strangulation, from drowning, and from
mephitic air, may be distinguished by the marks to be
mentioned under asphyxia. Infanticide may be produced
by omission, as by neglecting to tie the navel string; in
which case the body will appear bloodless, the great ves¬
sels near the heart, and that organ itself will be empty.
The child may perish, if not removed from the discharges
which accompany delivery; and the possibility of this hap¬
pening, without any fault of the mother, must be taken
into consideration. Phe infant may die from exposure to
cold. It it be found in a remote or sequestered situation,
that would be ground for suspicion. If there be meconium
discharged from its bowels; if it exhibit marks of starva¬
tion, in the emptiness of its alimentary canal; or if it
appear to have been fed, we may be sure that it was born
alive, and probably perished from criminal neglect. Any
artificial objects, such as articles of dress, found near the
child, should be carefully preserved, as one means of iden¬
tifying the exposer; and if foot-marks are seen there, they
should be accurately measured and noted.
In cases of exposed infants, it is very important to ascer¬
tain the real mother. As such exposure usually takes
place, soon after birth, comparing the age of the infant with
the signs of recent delivery on the suspected mother, is the
best method of proving the connection between them.
VL Homicide.—It is only with culpable homicide, and
with murder, that the medical jurist has to deal. When a
person is found apparently dead, a medical man may be
required to inspect and report on the cause of death. He
should, of course, first ascertain whether it be a case of
real or only of apparent death. This sometimes is not
easy. Singular instances of resuscitation from apparent
death are noticed by Winslow, Bruhier, and others, which
should make us pause ere we hastily pronounce a person
dead, without evident causes for his death appearing on his
body. Neither pallor of the face and lips, insensibility to
stimuli, cessation of the organs of respiration and circula¬
tion, loss of heat, nor even stiffness of the limbs, are infal¬
lible criteria. Until, along with these, we have marks of
incipient putrefaction or decomposition, we cannot be abso¬
lutely certain that a person is quite dead; and, in all cases
429
of doubt, we should wait for incipient putrefaction ere we Forensic
sanction interment. Where the symptoms appear at all Medicine,
equivocal, we should scarify, or apply hot oil to some parts
of the skin.
Here it may be proper to describe the general method
of carrying on the medico-legal examination of a body.
In cases where a person is found dead, the body should
be carefully inspected for external wounds or marks of
contusions. Any wound, however minute, should be traced
with a probe, and followed to its termination by the knife.
Blackish marks should be cut into, in order to ascertain
whether they be the effect of the effusion of coagulated
blood, or merely the consequences of that infiltration of the
skin which takes place in the depending parts of bodies
after death. The first is termed ecchymosis; the latter
may be distinguished from the former by the name of sugil-
lation. In the subsequent examination of the head, the
hair should be removed, the scalp inspected, and afterwards
divided from ear to ear, over the vertex; the skull-cap
removed; the state of the brain and its membranes care¬
fully marked, and especially any unusual appearances noted
down. All should, on the spot, be committed to writing
-—-nothing trusted to the memory, however tenacious. The
inspection of the larynx, trachea, and gullet, is best per¬
formed by making a cut through the lower lip, and down
the fore part of the neck and chest, to the xiphoid cartilage.
Transverse cuts should then be extended from the longitu¬
dinal one, along the edges of the lower jaw and the collar
bones, so as to enable us to turn back the integuments
of the neck. The symphysis of the chin should then be
sawed through, and the soft parts divided. We can thus
separate the two sides of the lower jaw. When the tongue
is pulled forward, the fauces, and upper part of the oeso¬
phagus and larynx, are freely exposed, and the introduction
of acrid poisons, or of foreign bodies, may often be thus
detected. The state of the cartilages of the larynx and
tiachea should be noted, as fracture or displacement of
these has occasionally detected strangulation. A ligature
should be put on the lower part of the gullet, and the tube
divided above the ligature.
The abdomen may next be opened, by a cut through the
skin from the sternum to the pubes. In new-born infants
the whole skin and abdominal muscles may at once be cut
through, along the cartilages of the ribs on each side, and
thence to the anterior edge of the ileum, curving down¬
ward to the pubes. This will, when the flap thus formed
is turned down, expose the abdominal viscera sufficiently,
without disturbing the vessels of the umbilical cord. In
the adult, we may first separate the skin of the abdomen
from the muscles, in one line from the sternum to the
pubes, and, as it is easily extensile, cut out a flap of the
muscles of the abdomen, as above directed, so as to expose
the viscera. The skin so divided makes a neater appear¬
ance when sewed up, than when the muscles and skin are
divided together, as in the infant. A ligature should be
put on the duodenum, and division of the intestines made
below the ligature; so that we may remove the stomach
and its contents, and reserve them for subsequent exami-
nation. The other viscera should also be carefully inspected.
1 he thorax should be last examined; because this enables
us the better to ascertain the descent of the diaphragm
and the arching of the chest, which takes place in asphyxia
than when we open the chest before the abdomen. The car-
tuages of the ribs should be divided as close as possible to the
ends of the ribs, as thus a larger opening is made in the
yj he Potion and appearance of the lungs and heart
tu ould be noted, and their engorgement with blood, or the
emptiness of thegreat vessels, ascertained. Whenitis neces-
rSi° e~he fnal canal> the body must be laid on
a table with the face downwards: an incision is to be made
430 MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic along the whole spine, from the occiput to the sacrum, the nose loaded with mucus : but besides these, we usually find Forensic
Medicine, integuments are to be separated on each side, so as to a mark round the neck; and when the person has under- Medicine.
^ v~“'' expose the posterior portion of the vertebrae, which may be gone a public execution, especially when the drop is em- v—-v—^
divided near the transverse processes by a saw, the rachi- ployed, there is often luxation of the neck, and fracture of
tome, or by cutting plyers. A triangular piece should also the processus dentatus. Ecchymosis is generally found
be sawed out of the occipital bone at the foramen magnum, under the mark of the rope : sometimes this mark is not
This will expose the whole spinal canal. apparent until some hours after death, but dissection will
Homicide may be accomplished by several modes that shew the cellular tissue, beneath the rope, dry and compress-
may sometimes be ascertained by examination of the body. ed. The face is generally less distorted, the eyes less pro-
Death from Death by Asphyxia or suffocation may be produced by minent, in those in whom luxation of the neck is produced
Suffocation drowning, by hanging, by strangulation, and by mephitic by the drop, than when the struggle is more protracted.
air. Recovery is hopeless in the first case, but has sometimes
1. Drowning may produce the fatal effect in two differ- followed the asphyxia produced by mere strangulation,
ent modes. In some the suddenness of the shock, or the which seems to cause a stupor, that is, however, soon fatal,
surprise instantaneously arrests both the functions of circu- if the person be not soon relieved.
lation and of respiration ; no struggle precedes death. In examining the body of a person found suspended by
This species of drowning has been justly compared to the neck, we must determine whether this be really the
syncope ; and hence has been by Desgranges termed as- mode in which life was extinguished, or whether the body
phyxia syncopalis. In others the circulation goes on was suspended after death. The absence of the usual
for some time after the respiration has been interrupted; marks of hanging, the position of the rope-mark on the
the animal struggles, makes vain efforts at inspiration, and neck, the presence of other mortal injuries, the appearance
portions of air are forced out of the lungs by a convulsive of the rope are all important objects of consideration,
effort of the muscles of respiration. The circulation of un- These become of the utmost importance in the difficult
oxygenated blood through the brain seems to act as poison cases, where there is a doubt whether the person was mur-
on that delicate organ ; and the consequence is diminution dered or committed suicide. We must rely for a solution
of nervous energy over all the body, by which the play of of the problem on the indications just noticed, and the pre-
the heart is enfeebled and the animal soon dies. In this vious history of the individual.
case the brain is usually found congested with dark blood. 3. Strangling may be accomplished by drawing a rope
This state has been aptly termed aphyxia congestiva. This tightly round the neck, or by forcibly compressing the an-
difference in the phenomena may account for the great terior of the windpipe, after the manner of Burke and his
difference perceived in the bodies of drowned persons, and imitators. In the first, the mark round the neck will ge-
also for the difference in the chances of recovery after sub- nerally be nearly circular and not inclined to the ear or
mersion. In the first species the pallor of the countenance occiput. In the latter, marks of fingers will often be per¬
is marked, and the features little altered. In the latter, ceived on the neck, or a circular depression will be found
the face will often appear swelled and livid, tne tongue be on the front of the windpipe, and sometimes some of its
protruded, the nose and air passages filled with frothy cartilaginous rings will be broken or displaced. The signs
mucous, the brain and right side of the heart gorged with of suffocation will be equally present, as in hanging; but
black blood. The body which has been sometime immers- if the mark of the cord be on the loiver part of the neck, it
ed is generally pale, the eyes are half open, and the pupils cannot be a case of death by hanging,
generally much dilated, the chest arched, and the diaphragm Suffocation has sometimes occured from bulky substances
pushed down into the abdomen. These last signs are sticking in the gullet, and compressing the trachea. Al¬
most conspicuous in those who have perished from as- sassination has also been effected on infants, or on feeble
phyxia congestiva. When the person has retained his sen- individuals, by covering up the mouth and nose. This last
sibility after falling into the water, the ends of the fingers mode leaves no external marks of violence, and can scarce-
are often found excoriated by his grasping at any object ly be detected, except by the appearances of suffocation
w ithin his reach ; and mud or gravel will often be found found after death.
lodged below his nails. The blood in drowned persons 4. Mephitism, or death from irrespirable gases, often
generally remains fluid. These are the principal signs by happens accidentally, but is seldom the mode of assassina-
which we can distinguish the extinction of life by drown- ation, except in cases of infanticide : and will be noticed
ing, from the cases in which the person has been thrown under Toxicology.
into the water after death. If we find in the stomach water In every case of suffocation our attempts at reanimation
containing any foreign bodies, such as fragments of straws should be directed to renew respiration by inflation of the
or weeds, similar to those in the water in which the body lungs, to restore the animal heat by exposure to warm pure
was found, we may be sure that the person was living air, and by assiduous frictions of the surface, to rouse by
when immersed in the water : for no water will enter the stimuli, and by brushing the soles ot the feet and palms of
stomach after death. the hands, to relieve cerebral congestion, when necessary,
It may, however, be very difficult to distinguish a mur- by moderate and cautious bleeding,
der by drowning, from death by accidentally falling into VII. Death from Starvation. Cases may occur Death from
water, or from a suicide. The most material circumstances where it is important to distinguish this from other modes Starvation,
will be, the marks of struggle near the spot where the body of the extinction of life. In such cases the cutaneous veins
has been immersed, the obstacles in the way, the impres- disappear, the skin has become harsh and has a shrivelled
sions of the feet of more than one person leading to the look ; the fat has disappeared, and the soft parts are most-
water. We must also pay attention to appearances of in- ly wasted ; the gums desert the teeth ; the eyes are com-
juries on the body, which could not have occurred from monly more or less open and bloodshot; the tongue and
simply falling into the water ; such as marks of strangula- fauces are dark and dry ; the stomach shrunk, blackish and
tion on the neck, or wounds inflicted by deadly instru- ulcerated on its internal surface ; the intestines resemble a
ments. cord ; the gall bladder is gorged with bile, which stains the
2. Hanging produces most of the internal appearances intestines to a considerable extent; the heart is wasted, and
just described; such as turgescence of the vessels of the the great vessels are almost empty; the body exhales a
head, livor of the face, fluid black blood in the lungs and most offensive odour of putridity, even before life is extinct,
right side of the heart, protrusion of the tongue, and the The period required to destroy life in inanition is very
Medicine ^ appearS t0 be shorter in the young and vigor-
ivicaicine. oUS than in persons of middle life, in men than in women.
In some comatose diseases, and in persons reduced by pre¬
vious illness, the life under inanition has occasionally been
greatly protracted; and when there has been stupor with
occasional intermissions, an astonishingly small quantity of
iquid aliment has prolonged life for many weeks, months,
or even years. Some of the published cases of fasting are
apocrypha]; but in others where the quantity of nutriment
ias een extremely small, the individuals may be consider¬
ed as in the state of hybernating animals, where the dimin¬
ished nervous energy renders the waste of the svstem
exceedingly slow. Those who are deprived also of drink
perish soonest of inanition ; and those who are confined in
tii y warm air, than those exposed to a moist, cool atmos¬
phere.
eDxtremesTf DkATH from Extremes of Temperature.
Tempera- r • ^ extremes of cold. After the sensation of ting-
ture. j , pli1£ers and toes, exposure to extreme cold is
soon followed by languor, loss of sensation, and irresistible
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
431
Poisoned wounds belong to Toxicology. Forensic
Wounds are more or less dangerous according to their Medicine
locality. ^ ~ v -•
1. Wounds of the head are always dangerous, especially
it the blow has been considerable. The person so wound¬
ed may die without separation of the integuments or frac-
tT'(i OP tlle bone 5 as happens in what is termed concussion
of the brain. Contusions which do not divide the skin may
fracture the skull; or the inner table of the skull may be
fractured without the outer being broken or depressed.
Cven wounds of the integuments may prove fatal, from in¬
flammation extending inwards to the brain. Punctured
wounds of the head are more dangerous than cuts, as more
ikely to excite fatal inflammation. When the brain or its
Tnemnges are injured, all such wounds are generally fatal.
Wounds of the face or organs of sense are often danger¬
ous, and always disfiguring. Malicious disfiguring of the
face was made a capital felony in the reign of Charles II.,
by the Coventry act; but the monstrous anomaly pointed
out by Filangieri, that disfiguring with the intent to dis-
Jlflll.VP WT £1C TAl 1IA1 civ  1 *1 .7 • . - _ -
•Voiinds,
propensity to sleep, which is so onnressive tW /7<U ^ . nangieri, that disfiguring with the intent to dis-
known fatality of the indulgence while exnosed to thp rnH ^UVe VVaS PuPlsbed with death, while the intent to murder
is insufficient to prevent the sufferer to seek repose Cold Wounds V °nger disSraces our statute book.
snirits. ° ^ t)loocl vessels? or injuring important nerves, is im-
minPnt • f Iv L* _ _ _ • i -it
spirits.
2. From a much increased temperature, the fatal effects
may be scalding or burning, according to the medium ap¬
plied. Plus mode of extinction of life leaves very obvious
truces on the body. Sometimes fire has been applied to
the body after death, to conceal a murder. This fact sug¬
gests the propriety of the medical man examining a scorch-
Y   '7 ^ ^ ^  ^ 
minent: even the division of a considerable vein in the
neck has proved immediately fatal, from the entrance of
air into the vessel, and its speedy conveyance to the heart.
A blow on the side of the neck has instantly proved fatal,
either from the blood being forced back into the brain, or
from injury to the superior parts of the par vagum, the great
dieted during Me. If the person ^ deed sotnetinJXr ' the
VI tv ie non ofvn fori l-l.„ V   1 ’ . _
o _ - — —~ hoc iivcu Bviixcumo arier
the scorching, in general there will be found a ring of in¬
flammation surrounding the eschars: but this only takes place
when the burning has not been so severe as to sink the
powers of life beyond the capability of reaction.
An increased temperature may be insufficient to vesicate
or destroy the skin, yet may prove fatal; as is well known
in vhat is termed a coup de soleil. This is a species of
apoplexy, chiefly induced by the direct influence of the
sun on the head, and appears to be similar to the effect of
the Khamsin or Simoon of the desert.
3. Death from lightning is not wholly to be attributed
to the high temperature, but partly to the impulse or shock
instantly affecting the brain, and paralyzing the heart: yet
cavity is penetrated, though persons have recovered from
Mounds of the lungs, and have even survived for some time
considerable wounds of the heart. This last is an import¬
ant fact; because we are not always to consider the spot
where the body of a person killed by a wound of the heart,
and apparently remaining where he fell, is found, as that in
Mhich the death-wound was inflicted. Instances have
occurred of persons surviving severe wounds of the heart
or severa.! days. Fractured ribs are never without danger;
and the same may be said of severe contusions of the chest,
from the chance of inflammation extending inwards.
Wounds penetrating both sides of the chest are generally
considered as fatal, though animals have recovered after
as the marks of singeing are often observed on the bodipJnf f°. as fata1’tboilKh animals have recovered after
. o-- iicic ^uiismereu. ine
skin is sometimes discoloured in stripes or oblong patches ;
at other times the surface has no mark of injury, but the
viscera have been observed more or less affected, and oc¬
casionally there is a small perforation on the skin. The
blood is described in every case as remaining fluid, and the
corpse runs rapidly to putrefaction.
IX. Wounds. The examination of wounds, whether
fatal or not, often becomes an important branch of legal
medicine. Wounds are usually divided into contusions,
lacerations, incisions, stabs, gunshot and poisoned wounds!
Each kind requires to be minutely examined, and described,'
as they are in approved works on surgery. The degree of
danger from each should be familiar to the jurist; and he
should recollect that there is scarcely any wound which
may not become incidentally fatal from improper treat¬
ment, or peculiarities in constitution. Punctured wounds
or stabs require minute attention ; for there have been in¬
stances in which death has been produced by an instru¬
ment not thicker than a pin, thrust into the brain, the spinal
marrow, or the heart.
4. Wounds of the Abdomen, when they do not completely
penetrate, may be considered as simple wounds, unless
when inflicted with great force, so as to bruise the contents
° l u CTy’ HVhat case? they may produce death with¬
out breach of surface, as sometimes happens from blows or
kicks on the belly. Mounds injuring the general nerito-
naeum, or that duphcature of it investing the stomach and
intestines, are highly perilous, from the risk of severe in-
flammation. Wounds of the stomach or intestines or of
the gall bladder, generally prove mortal, from the effusion
their contents into the genera] cavity producino- fatal
inflammation. Wounds of the liver, spleen, or kidneys are
generally soon mortal, from the great! vascularity o/tC
h(5' W°jndsA 0fth<f Extremities, when fatal, may generally
be considered so from excessive hemorrhage! from the
zSo rs°v Tati?n and from
fordbly removrd ^ p0rtions of the limb are
wounds from firearms! aCCldents from machinery, and in
432
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic X. Toxicology.—This most important branch of legal
Medicine, medicine has been more thoroughly investigated than any
v—y-—* other part of Medical Jurisprudence. A poison may be
Toxicology (je^ne(j a su})Stance capable of impairing or extinguishing
the vital functions, in a great majority of cases. This
limitation is necessary, because some of the most deadly
substances, in small doses, may be taken not only with
impunity, but with salutary effects ; and habit renders doses
of them innocuous, which would destroy an individual
unaccustomed to their use. Some poisons act directly on
the organs to which they are applied; others appear to act
by their influence on the nervous system. Some appear to
act merely as irritants or escharotics; others by directly
impairing vital functions ; and some have a twofold action.
The manner in which poisons affect the system appears to
be either through their direct influence on the extremities
of the nerves to which they are applied, or by absorption,
and consequently by the circulating fluids. The rapidity
with which some poisons, as hydrocyanic acid, act, favours
the opinion that their influence is instantaneously conveyed
to the vital organs by nervous communication. The detec¬
tion of poisons, in some instances, in the blood, or in the
exhalations or secretions, favours the opinion of the circu¬
lation being one channel by which they are carried to the
system; a fact which is further confirmed, by the effect of
ligature, or of division of vessels, in preventing the consti¬
tutional affection of the poison on the system. Some poisons
exert their deleterious influence on one organ, or set of
organs; others generally affect the system. Poisons, classed
according to their effects, may be divided into irritants,
narcotics, narcotico-acrids, and septics. Their action is
modified by the tissue to which they are applied, the con¬
stitution of the individual, the quantity of the poison, and
its mechanical state.
The mode of treatment of poisoned persons depends on
the nature of the poison. The first indication is undoubt¬
edly to evacuate the poison as speedily as possible, by the
stomach-pump or by emetics; the second, to administer
antidotes, if any such be known for the particular poison;
the third, to shield the stomach and primes vies against the
acrimony of the substance; and, lastly, to obviate any vio¬
lent or untoward symptoms they may produce, by all the
resources of our art.
The evidence of poisoning may be presumptive, or posi¬
tive, physical, or moral. The physical proofs are derived
from the symptoms, from experiments on the lower animals,
and from a chemical investigation of the ingesta or egesta.
The symptoms, however, only supply us with probable
evidence; but the most important inferences they afford
are deduced from the simultaneous occurrence of similar
symptoms, in more than one individual previously in good
health, soon after a meal on the same articles of diet. Ex¬
periments on the lower animals with the remains of the
ingesta, or portions of egesta, are not much to be relied on,
as all animals are not equally susceptible of the same
poisons; and what is deleterious to one is innocuous to
another. Some poisons, however, such as arsenic and
corrosive sublimate, are equally poisonous to all. Such
experiments we consider as scarcely justifiable, except in
the cases of some vegetable poisons, which cannot other¬
wise be readily detected. The evidence from chemical
analysis of the stomach, of the ingesta or of the egesta, is
the most unexceptionable. The refinements of modern
chemistry have enabled us to detect surprisingly minute
quantities of inorganic poisons, and even of some vegetable
poisons. In such investigations, the contents of the sto¬
mach, or egesta, should be put into clean vessels; if too
thick, diluted with distilled water, boiled, and when cold,
filtered through muslin, and then through paper. If the
filtered liquor contain much animal matter, this must be
separated, as it obscures the various tests to be applied.
This in general is best done by acidulating the liquor with Forensic
vinegar, by again boiling and filtering. Sometimes it Medicine,
requires to be further clarified, by the addition of animal
charcoal, or of nitrate of silver, which separate all the ani- 0X1C0
mal or vegetable matter. To portions of the clear and
colourless liquid thus obtained various tests are applied, the
effects of which will decide the nature of the poison. Some¬
times the whole poison may have been so evacuated by
vomiting, or taken up by absorption, that not a trace
remains in the contents of the stomach. In this case we
can occasionally detect it, by cutting the stomach into
pieces, boiling them in distilled water, purifying the liquid
by some of the processes already described, and then ap¬
plying the tests. Narcotic poisons are easiest detected by
their smell; sometimes we can eliminate one or more of
their peculiar ingredients by chemical means, but frequently
we have no better means of detecting them than by the
symptoms they produce, and the moral evidence of the case,
or the morbid appearances on the body after death.
We are not to regard the livid appearance of the body
as evidence of poisoning ; it is not always present in cases
of poisoning, and may arise from other causes. The rapid
putrefaction of the body is as fallacious an indication.
The very reverse is sometimes the fact. The classes of
irritant and narcotico-acrid poisons are usually indicated by
inflammatory appearances in the primae vise, but these are
not invariably present; and cases often occur of which the
moral evidence may be strong, yet the direct evidence may
amount to no more than a probability.
The moral evidence of poisoning may sometimes be best
collected by the medical attendant. He may be the only
witness to the conduct of the accused; he may have ob¬
served him suspiciously active in removing every trace of
the potion administered, or of the egesta in which a poison
might be detected; he may have observed the guilty con¬
fusion of the suspected person, or heard his attempts to
explain a fatal mistake, if the administration has been traced
to him; or the physician may have been the chief deposi¬
tary of the dying declaration of the sufferer. All these
things it is his duty to note down, and to transmit to the
proper authorities.
Poisons are derived from the inorganic or organic king¬
doms of nature. The first class may be metallic, earthy,
alkaline, and simple chemical substances, and gaseous
bodies: the second vegetable and animal poisons.
i.—Metallic Poisons Of these arsenic, quicksilver, Metallic
copper, lead, antimony, zinc, tin, bismuth, chrome, silver, Poisons,
gold, are the most important.
1. Arsenic is poisonous in all its combinations. Its most
usual preparations given as poisons are, the blackish oxide
or fly powder, the white oxide or arsenious acid, the sul-
phurets, and the combination of arsenious and arsenic acids
with alkalis. All are very deadly, even in small doses,
whether swallowed, introduced into the anus or the vagina,
applied to the abraded surface, or even when extensively
applied to the whole skin. The symptoms commence
usually within an hour after the administration ; and are,
nausea, vomiting, great heat and pain in the stomach,
purging, intense thirst, severe spasms in the limbs and
body, prostration of strength, pallor of the face, a feeble
pulse; sometimes convulsions precede death. In a few
cases the symptoms of an irritant poison are wanting, and
the arsenic appears to be fatal by immediately inducing
paralysis of the heart.
The fauces, gullet, and stomach are often found marked
by inflamed patches of a deep vinaceous colour, produced
by blood effused under the villous coat of the stomach.
Sometimes the villous coat appears corroded or thickened,
but the stomach is seldom perforated. When the villous
coat has suffered erosion, the poison has generally been
given in the solid form, and grains of it may often be picked
Medicine 5°f ^ stomach for analysis. The inflam-
V   / matl0n seldom reaches to the jejunum; but, though the
«yS:Str^ °f the smal1 intestines and the colon escape,
Xmarks of irritation are often observed about the rectum,
especially if the purging has been violent. Various anti¬
dotes have been proposed, such as charcoal and magnesia;
but the only substance that seems to deserve any reputa-
a)U 18 tle recently prepared hydrated peroxide of iron.
promptly administered in large doses.
Pf2he means of detection, when the arsenic is solid, are
easy. Introducing it, with charcoal powder if it be white
aXmC’ W1f‘. bkck ?ux if [t be orpiment, into a small
g.radually the heat of a spirit lamp, will
ftord a blackish, shining, metallic crust, the interior of which
r/Sf- , P°!;tion of this’ exPosed to heat, exhales
as a white smoke, and gives out an alliaceous odour. Ano¬
ther portion, slowly heated in a tube open at both ends, is
converted into minute tetrahedral crystals. When it exists
m solutmn m the contents of the stomach, we have to clarify
\y- tbe means already mentioned, and to apply
fl W11Ch u- L110!1 aPProved i8 a stream of sulphur¬
etted hydrogen, which throws down a lively yellow preci¬
pitate ; the ammoniaco-nitrate of silver, which gives a
yellow precipitate, that soon fades to a brown ; ammoniaco-
ulphate of copper, which gives a green precipitate. Either
With black or soda in a
glass tube, will afford the crust already described. These
indications eave no doubt of the presence of arsenic; and
irom the or ^ of a grain may be converted into a
sensible metallic crust. Arsenic seems to have a tendency
to preserve from putrefaction the stomachs of persons
poisoned by it; and it has been detected in bodies that
have been from four months to two years buried
2 Mercury or Quicksilver.—This metal in its pure state
Has been supposed innocent; but when in the state of va¬
pour it is well known to be speedily deleterious, and to
produce all the symptoms of mercurial poison. The most
usmii mercurial poisons are corrosive sublimate, or bichlo¬
ride of mercury, its oxides, and sub-salts. The long-con¬
tinued use of calomel is capable also of acting as a poison;
but almost the only mercurial poison criminally adminis-
ered is corrosive sublimate, though, from its detestable
taste, it cannot be given by the mouth as a secret poison.
Pfhle*iUSUa indicatl0ns are a styptic taste, then burning
ot the throat, violent vomiting, great distress in the stomach
and bowels, violent cholic and severe purging, blood ming-
stnnr Vh16 matter br0Uf?ht UP by vomiting, or ejected by
stool. The symptoms often simulate dysentery: the face
of hfe sink ^ ^ eyeS, 8ParkIing? soon the powers
of life sink, the voice is lost, cold clammy sweats bedew the
sur ace, perception of external objects is lost, and convul¬
sions close the scene. When the substanc^ is given in
small doses or if the mercurial be a milder preparation,
after dysenteric symptoms ptyahsm supervenes; the person
may sink from the violence of that affection, the fauces may
become ulcerated, and gangrene may ensue. If ptyalism
follow the administration of a single large dose of mercu-
rial, it is always to be regarded as a formidable symptom.
W hen the person survives, he may suffer from mercurial palsy.
I he effects of mercurial poisons are indicated after death
by the following appearances. The fauces are generally
more affected than from arsenic, and the inflammatory
appearances are more diffused over the alimentary canal.
Destruction of the coats of the stomach are often observed
either the consequence of the escharotic power of corrosive
sublimate, or of ulceration. Peritonaeal inflammation is not
uncommon ; and irritation of the urinary organs, perceived
during hfe, is marked by inflammatory indications found
after death.
We possess in whites of eggs, milk, and gluten of wheat,
very effectual antidotes for the poison of corrosive subli-
VOL. XIV.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
433
mate, provided they be given soon after the poison. The Forensic
first is the most powerful. The secondary symptoms must Medicine.
be met by antiphlogistic remedies and venesection. v v '
Mercurial poisons are easily detected when we obtain Toxicology
them m substance, but not so readily when mingled with
the contents of the stomach. Corrosive sublimate is readily
decomposed by several animal substances, and therefore we
are not likely to detect it unchanged in the contents of
the stomach. It is there usually converted into calomel,
either m whole or in part. When held in solution, it is
easily detected by Sylvester’s method, f.e. bv dropping a
httle of the suspected liquid, slightly acidulated, on a gold
plate, or a gilt card, and touching the gold surface, through
the liquid, with a piece of zinc or iron wire. Professor
Iraill employs a similar method to separate the whole mer¬
cury from its solution. He wraps a gold leaf round a slip
of zmc, and immerses it in the suspected liquor, slightly
acidulated—the mercury is precipitated; and scraping off
the gold and the tarnished surface of the zinc, he introduces
them into a small tube, and the heat of a spirit lamp is
sufficient to produce a ring of brilliant metallic globules.
He has employed a similar method to separate arsenic from
its solutions.
In all probability the mercurial will not be found in the
stomach in a soluble state. In this case we have to form
the contents of the stomach into a pulp, and to pass a stream
of chlorine through the mass, when the mercurial present
wdl be converted into bichloride, which may be separated
by filtration ; drive off the excess of chlorine by boiling the
liquid, and then either precipitate the mercury, by intro¬
ducing into the liquid a cylinder of pure tin, according to
evergies method, or by Traill’s combination of zinc and
gold leaf The tarnished surface of the metals in either
case is to be scraped, and the powder so obtained intro-
duced into the tube and heated, as already described*
When we have much corrosive sublimate to operate on
we may try it by lime water, which throws it down of a
deep yellow; by alkalis, which form with it an orange pre¬
cipitate ; by protomuriate of tin, which gives a slate-grey
powder; and by hydriodate of potassa, which forms a splen¬
did scarlet precipitate. 1
3. Copper—The poisonous effects of the salts of copper
have long been known; but though little likely to be used
as secret poisons, they sometimes produce death from being
accidentally mingled with food, as in the use of culinary
utensils of copper. The symptoms are those of other irri¬
tant poisons, to which is added spasmodic rigidity of the
limbs, in some cases amounting almost to tetanus. Salts of
copper may produce salivation, and also jaundice. The
morbid appearances are not very characteristic.
Albumen of eggs appears an antidote of some power
against the salts of copper, and therefore, after evacuating
the stomach, the whites of raw eggs should be adminis- .
means ^ndammation sboidd be obviated by antiphlogistic
The poison of copper may be sought for by boiling the
contents of the stomach with acetic acid; this will dissolve
every preparation of copper, and enable us to separate them
from animal and vegetable matter by the filter. We mav
if necessary, concentrate the solution by evaporation and
i tie addition of ammonia give the solution a blue colour
we may be satisfied that it contains copper. A stream of
sulphuretted hydrogen throws down aP brown precipffate
from the solu ion of copper; and if the quantity^ copper
“ K;pe“8ht polish J ™
quenctatwte^
taEe frithtr118,?'8 deleterious^
pened are W most commonly hap¬
pened are litharge, white lead, and sugar of lead. These
3 i
434
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic often find their way into the stomach, from little-suspected
Medicine, sources, and produce a species of poisoning with very pecu-
liar symptoms. Leaden pipes and cisterns are acted on by
Toxicology water> especially by soft rain-water, and the carbonate of
lead thus formed being soluble in an excess of carbonic
acid, is liable to enter the human system with the food.
Acescent articles of diet act on leaden vessels, and, when
aided by heat, on the plumbiferous glazes of our earthen¬
ware. These are the most general sources of this poison; but
persons engaged in works where white lead is largely used,
smelters of lead ores, painters, and potters, are liable to the
same deleterious influence. The symptoms produced are
obstinate constipation, severe tormina, with the symptoms
commonly known by the name of painters colic, colic of
Poitou, and of Devonshire. After these have subsisted for
some time, the person begins to have paralysis of the limbs,
first of one or both arms ; in general the extensor muscles
suffer before the flexors, and the palsy may then become
general in that limb, or extend to other parts. The pre¬
parations of lead, when given in large doses, appear to act
as irritant poisons.
Orfila found that animals poisoned by sugar of lead had
a preternatural whiteness of the villous coat of the stomach,
if they perished speedily; but, if their death were protracted,
the inner coat of the stomach was reddened. The stomach
has often been found corrugated after death.
Frequent ablution of the surface is the best prophylactic
for those much exposed to the powder of the preparations
of lead; and when lead has been introduced into the sys¬
tem with the food, the best means of obviating the return
of the evil is by rigidly excluding lead from all culinary
and economic purposes. Hard water is less liable to act on
lead than soft water, and hence the impropriety of lead
cisterns for rain water. Mercury seems to have a beneficial
effect in lead colic, especially when conjoined with opium.
Lead is easily detected. To whatever articles it is sus¬
pected to enter add vinegar, and boil; filter the solution
and all the lead will be in the clear liquor. If in large
quantity, it may be detected by the sweetish astringent
taste of the liquid ; part of which may be tried by the ad¬
dition of a solution of sulphuretted hydrogen, or of hydro-
sulphuret of ammonia, which instantly darkens the most
dilute solution of lead; another portion may be tried by
bichromate of potassa, which throws down solutions of lead
of a brilliant yellow ; a similar colour is formed with them
and hydriodate of potassa.
5. Antimony is rarely a poison ; because its most active
and best known preparations are violently emetic, and thus
counteract its effects. Emetic tartar, when given to the
lower animals, if vomiting be prevented by tying the gul¬
let, causes inflammation of the lungs and stomach ; and this
would probably be its effects on man. The lungs appeared
a mixture of orange-red, and violet-blue, and they were
gorged with blood, which prevented the usual crepitus. It
was also fatal when applied to a wound. The stomach was
violet coloured, thickened, and covered with tough mucus,
the intestines empty, in a man killed by emetic tartar.
The best antidote for this poison is decoction of peruvian
bark, especially of cinchona cordifolia.
The detection is not difficult: sulphuretted hydrogen
throws down a rich orange-red precipitate. When the an¬
timony is mixed with animal and vegetable matter, add first
a little muriatic acid to precipitate the contaminating sub¬
stances, and then tartaric acid to dissolve any antimonial
present. This will afford by filtration a clear liquid for the
application of the tests. The sulphuret is best reduced
by Dr. Turner’s process ; i. e. passing a stream of hydrogen
over it when heated to redness in a tube.
6. The other metals, though affording some poisonous
salts, scarcely require notice in this place. Zinc in solution
may be detected by a stream of sulphureted hydrogen af¬
fording a whitish precipitate. The muriate of tin affords forensic
one of a rich purple, the powder of Cassius, with deuto- Medicine^
muriate of gold; and when strong, coagulates milk com-
pletely. Sub-nitrate of bismuth may be detected by cal¬
cining in a moderate heat the contents of the stomach, and
adding diluted nitric acid to form a solution, from which
water throws down a white precipitate. The soluble salts
of silver are thrown down by alkaline and earthy muriates ;
and the precipitate is easily fusible into horn-silver. A
plate of copper becomes silvered by immersion in the so¬
lution of silver. Gold may be detected by solution in nit-
ro-muriatic acid ; which solution affords the purple powder
of Cassius with muriate of tin ; and the neutral solutions of
gold instantly gild silver or copper immersed in them.
n. Earthy and Alkaline Poisons. Atkalfne"
1. Baryta Both the carbonate and pure baryta are poisons<
very poisonous, as are the soluble salts of this earth. The
symptoms are those of irritant poisons : the senses then be¬
come blunted, the respiration feeble, and convulsions close the
scene. The stomach is found inflamed, and the brain
shews congestive apoplexy. The antidotes are any of the
alkaline sulphates, which instantly form with all the poison¬
ous salts of baryta, insoluble, inert compounds. Sulphu¬
ric acid, or sulphates, are also the tests of this earth : but
it might be confounded with strontia, the salts of which do
not seem poisonous, except in as far as they are acrid. The
best distinction is obtained by procuring a muriate of the
suspected salt, and dissolving it in alcohol. The muriate of
baryta imparts a yellow colour to the flame of spirit; the
muriate of strontia, a fine red.
2. Lime is only poisonous as an acrid. The antidotes
for it are phosphates of soda or potassa, and water impreg¬
nated with carbonic acid. The detection of the salts of
lime is easy. Its properties when pure are alkaline: it
forms with sulphuric acid a substance of little solubility ;
but phosphoric and oxalic acids precipitate it from all its so¬
luble combinations.
3. Potassa and Soda.—The pure alkalis and their carbo¬
nates are poisonous. Several fatal accidents have happened
from them. They act as strong irritant poisons, producing
intense heat and pain in the abdomen, then cold sweats,
tremors, and convulsive twitchings in the limbs, the stools
are tinged with blood, and membranous flakes are mixed
with the egesta. When the person lives some time, gene¬
ral peritoneal inflammation is observed after death. Ni¬
trate, and chlorate of potassa are irritant poisons in large
doses, producing dangerous inflammation of the stomach
and bowels. ,
The best remedies are large quantities of mild oil. I he
tests of the alkalis are obtained from their combinations
with different acids, and the manner in which they colour
the flame of the blowpipe. When nitrate or chlorate of
potassa can be had in the solid form, the first may be known
by its ready deflagration with charcoal in a crucible ; the
second by putting a drop of sulphuric acid on a mixture of
the salt with sugar, which it instantly ignites. . _ _
4. Ammonia and its salts. They all act rapidly as irri¬
tant poisons, and have besides a violent effect on the ner¬
vous system, especially on the nerves of the spinal cord.
This last effect is principally produced by pure ammo¬
nia and its carbonate. Convulsions are caused by the
too long continued inhalation of the vapour of ammonia,
which has several times proved fatal to man, terminating in
severe bronchitis. For this species of poisoning, muriatic
acid vapour is the best remedy. On the reception of car¬
bonate of ammonia in the stomach, we should administer
diluted vinegar instantly.
We detect the presence of ammonial vapour by the
smell, and by a rod dipt in muriatic acid, which gives rise
to white fumes of muriate of ammonia.
5. Alkaline sulphurets are all poisonous, chiefly from the
Acid Poi¬
sons.
s£™t rpehauinttedWbil!i WhiCh thCy &e 0Ut a larSe <luantity ofsul-
' V ' and whpn hJdr"g,en gas’ wh!ch Is poisonous when inhaled,
Toxicology T] injected m quantity into the alimentary canal.
alLw °f the St°mach’ in cases of Poisoning by
alkaline sulphurets, resembles in colour the skin of a toad^
ana the muscular coat is congested with blood. The al-
aline sulphurets act as narcotico-acrid poisons. Their nre-
sence ,s ascertained by a weak acid, and exposing a pFeee
of paper dipt in sugar of lead to the fumes. 1 1
r?11* Aci? Poisons- The three mineral acids are only
poisonous from their corrosive qualities, destroying rapidly
the tissues to which they are applied. Y S P Y
1. Sulphuric acid, when strong, decomposes and black-
^ arJima!matters by evolving their carbon. It disorgan-
fatal tf 1 ^ gc 6tj and stomach 5 when not speedily
fatal it lays the foundation of stricture of the gullet, and
the patient is long harassed by dysuria and constipation.
^ o a*r-t0 t^ro'v aci^ maliciously in the face.
thpm if deStr°yS the animal tiss'ies> and gives
^ied tnCsIin”’ eSPeCiaIly iD the faUCeS’ a"d aP-
3. Muriatic acid destroys the tissues also, but renders
the fauces usually whitish, as if the surface were of ivory
theehSpylllpt0m5-Pr0duCe(? by the three acids are similar, and
the best remedies are the same for all, viZ._the copious
use of mixtures of chalk or magnesia with milk.
Ihe three acids destroy the clothes, corroding them
brown^^Tp ^ When diIuted’ staining them of a reddish
browm This circumstance becomes of importance in cases
of Th^fvfr Ti!ng uCld °n any Person’ when no part
fion! nf ?d.i iqUld ,haj beT Preserved. The stained por-
S ffCe °l I6"’S°ake?fn diStilIed Wat6r’ Wil1 give out
acid if sulphuric acid be present, it is best detected by
nitrate of baryta, which gives a white precipitate, insoluble
m pure nitric acid. Muriatic acid is detected by the addi-
tion of nitrate of silver, which throws down insoluble muri-
ate of silver. Nitric acid is best recognised by its effect in
wFttr^a tubF Ur °f Sl,1Phate of ind«°’ heated
4. Oxalic acid is a most deadly poison. It differs from
other acids derived from the vegetable kingdom in not
containing hydrogen; being like the mineral acids, a
mary compound. Its taste is so intensely sour that it can-
ot be employed as a secret poison; but it has been
swallowed by mistake for sulphate of magnesia, so as to
prove fatal. Its alkaline salts are almost equally poisonous,
especially the bmoxalate of potassa, or salt sorrel, and
they are speedily fatal when applied to wounds. Oxalic
acid refers the tongue red and inflamed, and it corrodes
the stomach ; burning pain in the prim* vi* speedily come
on, cold clammy sweats, a faint and fluttering pulse suc¬
ceed, and palsy of the heart soon appears ; proving that this
substance is not only an acrid but a true narcotic. Unfor¬
tunately its effects are so violent and sudden that there can
little be done by axt to save the patient. Instant evacua¬
tion of the stomach, and the exhibition of chalk mixtures
are the best means to be employed. Even when the per¬
son survives the immediate effects, he often dies of the in¬
flammation or the corrosion of the alimentary canal.
The best mode of detecting oxalic acid is to precipitate
portions of it by solutions of lime and magnesia. The pre¬
cipitate by the first is not decomposable by any acid : sul¬
phate of copper gives a precipitate with oxalic acid, insolu¬
ble m a little muriatic acid; and the precipitate with
nitrate of silver, when dried, deflagrates with a gentle heat
Substances xiesF Substances with Poisonous Quali-'
with Pw- ]. Phosphorus, even in very small quantities, is poison-
ous : two grams have proved fatal to a man. In that case
there were sugillations on the belly and thighs, the scrotum
was bluish and phosphorescent, the chest contained much
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
435
TOpeareadkinflame/nd,ltl!ie ,J"sclllar “at of *6 stomach Foretwic
nvlorir ‘fi ^ Wltb dark sPots about the cardiac and ^edi cine.
nfstraHon1 Ff aCuationL of the stomach, and the admi-   v '
„rr flu mucilaginous, but not oleaginous substances, Toxicology
“Lef rnTFU6 s(hoald ™P'°y give relief in such
Sffi u Jr the patient lives for some time, it will be
above notPd616^ ^ P°iSOni Unless the morbid appearances
nW r 1 d may bej considered as characteristic. Solid
phosphorus is easily detected, by its inflammability.
stanceVtMcW of Potassa, are active sub-
tion of th* fglVen m CXCess’ are aPt to produce irrita-
tion of the system: vomiting, excessive languor, a feeble
pulse, pains in the stomach, and cramps in the limbs-
bilious vomiting and purging have followed large doses of
endian f T1^ the Iiver’ Causes absorption of indo¬
lent glandular tumours; and, it is said, that its lono--Conti-
mamm*? ^ the disaPPearance of the testes and
In dogs poisoned by it, the stomach was found inflamed
wi h numerous ulcerated points on its villous coat No
antidote is known. Its detection is easy. Boiled'sob
tions of starch are delicate tests of the presence of iodine’
Le°d XTr- fd’ Fy the blue coir pr„:
need. If hydnodate of potassa be present, the colour is
acid' 6*^, °n addmg t0 the Starch a droP or two of sulphuric
J-dr™ iS mr Poisonous than the last substance,
but it is so rare a substance, that it is unnecessary to de
scribe its effects or mode of detection. UnneCeSSary to de'
v V! Gaseous Poisons—Of these some are fatal from r
the irritation they produce, A; others are narcot^S pZ"
A.
Simple
h,LCil°Hr~Thk gas destr°ys life, if incautiously in¬
haled, by the irritation it produces. It causes violent
constriction of the epiglottis, and severe pain in the chest
even when diluted It disinfects air contaminated by ant
mal emanations. Its solution in water kills dogs; and when
injected into a vein, it speedily destroys life? It is most
certainly detected by its smell.
2. Hydrochloric gas, or muriatic acid gas, is still more
irritating and destructive. It is largely emitted in the
vegeSr °F Sodaf.tfromfsal‘> ^ most hostile to
to de“oy pSs5.3 con,a“”g the atmosphere, so as
3. Sulphurous acid gas is also most suffocating; is, even
when much diluted, very destructive to vegetation • and
as, as emanating from burning sulphur, sometimes’been
livid yCd C°mmit lnfanticide- 11 renders the lungs very
4. Nitric oxide, and nitrous acid vapour, are poisonous
!hat Cann0t be resPired> sinless largely diluted
he attempt to respire the former nearly proved fatal to
fata7to WT r? °f ‘a6 latter have accidentally proved
tatal to individuals, producing burning sensations p
throat and chest, an expectoration of yellowish matter 11
alvine dejections of a bright yellow colour. Before dealh
the body becomes livid, the breathing laborious vTf
of ammonia cautiously inhaled may relieve from the
of this gas, of hvdrochlorir nnrl nEc i . Irom the effects
hut weLia noUS rCli„Sh0Tr add.«^ =
B.
sonous
Qualities.
6. Nitrous Oxide, the exhilarating gas of TW
seems to have a ten^to ^
436
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic 7. Sulphuretted Hi/drofien is one of the most poisonous
Medicine. 0f gases, destroying life when injected into the intestines,
v V—' or into the cellular tissue, when received into the lungs, or
Toxicology even wpen extensively applied to the surface of the body.
It is largely given out in the corruption of some kinds of
animal matter. Many serious accidents from this gas have
happened in clearing out the Parisian fosses d’aisance.
The symptoms are instantaneous asphyxia, with discharges
of bloody froth from the mouth, and convulsive movements
of the limbs; motion and sensibility soon cease, the lips
become livid, the eyes close, and lose their lustre, the sur¬
face becomes cold, the action of the heart is tumultuous,
then feeble, and before death complete tetanus often comes
on. Even when the gas does not kill, it produces severe
tormina, nausea, and drowsiness. The body of one killed
by it quickly becomes putrid; the skin is livid, and soon
meteorized; the brain tender, and of a greenish hue. The
proper treatment of persons suffering from this gas is to
carry them into pure air, to dash cold water and vinegar
over the body, to rub the surface diligently with warm
flannels, but to admit air freely to the surface, while the
palms and soles are to be strongly brushed. Lavements
of cold water and vinegar should be first used, and then
lavements containing common salt; when the heart beats
violently blood should be abstracted.
This gas is well known by its smell resembling that of
rotten eggs. Solutions of sugar of lead are very delicate
tests of its presence in minute quantity.
8. Carburetted Hydrogen, of various qualities, is given
out by stagnant waters. It is one of the results of com¬
bustion, and is abundantly produced in coal mines, where
it is the formidable fire damp. When the atmosphere is
much contaminated with it, it oppresses the breathing, and
produces headache and giddiness. When mixed in the
proportion of about with the atmosphere of mines, it
will explode on the approach of a flame ; yet in such an
atmosphere persons will continue to work for some time
with impunity; but even if there be no risk of explosion,
the narcotic effects of the gas begin to be perceived on
those long exposed to it.
9. Carbonic Oxide, mixed with other gases, is given out
by burning fuel, especially if moist, and burning slowly.
It scarcely becomes an object to the toxicologist in its pure
state. It is inflammable, rather lighter than atmospheric
air, and has a disagreeable smell. It may be respired when
diluted; but produces temporary intoxication, and when
injected into the veins gives the blood a brown colour.
10. Carbonic Acid.—This gas is well known to be heav¬
ier than atmospheric air, to be totally irrespirable_ when
pure, and to be speedily fatal to animals plunged in it. It
is always present in the air in minute quantity; but is
largely given out by the burning of all sorts of fuel, is pro¬
duced in every species of fermentation, is formed in the
respiration of all animals, and, under certain circumstances,
it is given out by plants, particularly in the dark. From
these sources, the air, in confined situations, may become
impregnated with it, in a proportion inconsistent with the
safety of man. Numerous instances of its fatal effects have
been observed in the neighbourhood of large fires, in brew¬
eries, in crowded apartments; and in rooms where many
plants are growing, it is unhealthy to sleep. When a con¬
fined atmosphere is much mixed with it, uneasy respiration
is speedily felt, and the person may escape the danger by
seeking the open air; but at other times drowsiness or
stupor comes on, before any warning is given, and the indi¬
vidual loses the power of attempting his escape. When
the gas is undiluted, it is almost immediately fatal to ani¬
mals immersed in it; and even if the animal be made to
respire pure air, while the whole body, except the head, is
immersed in carbonic acid, life will be extinguished. After
death from this gas, the features remain placid, the eyes Forensie
open and brilliant, the body long retains its heat and flexi- Medicine.^
bility. When the person has not been exposed long enough
to extinguish life, the breathing may be stertorous and ‘
oppressive, the face flushed, the pulse feeble, the eyes pro¬
minent and wildly rolling about, the tongue swollen, and
the saliva flowing out of the mouth.
The proper treatment consists in removing the patient
into the open air, or into a well-ventilated room; the sur¬
face should be sprinkled with vinegar and water, and every
few minutes rubbed dry with hot towels. If the valve
bellows be at hand, the foul air should be first drawn from
the lungs, and its place immediately supplied by fresh air,
thrown in by the same machine. This alternation may be
two or three times repeated, and then we should imitate
natural respiration as much as possible, throwing in air by
the bellows, and aiding the expulsion of the air by gentle
pressure on the chest. Brushing the soles of the feet and
palms of the hands with stiff brushes, stimulating the^nose
by a feather, or by ammonia, are useful auxiliaries. Vv hen
animation is restored, it is time enough to put the patient
to bed.
vi.—Vegetable Poisons These include most of the Vegetable
narcotic and narcotico-acrid poisons of Orfila. Narcotism Poisoes.
begins with a sense of fulness in the head, then succeed a
sort of intoxication, dizziness, headache, loss of voluntary
motion, almost amounting to paralysis, sometimes convul¬
sions, and finally, stupor and coma. These symptoms may
not all be present; for each poison has its peculiar modifi¬
cation of the general symptoms. The post mortem exami¬
nations of those who perish by narcotic poisons do not
generally throw much light on their mode of destroying
life; and there are some diseases that bear considerable
resemblance to narcotism. Thus, Apoplexy chiefly differs
in there having usually been some warning before the fatal
attack, and in coming on during a meal. Narcotism is
generally perceived from half an hour to one hour, or more,
after taking the poison. Narcotism is more gradual than
apoplexy, and at first the person may be roused from his
stupor. Apoplectics generally survive for a day, or often
much longer. Epilepsy may generally be distinguished by
the history of the case, by the abruptness of the attack, by
the person being instantly rendered insensible, and by its
rarely proving fatal on the first attack. One species of
fatal syncope is mo-re difficult to be distinguished from nar¬
cotism ; and if it has not been witnessed, we do not know
how it can be recognised after death.
1. Opium.—The deadly effects of this substance have
been long known; and it was supposed to be a proximate
vegetable principle, simple in its nature, and peculiar in its
effects. Modern chemistry has shewn that opium, like
many other active vegetable substances, owes its qualities
to an alkaloid, which may be separated, by chemical pro¬
cesses, from many other ingredients. The first of these
alkaloids was detected in opium about 1812; and the care
with which this important drug has been since examined,
has shewn it to be an exceedingly compound substance,
consisting of not less than of sixteen, or perhaps of seven¬
teen different vegetable principles, of which nine are crystal-
lizable. Of these, in a toxicological point of view, the most
important are Morphia and Meconic acid. These two in¬
gredients appear to exist in combination in opium; and
when magnesia is added to a wratery solution of opium, an
insoluble meconate of magnesia is formed, from which the
morphia, sparingly soluble in water, is taken up by alcohol;
or, if we add muriate of lime to the liquid, instead of mag¬
nesia, we obtain meconate of lime, as an insoluble precipi¬
tate, and a soluble muriate of morphia; which last, when
purified by several nice chemical manipulations, is obtained
in minute, white, silky crystals. This is the valuable part
Medicine. ^Petitioner, as it is powerfully
W-'I’E1^ Itable to cause headache, nausea, and
Toxicology ^ ie s^in’ than crude opium.
, Rn] Clthey tlns substance or opium are administered in
lit °rr;i0-e’ tle syml,toms are drowsiness and insensibi-
bty, but this state is often preceded by a slight excitement:
tne race asRnm^c q i.  Si ,  
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
437
3. Besides Hyoscyamus, other solanece are narcotic. Forensic
inis is especially the case with solarium nigrum and s. Medicine
mammosum. Both owe their activity to an alkaloid, Sol- v v—^
anea ; w hich is capable of exciting vomiting, hurried res- Toxicology
piration and stupor.
4. Lactuca virosa is a poisonous plant, with a juice that
the face assumes a ghastly hue/the jaw S "he eveS' . ,4: a poisonous plant, wif.. „
remain half open, the pupils are strongly contracted stupor when insn^T^V3^ t!’e Sme^ 0Pium- This juice,
and complete coma succeed; convulsions are rare in adults w^ P i 5>^mS ^ lactucarium of the shops, which
but often are seen in infants. Adults in general die easv in' P-reni ^ enJ^ ^o”1 the lactuca saliva, but is obtained
from this poison. Opium produces its fatal effect however l vim™* ^antlty’ a"d of precisely the same quality, from
introduced into the s^stemf and even when apphed tol raw calm P°r & C°ma f0lW ^ °Ver-doSe °f laCtu’
"Str°"ger “P”"1’ 5-. ^ocyanic acid, „r Prussic acMfonus the poison-
f»»a»asrs5fSE 2»^^wsS32s5KU5
between its membranes, or in its ventricls • the Ws Z 1 , PeaeS °f t lat ^enus ; by the leaves of the cherry
gorged with blood, the stomach rarely appears inflamed the nrnlf hZ prUnWS ^ro-cerasus, by the prunuspadus ; and
blood is found fluid in the beari  ’• „ probably is contained in the seeds of the pomacece, and in
ait vegetable nrnrlii/nH-r.,™ „ •*1, *1, j ,
El , ■ n , ,, V7, . , V lcliCiy appears innamea, the
tolc!iyfound fluid in the heart’and the body runs raPidly
Evacuation by the stomach pump, or by emetics, is the
remedy chiefly to be trusted ; and after the patient is rous¬
ed, we must prevent him falling asleep while any tendency
o stupor is perceived. Artificial respiration appears to have
known0116 perS°n wh° Was found comatose. No antidote is
The best tests of crude opium are those which shew the
presence of morphia and meconic acid. The contents of
the stomach, m a case of the poisoning with opium, may
have the smell of that drug. The whole should be empti-
ed into a clean mortar, and reduced to a thin pulp by the
addition of distilled water ; acidulate the whole with acetic
^i, ^ , . . “ ui me pomacece, and m
al vegetable productions with the odour of bitter almonds.
Ihe acid, when concentrated, is the most deadly of all
poisons ; producing almost instant death, whether swallow¬
ed or introduced by a wound. Even the diluted hydrocy-
dnZ^ u ' Z afothecary’s shop is fatal in a very moderate
dose , and the essential oil of bitter almonds is not less so.
An infusion of the leaves of cherry-laurel is a very deadly poi-
if °ndj haVe sometimes Proved fatal; and the same
effect has followed on eating the blossoms of the common
peach, prunus persica, in a salad. When the preparation
i!mm0end°TTaLd’ ^ is very ^dy : J bLthing
mediately becomes laborious, convulsive movements of
the limbs come on: in dno-s It ^rl^
       UJC vvnuie witn acetic AfteJfwL T ^ 5 m f°gS lfc ends in violent tetanus.
acid, strain and filter, then reduce the liquor to the consis- muselet nf tZ ^ f6 fIlstenin^ the PuPds dilated, the
tence of a syrup by a gentle heat: add alcohol eraduallv Zl ft f the Spi]nal, co]umn stiff, the countenance pale
boil, and filter when cold. The spirituous solution will comPosed’ the abdomen drawn in; the veins of
tence'ofsvruD Again’ ,0 the c0"sis- WoodTblack “<•
tence of sjrup, and add magnesia, which will throw down
meconate or maffiiGsia anrl tVip mnwAlvio ^    c
j r? ^ wmcn win tiirow aown
meconate of magnesia and the morphia in the form of a
greyish powder, which may be freed from much of its
colouring matter, by washing it with cold water, and then
with cold proof spirit. The morphia may now be separa¬
ted from the meconate of magnesia by hot strong alcohol :
concentrate this last solution, which wall have a bitter taste,
which, on adding a drop of nitric acid, will strike an orano-e
yellow colour, soon passing to golden yellow ; and will give
a duck-blue with permuriate of iron.
The meconate should be decomposed by muriate of
baryta, which will form an insoluble meconate of baryta;
from which the addition of very diluted sulphuric acid se¬
parates the meconic acid. This acid has a silky lusture in
the state of crystals, and affords, with permuriate of iron, a
very intense red. There is only one source of fallacy in
operating with meconic acid from the human stomach,
which must be guarded against, namely, that the sulpho-
Cyanates of the alkalis precipitate permuriate of iron of a
red colour, and some of t.ho 11i.... *i..i!.. 
• s-r. 1- , Witu uiacK DlOOCl, anc
blood in the heart and great vessels is generally fluid. In
some instances the blood and cavities of the body have ex-
mled a strong odour of prussic acid; and the blood has
been said occasionally to have exhibited a bluish tint when
the stiong acid has been administered. The bile has often
been observed to be of a dark blue hue in such cases.
o remedy can be of service in poisoning by this sub¬
stance, unless instantly administered: but ammonia ap-
pears to have a great power in alleviating the symptoms
vien the quantity of hydrocyanic acid has not beeifvery
grejit. Ammonia diluted with water should be introduced
into the stomach ; its fumes sufficiently diluted with air
a owed to enter the lungs, taking care not to excoriate the
air passages by the too free use of the ammonia. Another
very powerful antidote is chlorine. It is most advan-
tageous to employ the vapour of water containing about
one fourth part of its volume of chlorine gas. This mav
be inspired without risk; it has saved tht lower animal!
when the poison had been administered for five minutes
before its application, even after the convulsive stage had
passed, and that of insensihllltv Lori   i t „
red colour, and some of the seCTAfons, asTe liva con- naS‘IZhStf"’ ^ ^ ««a
tain a sulpho-cyanate. Ifthe solution ofmorphia be strong fik’s exDeWmeA “f 'nscns.b.l'ty had supervened. In Or-
there is no danger of mistake; because of the intensity of chlorine^n AU m A ,!“nUteS after insP™g diluted
It! F”bes has also shewn [hat SSf l**.4*>«
the colour produced. Professor Forbes has also shewn that
the two solutions affect the prismatic spectrum in a differ¬
ent manner ; though perhaps this test is less applicable to
medico-legal causes, where the quantity of ingredients is
generally very minute.
2. Hyoscyamus niger. The whole plant is narcotic, es¬
pecially the roots, which have several times caused fatal
effects, by being eaten instead of parsnips. The symptoms
are active delirium, in which persons have danced and reel¬
ed about until stupor supervened. In persons fully under
this stupor, stimuli cease to rouse, and the eye is insensible
to light, or even to being touched. Emetics are the reme
dies ; but we have no particular tests of this poison.
certain. Herbst of Gottingen states that dZ' Zi
water on the surface of the body,Ta nowerfn^ C°M
such cases : it is most successfulfo’/ore the con f”tldote in
but is useful during the spasms. ^ Slve staSe>
d are Cerf*in When we
body, the smSbtst erterioT Th A* “ the
blood will sometimes have its peculiar and the
three days after death - and ffZ u f°r m0re than
within twenty-four horns the nd haS been buried
Wlme precipitate is formed, which, tvS'cWedTndtated
438
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Forensic in a tube, gives off cyanogens, a gas that burns with a rose-
Medicine. co]oure(J flame. If we add to the suspected liquid sulphate
of copper, a rich emerald green solution is formed: and if
Toxicology to another portion of the liquor we previously add a drop
or two of potassa, that test will throw down a greenish
salt, which is partially dissolved by hydrochloric acid,leav-
ing behind a cyanide of copper, which will yield cyanogene
like the precipitate of silver. This test will detect prussic
acid in 20,000 times its weight of water.
Strychnia, and the Plants from which it is obtained.—
This alkaloid, and the plants producing it, all act in the same
manner, being very poisonous, and causing speedily severe
spasms, ending in tetanus and asphyxia from fixation of the
muscles of respiration. Strychnia was first obtained from
the seeds of Strychnos nux vomica in 1818, by Pelletier and
Caventou; but it exists in still larger quantity in those of
Strychnos Ignatii. The powder of the seeds is first exposed
to the action of nitric aether, to separate a large quantity
of oil, and is then digested with diluted sulphuric acid ;
the acid is next separated by means ol lime or magnesia,
and the alkaloid taken up by boiling alkohol. 1 his was
supposed to be pure strychnia; but it was afterwards found
to be mixed with another alkaloid of somewhat similar pro¬
perties, which wras first obtained from a bark imported into
Europe as that of the true angostura bark, or Galipea offici¬
nalis. It was found to be very poisonous, and was sup¬
posed to be the bark of Brucea antidysenterica. Hence
this new alkaloid was named Brucia. But it has been more
lately discovered that the bark was not a production of
South America, but of India, and really was the bark of
Strychnos nux vomica, which contains a larger quantity of
brucia, with some strychnine, than the seeds of the plant.
According to some, the poisonous energy of the strychnia
to brucia is 6 to 1 ; others say as 24 to 1. d he two^
alkaloids, when mixed, as they always are in the strychnia ot
the shops, may be separated by dissolving the impure salt
in very diluted nitric acid to saturation, and crystallizing the
solution ; the nitrate of brucia forms short, solid prisms,
while the salt of strychnia exists in soft silky tufts, which,
by agitation, may be poured off with the mother water from
the crystal of nitrate of brucia. Both alkaloids may be ob¬
tained pure by carbonate of soda, and taken up by boiling
alkohol.
Pure strychnia is a most deadly poison: a single grain
would probably destroy a man, and even less if inserted in
a wound ; but it is still more fatal to dogs and to cold¬
blooded animals. Yet this energetic substance is used, in
minute doses of one-eighth grain, as an internal remedy,
and also externally, for the cure of paralysis ; but its effects
must be carefully watched. Its taste is so intensely
bitter that it may be thus detected when diluted in 100,000
times its weight of water. No antidote is known foi this
deadly poison, though some have supposed that iodine
may be useful, as in some other instances of vegetable
poisons.
The powder of the seeds of Strychnos nux vomica, or of
S. Ignatii, are deadly poisons. Fifteen grains of the for¬
mer, and still less of the latter, have proved fatal to man,
with tetanic symptoms, after anxiety, spasms of the mus¬
cles of the limbs, rigidity of the spinal column, livid face,
and impossibility of breathing. These symptoms come
on in paroxysms, with intervals of relaxation that become
shorter towards the fatal termination. The intervals are
marked by nausea, profuse perspiration, and a very feeble
pulse ; and the victim from a large dose seldom lives an
hour. When the death is rapid, the body exhibits little
marks of inflammation ; but when it has been lingering, the
stomach shows traces of violent inflammation in its violet
colour, and in some cases gangrene, with a serous effusion
in the head and spine, while the blood generally remains
fluid. The human body usually retains the rigidity of the
muscles after death ; but in dogs they have sometimes lost Forensic
their stiffness just after death. _ _ Medicine.
The celebrated Javan poison is prepared from the juice
of Antiaris toxicarxa and Strychnos tieute, or chetik, plants Toxicology
belonging to the natural order of Apocynew ; and another
plant of the same order, Cerbera tanghin, is said to be so
poisonous that a single seed will destroy twenty persons.
The woorali, or wourara poison of South America, has
been found by Schomburgh to be prepared from a decoction
of a new Strychnos, which he names S. toxicaria ; and we
are informed by Hillhouse and Waterton, that the Indians,
during its inspissation, add the juice of bulbous roots and
the poison of snakes. We have found very small quanti¬
ties of this poison, though kept for years, speedily to de¬
stroy animals, without violent convulsions.
It becomes of much importance to be able to detect the
administration of strychnia and brucia ; and the following is
an outline of the method, premising that they are less liable
to lose their qualities by decomposition in the dead body,
than most of the vegetable alkaloids, and may be detected
in very minute quantity.
When the powdered seeds of any of the Strycknece are
administered, they are usually found adherent to the coats
of the stomach, and may be recognised by giving an in¬
tensely bitter taste to alkohol, and by forming a deep yellow
colour with nitric acid; and the alkaloids may be obtained
from them as above.
Strychnia and brucia may be separated from the contents
of the stomach by boiling that with vinegar, which will
dissolve the alkaloids, while it coagulates the animal matters
present; and the mass in the filter may be again boiled with
alkohol, and this filtered liquid added to the acetous solution,
concentrated by a moderate heat, and the residue will have
an intensely bitter taste. 1. To one portion add nitric
acid, which will, if brucia be present, give a deep yellow
colour. 2. To another portion add chloride of gold, which
will throw down a rich yellow precipitate with strychnia j
but brucia is not precipitated by this reagent. 3. Acidu¬
late bichromate of potass with sulphuric acid, and add this
to a third portion : no precipitate falls ; but where strych¬
nia is present, the mixture becomes of a pale blue colour,^
and retains its transparency. 4. The most decided test ot
all is the introduction of a few drops of the liquid into the
thorax of a living frog, as proposed by Dr Marshall Hall ;
and even the ^xn7th. ? Srain ?f strychnia will thus
produce violent convulsions in the animal.
7. Tobacco, a well known narcotic, of difficult detection,
except by the smell. Nicotine is its poison.
8. Atropa Belladonna, or deadly nightshade, is a strong
narcotic poison. All the plant is poisonous, especially the
leaves and the fruit. The symptoms produced are deli¬
rium, dilated pupils, and loss of vision. Sometimes it causes
hysterical bursts of laughter; the lips, tongue, and throat
are parched; there is a great sense of sinking, with tremu¬
lous movements of the hands; but convulsions are raie.
Many instances of poisoning have happened from eating
the berries and the young shoots. The active principle is
an alkaloid, atropia.
9. Datura Stramonium is another poison sometimes em¬
ployed on the Continent to facilitate robbery or rape; and
in this country it has been administered by mistake. It
owes its activity to an alkaloid, daturia, which abounds
also in D. tatula. The extract of stramonium produces
dryness of the fauces, intoxication, and active delirium,
with cerebral congestion. # ,
10. Various umbelliferous plants are poisonous; sucn as
Conium maculatum, ASthusa Cynapium, and Lactuca virosa.
The roots and leaves contain a poisonous juice; and tne
symptoms are those of narcotics, with some degree of irri¬
tation. Various authors have spoken of the CEnanthe cro-
cata as very poisonous ; but Dr Christison gave it largely
Medici rip -f0 C °^S .Wlt lout them. Conium maculatum owes
v y lts actlvlty to an oily alkaline principle, conia, which smells
Strongly of mice, and becomes, though a clear liquid when
Toxicology cold, opaque on being heated.
H. Several ot the Ranunculacece are acrid and narcotic
as the Ranunculus sederatus, R. flammula, R. bulbosus, R.
lingua, R. acris, and R. arvensis ; but we have no mode of
detecting their poison.
12. Aconitum napellus produces delirium and stupor
wnh burning in the throat, vomiting, and purging.
13. Uelleborus niger is a narcotico-acrid poison of great
activity. 1 &
14. Several other poisonous plants may be mentioned,
such as Anemone puls at ilia and Cytisus laburnum; the
seeds of the latter are narcotic. In all these cases the best
remedies are emetics.
lb. Digitalis purpurea owes its activity to digitalia, an
alkaloid which may be obtained from it. The chief cha¬
racteristic of digitalis is its extraordinary power in reduc¬
ing the force and frequency of the pulse; on which ac-
smah1 closesUSed m medicine; but il is poisonous even in
16. The other narcotico-acrid poisons of the vegetable
ingdom we shall briefly notice, indicating such as have
yielded alkaloids to analysis. Of these, Menispermum coc-
C“T7s one’ tIle 7actlve principle of which is picrotoxia :
Delphimum staphysagria, the seeds of which yield delphi-
ma; Uielidonmm majus; Arum maculatum; Juniperus
sabina ; Veratrum album, which yields veratria, an alkaloid
lately introduced as an external application, and nearly re¬
sembling another poisonous alkaloid, colchicia, obtained
irom Colchicum autumnale; Bryonia alba, said to afford
bryomna; Euphorbia qfficinarum ; Hippo mane mancinella ;
vanous species of Jatropha, which yet by cooking yield
w lolesome food; the seeds of Ricinus communis ; seeds of
Croton tiglmm; Cucumis colocynthis; Momordica elate-
num ; Scillamaritima ; various species of Daphne; several
species of Rhus ; Hebradendron gambogioides ; Convol¬
vulus jalapa, and C. scammonea. To these some add Nar¬
cissus pseudo-Narcissus, Gratiola officinalis, Caltha pal-
ustns, and Lobelia injlata.
17. Poisonous Fungi.—Several of this natural order are
poisonous, especially those belonging to the genera Ama¬
nita and Agancus. Their poisonous qualities appear to
depend on two principles; one of which is volatile, and
disappears on boiling, drying, or macerating in a weak
thls PnnciPle Le Tellier ascribes the irritant
quality of poisonous mushrooms. The other is not volatile
is soluble in water, unites with some acids into crystalliz-
able compounds, and appears to be an alkaloid now termed
fungia ; on this the narcotic properties of these plants de¬
pend. The time in which the symptoms occur, after the
fungi have been eaten, is very various; often not until twelve
or even twenty-four hours. The sufferers are often relieved
by vomiting; but if not, the surface becomes livid and cold
violent colic ensues, and death is preceded by delirium and
deep coma. The corpse is livid all over, the blood fluid
and sanguine discharges are apt to flow from the mouth’
nose, and eyes. ’
18. Secale cornutum. The ergot of rye produces when
eaten in bread, many of the symptoms of mushroom poison.
Decandolle ascribes tins disease of grain to a fungus of the
genus Sclerotium ; and it has been found to yield a prin¬
ciple resembling fungia. The tendency of this substance
to produce dry gangrene is generally admitted by German
and French writers. There is a learned dissertation on it
by Dr Wiggers, in which its fungoid origin, and its pecu¬
liar action in promoting the expulsive efforts of the gravid
uterus, seem to be established.
19. Alkohol and AEther may be here considered, as being
derived by art from vegetable matter. They are well-
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
439
known narcotics, producing at first intoxication, and after- Forensic
wards stupor and cerebral congestion. They are also irri- Medicine,
tants; the stomach of persons killed by them being often
inflamed. When the moderate use of spirit does not pro- Toxicology
uuce death, it may give rise to delirium tremens. The
smell of spirit is often perceived in the cavities of the chest
and abdomen of those who have died from drinking. The
stomach-pump and milk are the best remedies.
20. Camphor, a concrete essential oil, has pretty strono-
narcotic qualities. It is best detected by its peculiar
odour. r
VIL—Aneual Poisons. Animal
1. Canthandes. An acrid poison, is contained in the poisons,
body of the Cantharis vesicatoria. It is found to reside in
a whitish matter, resembling spermaceti in colour and con-
sistence, which is united to three other marked principles.
1 lie hist is a green oil, soluble in spirit, but not in water ;
t le second a blackish matter, soluble in water, not in
spirit; the third a yellowish viscid matter, soluble both in
water and in spirit. This last is united in the insect with
cantharidme, and renders it soluble in water, which it is
not when pure.
1 he symptoms of poisoning by cantharides are intense
burning heat in the primae vise, painful deglutition, pain in
the stomach and bowels, bloody vomiting, painful micturi¬
tion, and priapism, intense desire to void urine, and dis¬
tressing pain in the whole urinary organs : frightful con¬
vulsions and tetanic spasms usher in the fatal termination.
V\ hen the flies in substance have been swallowed, the
lagments o( their green elytra are found adhering to the
villous coat of the stomach; and this has been observed
even after the body has been buried for months. There
is no antidote for this poison. Evacuants and mucilao-es
are the best remedies. Oil given by the mouth increases
the evil by dissolving the cantharidine; but oil thrown
into the bladder is useful in allaying the irritation.
2. Fish Poison.— This singular subject is little under¬
stood, except that, in certain seas, and in certain seasons,
hshes, at other times wholesome, prove deadly poisons.
I his is chiefly the case with the yellow-billed sprat, the
barracuta, the grey snapper, the Sparus venenosus,oxu\ area
labrus of the West Indies ; with several species of Diodon
and letrodon, and with Aplodactylus punctatus, of the
Southern Ocean. The rapidity and fhtality of the poison
has been described by Chisholm, Ferguson, and Thomas.
J lie symptoms are,—irritation in the throat, tingling of the
surface, burning heat in the stomach and bowels, colic,
nausea, spasms, giddiness, coma, and death. It is said that
persons have died whilst masticating a portion of the fish
eie any of it was swallowed. The juice of the sugar-cane’
and various sweet liqueurs, are said to be useful in the
slighter cases.
Fishes in this country are sometimes poisonous; and
mussels have occasionally with us produced death, with
less rapidity, but with symptoms of the same kind. The
rrf “them by
their flesh Tho Lp i i ^ 110se wbo eat> or even touch
& W&'„r ™ n0"’" lns,ances of this is ^ the Pes-
tteir flesh rn,n K"m0ng domestic ani™K by which
tne.r "esh t»"‘l Jf'ces become deadly poison to other ani-
440
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Medical mals. This appears somewhat analogous to the accidents
Police. happen in dissection.
v—4 The bites of rabid animals belong to the same class
of poisons. The bite, for instance, of a rabid dog ■will
destroy other animals ; after some time they become deli¬
rious, than paralytic, and invariably die rabid. In man
similar symptoms occur, to which is superadded hydropho-
hia)—a symptom never observed by Mr Youatt in any
animal except man. Excision of the wound, or destruc¬
tion of the part by caustic, is the best prophylactic ; Bella¬
donna and Scutellaria lateriflora seem to have some
preventive power, according to the same authority; and
excessive bleeding seems to have arrested or cured the
disease in India.
5. Bites of Snakes.—Poisonous snakes are provided with
two or more teeth placed on a moveable bone, on each side
of the upper jaw, and corresponding to the maxillary bones
of other animals. These teeth or fangs are hollow, and
have their roots connected with a duct that conveys the
poison from a bag placed under the principal muscles that
close the jaws; so that when the animal bites, the poison
is squeezed from the bag, and is instilled, through the hol¬
low of the fangs, into the wound. The symptoms, in ge¬
neral, are in proportion to the quantity of the poison com¬
pared to the size of the animal bitten; the smallest animals
suffering most. The general symptoms are,—pain in the
part wounded, trembling, weakened respiration and circu¬
lation, and coma. The most poisonous snakes are the
rattlesnake and trigonocephali of America, and the cobra
de capello of India: the viper of this country and of
France sometimes produces fatal accidents. Excision of
the part, sucking, or cupping the wound are to be tried;
and both ammonia and arsenic given internally appear to
have considerable power in curing the bites even of the
most deadly snakes.
6. The stings and bites of Arachnidce and Insecta are
poisons of a similar kind. The complex apparatus of the
sting of the bee and wasp convey poison to the wound so
acrid that horses, asses, and also men, have died from nu¬
merous stings. The sting of the scorpion, and bite of
Scolopendra morsitans, as well as of spiders, are inflicted
with a poisoned apparatus analogous in structure to the
fangs of snakes.
Imaginary VIII. IMAGINARY, PRETENDED, AND IMPUTED PoiSON-
poisonings. irgs, require much patience and attention on the part of
the medical jurist. To them no general rule can be ap¬
plied, but they must be treated according to the nature of
each peculiar case.
PART II.—MEDICAL POLICE.
SECTION I.—CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING THE HEALTH OF
INDIVIDUALS.
Cleanli* L Cleanliness.—This subject may be considered under
ness. three heads.
1. Personal Cleanliness is valued by all nations in pro¬
portion to their advance in civilization, and exercises an
important influence on the health of individuals. Most
savage nations are disgustingly deficient in this virtue ; but
the polished nations of antiquity paid great attention to it,
as is evinced by their general use of baths, the stupendous
ruins of which still surprise us in the remains of their cities.
In modern times, especially in Great Britain, warm and
cold bathing are far less employed than is desirable ; and
we cannot help regretting the want of public baths for all
ranks, especially in our manufacturing towns, where the
luxury of warm or tepid bathing might be very cheaply
obtained, by collecting the waste water from the condens¬
ing backs of steam-engines. Bathing, by removing sordes Medical
and remains of perspiration, keeps the skin in a fit state Police,
for its important functions. Public baths should be estab-
lished in every town, and all children should be taught to
swim. The warm and vapour baths of Northern Europe
prove how cheaply such luxuries might be obtained for the
great mass of the community.
2. Domestic Cleanliness is perhaps better understood by
the Dutch and the English than by any other nations in
the world. This virtue has been long practised in Holland,
but is comparatively only ot late origin in Britain. I he
picture which Erasmus draws of English manners is not
very flattering; and our own historians prove that it was
not until after the civil wars of the seventeenth century
that the English became a cleanly people. Now no nation
can surpass them in domestic cleanliness, and none equal
them in domestic comfort. The effect on the health of the
inhabitants is shown by the less frequent attacks of severe
epidemic diseases in modern times, and perhaps also by the
increased value of life annuities.
3. Ventilation of Habitations is one important part of
domestic economy, now better understood; and Strutt,
Sylvester, and Murray have taught us how ventilation may
be combined with warmth. The renewal ot the air, vi¬
tiated by respiration and combustion, is secured by simple
contrivances, and the air admitted into apartments is
warmed by passing between a close stove or cockle and an
exterior covering.
II. Aliment.—Under this head may be considered,— Aliment.
1. Preparation of Food.—Alimentary matters are ren¬
dered more wholesome and nutritive by cooking ; and the
mystery of that art is not unworthy of consideration, even
were it not also the means of economizing the sustenance,
and increasing the gratification of man.
2. Culinary Utensils deserve attention here, because
the wholesomeness of aliment often is materially affected by
them. There is risk of cooking food, especially of the
acescent or oleaginous kinds, in copper vessels, though the
danger is diminished by keeping the utensils always bright,
and not suffering the food to remain in them after removal
from the fire. Vessels of lead and pewter should be en¬
tirely banished from the kitchen, as they are never without
danger, from the ease with which they are acted on by
acids. Tinning copper vessels renders them safe as long^
as the coating of tin lasts ; but the vessels usually made of
pewter, an alloy that contains lead, should be replaced by
those of block-tin or of tinned iron. The objection to the
last kind of vessels is their little durability, and the lead
solder with which they are put together. Vessels of iron
are durable and cheap, but they blacken some kinds of
food : this is best obviated by a coating of tin. Vessels of
gold and silver are far too expensive for ordinary use ; but
copper is often covered with a thin plate of silver, forming
what is termed plated ware, which is excellent while the
silver remains on the copper. A thinner coat of silver is
applied in some instances by means of an amalgam of
silver, and a similar process is commonly used to gild the
inside of silver or of plated ware. Pottery a valuab e
addition to culinary utensils. It is of all qualities, from the
purest porcelain of China or of Europe to the coarsest
earthenware. The glazes which contain lead are objection¬
able where acids are to be used ; but if well baked, such
glazes are not readily acted on. For chemical experiments
the porcelain of China or of Germany, in which there is no
lead, is always preferred, and it would be so also for culinary
purposes but for the expense. These glazes are made
with felspar, or with mixtures of flint and alkalies. .
3. Adulterations of Food may be accidental or designed.
We have just stated how lead and copper may find their
way into food ; but there are other accidental adulterations.
Farina or flour may be rendered unwholesome by the pre-
Medical
Police.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Police of
drug-
shops.
Clothing.
sence of the ergot, the smut of wheat, and the seeds of
Lohum temulentum ; which last acts as a narcotic. Flour
may also be mixed with sand, from the use of too soft mill¬
stones, with other impurities, from want of care in winnow-
mg or grinding; or by fraudulent mixtures of chalk and
gypsum. Bread may be mixed with chalk, magnesia, po-
tassa, soda, or alum, to conceal bad flour; and it has been
sometimes adulterated with white lead. These adultera¬
tions are easily detected. On rubbing down the bread into
a pulp with water, the heavy particles will subside to the
bottom and may be collected; the alum, alkalies, or lead
may be detected by chemical tests. Butcher meat may
be unwholesome from disease in the animal, or by lono-
keeping. Butter may be deteriorated by containino- too
much salt or water. Water may be unwholesome or°dis¬
agreeable from corrupting animal or vegetable matter;
from being too hard,—that is, containing too much saline or
earthy ingredients. Soft water may be adulterated by
passing through leaden pipes, or standing in cisterns of that
metal. Milk may be fraudulently mixed with water, or
with magnesia and chalk. Malt liquors have been pur¬
posely adulterated by Cocculus indicus, Lolium temulentum,
&c., to increase their intoxicating qualities. Wines have
been chiefly adulterated by brandy, to give them strength ;
by preparations of lead, to correct acidity and impart astrin-
gency. This last ingredient is best detected by a test
consisting of a solution of tartaric acid impregnated with
sulphuretted hydrogen. The chief adulterations of spirit
are by water, which is detected by the hydrometer; and
by lead accidentally introduced from the worms of the
u-u 18 readiIy thrown down by infusion of galls,
which wm convert new unwholesome spirits into good spirit,
v inegar is liable to contain lead and copper, from the pipes
and cocks through which it flows. These metals are easily
detected by sulphuretted hydrogen and ammonia.
III. Police OF Apothecaries’ Shops.—The supply of
good drugs is regulated in many countries bv the go¬
vernment. Inspectors are appointed, who examine and
report on the state of the drugs found in the premises of
dealers, and any infringement of the laws is rigorously
punished. In our country the inspections are a mere form,
or little or no utility. They should be made by persons
pmd by the state and competent to the task, whose office
should be honourable.
IV* Clothing.—The importance of paying attention to
the qualities of clothing is generally admitted. The ad¬
vantage of flannel or cotton next the skin to persons of a
consumptive habit, or of otherwise delicate constitutions,
and also to soldiers and sailors, or other persons whose occu¬
pations are laborious, is acknowledged. The use of linen
next the skin is suitable for the young and robust; but as
persons advance in life, cotton or woollen under-garments
are advisable. °
1. The Male Dress should afford sufficient protection to
the parts it covers, and should not impede the free use of
the limbs. The covering of the head should defend the eyes
from excess of light, and the head from the sun. Anything
tight about the neck is injurious. Those who take much
exercise will find useful support from broad belts round the
waist; especially as they advance in life.
2. The Female Dress should keep the body comfortably
warm. Compression of the chest and abdomen of females
is far too general; and the ribs of most of our ladies are
deformed by tight lacing. This practice diminishes the ca¬
vity of the chest; it confines the stomach and liver exces¬
sively, and has a tendency to contract the width of the
pelvis. By the first, consumptive diseases are induced; by
the second, the function of digestion is injured; by the
last, the Derils of rn   •
441
exposure of the bust is also too general among women, Medical
and often lays the foundation of disease. Police.
V. Temperance.—Its importance to health, to vigor- ^
ous youth, and to honoured age, need not be insisted on. Temper-
(jluttony is not less destructive, and is even more dis<j-ust;incr ance*
than drunkenness: both are sure to end in debasement
of the mental faculties, and destruction of the bodily health.
VI. Exercise.—Regular exercise in the open air is Exercise,
mghly conducive to health; and those who are interested
in the improvement and happiness of the lower classes in
our towns cannot help lamenting the little that has been
done to encourage our artizans and shopkeepers to take
outdoor exercise in pure air.
I he philanthropist must remark with regret the cir¬
cumscription of the means of enjoying fresh air, which the
inclosure of commons and of waste lands near towns and
villages has produced, and the discouragement by offi¬
cious magistrates of the outdoor games and pastimes of the
lower orders. Part of the sums so frequently left to en¬
dow hospitals and alms-houses would be more rationally
expended on gymnasia for the encouragement of healthy
sports m the open air, or on public walks for the recreation
of our citizens.
V1; PR»™JUI0K.-In mesr parts of the Continent Prostitu-
the state has interfered, not, as is falsely alleged by some tion.
to raise a revenue from this polluted source, but to secure
the rising generation, as much as possible, against the fear¬
ful consequences of diseases that sap the foundations of a
nation s strength, by impairing the sources of a healthy
progeny. The unfortunate class of females, who may ge¬
nerally be considered as the victims of male licentiousness
are there regularly registered, and subject to domiciliary
visits of the authorities, who send them to hospitals when
isease first makes its appearance. The arguments against
this practice are not more rational than it would be to for¬
bid the medical practitioner to lend his aid in other cases
where the imprudence of the sufferer was the cause of his
malady.
VIII. Celibacy and Marriage—In the most po-Celibacy
Jisned states of antiquity marriage was enjoined by positive an<i mar-
enactments, and enforced by penal statutes; in modernriaSe-
times legislators wisely leave it to the sense and discretion
of individuals. In fact, the propensity to celibacy is so
small in most persons that marriage may be safely en¬
trusted to individual will. The tendency to increase and
multiply is so forcible, that it will generally be found to
produce a population up to the very limit of the means of
providing for children. It was for advocating this philoso¬
phical truth, and for pointing out the natural checks to a
redundant and miserable, because destitute, population
that Malthus has been abused by sciolists and pretended
philanthropists, who appear, from their senseless declama¬
tions, either never to have read his works, or not to have
comprehended their import.
JLLf7ATr AXD ,CAuE, ?F 0FrsPRiNG.—The im-Lactation,
portant duty of rearing the helpless infant devolves by na-
ture on the female parent; and in general it can never be
so well performed by any other individual. In an artificial
state of society however, many females become mothers
who are not able to nurse their children. In such cases
we would recommend the employment of a wet nurse as
affording the best chance of rearing the infant n
td
sr ro;rn for
of mitlble SrrmiUnderg0 °,iy sblutions> have its clothes
. h ?rV> an,d frequently changed. Its food
last, the perils of child-bed are increased. The nractice nf anu rrequeni
tight lacing is ancient. It ^severely stigmatizedby Juve- two or three^ears "7^ and far*nace°us matter for the first
rmpn mV. i 1 , slloum hawe regular exercise in the
pen air, and not be confined in its early years to too
3 K
o - o — ———augiiiaii;
nal; and is condemned by all modern authors
VOL. XIV.
Excessive
442 MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Medical sedentary occupations. The dreadful mortality in foundling
PoUce. hospitals proves the importance of the circumstances alluded
to under this head.
Profession x. Effects of Profession and Trade on Health.—
and trade, jg a very important consideration, and may be divided
into various heads.
1. Diseases incident to affluent idleness are chiefly such
as arise from indolence and want of some definite object
of pursuit: hypochondriasis, tedium vitae, dyspepsia, gout.
For these the best remedies are, rural amusements, intel¬
lectual pursuits, mingled with sufficient inducements to take
exercise in the open air.
2. Diseases of Literary Men are chiefly produced by want
of attention to regular exercise in the open air, giving rise
to dyspepsia and constipation ; by inequalities in the time
of eating and sleeping; and by excessive use of the eyes
inartificial light. They are best obviated by abridging the
hours of study, and mingling sedentary avocations with ac¬
tive and social occupations. Literary men, however, espe¬
cially in France, have been a long-lived race.
3. Clergymen have a wholesome intermixture of seden¬
tary with active duties; and, if their lungs be sound, they
are generally long-lived.
4. Lawyers, when their occupations are chiefly at the
desk, are subject to the diseases of sedentary persons ; but
barristers, when not excessively harassed by toil, may ge¬
nerally be considered as engaged in a healthy occupation.
Many of our judges attain extreme old age.
5. Medical men, from the general activity of their pur¬
suits, their knowledge of the causes that promote health,
and the wholesome exercise of mind and body induced by
their profession, are generally considered as a long-lived
class ; but in this, as in other learned professions, small ac¬
count is made of those who die before they have become
known, of those who pine away from penury and hope de¬
ferred, or whom a desire to better their condition sends
abroad to perish on inhospitable or pestilential shores. Yet,
taking the whole together, the medical profession is cer¬
tainly favourable to longevity.
6. Schoolmasters, Clerks, 8$c., are subject to the usual
diseases of sedentary persons, and to those produced by
passing a great part of the day in vitiated air, with the
sternum leaning on a desk. Such persons should live at
some distance from the scene of their labours, that they
may be compelled to take exercise in the open air.
7. These observations apply also to Merchants, to Master-
manufacturers, and Shopkeepers. A British merchant has,
when successful, an enviable life. The morning is dedi¬
cated to business, and the afternoon to his family and friends;
while his home is usually remote from the crowded streets
in which his counting-house is necessarily placed.
8. The Shopman, however, generally leads a very dif¬
ferent life. He is late and early in the shop, the whole
day is spent in serving customers, and in many instances
his hours of rest are abridged by the duties of his business,
which afford him no time to take exercise in the open air.
This is peculiarly hard on young persons, perhaps sent from
the country to be immersed in the smoky atmosphere of a
crowded, narrow street. Multitudes of both sexes annually
fall victims to this change.
9. Soldiers and Sailors, when they escape the perils of
training to their laborious occupations, are often healthy,
if temperate, and if care be taken of their health by their
superiors. Their ailments often arise from their own in¬
temperance, as much as from the casualties of their calling.
Excessive fatigue is certainly unfavourable to longevity;
and when we find very old persons in this class, we may at¬
tribute it in a great measure to the iron nature of their con¬
stitutions, which have enabled them to resist the hardships
to which they must ha*ve been subjected in their younger
years. Soldiers on duty are more exposed than sailors to
wet and cold, to unwholesome climates, and to bad fare. Medical
A sailor carries with him his provisions and his change of Police,
raiment; and in the British navy he has much attention
paid to his health while on board his ship. Long marches
are apt to produce diseases of the hip joint, and hernia,
especially in young soldiers. The sailor is liable also to
hernia from strains in the course of his laborious duty.
10. Agricultural Labourers have generally a very healthy
occupation. When the returns of their industry afford them
sufficient aliment and comfortable clothing, their situa¬
tion is much more favourable to health than that of the
town mechanic. The same may be said of carters, pos¬
tilions, and coachmen; except that the latter are often
exposed at night to the inclemencies of the weather, and
are not always remarkable for sobriety.
11. Quarrymen and Stone-masons are liable to serious
injury from the minute dust they create entering the air
passages along with their breath. This often gives rise to
a species of consumption ; and such persons are seldom
long-lived. It affects the stone-masons of Scotland more
than those of England: the former work under sheds, the
latter in the open air. Marble-cutters for the same reason
are unhealthy; and even the employment of a sculptor
cannot be considered as a good one for a person of delicate
lungs.
12. Carpenters and Joiners exercise healthy trades, be¬
cause they require activity, and are freely exposed to the
air in many of their operations. It is very different, how¬
ever, with artizans whose trades are chiefly carried on in a
vitiated atmosphere.
13. The trade of the Weaver is always rather unhealthy
from his working in a confined space ; but the introduc¬
tion of machinery has reduced the pittance of the hand-
loom weaver below what can support life with any comfort,
and his habitation is proportionally wretched. There is
in this occupation exercise to the limbs; but the breast
leans against the beam, which, with wretched fare and de¬
pressed spirits, render the trade of the weaver unfavourable
to health.
14. Milliners and Tailors are confined in hot and ill-
ventilated rooms, they work too many hours in the day,
and often have the natural hours of rest greatly abridged.
Milliners are liable to become short-sighted; and the prac¬
tice of biting the thread generally injures their front teeth.
The lives of young females are often sacrificed to this
business. Tailors assume a faulty position whilst at work ;
and the consequence is, that when they walk they have a
peculiar strut; the increased power imparted to the muscles
of the back, from long supporting the weight of the head,
causes the shoulders to be preternaturally drawn back.
They are also very subject to phthisis.
15. Shoemakers sue more healthy; but the pressure of
the last against the sternum and stomach is sometimes in¬
jurious.
16. Miners and Well-sinkers are engaged in laborious
trades, in which they are exposed for considerable periods
to breathe a vitiated atmosphere: and are further liable
to the bad effects of inhaling dust, which predisposes to
asthma.
17. Artizans working amidst putrid animal matters seem
more liable to plague and typhoid fevers than most other
classes.
18. Artizans exposed to inhale minute particles of dust
are very liable to pectoral diseases. 1 his is especially the
case with knife and needle grinders. They are subject to
the disease called grinder’s rot, an incurable consumption,
which renders this occupation most deadly. Currents of
air, and interposed plates of glass, have been used to remedy
this evil. Large magnets have been employed to arrest
the iron dust, but it cannot abate that from the grindstone
itself, which is not less fatal.
Ponce1 rv}9' W°r1ier\ in lead’ brass, <™d copper, are subject to
_* j c^seaseJ fi°m those substances finding their way into the
system, as already stated.
20. Bleachers and Dyers are liable to suffer from acrid
tumes, in some instances, and also from sudden changes of
temperature. 8
21. Snuffmakers and Millers are exposed to dust; and
the former to the consequences of inhaling also a narcotic;
6 G •C*' 18 se^om very marked on either.
2_. Chimney-Siveepers are liable to consumption, and to
a pecu lar cutaneous disease, the chimney-sweeper’s cancer,
which chiefly affects the scrotum. Early excision removes
it; but it is liable to recur.
23. Cotton, silk, and flax spinning by machinery expose
the operatives to bad air, dust, and confinement in hot
rooms. 1 Ins is especially injurious to the young, who are
much employed, from eight years and upwards, in such
manufactories. The hours of work of all classes in them
are too long. Woollen factories seem to be less unhealthy
on the whole; but in them the employment of very youno-
C oIid and t0° °ng hours of labour, are to be regretted.
.7 ersons exposed to a high temperature, such as" Cooks,
Confectioners, Bakers, are liable to rheumatism, from
sudden changes of temperature. Bakers were remarked
to be the most general victims of the plague at Marseilles
m the beginning of the last century. Sugar-refiners are
exposed to much heat, and to sudden chills. Smelters of
iron and other ores are subject to the same; to cough,
fiom dust, especially if they be founders; and their eyes
become weak, from the intense glare of the metal. Glass-
blowers not only suffer from these causes, but also from the
excessive exertions of their lungs, which often give rise to
haemoptysis and asthma.
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
But the principal circumstance which modifies the effect
of latitude is elevation above the sea. As we ascend
mountains, the temperature falls ; and in every region, if
its mountains be sufficiently lofty, they are the abodes of
perpetual congelation. The limit varies with the latitude:
443
Medical
Police.
Weight.
75o5
23-32
0-10
1-03
SECTION II. CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING THE HEALTH OF
COMMUNITIES.
Climate. I- Climate. The effect of climate, the most general
of these circumstances, depends chiefly on the temperature
the hygrometnc state of the air, and the general force and
direction of the winds. The temperature of any place is
well known to depend, in a great degree, on its latitude,
liie inebriation of the earth’s axis to the plane of its orbit
has diffused the influence of the sun’s rays more exten¬
sively over the surface than if the same points had always
LrlS?1 Tc Thf Changes in temperature had been
marked long before there was an instrument for measurino-
their extent, and hence the distribution of the earth’s sur¬
face into parallel zones denominated climates; but the in¬
vention of the thermometer showed how ill this arrano-e-
‘ I?6"1 accorded w‘th observation ; and it was soon found
that there were very different climates under the same
parallels. The average or mean temperature is obtained
by a series of thermometrical observations, carried on in
t e open air and in the shade. Large springs and deep De noted; for the mi
caverns usually have the mean temnoratrirp pf iLp V ’ or 111 e T1 . x   
where they occur; and it has been found that a series of but more fall6 ^ chmates ifc rains more seldom,
observations made every hour through April will give a annual rain in T regl0ns‘ Thus> the mean
pretty accurate mean temperature of that place for the Calcutta it is - 81 Inches averages 120 inches ; at
whole year. 1 me ^1C, a f _1S ~815 at Rome = 39; at Liverpool = 33 ; at
Temperature, however, is also considerably modified by more ram fads fo^monnSrSbUrg J-16’ In, an? climate,
longitude. -I hus it is found that the mean temperature of Thus 50 inrhpc f 11 • a " lrl? m dis,:ncts than in plains,
any latitude in Western Europe is higher than that of the rain is about - 30^ tTf rgyll8h're J 1whiist at Glasgow the
corresponding latitude in Eastern Asia, or in America as The chancTpf k Elgm = 24 lnches-
may be seen by casting the eye over Humboldt’s chart of These are extrempl™?’10 Pr1e.SSUI'e shouId also be noted,
isothermal hnes^ A comparison of similar observations in- Southern EuroT ^rT c ^ tropics, or even in
^    fo thr ft^ ’ i m Northe- Europe, even
it is highest under the equator, and diminishes as we ap¬
proach the poles : thus, at the equator, the point of perpe-
tual congelation is more than 15,000 feet above the sea; in
Britain it is about 5000. The climate of a place, then,
vanes with the latitude, with the longitude, and with the
elevation.
Even when the mean temperature is the same, places
may differ greatly in the extremes of heat and cold in sum¬
mer and in winter. The chief agent in equalizing heat is
the ocean, the temperature of the mass of which" remains
nearly the same in all latitudes. This renders the summers
of islands less hot, and their winters less cold, than that of
continents under the same parallels. The peculiarities of
climate affect the vegetable productions of a country, and
its salubrity is greatly modified by the nature of its surface.
A region shrouded in forests is generally colder than one
exposed to the rays of the sun ; and the exhalations from
swamps and marshes materially affect its fitness as a resi¬
dence for man. Such countries are subject to violent in¬
termittent and remittent fevers, especially when the marshes
are acted on by intense solar heat; and in tropical regions
such places are pestilential. Several other diseases appear
to depend on climate, as the goitres and cretinism of the
Alps and other mountainous countries, the elephantiasis of
Africa and the West Indies, and the strumous affections of
cold chmates.
All these peculiarities must be considered by those con¬
sulted on.
■H* The Sites for f owns and Habitations.—If the The sites
medical man be asked to give an opinion on any particular of towns*
site, let him consider—
L Purity and Hygrometric state of the Air.—The
average proportions of the cognisable ingredients of atmo¬
spheric air are,—
Measure.
Nitrogene  77.50
Oxygene  20-00
Carbonic acid  o-08
Aqueous vapour  1-42
The proportions of the gaseous ingredients are nearly the
same everywhere ; but the proportion of aqueous vapour
varies greatly, according to the temperature and pressure
of the atmosphere. It is the source of clouds, dew, fog,
and rain, according to the suddenness of its precipitation.
I he quantity present in air may be estimated by Leslie’s
hygrometer. The quantity of rain which falls in any place
should be ascertained by the rain guaqe ; and the ouirk
ness of- evaporation by experiment, or by Observations with
Leslie s atmometer. 1 he number of rainy days should also
rris n°.t foportional ,o the
isothermal lines.    
dicated to Sir David Brewster that there were in each con¬
tinent certain meridians on which the mean temperature is
the lowest in that parallel. These he termed the cold me¬
ridians, in approaching to which the mean temperature
falls on either hand. v
1° x^j-th of the whole column.
site' L Water is a most essential requi-
taste nr 11. i6 iardd^ should be free of any peculiar
10009 |(I f-ftl' /16 lleare1',ts specific gravity approaches
U)002, to distilled water as 10000, so much the better.
444
MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE.
Medical
Police.
The capability of carrying water through pipes, to any
station, is important, when a colony is to be founded. Run¬
ning water of a good quality is also very important; but it
should be recollected that stagnant water is not wholesome.
3. Fuel is another essential requisite, both for cooking
and for warmth. A plentiful supply of wood, coal, or peat
is indispensable where many human beings are to be con-
' gregated. Open fire places are cheerful, but not economi¬
cal modes of warming apartments ; stoves are more frugal;
hot-air flues combine ventilation with warmth, but require
considerable attention in their management; steam-tubes
convey an equable temperature, but are less convenient than
the circulation of hot water, in the apparatus devised by
Mr Perkins.
4. Vicinity of Trees is an important circumstance ; but
it must not be forgotten that a station buried in deep
forests is seldom wholesome, and in hot climates is often
pestilential.
5. Vicinity of Hills and Mountains is also deserving of
consideration. If they be very lofty, in hot climates, the
plains at their feet are often pestilential, producing black
vomit and jungle fever ; yet removal to the mountains im¬
mediately relieves the sufferer, as is witnessed in the ascent
from Vera Cruz to Xalapa, and from Southern Hindustan
to the Neilgherries.
6. Vicinity of Marshes, in every country, is to be shun¬
ned in fixing on a site for human habitations. Marshes pro¬
duce malignant remittents in hot seasons, and give rise to
severe hepatic disease. The marsh fevers of Walchern,
and the malaria of Italy, originate in stagnant water ; and
the fatality of some of our stations in the West and East
Indies are to be attributed to swamps. Some of them, as
British Guiana, have become more healthy as the country
is more drained and cultivated.
7. Vicinity of the Sea is always an important element in
choosing a station. In hot climates the sea-breeze miti¬
gates the heat of day, and renders it endurable. This
breeze in summer is very regular, even at Gibraltar. The
vicinity of the sea also mitigates the cold of winter. Some¬
times it renders a station unhealthy, when the recession of
the tide exposes a great extent of a muddy beach. This
is especially the case at the mouths of great rivers; yet
such stations, though unwholesome, are often politically
important as naval stations, or as keys to the back country.
Marshes into which sea-water occasionally enters are ob¬
served to be more pestilential than mere fresh-water
swamps.
Drains and m. Drains and Sewers are important public works,
sewers. on pr0per construction of which the salubrity of a sta¬
tion may greatly depend. They should have such a fall as
to carry off impurities, and to prevent an accumulation of
stagnant water. The Greeks and Romans excelled in their
attention to such works; but the unhealthiness of many
places in Italy, in the present day, is owing to the neglect
of those useful structures. Egg-shaped drains are the best.
Public IV. Paying of Streets, and Care of Public Ways,
ways. are objects also worthy of the attention of the medical man,
though chiefly in the province of the civil engineer.
Cemete- V. Cemeteries.—Little attention has been, in this part
ries. of Europe, bestowed on the police of repositories for the
dead. Burial in churchyards, in the midst of a crowded
population, and even within churches, is still suffered to dis¬
grace our cities. The French have set a good example;
and the Turks have been long noted for the decent pro¬
priety and judicious position of their cemeteries, which are
always beyond their towns. The same is the practice of the
Chinese, and of many nations whom we call barbarous. A
better system has commenced among us, in the new ceme¬
teries of Glasgow, Liverpool, Newcastle, Edinburgh, and
London; and it is fervently to be hoped, that ere long our
towns will cease to be infected with putrid emanations from
crowded churchyards, and the temple of God to be polluted Medical
with the frail remains of mortality. The cemeteries in Police.
London are a disgrace to the metropolis ; but the new ceme- 's—
teries are at a good distance from the metropolis, and are
remarkable for their elegance and appropriateness, espe¬
cially those of Norwood and Kensal Green; while those
on each side of Edinburgh are distinguished by their pro¬
priety and neatness. The best mode of sepulture is pro¬
bably in the earth, without vaults; but anything is prefer¬
able to the horrid practice in Rome, of disposing of the
carcases of the poor in huge caverns, often opening into the
very churches.
VI. Hospitals.—The erection of hospitals is intimately Hospitals,
connected with the subject of medical police. We cannot
enter on a consideration of each sort of hospital, but state
in general terms, that the wards should be lofty, with win¬
dows on one side, and galleries on the other for exercise to
convalescents. Ventilation should be secured by some of
the means already indicated; the wards should be pro¬
vided with privies, and baths appropriated to each; the
bedsteads should be of iron, as less liable to harbour vermin ;
airing grounds and convalescent rooms should be attached
to all hospitals. In a lunatic asylum, each class of patients
should have separate airing grounds ; and occupations suited
to their cases should be provided for convalescents. Found¬
ling hospitals, from the mortality in them, even under the
best management, seem to be amongst the most pestilent
institutions of mistaken benevolence. Such considerations
induced a German author to propose as an appropriate in¬
scription over the gates of such establishments, “ Children
murdered here at the public expense.” Hospitals for the
sick, military hospitals, and barracks, all may fall under
medical police.
VII. Schools.—Seminaries for the instruction of youth
merit more attention from the legislature than they have
received. The rooms are often defective in ventilation;
and the modes of warming them in cold weather are often
very inefficient. In some schools too little attention is paid
to vary the diet of children; and though seldom deficient
in quantity, at large public and private schools, there often
exists inattention to render it palatable, or to suit it to pe¬
culiarities of constitution. In many schools the hours of
study, for very young children, are too long. The degrad¬
ing practice of public flogging, even almost to manhood, in
some schools, is brutalizing to the inflictor, and destructive
of the delicate sensibilities of ingenuous youth. We must
also stamp with our strongest disapprobation the practice
o'i fagging, which prevails at some English schools, and is
calculated to foster the vices of both tyrants and slaves.
In female seminaries the lessons are generally too long, the
pupils too sedentary, too little in the open air; and many
female accomplishments, as they are termed, are apt to pro¬
duce lateral curvature of the spine, as was fully proved by
the late Mr Shaw.
VIII. Prisons.—The state of our prisons is much im-prisons,
proved since the time of Howard. The principal improve¬
ments are in the county prisons of England, in many of
which much attention is paid to preserving the health of
prisoners, by clean rooms, commodious airing-grounds, and
humane regard to their diet, and the cleanliness of their
persons. In most of the prisons of this country, however,
much is still defective, in what relates to the classification
of prisoners, and separating juvenile delinquents from har¬
dened offenders. In the county jails of Lancashire and
Cheshire much has been done to render prisons what they
ought to be; but even in some of the best English prisons
there are still no hospitals for the sick inmates ; and the jails
of Scotland are far behind those of the two counties alluded
to in every respect. As far as lodging and diet go, there
is no room for improvement in many British jails ; and this
humane attention is rewarded by the disappearance of jail-
MED
Punish-
nents.
wZ- a ;fderfidd0UrThlaf T,',e SUbjeCt of l’,'ison Spline is
ae held. The benevolent exertions of the late Mrs Fry
ana her Quaker associates prove that much good would
attei?tlon to the instruction and moral improve-
r i meTv°T e un iaPPy mmates of our Prisons,
azare tos. AZARETTOS AND QUARANTINE ESTABLISHMENTS
aie of Italian origin, at the period when the commerce of
the Fast was engrossed by the free cities of Italy. The
doctrine of contagion is not of modern origin, as has been
ignorantly alleged. Notwithstanding the clamour of inter¬
ested individuals a few years ago, no rational medical man
denies the contagious nature of the plague; and we have
no doubt that the immunity of this island from that dread-
ul scourge for 1/0 years, notwithstanding our multiplied
relations wnh the East, is mainly owing tf the rigour wUh
ich the quarantine laws have been enforced. Some of
fuTthisfs ftl0nS r °n the Side °f excess of caution ;
but this is far preferable to rash experiments, prompted by
crude medical speculations, and supported, as they were
attempted to be, by distortion of facts. The quarantine
ZoIeWeaoodreVThP “ 182?' and the C0de is "Z upon the
whole, good. The quarantine stations for Britain are Stand-
gate Creek, Deal, Milford Haven, Liverpool, Holyloch in
the Clyde, and Inverkeithing Bay in the Forth. Y
X. Punishments.—This subject, the last of the present
o/the medZl juristy °f ^ atte"ti0n °f the legisktor “d
courts^ex^nd^'—^ inflicted by sentences of our
labour. imprisonment, whipping, and forced
Imprisonment is adjudged for several offences, and even
for mabdity to pay a debt. When the health of’a prisoned
might suffer from confinement in a damp or unwholesome
itv 1 f6 rTanity of JudSes has frequently mitigated the
severity of the sentence, on the representations of medical
witnesses. It would be unjust to inflict a greater punish
mentor ^ ^ C10ntemP,ated> by the mode of con fin e-
far aVlnd •m °Ur Jai S are far more comfortable as
totions o/Z " 1 are CT7ned’ than the usual Agi¬
tations of the very poor; and therefore imprisonment in
some instances, may have lost some of its salutary Sors
in preventing crime. maiy terrors
mippmp is sometimes inflicted by sentence of the court
either publicly or privately; it is now generally applied to
juvenile offenders in prison, and is far less frequentl/inflicted
in public than formerly, especially since the abolition of the
r SedrexrtentahytChnmeS' FI°gging is Sti11 Permitted to
mited extent both in our army and the navy. A medical
an is always by on such occasions; and should he declare
the punishment enoup/i, even one lash more at that time
?nC?nd-1S;a C™>and w°uld subject the officer who ordered
it to indictment for murder, should the sufferer die. J/ard
labour is now generally inflicted by the tread-mill a con¬
trivance by which the united weight of the prisoners con¬
demned to it puts in motion a wheel, which moves machi¬
nery. The defect of this punishment is its inequality. To
active persons, accustomed to walking, it is a light exercise •
but to sedentary persons it is a most grievous punishment’
giving intolerable pain to the muscles of the legs and the
spine. To the disgrace of our country it has been inflicted
on females Their muscles are too weak, and their habits
little mured to such labour; and it is liable to induce pro
MED
iapsus uteri, or miscarriage, if the prisoner be pregnant;
oi serious diseases of the female system, in various ailments
o le sex. It arms, too, with a dangerous and tyrannical
power ignorant justices and unfeeling magistrates. The
aw should forbid this infliction on females in all cases, and
prevent the erection of tread-mills in all prisons not liable
to the legal inspection of grand juries, which it seems houses
/ correction in England are not, they being “ not under
the jurisdiction of the sheriff of a county.” The beating of
anZ H3STT°T y With US the inffiction for Pe“y crimes;
“ ’'"T 11 was raspmft of dye-woods in the Rmpham,
Minch was always considered as a severe punishment. In
menca the penitentiary system of forced labour has been
tried and is still a subject of discussion. Solitary confine¬
ment has also been employed there, which some have con¬
sidered worse than death.
Capital Punishments.—In this country, excepting in
es of nobles for treason, hanging is invariably the mode
oZ °ym d y fawViThis is with justice Prefe^d any
other mode of public execution, as the evidence of those
10 have recovered after suspension renders it probable
that the person suffers very little pain, from his becoming
sfieeddy msensffile; and when the drop is employed, the
taneuusly^6 SeemS generally to extinguish life instan-
Beheading is in this country performed with the axe, in
Germany with the sword, and in France with the guillotine;
the prototype of which seems to be the Scottish maiden,
F nh° l m ther Antiquarian Society’s Museum in
Edinburgh. The axe often requires a repetition of the blow,
and the sword is liable to the same objection. The maiden
chopped off the head by the descent of an axe loaded with
lead. I he guillotine slices it off, entering one side of the
neck by an oblique edge. All sorts of beheading present
a very ghastly spectacle, and habituate to the sight of hu¬
man blood; besides which, serious doubts have been started
its sensibiuZ ,y the head ^ “ Sh0rt time
, 3’ P!etas *n bar °f Execution.—When a person is con¬
demned to die, execution of the sentence may be deferred
on three pleas.
Insanity may be pleaded by the relatives of the con¬
demned, and a jury may be appointed to try the sanity or
insanity of the prisoner. 3
The youth of the party is the second. There is no age
ixed by British law at which the perpetrator may not be
executed for heinous crimes. In 1629 a child between eight
and nine years of age was executed in England for an atro¬
cious murder; one of ten years was condemned in 1748 at
fJTo Vand a bo7 of sixteen was executed in Edinburgh, in
1812, for a murder. Blackstone states the lowest degree of
non-age, by the practice of the English courts, to be seven
years.
Pregnancy is the last plea admitted in our courts. When
this is alleged, a jury of matrons is appointed by the judge
to inspect the party, and if the allegation be foundVue
she is respited till after delivery. These Dersons ^ ’
incompetent to so delicate a task. It should be intrusted
and^thTappSion^fXStethoscope"to ^heabd^"1111*’
KT,125,2
& (t. s. t.)
445
Medici.
MEDICI, Family or, celebrated in the history of Flo-
rence and Tuscany during the fifteenth century, was one
whmh, by its extraordinary industry and activity at a time
w en the Florentines extended their commerce over the
nown world, rose to be one of the first in the republic.
I his opulence secured to its members so great an influence
n public affairs, that they became the most powerful and
ZbUc rirtJef weree!Sch^ f°f the,many dtiz™s whose
446
Medici.
MEDIC 1.
Medici, who in 1342 was in the service of Gauthier de
Brienne, Duke of Athens, and tyrant of Florence. Gau¬
thier having been chiefly indebted to him for the power he
enjoyed, resolved to get rid of this obligation. Accord¬
ingly, under pretext that Giovanni had not with sufficient
vigour defended Lucca against the Pisans, he caused him to
be°put to death. The Medici swore to be avenged, sided
with the people, and by their powerful influence were
chiefly instrumental in freeing their country from that
tyrant. Soon after this the nobility, who had for fifty years
been excluded from all share in public affairs, attempted to
regain their ancient authority, but found a powerful oppo¬
nent in Alamanno de’ Medici, the head of the family, who
called the people to arms, and finally expelled the nobles.
Some time after, when the two factions of the Ricci and
the Albizzi were struggling for power, this house, though
not so strong, remained faithful to the people ; and in 1360
Bartomoleo de’ Medici, son of Alamanno, conspired against
the Albizzi, who were at the head of the government.
The conspiracy was discovered; but he escaped capital
punishment through the protection of his brother Silvestro
de’ Medici, a man high in office and greatly esteemed.
Silvestro further increased his popularity in 1378, when,
having been appointed gonfaloniere of justice, he thought
it necessary, for the liberty of his country, to lower the
authority of the Albizzi, and to raise the democratic party.
After Silvestro’s death, the aristocratic Albizzi having
attempted to regain the power they had lost, the people
revolted; and in 1393 chose Veri de’ Medici, son ot Sil¬
vestro, as their chief. This good citizen, however, instead
of making himself master of the republic, as he could easily
have done, modestly used his influence to calm the agita¬
tion and restore peace and unanimity. But the nobility
did not fulfil their promises, and fearing the popularity of
the Medici, banished the family of Silvestro from the re¬
public. In 1397 one of them, Antonio de’ Medici, having
tried to get back to Florence, fell into the hands of his
enemies, and was forthwith executed. Several conspiracies
were attempted up to the year 1440, which effected nothing
but the destruction of the more influential members of the
family. The few who now remained in Florence were too
insignificant to be suspected or feared. One of them,
Giovanni de Bicci de’ Medici, born 1360, belonged to a
branch of the family that, either from want of genius, or
from poverty, had never been distinguished in public life.
Giovanni passed his youth in obscurity, became a small
merchant, rose to be a third-class banker, and by constant
application and prudent economy gradually improved his
fortune. Having visited Bale and Constance, where the
famous councils were being held, he took advantage of the
high rate of exchange, and greatly increased his wealth.
On his return to Florence, where his name was dear to a
people who still held Silvestro and Veri in grateful remem¬
brance, Giovanni was regarded by all, from his wealth and
wisdom, as well as from his firm traditional attachment to
pure democracy, as the only man in the entire republic
capable of putting an effective check upon the growing
influence of the oligarchy. The Albizzi, still in power,
reluctantly yielding to the popular feeling, accepted Gio¬
vanni as one of the priors of Florence in 1402, 1408, 1411.
This new position in public life gradually restored the
declining influence of the family of the Medici. Giovanni
wrent as ambassador to Naples in 1406, was governor {po-
desta) of Pistoja in 1407, and was sent ambassador to Pope
Alexander V. in 1409 to congratulate him on his elevation
to the papal chair. In 1412 he went to the congress of
Pietrasanta to settle the dispute with the Genoese, who
would not suffer Portovenere to be given to the Florentines.
In 1420 he was one of the deputies appointed to accom¬
pany to the confines of the state Martin V., who had just
been elected at the council of Constance; and finally, in
1421, he became gonfaloniere, and one of the ten who Medici,
had to direct the war against Milan in 1423. He died in
1429, at the age of sixty-nine. From this Giovanni de
Bicci descended that double line of the Medici who, till a
very recent period, ruled over Florence and I uscany. He
left" two sons, Cosmo and Lorenzo, the former of whom
may be considered as the founder of the family’s greatness.
Cosmo de’ Medici, born in 1389, and elected one of the
priors of Florence in 1416, became at the death of his
father leader of the Medicean party. A banker, like his
ancestors, he followed their example in liberality and splen¬
dour. In his palace, one of the finest in the world, he
assembled the artistic, the literary, the learned, and the
scientific men of Italy. The Greeks who had left the
fallen empire of Byzantium sought refuge under his hospi¬
table roof, and found in him a generous patron. He col¬
lected ancient books and works of art from all parts, and
greatly contributed to the revival of learning in Europe.
Knowing that patronage is more indispensable for the pro¬
gress of the fine arts than for that of literature, he rewarded
artistic genius with the utmost munificence. He distri¬
buted his bounty with an unsparing hand, often advanced
money without security, and when he knew his claim might
be disputed, he did not ask for a return. By these means
he gained immense popularity, and was enabled to become
a formidable opponent to Rinaldo degli Albizzi, at that time
head of the Florentine republic. Rinaldo thought^ it
necessary for his own safety to get rid of him ; and having
in 1433 succeeded in obtaining as magistrates of the Sig-
noria men who were of his party, he summoned Cosmo to
the palace, and, among other things, accused him of having
caused the failure of the war against Lucca. The sentence
of death was about to be pronounced, when the gonfaloniere,
Bernardo Guadagni, bribed by Cosmo’s friends, proposed
that he and all his partizans should be exiled.
Cosmo retired to Venice, the ancient ally of Florence,
and there, living in splendid exile, he built new palaces,
gathered around him artists from all parts, collected books
and manuscripts, employed learned men to correct them,
and kept up a more active correspondence than ever with
his friends and partizans both in and out of Florence. A
year had scarcely passed, when, despite the exclusion of
Cosmo’s known friends from the ballot, the people elected
a body of magistrates, or Signoria, less hostile to his family,
by whom he was desired to return. 1 hus formally recalled,
he triumphantly entered his native town, was enthusiasti¬
cally received by the democratic party, and in 1434 in¬
trusted by the priors to reorganize the state; while Rinaldo
degli Albizzi and his friends were driven into exile. “ This
was a revolution,” says Sismondi, “ without bloodshed, but
a revolution which laid the foundation of the Medicean
tyranny, and sealed the death-warrant of the republic.
After having ruled Florence for thirty years, he died in 1464,
bequeathing his power to his eldest son Pietro. Cosmo was
called by public decree the “ Father of his country.” His
chief object, before his exile, was so to centre all the inter¬
ests of Florence in himself, that he might become the soul
of the political, monetary, commercial, artistic, literary, and
scientific activity of his country. On his retuin, having
defeated all rival factions, and assumed the supreme power,
he thought Florence would never be tranquil, or maintain
her ascendancy, so long as internal factions leagued them¬
selves with neighbouring hostile potentates, who made
party struggles subservient to their policy of repressing the
Tuscan republic. The project he then formed of restraining
the mutual jealousies of the Italian states by bringing
them to a better understanding of their common interests,
of making Tuscany the centre of a system of political
equilibrium, or, in other words, making Florence the ruling
power in Italy, while he himself was at head of affairs,
— has been considered by some as Cosmo’s principal
MEDICI.
Medici
title to political fame; while others more justly see in
him the author of that centralization which, by destroying
individual activity, prepared the way for the despotism of his
descendants. He devoted himself very much to the study
of Plato, whose philosophy he laboured to restore with all
the energy he was accustomed to give to everythin<>• he
undertook.
One of the most illustrious, if not the greatest member,
of this family was Lorenzo I., afterwards called the Mag¬
nificent, born in 1448 of Lucretia Tornabuoni and Pietro
son of Cosmo. In 1467, when scarcely twenty years of
age, he succeeded his father, a man of* weak and irreso¬
lute character, who, during the short period of his go¬
vernment (1464 to 1467), had greatly impaired the po¬
pularity of the reigning family. Surrounded by false friends,
who envied the greatness of the pretended democratic
family, Pietro had not sufficient penetration to perceive his
difficult situation, or the talent to make himself master of
it. Seeing his patrimony had been greatly reduced by the
prodigality of Cosmo, he, to regain wealth, and keep up
the family influence, asked all the old debtors of Cosmo,
which included a vast number of the people of Florence’
to return the money which had been lent to them. Dis¬
content, prosecution, conspiracy, and bloodshed were the
only result of this policy; and on the death of Pietro,
Lorenzo became heir to an inheritance of discontent and
disaffection, which, if not speedily put down, was likely to
prove fatal to his rising ambition. Lorenzo set to work
with all the energy of a youth of twenty. His experience
of state affairs dated as far back as Cosmo’s death in 1464,
when, at the age of sixteen, he had been often called upon
to take part in important affairs in place of his infirm father.
His youth induced the true friends of the Medici to asso¬
ciate with him his younger brother Giuliano. Having en¬
joyed the advantage of a first-rate education in literature,
science, and philosophy, they learned early to imitate the
literary and artistic munificence of their grandfather as well
as his political wisdom. No sooner, however, had the two
young brotheis been placed at the head of the government,
than the famous conspiracy of the Pazzi broke out, by
which Giuliano lost his life in the church of Santa Repa-
rata; while Lorenzo, although wounded, succeeded in
saving himself by taking shelter in the sacristy. The peo¬
ple, who loved the Medici, put all the conspirators to death
on the spot; “and more than sixty persons,” writes Ma-
chiavelli, ‘either real or suspected accomplices, were executed
by the infuriated mob, among whom was Francis Salviati
Archbishop of Pisa.” Pope Sixtus IV., who seems to have
encouraged the murderous attempt, and who was as much
the avowed friend of the conspirators as the enemy of the
Medici, exasperated at the ill success of the plot, excom¬
municated Lorenzo and the Florentines, under pretext
that they had hanged the archbishop in his episcopal robes,
and detained the Cardinal Riario in prison. Spiritual arms
having pioved ineffectual, he had recourse to temporal
means, and by persuasion, exhortation, and menaces, in¬
duced some of the Italian potentates to raise an army against
the Medici. Ferdinand, King of Naples, having become the
principal ally of the pope, Lorenzo turned to France and
Lombardy, and urged them to join him against the pope.
The disasters experienced by the republic during the first
campaigns only added to the excitement of the Florentines
who aided Lorenzo with the utmost enthusiasm. The evil’
however, became too evident. Italy was about to become
a battlefield, and civil progress would have been suspended,
commerce and industry destroyed, the fortunes of the rising
family endangered, if not annihilated, had not Lorenzo re¬
solved by a bold and unprecedented act to extinguish the
spark before it should burst forth into a flame. Without
giving previous intimation, he set forth alone for Naples, and
trusting to the faith of a noble adversary, put himself in the
hands of his enemies. Fie went to the palace of King Fer¬
dinand, and pled his cause in person, showing that the con¬
dition of Italy and the disposition of her princes and people
were equally adverse to a general war; while the advantages
ot peace were as great as they were honourable. The king,
struck with the ardour, eloquence, and political wisdom ot
tlie youth, not only consented to make peace, but imme-
air,eaty of mutual friendship between the two
^. ]e]s' T ^ le P°Pe> thus left alone, was obliged to
yield. Lorenzo returned to Florence, where he was looked
upon with that respect which is the sure reward of success-
J1 ta"n»- ,e policy of Cosmo now began to triumph;
ie influence of the Medici extended beyond the walls of
Florence; their reputation became Italian; their prepon¬
derance was felt throughout the whole peninsula; and bv
t leir means the republic of Florence served to maintain a
political equihbrum among the Italian states. The dream
ot Losmo was thus realized by Lorenzo.
He now turned his attention to the arts of peace. Ita¬
lian literature, which had shone with so much splendour
through the genius of Dante, Petrarca, and Boccaccio, during
the thirteenth century, had suddenly fallen into mediocrity
and contempt. The study of Greek and Latin, which had
been revived by the large-minded Cosmo, had perhaps
tended to this injurious result. The lingua volgare was not
yet considered noble ; and no philosopher or scientific man
could write his works in his native tongue. The learned
language of the time was Latin, and all literary men, in¬
spired by the example of Cosmo, gave their serious atten¬
tion to its revival. Lorenzo, however, with a truer percep¬
tion of the changes demanded by the progress of modern
society, restored the Italian language to honour, wrote
poetry in it himself, and led the w^ay for Poliziano and Pulci
poets that will be read as long as the Italian language is
known. He did not, however, neglect the classics; and
he even vied with his grandfather in his zeal for collectino-
manuscripts and books; thus laying the foundation of the
Laurentian Library, which, after all it has suffered from
nithless spoliation, is still the admiration of the world.
Pohziano, in one of his letters, declares that Lorenzo used to "
say he would sell his furniture to buy new books, if he could
not otherwise find means to do so. He sent Giovanni Las-
cans, a learned Greek, twice to the East, at his own ex¬
pense, to collect manuscripts. In addition to these ser¬
vices, this munificent patron of learning established schools
in all parts of the Florentine republic, and founded the
university of Pisa, from which were disseminated through
Italy, and thence through the rest of Europe, that taste for
art, science, and literature, which has done so much for
modern European civilization. It was to him that Ma-
chiavelli dedicated his famous book II Principe, and the
celebrated secretary characterizes him as “ eloquent and
witty m discussion, wise in resolve, prompt and courageous
in action So great was the influence of Lorenzo’s repu¬
tation that he succeeded in causing his son Giovanni to be
created cardinal at the age of thirteen, who became after-
X-; and likewise Put forward
WhP^r^1"1’ \ e !lleSitimate son of his unfortunate
VT?1U ian0’ wh°i b^ame the no less celebrated Cle-
ment VII. Lorenzo died ,n 1492, at the age of fourty-four.
Iiom Cosmo issued in direct succession the Dukes of
Florence until 1537, when the Duke Alexander having
been assassinated by Lorenzino, a descendant of the youngef
was the fir«rPaSSed t0 that branch in Cos^0> who
1737 fi t °f t lat SeneS of grand dukes wIlo ruled till
445T
Medici.
F]nrpntihfed*C* ^f'ned ahsolute preponderance over the
1Ciby‘h611, wealth, their patriotism, and
tlieir attachment to the democratic party. When their power
was consolidated they became aristocratic, and finally up-
eid then authority by despotism and tyranny. Their in-
MEDICI.
448
Medici, fluence having become, with Cosmo, a definite power, their
v history belongs to that of Italy and Tuscany. I he follow¬
ing is the genealogical table of the two branches of the
Medici family who governed till its extinction in 1737 :—
Medici.
GIOVANNI DI BICCI—Born 1360, Died 1429.
COSMO—“ Father of his country,”
horn 1389; governed from 1434 to his death, 1464.
Lorenzo—horn 1395, died 1440.
Pier Francesco—d. 1456.
Giovanni—died before
his father, 1463.
Carlo—
illegitimate.
Pietro I.—horn 1416,
governed from 1464 to 1467.
Nannina.
Bianca—
wife of Giulio de’ Pazzi.
Giuliano I.—horn 1453,
murdered in the con¬
spiracy of the Pazzi,
1478.
Giulio—illegitimate.
(Clement VII.)
Alessandro — illegiti¬
mate, reputed son of
Lorenzo II.
LORENZO the Magni¬
ficent— horn 1448,
gov. 1467 to 1492.
Lorenzo, d. 1483.
Pier Francesco, d. 1511.
Lorenzino, the murderer
of Alessandro, h. 1514.
Giovanni, h. 1467, d. 149?.
Giovanni—celeh. warrior,
called ‘■‘■Dalle bande nere,"
—bom 1498, died 1516.
Cosmo I.
h. 1519, sue. Ales. 1st Grand
Duke 1537—d. 1574.
Francesco Maria,
2d Grand Duke 1574,
b. 1541, d. 1578.
Maddalena. Lucrezia.
Contessina. Giuliano II.,
Duke of Nemours—
h. 1478, d. 1516.
Giovanni. Pietro II.
(Leo X.) h. 1471, gov. 1492-
98, expelled and
is drowned in
the Garigliano
1503.
Lorenzo II.
h. 1492, gov. 1514
to 1519.
Alessandro, Caterina.
son of Clement VII., reputed son of Lorenzo II., succeeds (Queen of France.)
him in 1519. Is assassinated by Lorenzino 1537.
Ferdinand I.
3d Grand Duke 1588—
b. 1549, d. 1609.
Cosmo II.
4th Grand Duke 1609—
b. 1590, d. 1627.
Ferdinand II.
5th Grand Duke 1627—
b. 1610, d. 1670.
Cosmo III.
6th Grand Duke 1670—
b. 1642, d. 1723.
Giangastone,
7th and last Grand Duke
1723—b. 1671, d. 1737.
Among the numerous works referring to this subject the follow¬
ing are the more important:—Nestor, Histoire des Hommes Tllustres
de la Maison de Medici, Paris, 1564; Ruby’s Biscours de la Maison
de Medici de Florence, Lyon, 1604; Strozzi, Bella Famiglia Medici,
1618; Ammirato, Ritratti d1 Uomini Rlustri di Casa Medici del Ramo
de* Buchi di Firenze e Granduchi di Toscana; D Aulberoche, Floges
de Princes de la Famille de Medici, Paris, 1627; J. M. Bruti, Flo-
rentince Historice, libri viii., Lyon, 1562 ; Varillas, Les Anecdotes de
Florence, ou VHistoire Secrete de la Maison de Medici, Haye, 1687;
Varchi, Storia delle Rivoluzioni di Firenze sotto i Medici, Cologne,
1792; Bianchini, Be1 Granduchi di Toscano di Real Casa Medici
protettori delle Lettere e delle Belle Arti Ragionamenti Storici, Ve¬
nezia, 1741; Boissat, Be Brillant de la Reyne, ou la Vie des Hommes
Hlustres dut nom de Medici, 1646; Galluzzi, Storia del Granducato
di Toscana sotto i Medici, Firenze, 1781; Tenhove’s Memoirs of the
House of Medici, translated from the French by Sir C. Clayton,
Bath 1797. For the Life of Cosmo the Ancient, see Rozzi Silvano,
Vita!di Cosimo de' Medici il piu vecchio, Firenze ; Maffei (Timoteo)
In Magnificentice Cosmi Medicei detractores libellus, ibid.; Fabroni,
Magni Cosimi Medicei Vita, Pisis, 1789, the best work on the sub¬
ject; Cavalcanti, Bel Carcere, dell' ingiusto esiglio, e del trionfat
ritorno di Cosimo Padre della Patria, an old MS., published by the
Canon Moreni, Firenze, 1821. For the Life of Lorenzo, Roscoe’s
Life of Lorenzo de' Medici, 2 vols. 4to, 1796, and the Italian trans¬
lation of Milan, with many additions and corrections. The
Life and Pontificate of Leo X, by Roscoe, contains one of the most
interesting accounts of the revival of letters and of the progress
of the fine arts in our language, and has added much to our accu¬
rate knowledge of that important historical epoch (4 vols. quarto).
See also Litta, Famiglie Celebri Italiane, Milano, 1832-38. (e. F.)
MEDICINE.
INTRODUCTION.
We propose to abandon the plan hitherto followed in pre¬
vious editions when treating of Medicine, and to consider
it rather as a branch of politics and of political economy, ot
singular interest to the citizen and statesman, than as a
mere matter of science and art. It has a large encyclo¬
paedic literature of its own, to which our restricted space
would not allow us to do justice in any degree. We pro¬
pose, therefore, to give a general summary of the develop¬
ment and present condition of medicine and of the medical
profession, with a more especial reference to their social
and political relations. To this end we have traced their
advancement and progress from the earliest period concur¬
rently with fundamental changes in creeds and governments,
so as to show under what conditions of society they rose
and fell, and what their future development may be. The
review is necessarily very general.
The term The word “ Medicine,” in its narrowest sense, signifies
Medicine, anything taken or applied by a person suffering from disease,
with a view to relief or cure. Thus used, it expresses the
means available in the art of healing. In a wider and phi¬
losophical sense it signifies all the knowledge applicable to
the exercise of the art. This knowledge constitutes the sci¬
ence of medicine. Medicine is a term, therefore, which has
a very varied and comprehensive signification, and includes
every branch of medical science and every division of me¬
dical art. Practical psychology, surgery, midwifery, and
pharmacy, and medical chemistry, botany, and zoology, are
consequently departments of practical medicine.
Medicine, in this comprehensive sense, is synonymous physic in-
with the Theory and Practice of Physic. By the 32d eludes sur-
Henry VIII., cap. 40, § iii., the members of the London Col- gery.
lege of Physicians had expressly reserved to them the right
to practise surgery. It runs as follows : “ And forasmuch
as the science of physick doth comprehend and contain the
knowledge of surgery as a special member of the same;
therefore be it enacted, that any of the said company ot
physicians, &c., may, from time to time, as well within this
city of London as elsewhere within this realm, practise an
exercise the said science of physick in all and every her
:mbers and parts,” &c. . , , t j .l *
When we examine in detail what is the knowledge that
necessary to this end, we find that it is, in fact, nothing
s than a knowledge of the nature of man, and of its re¬
ions to all nature around him. Hence physics, the Medicine
m for the science of nature, was formerly synonymous
th medical science, and the physician was but another^
me for the medical practitioner. This grand old name
■ the students of the science of human nature is so com-
ehensive, and so clearly indicates the duties and privilege
him who has to apply that science to the welfare of man,
at it is to be hoped it will not be permitted to pass out of
e, but, on the contrary, the physician shall henceforth ,
his name implies, able and fit for the practice of medi
ae “ in all and every her members and parts.
The physician looks at the human body as an artificer
Pi6Ce ?f machinery’ the ^n-
ciples Of , , . IS u.nknown to him, but which he has
medicine. eep and maintain in good w^orkinor order, and if nos-
sible, to render more perfect. He studies the preservation
hLth,T ',"le7in,l,ealtl'’ "le r^to'-ation of it to
perfection6" Tl r 1 aml ‘he ?e''el»P™'nt of it to greater
perfection. T hese constitute the three great branches of
medicine,—the prevention of disease, theg cure of disease
the improved condition of man. Every man desires to
enjoy and continue in life. Now, life is the continuous
co-operation of those various organs which make up the
Ser'wh8 When they work harmoniously to¬
gether. When tins harmonious co-operation is interrupted
disorder or disease arises, and the vital functions are per-
un^silv^It is^on’ least languidly, imperfectly, and
that 1 0 t l,e Pnmary conditions or laws of life
that the organism shall aim at the maintenance of the
Tim harfm°J10',s workinS of these various machines.
The fulfilment of this condition has been attributed to
variously designated powers, as—the vital principle the
the ifke ’ It "a’l lnSti?Ct’-the ^ and
e like. It is a law of existence common to all organisms
animal or vegetable, and is fulfilled by them all
with little or no knowledge of the end of the law! or of the
means by which it is attained. An infinite number of
processes are going on in man, in fulfilment of this law. of
ich he is even yet wholly ignorant; and it is only by the
most assiduous observation of the order of succession of vital
phenomena and of their relation to various organs, that he has
which Xs la t0fdetermine !n any degree thfextent to
which this law of existence is operative, and to learn the
conditions under which it is fulfilled. It is by no means
necessary to man’s existence, when in health, that he should
even know that he has organs. He is so little cognisant of
the working of the brain as the organ of the mind, that to
this day the greater number of mankind are pract calfy of
opinion that the soul can and does act independentlv If
any organ whatever. As to the heart, lungs, stomach Ld
other viscera, it is a sign of perfect health when the’man
knows nothing whatever sensationally of their existence
and when their functions are performed wholly without his
cognisance or aid. But these various organs are apt to be
brown out of gear Then sensations a?e felt other than
those of health, and a fundamental law comes into opera
tion, ,n virtue of which the organism works to the bene¬
ficial object of repairing the disorder, and so removing
nose sensations. This is but a modification of that law of
' PPPlnient of this law has therefore been attributed to
In T C< S ’ ' “f15 to say>t0 "attire, the vital principle
&c. Nature appears to be the best of these terms, ina?
much as it more simply than others expresses the general
law itself, without particularly specializing a subordinate
agent. Nature, then, may be said to indicate what is
necessary to be done in cases of disorder in the working of
the viscera. If the disorder arises Horn mechanical causes
then m the lower animals—and in man when ignorant of
medicine the natural instruments or weapons are used for
medicinal purposes. Thus the dog licks a wound it has
received; the man covers it with his hand, supports the
wounded hmb, and the like. This is natural or instinctive
™rJZy' > SuPZy' aS l branch of medicine, includes the
ti eatment of all mechanical injuries, together with all
strictly external diseases, and the use of all mechanical or
instrumental means of cure. Medicine, in its restricted
sense, excludes these external diseases and remedial agents •
as distinguished from the surgeon, and as a specialift the
physician neither treats them nor applies the remedies. His
spheie °f study is the great group of internal diseases, and
medicine.
449
their cure by drugs, together with the general principles of MnW •
medical art-a knowledge as necessary, indeedPto Ihe siw- 0100
geon as to the physician. When, then, the cause of the V
disorder is not external, but within the organism,—that is
either in the fluids or the tissues of the body,—an attempt is
equa ly made by nature t„ remove it. Now" "aTm
aie formed within the organism during the naturalCo-
rapidNas^tlm ^ fhealth they ^ eliminated as
1 y as they are formed, constituting the secretions If
they are not eliminated, but accumulate in the organ sm they
cause disorder and disease. Again, noxious agenfs may be re¬
ceived from without (such as poisons, irritants, &c.), and these
tions^Ef m hke manner as the retained secre¬
tions In either case nature seeks the restoration to health
by attempts at elimination or removal. These are often of
apamful character, as coughing, vomiting! purging and
similar processes. It was considerations like thes°e that in¬
duced the most distinguished physicians the world has ever
Shit*0 f°0k Upon7Je Phenomena of disease as results of the
Hippocrates111^« irlTP01’is tlle P'thy remark of
eases’’ Sv^ri °T the Physicians of our dis-
. es. Sydenham (often designated the modern Hippocra¬
tes) adopted and promulgated the same theory. It has also
been made the basis of modern systems of practical medil
cine. Unfortunately, the theory is only true in part- it
to a ‘state" of d‘t0 lndlVld;,al® t,assinS from a state of health
to a state of disease, and who are living under the natural
conditions favourable to health and to the exercise oflhe re-
storative powers of nature. But civilized men are sur-
sTructere yurCyCU”TCeS a‘,V£rSe '° ’’“'"’y ,“ncti™ <>r
and lru t’h„ f “ arge P™P°rtion ""t strictly healthy;
and are therefore in a condition of body unfavourable to
naturalefforts^at1" natUral restol'iative powers’ 80 that these
natural efforts at cure are usually more or less imperfect
«™stedVfor1?Ae hea'thyiS Ua '>r°“ss '>« bnplichly
imnor am L h<!m a functional disease of an
mportant organ may embarrass the action of other organs
arrestd at", ?" f ? °f Cl’r0n,iC diSMSe; ai’d
rested at the outset, may render nature’s efforts more or
less incompetent to restore to health. Medicine then
seeks to know the natural processes, or physiology, so as
u maT™'funyleend.the ^
CHAPTER I.—ANCIENT MEDICINE.
SECTION I. ORIGIN OF MEDICAL SCIENCE AND ART.
Instinctive Medicine.
A knowledge of theconditions of health and of the curative Or.Vin f
reme&en hCtT Both the a"d ,lle ^ ^
edies wfien ill, the dog, in particular, selects a certain art-
grass and eats it medicinally. In the Greek mythology T
white hlrre bevnm-(Me'TPT t,iSC°Vered the -e^Scitr
wmte Hellebore by noticing that his goats purged them¬
selves by eating it. He applied it to the rare of ,he
aughters of Prmtus, who, having taken vows of celibacv
appear to have become hysterical and monomaniacal Bees
apparently display m their political arrangements a know
ledge of the laws of health, or of public hygiene iTv
ventilate their hives by a process admirably adapted to the
desired end; [hey inclose dead animals which they carnm
lemove horn the hive in hermetically sealed coffins!
In man a simple reason takes tho niow c e *•
in the lower animals Thus if luu • P 60 inspnct
he will be easier if L f he 18 nauseated, he thinks
about f^rmU'S, Srpte^T'l
ot medicine have found it no ,e histoi lans
thif'seetm ^ "^"d Jbm
p sent the science and art in every stage of development.
3 L
450
MEDICINE.
Medicine. An unlettered peasantry, remote from towns, and without
a resident clergyman or practitioner, exhibits the piactice
of the art in all its simplest and primary forms. The sick
rely upon their own experience or upon that of their
neighbour, of whom one may be more sagacious or more
pretentious than the rest. To this experience are added
traditional medical knowledge of unknown origin, a belief in
occult and mysterious agencies for evil and for good, a
superstitious dread and worship of those agencies, and there¬
with superstitious practices and remedies. The “wise man”
of the Christian village is a witch-finder, a meteorologist
knowing in storms and strange appearances, a herbalist, a
cunning trader on the superstition and ignorance of the
people, and not without power to compel obedience to his
commands. Many such still exist in every part of civilized
Europe, as they have existed everywhere from the remotest
history of society.
Origin of Scientific Medicine, and of a Medical
Profession.
Natural The development of scientific medicine, and of a
devolop- medical profession, always takes place through successive
ment of phases. The simplest form of medical art readily passes
medicine. fnto t]ie patriarchal, in which the head of the tribe or com¬
munity is the healer of disease and the depositary of all
power. To this, in a more developed state of society, suc¬
ceeds the sacerdotal, in which the heads of the people bear
predominantly a sacred character. Out of the sacerdotal
bodv next arises a distinct professional body, separate from
it, and therewith a distinct science of medicine; and then,
as the latter is developed, antagonism and conflict takes
place between them. Next society passes into the phase
of high civilization, and finally falls under the power of the
military hierarchy. Concurrently with this change, religion,
civilization, science, and medicine decay, to rise again from
a renovated society. We have glimpses of this succession
of phases from an early period of history. The earliest
historical development of scientific medicine is everywhere
traced from a priesthood, and the development of a priest¬
hood to that combination of mental qualities and duties
exhibited in the village magos. The “ medicine man ” of
the Indian tribes in North America indicates what must
have been the germ of the great sacerdotal caste which
ruled so long and so powerfully the great nations of the
east. Politics and law, religion and science, and (in close
connection with religion and science) medicine, both as
a science and an art, were all in the hands of the priesthood.
This is the stage in human society of sacerdotal predomi¬
nance. To this union of the priest, lawgiver, and physi¬
cian, we owe that remarkable remnant of medical science
found in the Mosaic writings—the system of public and
domestic hygiene established amongst the Hebrews on a
religious basis, and manifesting a very practical knowledge
of various diseases and their origin. Learned as Moses
was in all the knowledge of the Egyptians, it is more than
probable that his system, in all essential details, was a re-
Early flection of the Egyptian doctrines and polity. Seventeen
Egyptian hundred years before the birth of Christ, Joseph corn-
medicine. mant]ej “his servants, the physicians,” to embalm his
father; a command sufficiently indicative of chemical sci¬
ence. Recent researches into the natural history of parasi¬
tic animals—the Entozoa—have rendered it probable that
the Mosaic laws regarding clean and unclean animals had a
foundation in a knowledge of these organisms—their nature,
habitats, and the diseases they induced. We also get
glimpses of the medical knowledge of the Egyptians in the
older Greek authors. In the fourth book of the Odyssey,
mention is made of Jove-descended Helen putting into
wine a drug “that frees men from grief and from anger, and Medicine,
causes oblivion of all ills.” This and other excellent drugs
were given to her by the wife of fhone, “ an Egyptian ;
where the bounteous land produces very many drugs;
many excellent when mingled, and many fatal; and each
physician is skilled above all men.”
The cultivation of science could only be carried on
through records of observation and experience. It was
amongst the priesthood that writing arose and was first prac¬
tised. Medicine, as an important branch of natural science,
was necessarily a constituent element of the hieroglyphical
or sacred literature, and was studied by the priests and
priest-kings with ardour and success. Samuel was the chief
of a school of prophets or wa^roz-priests ; Solomon, King of
Israel, was a great botanist, zoologist, and pharmaceutist, as
well as pontiff, ruler, legislator, and moral philosopher.
Origin of a Medical Profession and Medical Literature
in Asia.
The Levites, or sacerdotal caste of the Hebrews, appear Early
to have practised medicine exclusively in the earlier period
of the Jewish nation. To what extent the books of Her¬
mes are authentic and ancient admits of question; but
there is no question that the sacerdotal or hierarchical divi¬
sion of the people into castes extended over the whole of
Asia, as well as through Egypt, during the earliest periods
of civilization, and that the study of philosophy and. the
practice of medicine passed into the hands of a subdivision
of the priestly caste, and thus the profession arose. The
Ayur Veda appears to be the most ancient of the Hindu ^®aAyur
sacerdotal medical writings. Its date has been fixed b c.
at not later than the fourteenth century before Christ that
is, 900 years anterior to Hippocrates ; but it appears to
have been nothing more than a summary or abridgment by
professional writers of still more ancient medical doctrines
and practice. It contained eight divisions. Jhe first two
were surgical, including obstetric surgery; the third con¬
tained general pathology and the practice of physic; the
fourth, pyschological medicine, or the treatment of insanity,
founded on the theory of demoniacal possession, so preva¬
lent throughout the east amongst all nations; the fifth tieated
of the cure of infantile diseases or prsediatrics; the sixth
was devoted to toxicology ; the seventh to personal hy¬
giene and metallurgical chemistry; and the eighth to the
diseases of the generative functions. Ihe medical caste Hindu me-
(Fafdfya) amongst the Hindus received their designation ^1^JF,r0'
from this ancient work—the term meaning one who under¬
stands the Vidya,—i.e., the Ayur Veda. Besides the mat¬
ters detailed, this ancient Veda contained anatomy, syste¬
matic general pathology, materia medica, and theiapeutic
hygiene. The ancient Hindu philosophers who lived subse¬
quently to this work were termed Rishis; they also ap¬
pear to have been a distinct body or college of commen¬
tators on the Ayur Veda, and teachers of philosophy and
medicine. The Charaka, an ancient Hindu cyclopaedia of
medicine, was written by one of them ; it is in the fbpm
of a dialogue. Another ancient standard work of this kind
is the Sushruta. It is also a commentary on the Ayur
Veda, but treats more especially of surgery, in addi¬
tion to other branches of medicine. The Rishis weie
peripatetic lecturers on medicine ; they also travelled about,
like the ambulant physicians of Greece, curing diseases, and
illustrating the influence of customs, manners, climate, and
the like, on health. Their pupils went with them and took
notes of their lectures. Many of these, in the form of com¬
pilations, are still in existence.1 Hindu medicine has been
stationary or degenerate for a lengthened period. Its
origin is wholly lost in a remote antiquity.
1 Commentary on the Hindu, system of Medicine, by T. A. W ise, M.D., p. 12.
Medicine.
MEDICINE.
Ancient
European
medicine.
Sacerdotal
stage of
Greek me¬
dicine.
1200 b.c.
SECTION II.—ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF ANCIENT EURO¬
PEAN MEDICINE.
European Medicine in Greece.
European medicine dates as to its literature from the time
of Hippocrates. Ihe Hippocratic writings constitute a
very complete summary of medical doctrines and practice
as they were taught in Greece about 500 years B.c. The
origin of Greek medicine and medical literature is as my¬
thical to us as the origin of the Ayur Veda is to the Hindus.
The first founders of it are also equally mythological person¬
ages. Chiron evidently corresponded to the Brahmans and
to the priests of Egypt in his knowledge, and to the ascetic
Rishis of the Hindus in his life and conduct. The myth is,
that he held a school of physics in a grotto in Thessaly,
and taught philosophy, music (or the principles of art),
astronomy, the military art, political science, and medicine.
A majority of the Argonautic heroes, and of the com¬
manders at the siege of Troy, are represented as having
been his pupils. Hercules and iEsculapius are also men¬
tioned amongst the number. It is probable that the name
indicates an ancient learned class, or incorporated body of
professional teachers, rather than an individual, and points
especially to the science and practice of surgery ; for Chiron
vyas celebrated for his surgery, as were his pupils. Hermes,
like Chiron, was a mythical personage; and the books
which bore his name in ancient Egypt are believed to
express nothing more than the literature of the sacer¬
dotal or learned corporations of Egypt. Sanchoniathon,
the name of another author of this class, it is said, is a
Phoenician word which signified a magus (philosopher or
priest). The Phoenician writings that go under that name
date probably from the age of the Ayur Veda. What¬
ever Chiion may have been, his successor iEsculapius was
certainly already a purely mythical person in the time of
Plato, and probably for 800 years previously.
"I he sacerdotal period of Greek medicine commences
in the twelfth century b.c. with the erection of a temple
to iEsculapius, about fifty years after the Trojan war. These
were shortly multiplied throughout the then civilized world,
and the priests were designated Asclepiadse, or descendants
of iEsculapius. They were in all particulars a sacerdotal
medical caste. Their method of treatment being carried
on in the temples, comprised all the essential elements of
modern systems of empirical medicine. They had hydro¬
pathic establishments situated at or near thermal springs or
fountains of living water, or upon the sea-coast, or amidst
beautiful mountain scenery. Diversion of the mind, exer¬
cise of the body, regulated diet and regimen, friction and
inunction of the skin, sea-bathing, mineral baths, and
waters, these and similar agencies constituted their re¬
medial means. . Besides these, they acted upon the ima¬
ginations of their patients by nocturnal religious solemnities
and illusions of an impressive character, performed within
the sacred precincts of the temple. Modern mesmeric
processes and false miracles are, in some of the details, ana¬
logous to these, and wholly so as to the general principle
upon which the method of treatment is founded. These
delusions of the imagination were made subjects of ridicule
amongst the Greeks at a later period of national culture.
Aristophanes, in one of his comedies, puts an absurd de¬
scription of the whole affair into the mouth of one of the
characters who had been a patient. “ The priests of the
temple of iEsculapius,” he says, “after having extinguished
all the lights, told us to go to sleep, adding, that if any one
should hear a hissing, which indicated the arrival of the
god, he should not move in the slightest manner. So we
all laid down without making any noise; but I could not
sleep, because the odour of an excellent broth that an old
woman held near me agreeably excited my olfactories.
Desiring most ardently to slide along to it, I raised my head
451
very quietly, and saw the sacristan going the round of the Medicine,
altars, take away the figs and cakes from the sacred tables, v ^ '
and put into a sack everything that he could find. I be¬
lieved that I had a right to follow his example, so I rose up
to go to the old woman’s pot.”
Origin of a lay Greek profession, and stage of conflict with
Sacerdotal power.
These temples of iEsculapius being hospitals, were also Origin of
the medical schools of the time. History has preserved layGreek
the memory of four of the most celebrated ;—that of Rhodes P™fession*
was the most ancient, and was already extinct at the time 50° B'C'
of Hippocrates; that of Epidaurus was consulted by the
Romans ; the school of Cnidos originated a small trea¬
tise of practical aphorisms—the Cnidian Sentences; and
that of Cos gave birth to Hippocrates. It was at this
school that the greater number of the Hippocratic treatises
were commenced, if not written, although some are doubt¬
less .of a subsequent period. The appearance of these
treatises theiefoie indicates one of those epochs in science,
like that of Sanchoniathon and the Ayur Veda, in which
the accumulated knowledge of a people is re-cast and di¬
gested by professional men. It was the age of Pericles,—
that age in which the Greeks attained to so high a position
both in arts, war, and philosophy,—the age when Socrates
brought moral philosophy so near to Christian truth, and
when natural history, logic, and metaphysics received a de¬
finite culture. The whole period during which the Hippo¬
cratic writings appeared extends, in fact, from the time of
Pythagoras, about 500 b.c., to the death of Aristotle, 322 b.c.
T. his advance in Greek philosophy and science appears
to be mainly due to Pythagoras in the first instance, who,
having studied philosophy and medicine in the then exist¬
ing schools of Egypt, Phoenicia, Chaldea, and India, returned
with an ample knowledge of Hindu, Chaldean, and Egyptian
science and philosophy. From the fragments that are left,
we may conclude that the philosophy and system of teach¬
ing of the Brahmans was that which he adopted. His phi¬
losophical views as to the transmigration of souls, his
novitiate, code of morals, rules of abstinence, temperance,
and purity of person and conduct, are very similar. He
also, like the ancient Hishis, travelled from town to town
as a teacher or lecturer, and established communities, appa¬
rently of a monastic character, in the principal cities of
Magna Graecia. Pythagoras seems to have been contem¬
porary with Confucius, the great reformer of religion and
morals amongst the Chinese, and to have closely resembled
him in essential particulars. But Pythagoras and his fol- Greek sci-
lowers were not so successful in politics as the Chinese re- encein con-
formers. So soon as they interfered with the established flict with
religion and governments, they became obnoxious to the p^^°tal
priesthood and to the tyrants who governed through them; 500-300
so that the Pythagorean communities were broken up, and b.c.
not a few of the sect were driven into exile or put to
death. I he life, trial, and death of Socrates may be taken
as an example and illustration of the conduct, moral philo-
®°phy, religion, and fate of the followers of Pythagoras
Science had departed from the priesthood, and was already
in antagonism to it. The diviners, soothsayers, and augurs —
the pontiffs and priests, with their idols, temples, omens
and oracles, were but the participants or agents of the
ruling power m the state. The natural science they pos^
sessed was mainly used as an instrument for deceiving the
multitude in various ways, as by simulating the miraculous
imitating thunder and lightning, contriving the flight of
birds on this side or on that-in the east Sr in the"west.
With these men the earnest seekers after truth, as well re-
igious as physical came necessarily into conflict; and we
have enough of the history of those times remaining to judge
of the result. The palmy days of the ancient Greek repub-
ics were analogous in this, as in other particulars, to the era
452
MEDICINE.
modern
Italian
States.
Medicine, of the modern Italian republics. A degenerate priesthood,
x—rich in temples and lands, and possessing the secret springs
Analogy of of political power, held an almost undisputed sway over the
ancient unlettered populace, just as in the period of the Reformation.
Greek and Equally at both periods they had become the mere exponents
0f hero-worship, and reflected nothing better than the vices
and superstitious traditions of a sensual and ignorant people.
Votive tablets were hung up in the ancient temples by the
populace, expressive of their gratitude to a deified hero for
medical aid afforded, just as had been done for many cen¬
turies previously in Egypt and India, and just as has been
done for many centuries past in Europe in the temples of a
similarly degenerate Christian period. Strange it is to see
a medical superstition like this maintaining its hold upon
man, and encouraged by the priesthood, through a long
succession of vicissitudes, from the earliest dawn of Baby¬
lonian and Egyptian history to the latest day of the nine¬
teenth century. And when Galileo, like Pythagoras,
developed a truer system of the universe, the dominant
sacerdotal body repelled it as being fatally opposed to their
traditions, and persecuted the author. We shall find that
in successive eras of man’s history a similar antagonism
between philosophy and traditional theology,—between
scientific truth and the corruptions of revealed truth,was
developed. Nay, it is far from improbable that now, in the
nineteenth century, we are on the very verge of a similar
conflict.
SECTION III.—RISE OF THE ALEXANDRIAN SCHOOL.
The Military Poiver predominant in Greece.—Decline of
Greek Medical Culture.
Decline of The wars which filled up the life of Alexander, the con-
Greek me- queror of Greece and Asia, interrupted the progress of
dical cul- gcience and philosophy in Greece. With the loss of freedom
b^6 336 national culture became debased, and science was trampled
under the feet of a cruel military superstition. Hero-worship
attained its highest development in the assumption of divinity
by Alexander, who outraged science in the person of Cal-
listhenes, his friend and fellow-student under Aristotle, and
whom he put to a death of torture for refusing to fall pro¬
strate before him. But after his death science soon reared
its head again in Egypt, in that city to which Alexander
had given his own name. Two of his lieutenants and suc¬
cessors (Eumenes and Ptolemy) became its firm friends,
emancipated it from the control of a corrupt religion and
an effete priesthood, and gave its cultivators protection and
Pergamos. a home. Pergamos was already celebrated for its temple
263 b.c. of iEsculapius, and as a school of medicine. Here Eu¬
menes collected in a large library all the recorded know¬
ledge of the times. It was from this school, more than
four hundred years later, that Galen sprung.
Rise of the Ptolemy Lagos, the uterine brother of Alexander the
dri'arf11' Eh'Dat, rivalled Eumenes in his endeavours to advance
school. science and art. He had already interested himself in the
332 b.c. philosophy of India, where he had witnessed the self-
immolation of an Indian magus. When he ascended the
Greek throne of Egypt, he endeavoured to systematize the
vast erudition that had been accumulating for many centu¬
ries throughout the civilized world, to utilize it, and to ad¬
vance all branches of knowledge. It was this spirit that
produced the Septuagint. His son Ptolemy Philadelphus
not only gathered together all the written science and lite¬
rature within his reach, and so founded that great library of
Alexandria which survived the political vicissitudes of more
than nine centuries, but he also invited to, and encouraged
learned men at Alexandria from every quarter of the world,
irrespective of creed or race.
This era was another of those epochs at which the human
mind stops to take an estimate of its knowledge, and to lay
the foundation for a new superstructure. Medicine parti¬
cipated in the general impulse given to science; but its Medicine,
greatest advancement was due to the establishment of
schools of practical anatomy, and the cultivation of natural
history, the materia medica, and pharmacy. Alexandria
became so distinguished as a school of medicine that, in
the time of Galen (nearly five hundred years after its foun¬
dation) a physician had a certain reputation already simply
from having studied there. Almost all the distinguished
physicians of the time were from the school of Alexandria.
Herophilus was the principal connecting link between the Herophi-
Greek and Alexandrian schools. He was born at Chalcedon lus.
(not at Carthage, as some writers state), a small town in 285 b.c.
Bythinia, and studied medicine at Cos under Praxagoras, the
last of the Asclepiadge, and the successor to Hippocrates.
Having completed his studies, he went to Alexandria, where
he reduced the dislocated shoulder of Diodorus Siculus, one
of the many learned men which Ptolemy Philadelphus had
gathered around him. He was an attractive public teacher,
and wrote a learned, complete, and highly-esteemed theory
and practice of medicine, of which, unfortunately, only
fragmentary notices and extracts remain. But his chief
merit was his indefatigable anatomical and physiological re¬
searches. Aristotle had already prepared the way for a
great advance in human anatomy and physiology by his in¬
vestigations in comparative anatomy and physiology, of which
he laid the foundations. Hence, when the Alexandrian
school carried their inquiries into human anatomy and
physiology by careful dissection and experiments, they had
their labours rendered much easier by this important
advance. So extensive and comprehensive were these
researches, that Herophilus may be declared with entire
justice to be the founder of scientific anatomy and physio¬
logy. To him is due the great discovery of the anatomy
of the nervous system, and the fundamental principles of
neurology. Plato and Aristotle hardly knew that there
were nerves; Herophilus demonstrated the functions of both
the motor and sensitive. The anatomy of the brain and
spinal cord was also much advanced by him; and it is plea¬
sant to know that his name still sounds in the ear of the
medical student when the position of the torcular Herophili
is demonstrated to him. He it was who fixed the seat of
thought in the brain, and more especially in the fourth
ventricle. Herophilus would have been more successful if
he had been free from the trammels of philosophical and
religious dogmas; for it is evident that, like many original
investigators, he attempted to square his researches with the
established creeds of the day. Thus, although he placed
the seat of the intellect or of thought in the brain, he made
it only one of four forces, the other three being seated in
the liver (the nutrient), the heart (the preserving), and the
nerves (the sentient or feeling). In this he followed Plato
and Aristotle. His great practical contribution to science
was an elaborate doctrine of the pulse, which seems to have
become part of the Chinese system of medicine, and is still
extant in China.
Erasistratus was the contemporary of Herophilus, and, Erasistra-
like him, was a light of the Alexandrian school. He was a ^ ^ c
practical anatomist, a skilful and bold surgeon, and a good - B- *
physician. He was sparing in the use of the lancet or of
powerful remedies, preferring abstinence and rest. He in¬
troduced chicory into practice for hepatic affections.
Serapion, the head of the sect of empirical practitioners, Serapion.
was also of the Alexandrian school, and lived about fifty 235 b.c.
years after Herophilus and Erasistratus. To this sect be¬
longed also Heraclides of Tarentum, who advanced general
pathology and the practice of medicine, materia medica,
pharmacy, and surgery'. After his death toxicology had
special attention. Mithridates, King of Pontus, has con¬
nected his name with a composition (a theriaca), which he
prescribed as an antidote to poisons. I he fact is a signifi¬
cant comment on the uses to which an improved know le ge
Medicine.
State of
medicine
321-100
B.C.
M E D I
\
of materia medica and pharmacy were then (as now)
put. Elaborate pharmaceutical compounds characterized
the second century before Christ. The Theriaca and
Alexipharmaca of Nicander of Colophon, are two of the
few works of this era which have come down to us. The
formula for the Damocratic confection, invented by Damo-
crates, a contemporary of Nicander, contains forty-four in¬
gredients. It w'as given in the Pharmacopoeia of the Col¬
lege of Physicians of London, published in 1746, together
with others of the same period. The Philenium (a seda¬
tive compound containing opium as the efficient ingredient)
was one of these; it bore the name of Herennius Philo, a
native of Tarsus, the metropolis of Cilicia.
During the period intervening between the death of Alex¬
ander the Great and the first century before Christ, medi¬
cine had hardly taken root in Rome. It was studied princi¬
pally in Greece, Asia Minor, Egypt, and Magna Graecia, or
Southern Italy, where medical schoolsabounded. Someofthe
family of Herophilus appear to have founded a medical school
at Laodicea, a city that at the time carried on a lucrative
commerce, especially in wines, with Alexandria, and another
at Smyrna. These seem to have been termed Herophilian.
We have nothing but fragments of the medical works
which emanated from the Greek school of Alexandria prior
to the Roman conquest. There is reason to think, how¬
ever, that the prejudices of the people sooner or later threw
obstacles in the way of the practical anatomist, and that
thereupon succeeded a period of speculation and decline.
This most probably began anteriorly to the Roman conquest
and the burning of the great library by Julius Caesar. Cleo¬
patra undoubtedly carried out the philosophical traditions de¬
rived from her predecessors the Greek kings, and endeavoured
to replace the loss of the library by substituting that of Per-
gamos, which she solicited as a gift from Mark Antony.
The measure served to maintain the reputation of Alexan¬
dria as a great school of philosophy, medicine, and science
generally; but the ancient religion was become effete; the
Roman arms triumphed everywhere, and the metropolis of
the world was next to become the centre of science as well
as of government, to which the great Greek schools became
merely tributaries.
SECTION IV. ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF MEDICINE IN
THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
The Patriarchal and Sacerdotal Stage of Roman
Medicine.
Medicine The Romans (if the early annals of the city may be trusted)
its patrlar- Were warl.ike agriculturists—not civilized, yet not barba-
chal and 1'ous,—being in close intercourse with the cities of the great
sacerdotal Etrurian confederacy, and of Magna Graecia, in which scien-
stage. tific culture and the arts attained to as high a development
b.o 750- as in Greece itself. Medicine, nevertheless, passed through
2oa its successive stages of development in the Imperial city.
The Roman national mind, when fully developed, was
essentially political and military; it had little sympathy for
science or philosophy. The Roman people were content
to be without native physicians for nearly five centuries after
the foundation of the city. The elder Cato (about 200 b.c.)
practised patriarchal medicine when the Greek schools were
in their glory, and was himself the physician of both his
household and his domestic animals. It is said, indeed, that
his unskilful treatment proved fatal to his wife. Cabbage
was one of his most reliable remedies; and the magical words
he used for the reduction of luxations and fractures are still
extant. With him this patriarchal medicine was a matter of
principle, or perhaps more correctly, of pride and ignorance.
He hated the medical profession. He pretended to believe
that the Greeks had sworn among themselves to kill all
barbarians (and to the Greeks the Romans were eminently
of that class) by means of drugs. He was indignant at
CINE. 453
the imputation of barbarism. He w^as a type of a dominant Medicine,
but ignorant class still plentiful in the world. His haughty v
temper could not brook superior knowledge, or the claims
to it. As he detested the people, so he detested the philo¬
sophers, rhetoricians, and physicians, of Greece ; he accused
them of corrupting the Roman people, and at last succeeded
in obtaining a decree for their expulsion. Nevertheless
the physicians were exempt. Two hundred and fifty years
later Pliny exhibited similar national prejudices against
Greek science and literature, although his Materia Medica
was almost wholly copied from Greek writers. Like Cato,
he denounced all foreign, that is Greek physicians.
It w as when the increasingly numerous population of the
city of Rome was seriously diminished by a pestilential
disease, about 187 b.c., that the Romans first appear as
showing an interest in medicine. On that occasion, in
accordance with their superstitious prejudices, a deputation
of six went in quest of advice to the great iEsculapian tem¬
ple and medical school at Epidaurus, when (according to
the legend) they appropriately received one of the sacred
serpents to take home with them, that they might build a
temple to the god where the animal chanced to go ashore.
This temple was duly erected, but it does not seem to have
secured the usual results, that is, the establishment of
a college of sacerdotal physicians. Yet it is hardly probable
that sacerdotal medicine was not practised. The Etrurians
possessed a knowledge of the physical sciences, and were the
engineers of the day; they were also the metallurgists,
chemists, and manufacturers, and they supplied augurs and
a knowledge of augury to the Romans. We may conclude,
therefore, that from the Etrurians sacerdotal medicine was
also introduced into Rome.
Origin of a Medical Profession and Medical Literature
in Rome.
When medicine became a separate profession in Rome, the Roman me-
members did not arise out of the sacerdotal class, as in Asia dical Pro*
and Greece. The Medici of the Romans were at first chiefly, feature d
if not exclusively, slaves or freedmen, the prisoners of war B ^ ^OO1"6'
captured in their campaigns against the nations of the then
civilized world. The first purely professional man seems
to have been a Greek named Archagathus, upon whom, Archaga-
according to Pliny, the senate conferred the freedom of the thus,
city, purchasing for him also a shop and surgery in the
Acilian Causeway. In proportion as the Roman empire
extended over the flourishing and refined cities of Sicily,
Greece, Asia Minor, and Egypt, Rome became cosmopoli¬
tan, and consequently attracted to it from every quarter the
ambitious intellects of the day. One of these was Ascle-Asclepia-
piades, a native of Prusa in Bythinia, who having studied des.
at Alexandria and Athens, established himself as a teacher 90 B*c*
of rhetoric at Rome, about the year 90 b.c. The Greek
language and literature were then cultivated by the Roman
nobility and gentry, for it was the fashion amongst them to
send their sons to study at the great seats of science in
Greece. These, when they returned to Rome, welcomed
Greek professional and literary men to their city, and to
their personal friendship. Asclepiades had the honour of
Cicero’s intimacy, and of that of other illustrious men of the
day. He abandoned rhetoric for the practice of medicine,
and, like all characters of his stamp, not only opposed the
doctrines of the medical schools as then taught, but set forth
a medical philosophy of his own, which was wholly specu¬
lative. It was a sort of medical atomic hypothesis, founded
on the phi osophical systems of Democritus and Epicurus,
then popular with the educated Romans. It is from him
that the popular medical theories as to the “ pores” of the
body have descended. He designated the Hippocratic
method of patient observation of nature as Oavarov peXerri,
a meditation on death.” His medical theories led to a sim¬
ple enough practice. He had his plans for closing, opening
454
MEDICINE.
Medicine, and relaxing “ the pores,” so that the imprisoned molecules
could escape freely or not. Fevers, inflammations, and other
“ sthenic” diseases were due to obstructions of the pores;
dropsy and similar asthenic diseases were due to relaxation.
He had a sort of homoeopathic maxim that one fever would
cure another. Wine he administered according to the
same theories which were adopted by Brown of modern
times; a man whose history closely resembled that of As-
clepiades in several particulars. Asclepiades was also hy¬
dropathic ; for he made large use of cold water, and was
the inventor of the shower-bath—the Balneum pensile.
Themison, Themison, his pupil and successor, came from Laodicea,
pupilof As-w]iere already there was an important medical school,—an
ciepiades. 0fj’set 0f t]le Alexandrian. He favoured the sect of the
'B,C‘ Methodists—a term which, derived from this body, received
a singular application to a religious sect in the United
Kingdom, founded in the year 1739 by John Wesley, a
great ecclesiastical reformer, and a fellow of Lincoln Col¬
lege, Oxford. John Wesley and his friends at Oxford
divided the day and the week into periods, during which
they occupied themselves exclusively with certain pursuits,
literary, charitable, and religious. It was from the practice
of this orderly routine of duties that they were termed
Methodists by their fellow-students at Oxford, for that an¬
cient medical sect adopted a similar routine of treatment of
disease. It was comprised within what was termed a meta-
syncritic circle ; during this period each day had its allotted
diet, regimen, duties, the treatment in minute details being
distributed over successive days in periods of three days, or
ternaries. Juvenal, in one line of his first satire, has inti¬
mated what success Themison had. ‘ Quot Themison cegros
autumno occiderat unol Methodism was a simple system ;
was therefore easily acquired; and, like all such, soon be¬
came very popular, especially amongst the unlearned.
Thessalus. Thessalus, a native of Tralles in Asia Minor, succeeded
a.d. 55. Themison, and fitly flourished during the reign of Nero.
He was a man of low origin, and of ignorance and audacity
unparalleled in that age of charlatans. Pliny describes
him as professing to make his pupils perfect in medicine in
six months. By this means he attracted a multitude of
students, chiefly from the lower classes, whom he took with
him on his visits to his patients for half a year, and conferred
upon them an authority to practise medicine.
Soranus. Soranus, a native of Ephesus, but a student of Alexan¬
dria, seems to have settled in Rome with the object of suc¬
ceeding to the practice of the Methodists. He was, how¬
ever, a man of scientific culture. He studied anatomy,
published a work on the reproductive organs of the female,
wrote an interesting life of Hippocrates, and systematized
the practice of medicine. His contemporary and co-secta¬
rian, Caelius Aurelianus, a Numidian, wrote one of the best
works of the day on the practice of medicine, embodying
not only the doctrine of Soranus, but all the most approved
doctrines of the time. With a return to scientific culture
in the leaders, the sect of the Methodists disappeared.
Cels us. Cornelius Aurelius Celsus appears to have been contem¬
porary with Asclepiades and Themison, or else to have
lived shortly after them. He wrote on military affairs,
agriculture, and rhetoric, as well as on medicine ; and was
probably a practising physician at Rome. He may be
taken as the type of the learned or scientific Roman, and
was evidently an eclectic. His work on medicine takes
almost equal rank, as a classical work, with the Hippocratic
writings ; or lie may, perhaps, be more fitly compared to
Aretaeus of Cappadocia, the most elegant and finished of
the Greek authors of that day ; and also, like Celsus, an
eclectic. Celsus recommends, for the cure of hydrophobia,
that the patient should be plunged over head into water,
kept there for a short time, and then raised for a brief
period and dipped again, repeating, alternately, the submer¬
sion and withdrawal. I his practice has been preserved in
the United Kingdom as a popular remedy {Vide article Medicine.
Jenner, vol. xii., p. 720), and is a curious piece of folk-
lore, evidently derived, like many similar theories and
practices, from the literature of medicine.
Period of culmination of Medicine in the Homan Empire.
The eclectic sect of Rome had in Galen its most distin- Galen,
guished member. He was, in all respects, a representative Culmina-
man. At this period science had recovered from the
pression which followed upon the subjugation of Asia^”me *
Minor, Greece, and Egypt by the Romans ; and during the A.D.‘i65.
subsequent two centuries had even made considerable ad¬
vance. Pliny had laid the foundation of natural history;
Dioscorides of materia medica and botany. All the Greek
schools supplied an uninterrupted immigration of scientific
men into Rome and into the large commercial cities of the
empire. It was about a.d. 165, and in the thirty-fourth year
of his age, that Galen went to Rome on the invitation of
the Emperor Marcus Aurelius. He was born at Pergamns,
and was the son of Nicon, a geometrician, who took the
greatest pains with his education. He was carefully
grounded at Pergamus in anatomy, and was instructed in
pathology and therapeutics by two masters; the one Strato-
nicus, being of the Hi})pocratic school; the other, iEschrion,
of the Empirical. After the death of his father he went to
finish his medical education at the great school of Alexan¬
dria. Having mastered all the theories and knowledge
of the times, he gave his talents, and much time and labour,
to constructing a summary of them. His works are there¬
fore very voluminous, and constitute a perfect encyclopaedia
of the medical science of the day. It is for this reason that
they took rank with those of Hippocrates, and that they
constituted, equally with the latter, the text-book and
manual of medical literature, down to the revival of learn¬
ing in the fifteenth century. The term Galenist is hardly
yet extinct in some parts of Europe.
The era of Galen was the culminating point of Roman
science and literature. Marcus Aurelius, his patron, knew
well how to value scientific culture. He was a man de¬
scended from a long line of noble Roman ancestors, and
traced his pedigree, by his father’s side, to Numa the phi¬
losophic king. He had every advantage of parental ex¬
ample and education, and was of the sect of the Stoics.
The most distinguished member of that sect was Epictetus.
—already a Christian in his life and moral philosophy.
This man Aurelius took for his model When he travelled
into Greece he patronized science and philosophy of every
kind; and on one occasion, when at Athens, founded four
professorships for Platonics, Stoics, Peripatetics, and Epicure¬
ans, together with one for Rhetoric. He forbade persecution
for religious opinions, and granted toleration to the Chris¬
tians. "Never was there a fairer prospect for science, and
especially for medicine, than during the era of Galen.
The Military Power Supreme, and Decay of Medicine in
the West.
Yet the works of Galen constituted the last production Its decline,
of ancient Roman medicine. Everywhere the empire was a.d. 1 t0
being spoiled by barbarian foes, and the civilization of
Ronfe was about to experience that long eclipse which con¬
tinued through the dark ages. Aurelius passed, in defence
of the empire, from the Rhine to the Danube, from the
Danube to the Euphrates. Insurrections occurred in all
parts; the unity of the empire was at last only maintained
by military force, and the military force reigned^ supreme,
electing and deposing emperors at pleasure. ^ Ihe effects
of this grand change were soon manifest. The military
power hated science. Hardly had Galen died, when Caia-
calla, the parricide and fratricide, visiting Alexandria under
the pretence of worshipping the god Serapis, gave up the
city to indiscriminate plunder and massacre, deprived the
Mpdicine. professors, who were Aristotelians, of their chairs, and sup-
piessed all public discussions. He avowed a hatred of
Aristotle ; forbade the teaching of his doctrines; burnt his
works ; and persecuted to death his disciples. Caracalla was
a representative man. He typified the age—an age when
emperors had divine honours,—the military hierarchy was
piedominant, and religion and literature were equally de-
. asx»<j' F10ni this period the decline of medical science
in Western Europe was rapid and continuous, until the in¬
cessant irruptions of the uncivilized nations of the north,
u,- ant. f 16 'nterm‘nakle wars which resulted, reduced society
f° '!!f leTtS' Boethi"s> born a1™'1 470, was the
of philoso- ^ot , 6 era of science; he was the martyr of
phy. philosophy. Thenceforward there was no longer anything
but a shadow of philosophy or medicine, and all that re¬
mained was gathered under the wing of the new sacerdotal
power that had arisen on the old; and which alone was able
to overawe the brute force of the barbarians, and maintain
social order. The era of Gregory the Great witnessed their
revival.
MEDICINE.
455
SECTION V. MEDICINE IN THE GREEK EMPIRE.
Partial revival of Greek Medicine in the East.
’artial re
ival of
Ireek me-
:ieine.
•D. 328.
basius.
tK 360.
lo:us.
■ 525.
Although medicine was all but extinct in the West, it
survived in the East, which withstood longer the elements
of social decay, and found a new starting point in the new
metropolis of the empire, founded a.d. 328 by Constantine
the Great. Greek medicine had never been defunct; it was
only eclipsed by the cosmopolitan grandeur. All the cities
of Greece proper, and the Greek colonies of Asia Minor, as
well as Alexandria, cultivated every branch of science dur¬
ing the Roman dominion. Yet, when the centre of me¬
dicine thus returned to its cradle amongst the Greeks, a
great change had come over its social relations. It was no
longer in subjection to the Pagan mythology of ancient
Greece. I hat was about to become extinct in a faith and a
religion destined to be paramount, as it had been, over the
civilized world. 1 he change had proved fatal to society in
the West; in the East the empire went through the process
with less disaster. But the Greek empire, with all its
schools, did little to advance medical science. The Chris¬
tians objected to human dissection even more strongly than
the Romans. Tertullian, partly a contemporary of Galen,
but several years younger, vilified the memory of Herophi-
lus, 500 years after his death, by designating him as “ that
physician, or rather butcher, who dissected 600 men in
order to learn the structure of his frame; who hated man,
in oi der to find out nature ;” untruly adding that his victims
“ did not die a natural death, but expired amidst all the
agonies to which the curiosity of the anatomist was pleased
to subject them. Hence, when the Christians came to
powei, anatomical research was less than ever possible. The
succeeding authors were, for the most part, mere copyists
and commentators on Hippocrates and Galen. In the
middle of the fourth century Oribasius flourished, who was
one of this class. He' also, like Galen, was born at Pero-a-
mus, was educated at Sardis, at the school of Zeno (who
afterwards settled at Alexandria), and became attached to
the court of Julian the Apostate, who repeatedly appointed
him the Quaestor of Constantinople. He wrote seventy-two
books, which, at the request of Julian, he abridged into one.
He collates from several authors not noticed by Galen, so
that his works constitute a valuable appendix to those of
the latter. It is interesting to notice that, towards the close
of fourth century, a Phoenician bishop (Nemesius of
Emessa) appears as a physiological writer. He closely
verged, it is thought, upon the discovery of the circulation
of the blood, but this is not well established.
Aetius, the Christian, born at Amida, a city of Mesopo¬
tamia, on the ligiis, and who wrote about the beginning
or middle of the sixth century, was a student of Alexandria. Medicine.
He summarized like Oribasius, and quoted also like him from ^ v
authors not mentioned by preceding writers, and whose works
are lost. He made a large collection of formulae, including
those of many secret remedies. His writings are more inter¬
penetrated with Egyptian and Persian knowledge than those
of Oribasius; and it was probably in consequence of his ori¬
ental birth and associations that he introduced into medicine
the doctrine and use of spells, rites, and incantations, and
which even then had begun to disfigure and corrupt Chris-
tiamty. Alexander, the son of a physician of Tralles, a city Alexander
of Lydia, was a contemporary of Aetius, and also a Christian of Tralles,
medical writer. He was a more original author than the
latter, but, like him, was a believer in magic, charms, and
incantations. He furnishes the only known instance of a
medical writer who avowedly borrowed anything from Os-
thanes, one of the most ancient of the Persian magi.
Procopius, the historian, appears to have been a man Procopius
learned in medicine, if not actually a physician. He men- a.d. 540. ’
tions the names of several of his medical contemporaries,
and records their services. He describes the plague of 543*
which spread from Egypt over the known world, and carried
off, at Constantinople, 16,000 persons daily when at its height.
He uses terms of a scientific and technical character. ”
Culmination and Decline of Eastern Greek Medicine.
Paul of Egina was the last of the more distinguished Culmina-
medical writers who lived during the palmy days of the *i°n
Eastern or Byzantine empire. His birth is fixed sometime G.reek Me*
in the seventh century. He was a representative man, plcl"e-
being a learned and practical physician, a voluminous com- S“eSta>
mentator, and a skillul surgeon. He was a great compiler, a.d. 600-
adding from authors not quoted by his predecessors, as well 640.
as the original matter their own works contained. His
works brought up the science of medicine to its latest de¬
velopment in the East, as Galen’s had done in the West.
Already while he wrote, the tempest which was to fall
upon the empire with destructive force was gathering.
Heraclius had to defend his empire on all sides; from the
Longobards in Italy; from the Arari, who crossed the
Danube, invaded Thrace, and marched upon Constanti¬
nople ; and from the Persians, who advanced through Egypt
and Syria, on the one hand, and Asia Minor on the other,
as far as Chalcedon. In 622 he commenced his successful
expedition against the latter, and in the same year Mo¬
hammed openly assumed the character of a legislator and
a prophet. In 640 the Arabs under Amrou captured
Alexandria. The schools of science and philosophy were
broken up, the professors driven away, and the great library,
as^ is stated by some, was burnt by order of Omar II.
While the followers of Mohammed were wresting its fairest
provinces from the Christian empire of the East, the Em¬
peror Heraclius was engaged in a theological dispute with
Pope John IV., who procured his doctrines to be formally
condemned by a council. J
The Greek empire was able to maintain itself at Constan- its decline
tinople against the Arabs ; but it was mutilated, and became
more and more degenerate, so that at the time when medi¬
cine was flourishing with the caliphs,in connection with poli¬
tical energy and vigour, it languished with the emperors in
association with religious and political decadence. Only one
Greek name is prominently connected with the history of
medicine from the century subsequent to the fall of Alex-
amlna to the date of the capture of Constantinople. John,
the son of Zachana lived at the close of the thirteenth or
beginning of the fourteenth century, and was surnanted
of Se court anTh.onora[y.‘»le for the chief physicianActuariu,.
i • t , le lebgious bigotry and persecution a.d. 1000.
which prevailed among the Greek Christians had at an
earlier period the effect of exiling the best minds of the
nation, and driving them for refuge to the colleges and
456
MEDICINE.
Medicine, universities of the politic caliphs. At a later period the
ravages of the Turks drove them alike from the Mos¬
lem and Greek academies. Already, therefore, there were
numerous literary Greek exiles in Italy and France, where
they were cordially welcomed, when in the year 1453
the Turks having captured and pillaged Constantinople, a
number of learned Greeks fled into Italy, taking with them
all the literary treasures they could carry off. That event
Extinction. ciosed the era of the old Greek civilization and science,
a.d. 1453. an(j at t]ie same moment was the birth of modern and
true European civilization, yet after a long period of ges¬
tation.
SECTION VI.—MEDICINE UNDER THE ARABS.
Revival of Asiatic Medicine.
Arabmedi- The exodus from Alexandria carried the light of medical
cme m science back again into Greece, and Magna Grsecia or
aiTg^ to Southern Italy. In the former its decline was delayed; in
1036. " the latter, the school of Salerno was either founded, or ma¬
terially strengthened, by the Alexandrian refugees, and the
foundation laid for the revival of letters in Europe, under
Charlemagne. Later on, when the Turks took Constanti¬
nople, and the last remains of Greek science were finally
stamped out, Italy was in like manner benefited by the irrup¬
tion of barbarians, and became the source of light to Europe.
But the central seat of medical culture was now transferred to
Asia, and once again medicine was developed by an Asiatic
priesthood. No sooner had the conquering caliphs conso¬
lidated their government, than they encouraged the arts
and literature with the same enlightened zeal and success
as the Ptolemies. Science was again cultivated over a wide
extent of territory, extending from the Indus to the Tagu«:.
It is more than probable, indeed, that medicine and philo¬
sophy were taught in very remote regions of Asia; and
even flourishing medical schools existed in India and Tar-
tarv. Of these, however, little is known, although it is
expected that the extension of archa?ological research to
Bokhara will throw much light upon the former state of
civilization in these distant regions. Be this as it may, the
sacerdotal power was once more triumphant in Asia, but
with a new faith; and wdiile every branch of science had
its patronage, medicine in particular met with every en¬
couragement. The Arabs generally had not only a strong
liking for medical studies, but there is reason to think that
the prophet himself was a student of medicine and a medi¬
cal author. The schools at Alexandria appear to have been
also re-established, for mention is made of professors there
so late as the close of the seventh century ; and at the com¬
mencement of the ninth, the patriarch of Alexandria was
so celebrated for his medical skill, that the Caliph Haroun-
al-Raschid sent for him to visit one of his sick wives.
The Pan- Syriac translations of the Greek medical writers were
dects. made a few years previously to the capture of Alexandria,
a.d. 687. which were termed Pandects. Through these the Arabians
acquired a knowledge of European science. In 687 they
were translated into Arabic. In 767 Bagdad was founded
by the Caliph Almanzor the Victorious, a great patron of
science. He was attended in a severe illness by George
Bactishua, an Indian physician, who had been educated at
Nisabur, the capital of Khorassan, long the seat of an im¬
portant medical school. Bactishua was most graciously
received by the caliph, and at his departure was presented
with the imperial fee of 10.000 gold pieces. At the caliph’s
request he translated numerous medical works into Arabic.
The great translator, however, was Honain, a Christian
well acquainted with Greek, Syriac, and Arabic, and pos¬
sessor ot a library rich in works on every branch of science.
It is stated that the Caliph Almamon paid him in gold,
for translating Aristotle, a sum equal in weight to each
volume of his translation. He was known as Honain the
Translator. His example was followed by his son Isaac, Medicine,
and his grandson Hobaish, both of whom enriched Arabic
literature by translations of the best European writers.
The fifth caliph of the House of Abbas, Haroun-al-Raschid, Era of
was remarkable for his love of science. He welcomed scien- Haroun-al-
tific Christians to his court, adorned Bagdad with colleges Raschid.
and hospitals (which were added to under Almamon), until A,D- 784>
it rivalled Alexandria and Athens as a seat of scientific
culture, and contained not fewer than 6000 learned Chris¬
tian exiles within its walls. He it was who first set the
example of attaching to every mosque that was built a col¬
lege and an hospital,—an example which was most strictly
followed by the Spanish Moors. The most distinguished me¬
dical professor at Bagdad at this period was Mesue, the son
of a druggist, born at Nisabur. The pupil of Gabriel, the
son of George Bactishua, he was especially commissioned
by Haroun-al-Raschid to collect and translate into Arabic
all the Greek works to be met with in Ancyra or other
towns in that part of Asia.
Almamon, the second son of the great caliph, ascended
the throne in 840, and devoted himself with the utmost
enthusiasm to the advancement of science. He collected
the works of the learned from every quarter, applying, on
the one hand, to the Greek emperors at Constantinople for
assistance in his pursuits, and rendering the Sanscrit lite¬
rature available on the other. He erected observatories,
and had astronomical instruments constructed for the pur¬
pose of facilitating astronomical observation. He derived
much knowledge of astronomy from Hindustan.
Rhazes was born in the year 852 at Rei, a city of Persia, Rhazes.
and educated at Nisabur. At the age of thirty he removed A-D- 882-
to Bagdad, where he subsequently attained to a high repu¬
tation. He was a voluminous writer, but the greater num¬
ber of his works were compilations from the Greeks. He
wrote original works; amongst these is a treatise on small¬
pox and measles, which was translated into Greek at the
desire of one of the Byzantine emperors.
The beginning of the eleventh century witnessed the Culmina-
highest development of Arab culture in Asia. ^on of
Haly Abbas and Ebn Sina, or Avicenna, were nearly ^ ia
contemporaries, and both copious Arabian writers. 1 he ^sia.
former has left a full account of the state of medicine Ad_ io36.
amongst the Arabs, and a history of their medical writers. Avicenna.
About the year 980 he wrote a voluminous work, intended a.d. 98U.
to be a complete system of medicine, which he called Alma-
lecus. But Avicenna was the Galen of the eastern Arabian
empire. His great work was entitled the Canon, and be¬
came the text-book of Arabian commentators and teachers
during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It had also an
extended reputation in Europe even at an earlier period,
which it maintained until the revival of letters. Avicenna
died in 1036. Besides medicine, he cultivated philosophy,
mathematics, and politics, and was at one time vizier to the
sovereign of Hamadan. Only one other name appears in
the history of the caliphs of Bagdad in connection with
medicine,—that is Abdallatif, contemporary with Saladin.
While that prince was at Jerusalem after the peace was
concluded with the Christians, he gave lectures in the
At the time of Avicenna the caliphate of Bagdad had
already gone through the same changes as the Roman em- cjne jn
pire at the time of Galen. I he body-guards of the Caliph, ^sia.
the head of the faithful, possessed the same power as the a.d. 1242.
praetorian guards of Rome. I he distant regions of t le
empire were being attacked by the I urks, and various
provinces formed into independent kingdoms under mi i-
tary commanders. Henceforth medicine made no progress
amongst the Arabs. The physicians were little better
than commentators and theorists. It was the period of po i-
tical and religious decay. The Turks finally conquered
Bagdad, and swept away all traces of science.
MEDICINE.
Medicine.
Rise of Arab Medicine in the West.
457
Rise of Medicine, in common with other sciences, found amongst
Arab medi. the Mohammedans of the West the same support and en-
cineinthe couragement as amongst those of the East. In the year 711,
West. the Arabs penetrated into Spain from Africa, and laid the
a.d. . foundation of the Moslem empire in Western Europe. For
nearly fifty years it was a distant dependency of the eastern
seat of Arab power, and exposed to civil wars ; but when
the Ommiades or Beni Umeyah dynasty was overthrown
by the Abassides in 748, a descendant of it, Abd-el-Rah-
man escaped from Bagdad and took refuge in Spain, where,
after a series of conflicts, he established himself in the
government, making Cordova his capital. His successor, the
third of his name, who reigned in the tenth century, was
the greatest monarch the Spanish Moors ever had. He
followed in every respect the example of Almanzor and
Almamon at Bagdad. He fostered every kind of science
and art, founding colleges, schools, libraries, and constructing
roads, canals, and aqueducts. The impulse then given was
continued during the reign of his son and successor A1
Hakem II., who, himselt a scientific man, had an un¬
bounded love for science and literature. He attracted the
learned'men of every country to his court, and founded the
library of Merwan, of 250,000 works, at Cordova, the un¬
finished catalogue of which filled forty-four folio volumes.
Within five hundred years from the conquest of Spain by
the Arabs, science had been so developed that it could
boast of seventy public libraries, three academies at Seville,
Toledo, and Marcia, besides the world-famous university
of Cordova, and hundreds of authors and teachers.
Culmination and Recline of Arab Medicine in the West.
Its culmi- Avenzoar was the Galen and Avicenna of Spain. He
imtion. was rich, of noble birth, but a Jew both by religion and
Avenzoar. raCe’ HiS .father and grarMfather were equally men of high
reputation in the medical profession, as indeed was his son.
A learned commentator, he was also an original observer,
so that his works were hardly less valued in the scientific
world than those of Ebn Sina. He flourished at the be¬
ginning of the twelfth century. Averrhoes was junior to
Avenzoar, but also a contemporary, being his reputed pupil.
He was educated in the university of Morocco, where he
first studied law, but which he abandoned for medicine,
mathematics, and philosophy. His father was the hi^h-
priest and chief judge of Cordova, and to these offices he
succeeded on the death of his father. He was, however,
subsequently deprived of them, and thrown into prison for
his avowed scepticism. He illustrated the Aristotelian phi-
los?Phy> fr°m which circumstance he acquired the surname
of The Commentator;” and he wrote a system of medicine
expressly intended to be a compilation. Averrhoes died
about 1206.
Its decline. _ Science was thus at its culminating point in antagon-
Albucasis. ism with traditional theology. Concurrently the Moor-
a.d. 1300. ish empire was declining, and at last was rent by bloody
civil wars. The great battle of Las Navas, fought in
1213, struck at the root of the Moorish power. In
1226 Cordova, with its famous university, was surren¬
dered to the Christians, and the Moorish King of Gra¬
nada purchased peace by becoming the vassal of Ferdi¬
nand III. Spanish literature, arts, and science, declined
with the declining power of the Moslem, so that Albucasis,
the last of the Moorish practitioners of Spain, and who lived
about the beginning of the fourteenth century, writes of
surgery as being at the lowest ebb.
Its extinc- Spain still retained, however, her universities and much
her learning after the expulsion of the Moors. In 1512
° ' George Almenar published on syphilis ; but the succeeding
Christian governments fell under an exclusively sacerdotal
and fanatical influence. .The Jews and Moslems had been,
VOL. XIV.
and were, the chief supporters of science ; but that scien- Medicine,
tific toleration which the latter had accorded to all creeds
was not accorded to them. Jews and Moors were dili¬
gently extirpated by the Inquisition ; their literature was
pronounced devilish,—themselves accursed. This priestly
blight of science fell upon Spain at the identical epoch
when the rest of Europe was beginning to cultivate every
branch of human learning, and is felt in that country to
this day. So ended Saracenic medicine.
CHAPTER II.—MODERN OR EUROPEAN MEDICINE.
SECTION I. FIRST PERIOD : FROM THE DARK AGES TO THE
REFORMATION.
Sacerdotal Stage of Modern Medicine.
The imperial dominion of Rome virtually ended with the First pe-
capture and sack of the city by Ricimer in 472, and actually riod of mo*
with the abdication of Augustulus in 476. This finished dern or
the succession of phases of ancient European society. Com- ®uropean
mencing with the sacerdotal power of the old priesthood, TmleTtc
it had ceased with the fall of the military hierarchy, and 1453.
once again the whole series began anew with a new faith and Sacerdotai
new races of men. Amidst the troubles of the dying em- stage,
pire, the municipalities had held to laws and government,
and the people had found the best guarantee for peace and
order in the superior wisdom and influence of the clergy.
It was, however, in 466 that the sacerdotal period of modern
European civilization formally commenced, in which vear
the Bishop of Rome (henceforth to be so powerful) was
elected to fill the episcopal chair by the united voice of the
clergy and people. From this date, the sacerdotal caste was
gradually but surely to rise above the military, and become
predominant; not by means of a conquering prophet or
a military caliph, but by a reconstruction of the frame¬
work of society on the first principles of human nature.
The period between the close of the fifth and the middle
of the seventh century was occupied in a slow but gradual
civilization by religion of the barbarous populations of both
the West and the East. As a consequence, we see a gleam
of light bursting forth at last in the eighth and ninth cen¬
turies over the whole earth, from Ireland in the west to the
farthest east of Bokhara and Hindustan. It was a period
of a grand onward movement of the human mind from
that state of degradation to which the old pagan idolatry
(commencing first with symbolism) had reduced it. We
have already seen what the monotheistic priesthood and
warriors effected in Asia.
Charlemagne in the eighth century rivalled his conlem- Charle-
poraries, the caliphs of Bagdad, in his encouragement of the magne.
arts and sciences. In his reign the cathedrals and monas- A•I,•
teries of Christendom, like the mosques of the Moslem, had
libraries, schools, and colleges attached to them, in which
medicine was taught in especial under the name of physics
or the philosophy of nature. Priests, abbots, and bishops
were students of medicine and the physicians of kings.
Nay, even abbesses and nuns studied and practised the
art. While the Arabs were encouraging the sciences and
aits in Asia, Africa, and Spain, Alfred of England was en- Alfred of
deavouring to develope them in Britain. The epoch was England,
in fiict one of general revival of science and civilization \
but its onward movement was interrupted by the con¬
tinual attacks of the pagan barbarians of the North on
the one side, and the Moslem on the other. The former
at last got possession of the fairest provinces of Northern
Europe, and with them ignorance and a retrograde social
condition of that country came on. In the regions of Eu¬
rope most distant from their attacks, as Italy, the south of
France, and Spain, medical and general science continued
to advance up to the close of the thirteenth century. Sa¬
lerno, in the south of Italy (the old Magna Grsecia), which
3 M
458
MEDICINE.
Medicine.
Constan¬
tine of Car¬
thage.
a.d. 1075.
was already in high repute as a medical school so early
as the eighth century, maintained an eminent position from
the tenth to the thirteenth. Constantine of Carthage, one
of the professors during the latter half of the eleventh cen¬
tury, travelled, like a second Pythagoras, in search of know¬
ledge through Egypt, Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia, and India,—
countries in which the natural sciences and the arts were
at their zenith under the caliphs, and would doubtless
return, like his great predecessor, well stored with the phi¬
losophy and medical science of the East. Probably the
development and vigour of this school was due to its proxi¬
mity to the East. Portions of Naples also maintained close
ecclesiastical relations with the Byzantine empire for seve¬
ral centuries, and the old Greek culture flourished there
for a longer period than elsewhere in Europe.
Medical
profession
in Europe.
A.D. 1100
to 1453.
Era of the
Trouba¬
dours, 12th
century;
and foun¬
dation of
universi¬
ties.
Albertus
Magnus.
A.D. 1256.
Mondini.
a.d. 1316.
Guy de
Chauliac.
A.D. 1350,
Rise of a Medical Profession in Europe.
During this period the people inhabiting the shores of the
Mediterranean went through the successive phases we have
repeatedly traced already. Commerce introduced wealth,—
wealth was followed by science and arts; then freedom of
opinion was demanded, and the power and dogmas of the
priesthood questioned : this in return appealed to the mili¬
tary power. Next arose the old conflict between traditional
dogmas and new opinions, with a loosening of the ties of
society, to end in the loss of political and religious freedom.
Thus in these regions the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth
centuries were remarkable for great commercial, religious,
and intellectual activity, and an attempt at a reformation of
religion , upon this followed the establishment of the In¬
quisition and the wars against the Albigenses. The sacer¬
dotal power triumphed and became absolute; and the
next phase came. It was now that the practice of medi¬
cine was separated from the priestly caste, and declared to
be incompatible with the sacerdotal office. For several
years decrees of councils and bulls of popes were launched
against the combination of the two by the priesthood.
Science and philosophy were thus secularized, for the study
of medicine was then (as since) the study of all branches
of human knowledge; hence another important social change
arose. The cathedral schools were very generally erected
into universities by the popes of the twelfth, thirteenth, and
fourteenth centuries ; science and literature thereby re¬
ceived the highest patronage, a home, and a special organi¬
zation, and with these advantages they were rapidly deve¬
loped. Encouraged by popes and prelates, the acquisition of
literature from all available sources became an enthusiastic
pursuit. The schools of the Moslem and Greek were visited,
and their great medical and scientific authorities commented
on and used as text-books. In short, it was an anticipation
of the age of Leo X.
Of the mixed scientific and medical authors of this era,
Albertus Magnus and Roger Bacon are the two most dis¬
tinguished ; the one a prelate in high favour with the pa¬
pacy, the other a Franciscan priest alternately encouraged
and persecuted. Both took a grand and comprehensive view
of natural science in its practical relations, and included
therein medicine and its accessory departments.
Practical anatomy was restored by Mondini, professor of
medicine at Bologna, in 1316. He dissected the bodies of
two women, and published a work on anatomy with plates.
Surgery and medicine were advanced by Arnold de Ville-
neuve and Guy de Chauliac. The former travelled into
Moslem Spain at the close of the thirteenth century, to be
instructed in Arabian pathology, materia medica, and che¬
mistry. It was here that he probably acquired a knowledge
of alcohol, of which it has been alleged he was the discoverer.
The name is manifestly of Moorish origin.
Guy de Chauliac was a representative man, and deserves
special notice. He flourished in the middle of the fourteenth
century, and was one of the learned surgeons of this epoch.
He had mastered Arabic and Greek literature, and -his Medicine,
writings constituted a summary of all the then existing v-—
knowledge, and took rank with the established authorities of
medical science and art. They were adopted as text-books
for both professors and practitioners, and were translated
and commented upon by the learned of all nations.
During this entire period the sacerdotal power was irre- Extinction
sistible. At the beginning of the thirteenth century anofTrouba-
attempt was made to assert and maintain religious liberty in doiir .
both the south of France and in Italy, and the former atlearI51D®‘
last became the seat of bloody religious wars, in which the
dawning Reformation was finally quenched in blood. In
Italy the Inquisition was put into full operation, and the
heretics were unsparingly persecuted during the whole of
the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth centuries.
Medicine and the natural sciences did not escape. Roger
Bacon suffered the same fate as Galileo in the succeeding
epoch, two centuries later; and the Inquisition tried Peter de
Apono, a physician and naturalist, for heresy, after his death,
and ordered his body to be disinterred and burned. In this
age, therefore, there arose a bloody struggle between reli¬
gious truth and corrupt traditions, and between natural and
experimental science and the dogmatic theology based on
the philosophical speculations of Aristotle. The latter was
victorious. The sacerdotal power exercised a triumphant
tyranny over the people, and so became more and more
wealthy and corrupt. From this date a sensible decline
may be observed in medical science and art for a century.
SECTION II. SECOND PERIOD OF MODERN MEDICINE J FROM
THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE GREAT REFORMATION TO
THE FALL OF THE SACERDOTAL POWER.
Phase of Development under the Priesthood.
At the commencement of the fifteenth century com- Second
merce had acquired an extraordinary development in Italy period of
and along the shores of the Mediterranean, and therewith
the arts and sciences,—for they always follow in its train,
Before its close, editions of the Greek and Latin classics, A>1)> 1450.
hitherto only to be met with in manuscript, were printed.
Andreas Verrochio, the director of the Academy of Arts at
Milan, and the master of Leonardo da Vinci, impressed
upon artists the necessity to excellence in art of anato¬
mical knowledge. Da Vinci (born in 1452) carried out
these ideas into practice, and carefully dissected the human
body at Vaverola. He made very many beautiful anatomi¬
cal drawings, which still exist. Da Vinci was also an ob¬
servant physiologist, a profound mathematician, a skilful
architect and engineer, as well as a painter and sculptor.
The period was in truth one of immense progress in
every direction. Society was more and more consolidated,
commerce extended, political freedom developed. It was,
like the period of the Greek republics, an age of large cities
and small independent communities, the rulers of which
encouraged science and art and learning by all the means
in their power.
The first manifest movement arose with the wealthy TheMediri.
merchants and republican governments of the large com-a.d. 133d
mercial cities of Italy. As they declined from intestine wars
and feuds, the military power usurped authority, and the re¬
publics fell under the power of successful military com¬
manders ; yet, nevertheless, these also continued the public
patronage of science and art already begun. I he history of
the Medici family of Florence, in its relations to philosophy,
science, literature, and the arts, from Cosmo the Pater Pa¬
trice, born in 1389, to Leo X., who died in 1521, is in fact a
history of what this class did for science in all parts of Italy.
Giovanni de’ Medici died, in 1428, a wealthy and successful
merchant, leaving two sons, both of whom, as well as their
descendants, occupy an important position in the story
of Italian progress. Cosmo the Elder continued the ex-
MEDICINE.
Age of
Eeo X.
a.d. 1513.
Medicine, tensive commercial enterprises of his house, and at the
" same time surpassed almost all the princes of Europe in
his munificent support of literature and science. He
founded a philosophical academy at Florence ; collected, by
means of his numerous commercial agents, the Greek, Latin,
and Arabic MSS. which formed the basis of the Laurentian
Libiaiy; and administered a liberal hospitality to learned
inen. He died in 1464. His grandson, Lorenzo the Mag¬
nificent,^ carried on the scientific and literary enterprises
which Cosmo had begun. He also encouraged the culti¬
vation of the Platonic philosophy; collected MSS. from
every quarter, but especially from the East; and when the
a^t of printing was discovered, instigated the publication
ot collated and correct editions of the classical writers.
On the capture of Constantinople by the Turks, he wel¬
comed and employed the learned Greek refugees as profes-
sois and teachers ot the Greek language, literature, and
philosophy.
Leo X., a great sacerdotal ruler,—the Haroun-al-Raschid
oi his era,—was the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and
trod in the steps of his ancestors in their patronage of litera-
ture. He founded a Greek college at Rome ; established
a Greek press under the management of John Lascaris
who had brought 200 MSS. from the East for his father ;
restoied the university of Rome in all its departments;
collected all available talent about him, whether of science
or art; and took every possible means to add to the litera¬
ture of the times. This was “ the age of Leo X.” It was
the culminating point of European mediaeval civilization
and science, and the hour of final departure of the old
Greek. Its great characteristics are two,—the restoration
of Greek philosophy and literature to Europe, and the dis¬
covery of the art of printing. Henceforth science was to
march forward independently of kings and priests; with a
printing-press it passed over to the people, and there won
a dominion of its own.
Ihe immediate effect on medicine of the capture of
Constantinople was to give a new impulse to the cultiva¬
tion of Greek medical science and literature. The learned
fugitives who became teachers of both the Greek medi¬
cine and philosophy in the Italian universities and acade-
j. . nfies5 attracted to their lectures enthusiastic students from
rilr6 m a} P1artS^1Eur°Pe- In 1484 Thomas Linacre, the founder
A.D. H84 the Co lese of Physicians of London, left Oxford for
f Jorence that he might attend the lectures of Demetrius
Chalcondylas, an Athenian refugee, and became at the
same time an inmate of the palace of Lorenzo de’ Medici
as companion to that prince’s children. From Italy the
taste for books, libraries, and sound learning was diffused
over Europe. A great number of ancient worH were
translated, and commented upon. The authenticity
o Mbb and the purity of texts were closely scrutinized ;
and finally the great mass of Greek and Arabian medical
literature was irrevocably made European. In little more
than a century from that date, Anuce Foes had completed
his great undertaking,—the first and best Latin translation
of the Hippocratic writings. Concurrently with this im¬
portant movement, original authors arose in great num¬
bers, who contributed to its progress, or summarized the
results. Of the latter class was John Fernel, born in 1497
at Clermont, and physician to Henry II. of France. He
was both a Greek and Arabic scholar, a profound mathe¬
matician, and an original thinker. Fie boldly questioned
the dogmas of Galen, then almost considered sacred, and
gave a new impulse to systematic medicine. He was, in
fact, the Ebn Sina and Galen of his epoch.
459
kernel.
Phase of Conflict with Sacerdotal Power, and Decline of
the Latter.
It may facilitate the comprehension of the true position
and character of existing modern medicine to look back
upon the long and devious course we have travelled, ex- Medicine.
tending, indeed, over 3000 years. Our first glimpses of v 
medicine show it in intimate connection with sacerdotal Phase of
predominance in India, Egypt, Judea, Phoenicia, Greece, conflict of
as far back as we can see in its history. Fifteen centuries mo<lern
ot the Christian era have elapsed, and we find it in inti- me<ilcine*
mate connection with sacerdotal predominance still. The
head of sacerdotal power of Christendom bears the title of
Pontifex Maximus, like his Egyptian prototype and his
Roman predecessor; and that power has been predominant
for more than 1000 years. Already, in the fourth century,
the bishops and clergy were the ruling municipal authorities ;
and when the Bishop of Rome assumed and asserted su¬
preme power over all other authority in Christendom, he
was but the proclaimer and impersonation of a long exist¬
ing reality. But that power is at its culmination, for we
find all those phenomena in the development of medicine
which mark an epoch. Religion is, in fact, no longer the
binding tie of society ; the head of the church hardly thinks
it necessary to be even of good moral conduct; the augurs
laugh in each other’s faces ; and the financial, aesthetic, and
scientific development of the church is at the highest. For
all that, the decay of the sacerdotal empire of Rome
has already commenced. The new reformation begun in
Italy at this epoch by Savonarola and others was quickly
quenched in blood, as in the thirteenth century; but the
field of conflict was wider than in that period, and in a few
years it burst forth in Germany. There Tetzel was as im¬
pious with his indulgences as Alexander when he assumed
to be Jupiter, or as the Roman emperors when they pro¬
claimed themselves to be divine. Savonarola was executed
on May 23, 1498; Luther affixed his ninty-five proposi¬
tions to the gate of the castle church of Wittemberg on
31st October 15J7. From that day commenced the dis-^ecPne
ruption and decline of the sacerdotal empire in Europe. sacey^otal
Since then the seat of sacerdotal power has been transferred emP1I f'-
to the north-east, and the Emperor of Russia wields the l0l7‘
dominant sacerdotal sceptre of the world. He it is who,
from small beginnings at this era, has risen to be the usurp¬
ing head of the Greek church, with his chair fixed tempo¬
rarily at Moscow, but his hopes on Constantinople. All
experience shows that the course of the sacerdotal czars
will be necessarily militant and aggressive,—that is, con¬
quering. The head of the Mohammedan priesthood is all
but defunct; his extinction is but a question of time and
accident: he is a political necessity only,—a Turkish high-
priest supported by Christians.
It was not long before medicine experienced in Italy, in
common with the sciences generally, the consequences of
the change we have described. The impulse given to them
during the era of the free commercial republics ended finally
in depression under a leaden despotism. Throughout France
and Germany the era of those religious wars succeeded which
thinned the population, devastated towns, interrupted com¬
merce, and by again rendering the sacerdotal power secure
although with diminished empire, laid the foundation for
the great revolution which commenced at the close of the
eighteenth century. Great Britain and the Baltic states
being remote from the thick of the fight at the great
Reformation, happily escaped in great measure: the north
of Germany sank down exhausted.
The discovery of printing placed the means of acquiring The true
knowledge in the hands of the people. Protestantism de- basis of
manded and obtained for them the rfoht to the free use 0fmodern
! ™n\ The Pf1 p°litical principle of Christianity. S,"1™-
that all men have equal nghts before God and the law be-
came an article of faith both political and religious, ft is
Wd ,TlPr,,inC1P e t*' tl,e trUe E”opean civilization is
ori7, ill °r'er.S are bT1l a cundnuation of the old and really
civi ization. Hence the Reformation was the great
mmctum saltern of a new form of social life destined to be
460
MEDICINE.
Medicine, ever in conflict with the old; and to the countries of the
v | —i y Reformation medical science at last fled. While, then, the
centre of sacerdotal empire has passed from Rome to Mos¬
cow the centre of commercial and scientific empire has
passed over to London and the universities of Great Britain.
Remarkable is it to see this empire already confronting the
great sacerdotal ruler of the world in both Europe and Asia,
and supporting politically the two decaying priestly rulers
of Rome and Constantinople, as a counterpoise to the
younger and more vigorous. Remarkable is it, too, to see
that her language is spreading through every region; that her
scientific arts are changing the face of civilization by giving
an incalculable increase of social and material power to
man; and also, which is more to our purpose, remarkable is
it to see that she is restoring medicine and the arts to those
countries from whence, in connection with the sacerdotal
form of government, they seem to have originally sprung.
British medicine has taken root in both India and China.
In India, schools, colleges, libraries, are established and mul¬
tiplying, and the educated natives acquire a knowledge of
English science and literature as the ancient world of Europe
sought a knowledge of Greek, and the mediaeval of Latin.
The history of medicine may with justice, therefore, be
especially associated for the future with its progress in
Great Britain.
SECTION III.—THIRD PERIOD OF MODERN MEDICINE : FROM
THE REFORMATION TO THE CLOSE OF THE NINETEENTH
CENTURY.
Origin and Development of a Medical Profession and
Medical Literature in Great Britain.
British
medicine.
a.d. 1518
to 1800.
Linacre proceeded from Florence to Rome, and studied
medicine and natural philosophy, applying himself more
especially to the works of Galen and Aristotle. Having
graduated at Padua, he returned to Oxford, where he
gave temporary lectures on physic, and taught the Greek
language. Henry VII. employed him professionally; and
he stood high with his successor Henry VIII., who patron¬
ized men of letters. Cardinal Wolsey was like-minded,
and, as the result of this patronage, it was stated that the
English court contained more men of learning than any
academy. Thus dawned the Elizabethan age in England.
At this time the bishops in their several dioceses had the
power of granting licenses to practise medicine. It was
therefore followed as a profession chiefly by illiterate monks
or by unlicensed empirics. To remedy this evil, Linacre
exercised his influence with Wolsey, and procured letters
patent, dated 1518, founding a college of physicians in
London, and was elected the first president. He entered
into holy orders before he died. (See Linacre.)
John Kay, born in 1510, succeeded Linacre. He founded
the only medical college existing at Cambridge. Like
Linacre, he was an erudite physician, and studied Greek
and medicine in Italy as well as at home.
Harvey lived at a time when the novelty of Greek litera¬
ture had passed away, and men’s minds were turned to ori¬
ginal research. Like Linacre, he graduated at Padua, where
he studied anatomy under Fabricius ab Acquapendente.
Returning to England, he made the famous discovery ot
the circulation of the blood. (See Harvey.) Sir Thomas
Brown, the author of Religio Medici, was his contemporary,
but his junior.
Syt.cnham. Sydenham was another of the first great English physi¬
cians who were born and educated before the civil wars.
He has raised the name of English medicine as high as any.
Montpellier was then a celebrated school of medicine (for
the Italian schools were already declining), and to this Syden¬
ham repaired after graduating at Oxford. Like Harvey, he
took a side in the civil war, but as a parliamentarian, and was
more of a partisan ; Harvey being the physician to Charles
ICth cen¬
tury.
Linacre.
liondon
t’ollege of
Physicians
Kay.
17th cen¬
tury.
Harvey.
L, remained simply faithful to his friend and king. Syden- Medicine,
ham was, however, younger than Harvey by 46 years, the v—'
date of his birth being 1624, when the discovery of the
circulation had been already before the scientific world for
four years. These two men initiated great changes in
medical science.
Several distinguished men arose on the Continent at this Riolan,
epoch, and influenced the progress of medicine. John
Riolan of Paris was the principal opponent of Harvey,
and being the greatest anatomist of his age, his opinions
had much weight with his contemporaries, and delayed
the recognition of Harvey’s discovery by the medi¬
cal world. When at last it was accepted, the changes in
medical researches and theories were rapid. Malpighi, Anatomy,
working in 1661 with the microscope, demonstrated the Malpighi,
motion of the blood-corpuscles in the capillaries. The
discovery of the anatomy of the lacteal vessels (1647) by
Pecquet, a student at Montpellier, had already overthrown Pecquet,
the current theories as to the relations of the liver to the
circulation ; and in 1661 Malpighi showed the true anatomy
of the pulmonary tissue and its relation to the circulation. ppj.gjQ.
Hence arose new theories of nutrition, respiration, and cir- ]0gy.
dilation. In 1668 Mayow approached very near to the Mayow.
modern theory of respiration. While anatomy and physio-
logy were advancing with such long strides, all the other
branches of medical science w’ere progressing too. The
cultivation of the occult sciences had led the physicians and
philosophers of the latter end of the fourteenth and the be¬
ginning of the fifteenth century to Arab literature; and know¬
ledge acquired by the Moorish chemists, especially of Spain,
was applied to medicine. Thus the foundation of modern Chemistry,
chemistry was laid. Very soon the principles of the science
were applied to anatomy, physiology, and pathology. In
1527 Paracelsus was professor at Basle, teaching a strange Paracelsus,
mixture of magic, astrology, geomancy, and medicine, and
introducing powerful chemical remedies into practical medi¬
cine, especially mercury and antimony. He commenced
his first course by publicly consigning to the flames the
Mrorks of Galen and Ebn Sina. A century later Van Hel-
mont partly founded the iatro-chemical school of which
Sylvius, or Francis de la Bois, professor of medicine at
Leyden in 1648, was the most distinguished ornament on
the Continent, as was Willis in England.
Thomas Willis was one of the physicians of the time of Medical
the great civil war. He took the side of the king. At the psycho-
Restoration he received the appointment of Sedleian pro-
fessor of natural philosophy in the university of Oxford. A ^
In the preceding year (1659) he had already published
chemical theories of fever and of the urine, in which he
adopted the doctrines of Sylvius. Willis was, however,
more remarkable for his researches into the anatomy, phy¬
siology, and pathology of the brain. He it was who first
distinctly advanced and applied the modern doctrine, that
the brain is a congeries of organs, and who especially
assigned the cerebellum to the involuntary movements.
Van Helmont in the preceding century had broken the
ground of physiological metaphysics, and had theorized on
the Archceus. Willis, following Van Helmont in this de¬
partment as well as in that ol iatro-chemistry, enteied into
those profound metaphysical discussions which then occu¬
pied the greatest thinkers of the day, such as De la Bois,
Descartes, Newton, Leibnitz, Locke, Hobbes, Grew, Syden¬
ham (in his Theologia Rationalis), Wedel (of Jena, then a
renowned university); and, later on in the century, Hoffmann
and Stahl. Willis was a man of great practical piety. He
appropriated all his Sunday fees to charitable purposes; he
procured a service to be performed early every morning m
a church in St Martin’s Lane, that he might be able to
attend before he visited his patients; and he dedicated his
treatise De Animd Brutorum to the Archbishop of Canter¬
bury. All this did not prevent the calling in question ot
Medicine.
MEDICINE.
Midwifery,
Mauriceau,
a.n. 1668.
Surgery.
Wiseman.
liotany.
(.leaner.
Grew and
Ray.
Animal
mechanics
Borolli.
Pitcairn.
Foundation
of medical
societies.
his orthodoxy by the theologians; for the old sacerdotal
spirit of unquestioned predominance and Aristotelian pre¬
ference still remained in the reformed clergy.
Midwifery first took its origin in this century as a distinct
department of medicine. The sage-femme of Marie de’
Medicis published in 1609 or 1626 a collection of obste¬
trical observations; and in 1668 the appearance of a formal
treatise by Francis Mauriceau, chief accoucheur to the Hotel
Dieu in Paris, laid a stable foundation for the science and art.
Surgery had not such a crowd of promoters as the
other branches of medicine. Foremost amongst them was
Richard Wiseman, surgeon to Charles I. and his son during
the civil wars. He was taken prisoner at the battle of
Worcester. At the Restoration he was appointed serjeant-
surgeon to Charles II.
Botany had already been largely advanced in connection
with materia medica in the sixteenth century. Its revival
arose partly from the efforts of commentators, as Anguillara
and Facho, to illustrate the older writers, partly in the occult
doctrine of signatures adopted by mystics like Paracelsus,
Baptista Porta, and Crollius. Conrad Gesner of Basle prin¬
cipally laid the foundations of modern botany in the middle
of the sixteenth century. He was followed by Andrew
Caesalpin and others. In England Grew, in the year 1682,
advanced vegetable anatomy and physiology far beyond his
contemporaries; while John Ray laid the foundations of
zoology as well as of English botany. Woodward, one of
the founders of English geology, belongs more to the next
century.
Mathematics was much cultivated at this time, but more
particularly in reference to dynamical philosophy. Two na¬
tural philosophers, Sir Isaac Newton and Leibnitz, were at
the head of the mathematicians; but several physicians
engaged in the study, and applied the science to medicine.
These were the iatro-mathematicians. The discovery of
the circulation and of animal mechanics in connection with
anatomical research, naturally led to this method of investi¬
gation. Borelli of Pisa was the founder of the sect. The first
volume of his great work DeMotu Animalium was published
at Rome in 1680, the year after his decease. Bellini, his
pupil, followed up his views; and later on, Baglivi, the Ro¬
man Hippocrates, applied them to pathology. In Great
Britain Archibald Pitcairn of Edinburgh, the pupil of Bel¬
lini, applied mathematics to medicine. It was, however, in
the beginning of the following century that these iatro-
mathematical theories received their full development.
. This verY general and rapid survey of the state of medi¬
cine in the seventeenth century will at least suffice to show
that it advanced more in every department during that stir¬
ring period than in any preceding century, not excepting
that in which the school of Alexandria was established!
The age was one of progress throughout. The impulse
given to learning during the close of the sixteenth century
was felt in every department of human knowledge; nor did
the civil wars in Great Britain and Ireland at all diminish
its effects; perhaps they rather kept it up by developing
men’s energies. &
The most striking event of this epoch in the history of
medicine is the foundation of the Royal Society of Lon¬
don, the first of the kind constituted out of Italy. It is of
sufficient importance to merit special notice. We have
seen that in the eighth century the learned societies were
sacerdotal in their origin, being connected either with
mosques, monasteries, or collegiate churches; that in the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries they were less sacer¬
dotal, and appeared as universities, yet under the protection
and control of the church. In the sixteenth and seven¬
teenth centuries medicine (still as physics) had so widely
extended its limits, that it required special institutions for
their development, for in truth they comprise within them
every branch of natural philosophy. The universities were
461
leavened with the old Aristotelian philosophy; medicine Medicine,
wanted the new. The theologians were still predominant Vt
in them, and fettered inquiry; medicine wanted freedom.
Politics were discussed with sword and gun; medicine wanted
to seek after truth in peace. Hence it happened, that in Origin of
the very hottest of the great civil war some of the most the Iloyal
distinguished of the English school of medicine banded Society,
themselves with other investigators of nature, and, with A,D-
their co-operation, finally established the Royal Society of
London, the modern head and home of natural science.
It is worthy of notice that the supporters of the sacer- Attacked
dotal power instinctively perceived the new society to be an by the Ra*
enemy; and in 1667, seven years after its formal foundation, cerdotal
Dr Sprat, afterwards Bishop of Rochester, had to defend it Power-
from their attacks. It was objected that the society neglected
the wiser and more discerning ancient philosophers, and de¬
pended too much upon their own unassisted powers; that,
by admitting men ot all religions and all countries, they
endangered the stability of the established church; and,
more than all, that a philosophy founded on experiment was
likely to lead to an overthrow of the Christian religion, and
even to a formal denial of the existence of God. It was on
such grounds that the old Greek philosophers were perse¬
cuted to death. The Roman priesthood of Christendom had
met the scientific men and discoveries of the two previous
centuries in the same spirit and with the same argument.
Unhappily for themselves and for religion, they also pos¬
sessed the power of compelling at least an apparent submis¬
sion to them. Galileo Galilei demonstrated the falsehood
of the Ptolemaic system ; but the priesthood had affirmed its
truth, and as their authority rested on the assumption that
they were infallible, to question their dogmas was to shake
the very foundation of their power. Galileo was therefore
compelled to recant his opinion, that the earth moved round
the sun ; but his whispered reservation of “ It moves for all
that,” was as prophetic of the advancement of philosophical
truth as of the certain recognition of his own doctrines.
In Protestant countries natural science was now free. Medicine
The beginning of the eighteenth century was especially in the eigh-
characterized by the establishment of Clinical Medicine, teenth cen-
or bedside teaching on a systematic plan. The obvious 1“^.*
necessity to the student of a practical acquaintance with
disease must have been felt at all periods of the history of
medical art. The simplest method of securing this to him
would be for his master to take him to the bedside of the
sick. In private practice the facilities for this method are
limited by the inconvenience which is necessarily inflicted
if any number of students enter private houses. Hospitals,
therefore, or at least public institutions of some kind for the
reception of the sick, have been usually used for this pur¬
pose. In modern times the first recorded attempt at syste¬
matic hospital instruction was made at Padua in 1578,
About the commencement of the seventeenth century, Otto
de Heurn introduced it at the university of Leyden.* ’
The celebrated Francis le Bois succeeded him in 1658
and attracted numerous students for a period of fourteen
years. The fame of Leyden as a medical school seems to
have begun at this time. The method does not appear to
have been continued after his death, or went on at least
with much less eclat; but in 1701 Boerhaave, a represen-Boerb.tv.
tative man, was elected to the chair of the institutes ofa o 17m
medicine, or physiology. He was destined to impress his
character upon European medicine for half a century.
Hermann Boerhaave, the son of a country Protestant
clergyman resident two miles from Leyden, was originally
intended for the church. At the age of eleven he could
read Greek and Latin with tolerable accuracy. To these
anguages he added the study of Hebrew and Chaldee,
with ancient and modern ecclesiastical history and mathe-
matics. When aged twenty-one (in 1689), he took his de¬
gree of Doctor of Philosophy, and selected as the subject of
462
MEDICINE.
Medicine, his inaugural thesis, “ the distinction between the soul and
W/ / the body.” This indicated the bent of his mind. He vyas
taught mathematics that he might be able to pursue Ins
studies in medicine; and finally, at the age of twenty-five,
took the degree of Doctor of Medicine. Eight years after¬
wards (1701) he was appointed lecturer on the theory of
medicine at Leyden; and in 1705 he became physician to
St Augustine’s Hospital, and lecturer on the practice of
medicine. From this date he commenced systematic cli¬
nical medicine, and gave clinical lectures twice a-week.
Boerhaave was professor of both chemistry and botany
at the time he held the chairs of theoretical and prac¬
tical medicine. He was therefore an encyclopaedist. His
mathematical and classical knowledge made him a man of
extensive erudition, so that he was admirably calculated
for the duty of reducing to order and systematizing the
vast mass of scientific materials which had been accumu¬
lating during the preceding century. He placed physio¬
logical science in immediate relation with pathological re¬
search ; he advanced practical medicine in all its depart¬
ments ; he was the first to make chemistry intelligible and
deliMitful; and he largely developed botanical science. His
system of medicine was eclectic, and, in some way or other,
comprised the doctrines of the ancients, and the views of the
iatro-mathematical and chemical theorists, together with his
own speculations as a blending medium. He was the Galen,
the Ebn Sina, the Fernel of his age. Already, therefore,
a social epoch is ending, and another is about to com¬
mence. Before the end of the century the old institutions
of European society were being swept away ; the sacerdotal
power was being annihilated, and the “goddess of reason
installed in the capital of France, in which, within a few
years afterwards, the representative of that power was a
captive to the military. Standing a while at these epochs
to look back, we see that human affairs ebb and flow in
grand tides as regularly as the tides of the ocean ; for a while
they seem to be restrained within safe limits, but one wave
at last surely towers high above the rest, and falls with
thundering and irresistible force upon the shore. In such
a catastrophe, although beginning so favourably, the eigh¬
teenth century closed. The retrospect is a warning to the
present generation. , . , ,
Histories of In England, at the beginning of the eighteenth century,
medicine, there were men who belonged to an earlier period than
Boerhaave, but they were engaged in the same work.
Mead. Mead, like Boerhaave, was the son of a Protestant minister.
He was educated at Utrecht, studied medicine at Leyden,
but graduated in 1696 at Padua, then a famous school
In 1703 he became physician to St Thomas’s Hospital, and
lecturer on anatomy at Surgeon’s Hall. He was physician
to George II. when Prince of Wales, as well as after he
ascended the throne. He was the friend and successor of
Radcliffe ; was a learned man ; wrote elegant Latin ; read
Greek and Arabic. He translated Rhazes’s work on small¬
pox and measles from the only remaining Arabic manu¬
script, supplied to him by Boerhaave. Like Boerhaave, he
had a vein of piety in his character, and to this probably was
Freind, due his work entitled Medicina Sacra. Freind,^ the friend
and contemporary of Mead, wrote a history of medicine.
Le Clerc. This was also done by Le Clerc about the same time.
Sloane. To this erabelong also Sir Hans Sloane, Arbuthnot, Garth:
all learned men, collectors of manuscripts, books, coins, and
the like ; chemists, botanists, poets, and the associates of the
literary men of the time, as Dryden, Pope, Swift, &c.
Cl'meal British medicine is closely connected with the university
medicine at of Edinburgh from the close of the first half of this century.
Edinburgh, chair of theoretical medicine and botany had already ex-
a.d. 1741. jgte(j for several years, when in 1713 a chair of chemistry
was founded. The success and the example of Boerhaave
at Leyden were not lost upon the university, so that shortly
after his death a chair of clinical medicine was established
on the same model. There was no medical school at either Medicine.^
of the English universities, and the schools of the metropo- ^
lis had no collegiate character, and were imperfectly organ¬
ized. Rutherfurd and Monro were the first clinical pro- Monro,
fessors at Edinburgh; the one lectured on surgery, the
other on medicine. Whytt, the Monros, and Gregory were Whytt.
eminent teachers and writers at this time, or a few years
subsequently, all being more or less under the influence of
Boerhaave. But the chief man of the Edinburgh era was
Cullen. He it was who formed the principal link between Cullen-
the doctrines of Boerhaave and those which arose during a.d. i.ob.
and at the close of the great revolutionary wars. Associated
in early life with William Blunter (with whom he al¬
ways maintained a warm friendship), Cullen, aftei various
struggles, commenced in 1746 a course of lectures on
chemistry in the university of Glasgow. In ten years
after he occupied a similar chair at Edinburgh. In 1763
he succeeded to the chair of materia medica; in 1766 to
the chair of institutes of medicine, or physiology, and re¬
signed that of chemistry in favour of Dr Black. On the
death of Rutherfurd he was associated with Gregory as al¬
ternate occupant of the chair of practical medicine. T hat
distinguished physician did not live long, and Cullen be¬
came the sole professor. Cullen, like Boerhaave, system¬
atized medicine, which his varied knowledge and great
original powers enabled him to do well. In this work Van
Swieten in Germany was his rival. But during his career
the spirit of original research and investigation was awak¬
ened, and although he began with a compiled exposition
of the doctrines of Boerhaave, he ended with a set ol doc¬
trines of his own. Albert von Haller, his contemporary, physio-
was at the same time laying the foundation of a new logy.
system of physiology, and pursued the same course. Up Hauer.
to 1747 Haller had used the Institutions ot Boerhaaye
as the groundwork of his lectures on physiology; but in
that vear he published his PrimcB Linea Physologice, and
thenceforth, to the end of the century, he was one of the great
lights of medicine. In London, at this period, John an
William Hunter laid the foundation of the English school Hunteri
°f AUdlesame time that medicine began afresh starting-Sacerdotal
point science and literature also tookon afresh development. 1““®
Voltaire, although a few years senior to Haller, ran a course century>
in philosophy and literature somewhat parallel. Religion at
this time, as in the fifteenth century, had greatly ceased to
be a reality, and had degenerated into ceremonial obser¬
vances. The Jansenists, to which sect Voltaire s eldest
brother belonged, had attempted a reformation, but were
wholly scattered by persecution at the time that Boerhaave
was at the height of his reputation ; and the Roman priest¬
hood had nothing better to offer to the people than a ngi
adherence to ecclesiastical discipline and forms; that is, a
submission to the power of the priests. In 1 < 30 the cele¬
brated actress Adrienne Lecouvreur was refused the ntes
of sepulture because of her profession. Voltaire wrote
verses on the subject full of indignant invective, and from
that time his whole life was a contest with the sacerdotal
power. The reaction against the formality and laxity ot
the priesthood took place later in Great Britain than in
Roman Catholic France, and did not begin, in fact, until
the time of Wesley and others, when Jansenism was al¬
ready extinct on the Continent, and the new reformation
^Whik religion decayed more and £‘"e‘
While religion aecayeu moie V11 science at
nobility, and higher clergy became more and more luxu- ^ dose of
rious, science, as in former epochs, was continual y pio-lgth cen.
irressin°-. An era like that of the close of the fifteenth tury<
century was, in fact, in full vigour; and a large °
scientific men were developing every branch of science
Medicine being so intimately related to every branch larg y
participated in the movement. It would be a vam attempt
MEDICINE.
Medicine, to indicate in our limited space the progress made in
each. It must therefore suffice to point out the grand
advance made in what may be termed the science of mat¬
ter, organic and inorganic, or chemistry. In Great Bri¬
tain, Black, the friend of Cullen and Watt, led the way by
his discovery of carbonic acid gas and the laws of heat;
Cavendish discovered hydrogen gas ; Priestly oxygen and
other gases. These preceded Davy. On the Continent
Bergmann and Scheele were working in the same direc¬
tion, together with Guyton de Morveau, Lavoisier, Ber-
thollet, hourcroy, Klaproth, and others. A new nomencla¬
ture was given to the science, and it was re-cast from the
foundation, and placed on a stable basis.
463
SECTION IT.—FOURTH PERIOD OF MODERN MEDICINE.
The first half of the Nineteenth Century.
of Euroera At the commencement of the present century an im-
pean medi-P,r0Ved chemi.stl7> springing from the bosom of medicine,
cine. almost established modern civilization anew. On the
one hand, numerous vital processes became intelligible,
or at least it was at last possible to discover their nature
by scientific research. Physiological science thus received
an impulse, and therewith practical medicine, which even
now is far from its maximum. On the other hand, the
means of controlling nature, and of discovering her secrets,
were placed within the hands of man. The laws of heat,
as developed in steam, in metallurgy, and in manufac¬
tures ; of electricity and galvanism; and of chemical affinity;
have been applied to the practical uses of society, with re¬
sults already so remarkable, that one mind would not suf¬
fice for their full expression. From the same causes, every
kind of philosophical aid to research has been so improved
that no branch of physical science is without good and
appropriate instruments. Astronomy and meteorology have,
however, most profited by them. The results of the last
half century, as it regards medicine, will be best shown by a
note, however brief, of the present state of medical science,
and of the medical profession in the United Kingdom.
Medical
schools of
the United
Kingdom.
Modern di¬
visions of
■oedical
science.
Anatomy.
Present state of Medical Science in the United Kingdom.
The extent of the teaching, and the number of subjects
taught, constitute a measure of a science. The entire num-
bet of medical schools in the United Kingdom, not includ¬
ing Oxford and Cambridge, is 39. Of these, 12 are at¬
tached to the great hospitals of London, and 11 to those
of large towns in England. There are 6 in Scotland, and
10 in Ireland. The entire number of recognised teachers
in the various departments of Medicine cultivated in these
schools is 493, being nearly 13 teachers to each school; be¬
sides tutors, private lecturers, and assistant lecturers. In
the London schools there are 182; in those of the English
provincial schools, 164; in Scotland, 68; in Ireland, 79. In
Oxford and Cambridge there are 11 medical chairs, occupied
by 9 professors. The entire number of students of medicine
at these schools is about 3000, or about 1400 in England,
1000 in Scotland, and 600 in Ireland. With few exceptions’
these institutions are wholly self-supporting, having no en¬
dowments from either private individuals or the state; in
many instances the pecuniary remuneration is of trifling
amount, and in some is even insufficient to meet the cur¬
rent expenses of the course of lectures.
The subjects taught are from thirty to forty in number,
and are divided as follows:—Anatomy, or the structure of
the human body, has several subdivisions. First in order
is general or descriptive anatomy, as the parent of all. Ana¬
tomical Demonstrations teach structure from actual dis¬
section of the body. Histology demonstrates the minute
anatomy or composition of structures as discernible by the
microscope only. Comparative Anatomy (including palae¬
ontology) teaches the anatomy of the lower animals, with
special reference to human anatomy and human physiology. Medicine.
Practical Anatomy is that branch which applies a know- v ■■ v-»V
ledge of structure to the right performance of the opera¬
tions of surgery. Pathological Anatomy points out the
abenations from the normal or healthy structure of the
tissues or organs of the body.
Anatomy is essential to a knowledge of healthy or of Physio-
diseased function, or, in other words, to physiology and logy,
pathology. To both, but in particular to Physiology, are
also subservient the departments of Organic Chemistry,
or the chemical constitution and composition of living tis¬
sues and products in health and disease ; Natural Phi¬
losophy in all its branches, except medical meteorology,
which has not yet been taught separately; and Natural
Histort, including Zoology and Botany. Pathology
takes in a wide range, inasmuch as it includes the nature,
causes, and symptoms of disease, or etiology, symptomato-
]°gy> ar)d doctrinal questions. The Art of Medicine is Art of me-
taught in the schools in numerous departments or subdivi- dicine.
sions. First, as we have general or descriptive anatomy,
so we have courses of general Practical Medicine, in
which, in addition to general principles of treatment, the
relief or cure of special visceral diseases, not included in Curative,
special courses, is considered. This is Practical Medi¬
cine. Similar courses of instruction are given in Surgery
and Obstetiucs. AH these, again, have their subdivisions.
I bus, as subdivisions of practical medicine, Psycholo¬
gical Medicine teaches the nature and treatment of
insanity, and Epidemiology treats of epidemical diseases.
Surgery subdivides into Military Surgery, Opera¬
tive Surgery, or practical training in the performance
of surgical operations; and the surgery of the principal
organs of sense, or Ophthalmic and Aural Surgery ; to
which may be added the treatment of diseases or defects
of the teeth, or Dental Surgery. Obstetrics has the
sub-departments of Operative Midwifery and Dis¬
eases of Children. Further, all the great departments
of the art are systematically taught at the bedside in the
principal hospitals. Ihese are designated Clinical
Courses. There are, therefore, courses of clinical medi¬
cine, surgery, and midwifery. Under this head Hospital
Attendance, or hospital practice,” must be included.
Medicinal agents are largely used in every department
of practice. Ihese are included under the term Materia
Medica, and courses of instruction are given as to their
nature, composition, and uses. Subservient to materia me¬
dica are General Chemistry (comprising heat, galvanism,
and electricity) and Medical Zoology and Botany.
Therapeutics includes instruction as to the application
and administration of every kind of remedy.
The prevention of disease has not hitherto had that spe- Preventive
cial attention devoted to it in the United Kingdom which medicine,
it deserves, and as yet there are only three chairs of Public
Hygiene. The subject has been usually included under
etiology, practical medicine, and medical jurisprudence. In
like manner, Dietetics (of which there are two chairs) has
been usually included either in practical medicine or ma¬
teria medica and therapeutics.
State medicine, or Medical Jurisprudence, is taught in politit>ni
all the schools, and discusses all questions of medical science medicine
and art bearing upon the administration of the law. Prac¬
tical hygiene as to nuisances, disputed questions of mental
capacity or moral responsibility on the ground of imbe¬
cility or insanity, and the causes and modes of violent death
are included under medical jurisprudence. Toxicology is
one of its most important subdivisions, but has also rela-
tions to materia, medica, pathology, and practical medicine.
ihe cultivation of all these departments of medicine,
whether they be considered as branches of the science or
of the ai t, is not possible without a knowledge of the means
and modes of research available thereto. The orinciples
464
Medicine.
Instru¬
ments of
research.
Medical
logic.
Medical
morals.
Medical
History.
MEDICINE.
of optics, acoustics, and hydraulics have been applied to the
construction of several aids to the senses, of winch the m,-
croscope and stethoscope are the chief. Skill in the use of
these is part of the necessary qualifications of the efficient
practitioner, and must be taught to the student. So also
with the art of chemical analysis, whether inorganic, phy¬
siological, or pathological. The use of these and of other aids
to investigation are taught in separate courses, or by sepa¬
rate teachers, in all the principal schools. In this depart¬
ment of medical art an immense advance has been made or
late years. Perhaps from no quarter will so much advan¬
tage to medical science be derived, nor is it possible to di¬
vine to what extent our knowledge of human nature may
be increased by the conjoint aid of those two potent instru¬
ments of research—chemical and microscopical analysis.
After the training of the senses comes the training of the in¬
tellect. To this end a knowledge of Logic and of mental
or moral philosophy is required. Only two of the medical
schools of the United Kingdom (we except the universities)
have chairs of logic. In this direction much has yet to be
done in the culture of the professional mind. The defect
being, however, felt, it will doubtless be remedied as oppor¬
tunity serves.
The medical profession has of late years endeavoured to
define its duties and its rights. Medical Deontology or
medicine have had a more diligent cultivation on the Conti- Medicine.
nent than in the United Kingdom or the United States. This
remark more particularly applies to medical police and pub¬
lic hygiene, which having had in the latter no encourage¬
ment from the state until of late years, has obtained no spe¬
cial attention. Late inquiries into the preventible causes
of disease amongst the people of Great Britain, and the
consequent establishment of boards ol health, have laid the^
foundation for a new and most important department ot
practical medicine—the prevention of disease.
State of Medical Practice in the United Kingdom.
In all civilized countries the practitioners of the art are
divisible into classes, the counterparts of which may be
found in the United Kingdom, so that an analysis of British
practitioners will apply, mutatis mutandis, to those of
Europe and the United States. < _
The practice of medicine is carried on in the United Medical
Kingdom by persons having various designations and quali-
fications. They may be divided into three classes. First ^
are those who are “ duly qualified” in virtue of *iavin» dom,
followed a prescribed course of study, and undergone suc¬
cessfully the examinations conducted by the collegiate or
academical boards of examiners: this is the medical pro-
define its duties and its rights. Medical lie fession proper Secondly, those who practise medicine as
Ethics has consequentl y recei ved considerable de velopment , f-or. prop r. ] bee ^ ^ ^ , or not at
and the fact that already there is one school in the United
Kingdom having a chair of medical ethics, is an earnest that
questions of professional morals are likely to have more
and more attention directed to them.
The History of Medicine, and its political and social
relations, have also been treated in a separate course of in¬
struction in one school. To the statesman and the intel¬
ligent layman it is a subject of great interest and import¬
ance. It cannot, however, be expected that these will
occupy their minds with it when it is neglected by so lai ge
a number of the profession. The career of great conquer¬
ors and the deeds of destroyers of mankind wholesale, are
far more exciting themes than the silent unobtrusive doings
of those who have preserved more lives than even the
most ruthless conquerors have destroyed. The time will
come if modern civilization endures, when the moral gran¬
deur of medicine will be acknowledged ; then its progress
will be felt to be one of the most interesting chapters of the
history of mankind. That time, however, is not yet.
State of Medical Science Abroad.
• Science breaks down the selfish barriers of states and na¬
tions, and gathers its cultivators into one great republic. 1 his
is particularly true of those who speak a common language
and possess a common literature. Hence it is that the great
republic of English medicine includes the medical schools
of the United States of America and of the British colonies.
Between these and the schools of the United Kingdom
there exists the most intimate union, with a free interchange
of knowledge. In the United States the number of schoo s
and of teachers of medicine equals, if it does not exceed,
that of the United Kingdom. It has been estimated that
they are attended by 5000 students, and that 1000 of these
graduate every year.
On the continent of Europe, the activity of medical life
varies greatly according to the people or nature of the go¬
vernment. In France, Germany, Belgium, Holland, and
a business, yet have either not studied regularly or not at
all, or having studied imperfectly, have no diploma or let¬
ters testimonial of having duly undergone an examination :
these are empirics or “ quack doctors.” Thirdly, those who
practise medicine as amateurs, or while engaged, ostensibly
at least, in other pursuits : these are empirics also, but not
professionally “ quack doctors.” _ Tt • j « T.e j
The qualified practitioners of medicine in the United Qualified
Kingdom are known under various titles according as they P™cJ;g
follow one or another department of the art. 1 he great
proportion (about 20,000, or four-fifths) are general prac¬
titioners who, in accordance with the demands ot thinly
populated districts, or of the great majority of the popula¬
tion as represented by the middle and lower classes, mini¬
ster to the people in every department of the art, and at
the same time supply the necessary drugs and appliances.
The metropolitan cities and the large towns have, in addi¬
tion to these, a class of practitioners in special departments.
There is the consulting or “ pure physician, who excludes
operative surgery, midwifery, and pharmacy from his prac
tice. There is the “ pure” consulting or operative surgeon,
who practices neither midwifery nor pharmacy, but does not
refuse his opinion in cases purely medical,—practising,
in fact, as a surgical physician. The obstetric physician,
while excluding pharmacy, and devoting himself more parti¬
cularly to midwifery and the diseases of women and children,
does not usually exclude the other departments ot me i-
cine. One or two minor departments ot medicine and sur¬
gery are followed exclusively by a few individuals, lire
most numerous of these are the dentists, numbering about
1200 in the United Kingdom, who, however, are not tor
the most part “duly qualified” practitioners of medicine,
but “ mechanical” dentists. Of professed oculists and au-
rists exclusively there are very few, these usually com¬
bining general surgery with the practice of the special
branch. In a similar manner, amongst physicians there
are those who, having made a ^ial study of special diseas.
vernment. in Trance, tiermany, Deigium, nonanu, aim HUprsps. Under this
Switzerland, medicine is cultivated as vigorously and as sue- are specially consu ec treatment of insanity and
cessfully as in the British or American schools. At Home, head are physicians skilled mphe Ueatment ot im ^y ^
Hippocrates is still commented on, as in the time of Leo X. consumption
In Italy generally (except Piedmont) and the non-German
provinces of Austria, medical science is depressed; in Russia
medical education, for the uses of the people at least, is by ment,
ILL11V_ii e vy  j
or diseases of the skin, the liver, the kidneys,
the uterus, rectum, &c. The valuable discovery of a„M;
thetic medicines has called into existence another depart
and this important class of remedies is alieaay
medical education, for the uses of the people at least, is by ment, and this important , metropolis at least of
no means adequately developed, the few schools being wholly made a specialty in practice o runners ” still practise
insufficient for so great an empire. Special departments of the empire. In surgery a lew cuppeis i
MEDICINE.
Medicine.
Sectarian
practi¬
tioners.
Charlatan
practi¬
tioners.
that branch of minor surgery exclusively. Chiropodists,
' or <£ corn-cutters,” belong to the second class.
Of late years a class of practitioners has arisen which, in
so far as it is constituted of persons “ duly qualified,” may
be designated sectarian ; nevertheless, it is made up for the
most part of charlatans. It comprises those who, whether
duly qualified or not, practise medicine upon the basis of
some exclusive dogma or principle, or with reference
to some exclusive remedial agent. Legitimate medicine
is catholic and eclectic; it has neither exclusive dog¬
mas nor cieeds; it requires its members to seek know¬
ledge from every available source, and apply it in every
available mode as may be demanded by the circumstances
0 practitioner or the patient; the object of the exercise
of the art being the relief or cure of the patient as promptly,
safely, and pleasantly as possible, without any formal re¬
striction as to the means or mode. This sectarian class
therefore separates itself from the catholic profession by fol¬
lowing professedly an exclusive method. Of the followers
Hahnemann (designating themselves homceopathists)
there are reported to be about 300 in the United King¬
dom. (See Homeopathy.) Of the followers of Priestnitz
(the hydropathists) and of Mesmer (the Mesmerists) the
numbers are much less. Indeed, the latter are not unfre-
quently homceopathists also.
The quack doctors ” are a motley body, comprising
every kind of specialty—worm-doctors, water-casters, bone-
setters, ^astrologers, herbalists, “wise men,” and “ witch-
finders ” (who prove to be occasionally, as of old, professed
poisoners and procurers of abortion), curers of syphilis and
diseases of sexual organs (with hardly an exception a group
of scoundrels), the “ falling sickness,” &c. In this class
may be found also venders of secret remedies in connection
with some absurd hypothesis, as Coffin’s herbs, or Morison's
pills; or itinerant practitioners of homoeopathy, mesmerism,
&c. The ranks of the quacks are also swelled by outcasts
from the legitimate profession : men who are excommuni¬
cated either because of their vices or of their follies, and
who have been morally punished by a defacto deprivation
of professional intercourse with their brethren. In the third
class of amateurs and others are comprised country clergy¬
men, ladies having a taste for medicine, persons in private
station with a smattering of knowledge, but especially the
retailers and compounders of drugs, and professed nurses.
Those who, when young, have abandoned or neglected
the study of medicine as a profession, and have been led
to follow other pursuits, are particularly apt to take up the
irregular practice of it in after life.
465
Its exter¬
nal organ!
zation.
Public
medical
officers.
Its inter¬
nal organ!
zation.
Present Organization of the Medical Profession.
The organization of the profession of medicine takes two
directions, a,n external and an internal. The external or-
ganization has reference mainly to the wants of the public
or the state. The army and navy have their respective
medical officers; the public medical charities have their
staff, comprising physicians, surgeons, obstetric physi¬
cians, apothecaries, oculists, aurists, cuppers ; the medical
relief of the sick poor engages the services of above 2000
practitioners. The public health is being gradually placed,
in various towns and districts, under the cognisance of a
body of special practitioners,—the medical officers of health ;
and the health of emigrants to the various colonies of the
empire is committed to the care of surgeon-superintendents.
These last are all practitioners in hygiene, as, indeed, are
virtually the medical officers of the army and navy.
The internal organization of the profession has been de¬
termined by the operation of the great fundamental laws in
virtue of which all human societies are constituted. So soon
as the profession attained to a separate existence in the six¬
teenth century, the members thereof associated themselves
together, and colleges of physicians were established. The
VOL. XIV.
humble assistants to the physicians of that era—the barber- Medicine,
surgeons and apothecaries—were also organized in like
manner, but in guilds, which have developed themselves
into colleges of surgeons or societies of apothecaries. Very
lately the druggists or chemists (successors to the apothe¬
caries of the last century) have organized themselves into
I he Pharmaceutical Society;” and in like manner the
surgeon-dentists propose to be incorporated into a college
of surgeon-dentists. Nor has it been otherwise with the
teachers of the different departments of medicine. With
the development of the profession medical schools arose in
the large towns, where only medicine can be taught in all
its details—first in the metropolitan cities, then in the
large manufacturing and commercial towns of the United
Kingdom. Some of these are formally incorporated by
royal charter; others, when firmly established, will under¬
go a similar change.
There are in all twenty medical corporate or licensing Medical
bodies in the United Kingdom. The colleges were originally cprpora-
founded in the metropolitan cities because the most active tlons'
members of the profession were collected there in the
greatest numbers. The same principle of combined action
which led to their foundation has united the profession in
other large towns, and in entire districts, in “ medical so¬
cieties” and “associations.” These are virtually much of
the nature of colleges; but the latter, starting from a legal
basis and chartered rights, have gradually developed them¬
selves into public authorities having control over the educa¬
tion of persons about to enter the ranks of the profession.
That such control was, in the early history of modern me¬
dicine, most necessary and very useful, cannot be doubted;
but the beneficial action of these colleges has not been had
without some counterbalancing disadvantages. The corpo¬
rate spirit is essentially contracted and narrow in its views;
and the subdivisions in professional pursuits are apt to gene¬
rate antagonism. The principal evil to which these colleges
have given rise is, that the unity of all departments and
branches of medicine, with reference to both its practical
and philosophical relations, has been lost sight of. From
this source has arisen much of the difficulty experienced for
the last half century in the better organization of the
medical profession. The repeated attempts made of late Failure of
years to separate them legally by a sharp line of demarca- attempts at
tion, and to arrange the practitioners of the various depart- lagislation.
ments of the art in distinct legal classes, is but another form
of the principle of caste, and which seems to have been
strictly applied in ancient Egypt, where special practi¬
tioners abounded, and where they were restrained to their
own department. Such legislation must always fail, for it
is opposed by the ever vital principle of unity of the medi¬
cine. If rigorously carried out, decadence of the science
and art is the inevitable result; if not rigorously carried out,
the principle asserts its power as a disturbing agent. Conse¬
quently, whenever any special class of practitioners has arisen
m this country, one or other result has followed. Having
organized itself on the restrictive principle, its first efforts
have been directed to a sharp limitation of its educational
and municipal relations; but it has finally broken that limita¬
tion down, and returned to unity of teaching and of practice;
otherwise it has gradually become more and more feeble
The colleges of surgeons in the United Kingdom, first com- Rise ,„d
mg into existence as corporations of barbers and barber-fall of cor-
surgeons, have constantly struggled upwards from that Porations-
humble form of special practice, until at last their examina¬
tions and curricula of education are made to include, no¬
minally at least, and their members practise, every branch
of medical science and every department of medical art.
I he apothecaries companies of London and Dublin have,
in i e manner, risen from corporations of drug-compounders
and unlicensed practitioners across the counter, to be the
examiners (virtually) of the great body of medical practi-
3 N
466
Medicine,
The future
of medi¬
cine.
M E D I
tioners of the people. On the other hand, the physicians
gradually lost their catholic character by refusing to per¬
form the humbler services of the art, and by discounte¬
nancing the practice of them as ignominious. They have
thus been as gradually changed into specialists themselves,
with the effect of weakening their own influence, and re¬
tarding the progress of medicine. Hence, while the cor¬
porations of special practitioners have been constantly rising
in power and influence in proportion as the principle of
unity of medicine has been developed in them, the colleges
of physicians and the medical faculties of the universities
have been failing in power and influence in proportion as
they have departed from that great vital principle. There
is hardly a remnant of a medical faculty left in the two
great universities of Oxford and Cambridge; while the
College of Physicians of London, once so influential, and
still in possession of stringent legal powers, is the least
powerful of the medical corporations of London. In its
palmy days, when it maintained the principle of unity, it
could produce an anatomist like Harvey, could give its
imprimatur to the works of a surgeon like Wiseman, and
dictate the pharmacy of the kingdom. In later years,
when to be associated in any way with pharmacy, surgery,
or obstetrics, was discreditable to a Fellow, and to per¬
form so simple an operation as venesection or vaccination
was forbidden by its laws, the college dwindled into a small
club of specialists, who weakly surrendered the actual
government of the profession in England to a company of
London apothecaries.
The medical faculty of the University of Edinburgh,
happily for its fame and prosperity, has never abandoned
the principle of unity of medical science and art. Candi¬
dates for its degree in medicine are required to study all
those departments of science a knowledge of which is
necessary to the successful cultivation, teaching, and prac¬
tice of the art. They are also required to give evidence that
they possess a competent knowledge of every department
under the three heads of Medicine, Surgery, and Midwifery.
SECTION Y.—THE FUTURE PROGRESS AND DEVELOPMENT OF
MEDICINE.
Such, then, has been the past, and such briefly is the
present condition of medicine. What will be its future
condition? Two elements, external to medicine, will ma¬
terially influence its future progress for good or evil: the
one is the religious belief and condition of the people;
the other the wealth and civilization. As to the former,
human physiology is become in modern times what, in
truth, the phrase designates—the science of human nature ;
and medicine the practical application of it. Ihe advance
of medicine in this direction is bringing it into collision
with theological philosophy. We have seen how stren¬
uously this has aforetime resisted the progress of na¬
tural philosophy, and we know how much discussion the
entrance into its domain of geology and natural his¬
tory has excited; what, then, will happen when a psycho¬
logy, springing out of natural history and human physi¬
ology, confronts, not corrupt traditions only, but dogmatic
and speculative philosophy, especially as applied to the-
ology ? Will the old ties of society resist its progress in
the old world to its decay ? and are we to look to the young
states of the Western Hemisphere for unfettered freedom of
discussion ? or will a new reformation break forth in Europe,
and herald a new era in religion, philosophy, and therewith
in the medical sciences? Whichever of these may happen
it may not be possible to divine; but few thinking men
doubt that a great conflict of opinion is impending, if it be
not already begun.
If we examine the condition of society more minutely
with reference to these phases of development which we
have traced as repeatedly occurring in successive epochs,
CINE.
we shall find that different parts of the world are in different Medicine,
stages of progress. It is necessary, therefore, to examine
them in relation to each other.
In Western Europe the sacerdotal power has risen from
its suppression at the beginning of the century, and is as
busily as ever engaged in its old conflict with its old anta¬
gonist from all time—the spirit of free inquiry and free ex¬
pression of opinion. Its success varies on different parts
of the field of battle.
In the United Kingdom the event is yet hanging in the
balance, and it is doubtful whether it will advance farther, or
be made to recoil. The historical parallel of our age and
nation is to be found in the age of the old Greek and the
mediaeval Italian republics. A widely-extended commerce
is rapidly accumulating wealth ; wealth is developing every
branch of science and art. The national power and pro¬
sperity are continually increasing in every direction. This is
the material side. On the religious and philosophical side
there are both retrocession and progress. The sacerdotal
power is seeking by all available means to resuscitate its
glories of the mediaeval age of Europe; while philosophy,
whether natural or mental, is questioning the fundamental
dogmas of the whole superstructure, but especially those
branches included under geology, ethnology, and mental
physiology.
In France freedom of opinion sleeps; the military power
reigns, but leans upon the sacerdotal power, which it pro¬
tects. All history shows that that state of society never
continues. In which direction will the edifice fall ? Upon
that the fate of medical science in France depends.
In Central and Southern Europe the military power, and
therewith the sacerdotal, is more supreme than in France.
Change here is also inevitable, but its character may more
easily be anticipated. The sacerdotal power is more domi¬
nant than in France—more antagonistic to science—more
hated. The scientific element is feeble, but more popular;
the military power will therefore probably lean to the latter,
and support science and art.
In Eastern Europe the social condition is Asiatic; that
is, almost purely patriarchal and sacerdotal. From that
region a military sacerdotal power may fall upon Western
Europe whenever the nations are torn by discordant reli¬
gious factions, and success may be hoped for from the weak¬
ness of disunion ; or that empire may itself fall a prey to civil
discord, and be dismembered under military chiefs.
To the Turkish empire the last stage of decrepitude has
come; but signs of reconstruction already appear; and if
the enterprise and energy of commercial Europe again pour
into it, as appears probable, Greek civilization will spring
up once again in Asia Minor, and flourish amid the light ot
Christianity more vigorously than ever.
In Hindustan medicine is even now lifting its head; and
the vivifying power of British freedom may happily restore
to Asia more than its pristine greatness in science and litera¬
ture.
On the American continent, and in the colonial empire of
Britain, medicine will probably follow the fate of science
in the mother country.
It will be seen at least from all this, that medicine, as the
science and art of human nature, is of profound interest to
the philosophic statesman. Looking at philosophy and reli¬
gion from the medical point of view, he may also recognise in
the present time one of those great eras in which a conflict
of opinion shakes society to its foundations, and perils its
very existence. .
There are cheering indications that the practical Eng- •"
lish mind will compromise the quarrel, and philosophy and
religion be once again combined for the welfare of man.
On the one hand, science seeks in many ways to develope
religious truth; on the other, not a few of the clergy are
meeting science half-way. If by such a compromise
MED
Medina.^ that is corrupt and traditional in Christianity be weeded out,
v—‘v-—' and all that is true and practical in philosophy let in, we may
anticipate the commencement of a new era of civilization.
-put to this end it is necessary that the human mind be
trained from childhood to a free use of its powers, and the
great mass of the people be so enlightened as to be able to
judge what is true or false, especially in relation to the
nature of man. If a wise government could, single-handed
save a nation of ignorant and superstitious people, Marcus
Aurelius, the patron of Galen, would have saved the Ro¬
man empire. Scientific truth must be amongst the people
if it is to save the people. t r
The organization of the medical profession as students
of human nature, and as the men who apply the science of
human nature to the wants of mankind, is therefore a pro¬
blem worthy the consideration of the philosophic and far-
seeing statesman. Obscure as they may appear to the
superficial observer, and contemptible as thev are in the
eyes of the mere man of the hour, medical science and the
MED
medical profession are working out great changes in the
social condition of mankind, and not the less powerfully
because silently and imperceptibly. Thus it is, indeed,
that all great forces operate, whether in the physical or
moral world; else a few fishermen could not have over¬
thrown empires. The revealed action of a force consists
often rather in the manifestation of its results than of its
working.
The statesman who should succeed in so organizing
medicine in all its departments as to give it a full and free
application to the wants of society, and in aid of human
pi ogress, would surely take rank with the greatest bene¬
factors of mankind. To the attainment of this object it is
however, of all things a primary necessity that a knowledge*
of human physiology,—that is, of the science of human
nature, be thoroughly diffused through every class of
society. This knowledge is indeed necessary to the solu¬
tion of all social questions ; so true it is that “ the proper
study of mankind is man.” L ^
467
Medina.
MEDINA, or El Medinah, a city of Arabia, in the
province of El Hejaz, is situated in a wide plain forming
part of the central plateau of Arabia, about 100 miles N.E.
of Yambu, its port on the Red Sea, and about 260 N. of
Mecca ; N. Lat. 25. 15.; E. Long. 39. 30. Medina con¬
sists of a town, a castle, and a suburb nearly as laro-e as
the town. The main body of the town is of an irregular
oval shape, and is surrounded by walls, built of granite
and basalt, in a regular and substantial manner. Entrance
is afforded by four gates, two of which, the Bab el Misri or
Egyptian Gate, on the W., and the Bab el Jumah, or Fri¬
day Gate, on the E., consist of large strong buildings, with
double towers painted with broad stripes of red, yellow
and other colours. Along the walls, at short distances*
tneie are placed smaller semicircular towers for the addi¬
tional security of the city. The streets are irregular, nar¬
row, dark, and unpaved, being covered with a soil consist¬
ing of hard, black earth. The houses are well built of a
basaltic stone, and are generally two storeys high, with flat
roofs. Those of the better sort are provided with a large
open courtyard, where trees and water basins are frequently
seen. The houses have latticed balconies, like those of
most eastern towns ; and the windows are extremely small.
Ihe number of the houses in the town and suburb is be¬
lieved to amount to 1300, of which there are a few in a
ruinous state. The castle, which is situated at the N.W
corner of the city, on a rock, is built like the walls and
towers of the city, but m a stronger and more substantial
manner. Its entrance is from the E. It is well provided
with artillery, ammunition, and provisions, and has a garri¬
son of 400; but it could offer no effective resistance to a
force with a few guns and shells. To the S. and W of the
town is the suburb, separated from it by a broad road on
the »., called the Darb el Jenazah, or Road of Biers, and
on the W. by a plain called El Munakhah, about three-
quarters of a mile in length by 300 yards in breadth. Al¬
though more extensive than the town, the suburb has not
so many houses, as it is built in a straggling manner, with
many open spaces. On the side next the town it is un¬
protected ; but on the other side there is a wall, which is in
a very ruinous condition. The houses in the suburb are
for the most part arranged round large courtyards; they
are low, and inhabited principally by the lower classes,
who are employed to a great extent in agriculture. The
suburb has several gates leading to the country; but the
only one of these that is of any size is that at the W., called
Ambari, a bad imitation of one of the gates of Cairo. The
only buildings in the suburb worthy of notice are the gover¬
nor s house, which is a plain building, situated near El
Munakhah; and the five mosques, which are all very much
st0.ne edlfices, surmounted by cupolas and mina-
i ets. Medina is especially famous for the Mosque of the
Jrrophet, which is one of the two sanctuaries of Mohamme¬
danism, and regarded by the Moslems as the second of the
three most venerable places of worship in the world; the
first being the mosque at Mecca, and the third that at Jeru¬
salem. One of the sects of the Mohammedans even give it
the precedence over Mecca, as being the place of burial of
Mdmmmed; while ethers, on the contrary, do not approve
of the high honour that is bestowed upon it by the gene¬
rality of Mohammedans. The Mosque of Medina is an ob¬
long building, about 420 feet long by 340 broad; and a
great part of it, as is usual in Mohammedan mosques, is
open to the sky. It is entered by five gates; and has five
minarets which though not destitute of beauty and grandeur
have little regularity or uniformity. The open part of the
mosque is surrounded by a colonnade; of which the northern
side is unfinished and will consist of granite columns and a
pavement of marble. On the eastern side there are three
rows of columns; on the western four; andthe southern side
has a much deeper colonnade, consisting of larger columns,
and inclosing the tomb of the prophet. The columns of the
mosque are very various in form and style, and are not
distinguished by any architectural beauty or merit. In the
centre of the open court there is a small square piece of
ground inclosed by a wooden railing. This is called the
Garden of Fat.mah, the prophet’s daughter, and it contains
twelve date trees, of the fruit of which presents are sent to
the sultan, to tile S.E. of this inclosure stands the Well
of the Prophet, supposed by some to have an underground
communication w,th the Zem-Zemat Mecca; although bv
the majority of Moslem writers it is not held in much Jene
ration, nor esteemed as a holy well. In the covered part
of th's mosque stands the Hujrah, which contains the tomb
of Mohammed and those of Abubekr and Omar, the fiTst
two caliphs, fhey lie with the heads pointing W. and the
eet I:.., the head of each being opposite to the shoulders of
the one immediately m front. These tombs are conceded
om sight by a curtain of silk, which is renewed whenever
t alls into decay, and upon the accession of a new sultan
It bears inscriptions in gold characters, to the effect that to
IS the tomb of the prophet and of thp * ?• , 11 ,
the position of M?haPmmed“ grate if^kedt^i aMl
rosary of pearl. Of the tonti, „f the propheUtselfto
approach 7ol*7, r8"11 88 n') “- is allowed to
emitted fronfit ZT 0> ‘he blind!nS “i'111 said be
uuon ThTnn descr,Ptions are not much to be relied
upon, 1 he popular account of the coffin being suspended
468 MED
Medina bfitween heaven and earth is a tale which is confined to
del foreigners, and has probably arisen either from the rude
Campo. doings 0f tiie mosque, or from a confusion between this
an(j tjie rock said to be thus suspended in the mosque of
Omar at Jerusalem. To the N. of these tombs is that of
Fatimah, who is, however, supposed by many to be buried
not here, but in the Bakia cemetery. Notwithstanding the
universai tradition of the Moslems, it seems very doubtful
whether Mohammed be really buried here at all, not only
from the extreme discrepancy of the accounts given of the
tomb by the learned, but from the great probability that the
fable of the miraculous light surrounding it has been in¬
vented for the purpose of preventing any inquisitive visitor
from prying too closely into the defects of the place. The
mosque of Medina has been built and rebuilt six times at
different periods; this having been rendered necessary by
its frequent destruction by various accidents. Ihe last
time of its rebuilding was in 1710 a.d., when it was erected
nearly in its present form. The establishment connected
with the mosque is large. At the head of it stands the
principal of the mosque, who has a salary of about L.300 a
month. Under him is a deputy, a black eunuch, who has a
pay of L.50. There is also a treasurer and sub-treasurer ;
besides a chief of the writers and an assistant, who keep the
accounts of the mosque. There are also about 120 eunuchs
who are under three shaykhs, and divided into three orders.
Of these, the first act as doorkeepers, the second take care
of the cleaner parts of the building, and the third clean the
remaining parts, and prevent people from sleeping in the
mosque. They get from L.2 to L.5 a month, besides the
gratuities they may receive from visitors; and they are in
general much respected. There are also a number of free
servants, taken from the lower orders of the citizens, who
are employed, in parties of 30 each, for a week, and have
not much to do. There is also a kazi or judge, sent
annually from Constantinople, who has under him three muf¬
tis ; and the various other ministers of the mosque are very
numerous. In the neighbourhood of Medina is El Bakia,
the burial-place of the saints, of an irregular oblong form,
inclosed by walls, and surrounded by plantations of palms.
In the interior, however, there are no trees or flowers; and
the buildings are simple, and by no means remarkable. I he
inhabitants of Medina are exempt from the payment of
taxes, for the attendants of the mosque are paid partly
by the sultan, and partly from the rents of the lands in
different parts of the world which have been bequeathed to
the sanctuary. A certain allowance is also given at Con¬
stantinople to any of the inhabitants of this city who may
wish to travel. Commerce, however, is little carried on
here; and the principal articles are grain, cloth, and provi¬
sions. In character the people of Medina are proud and
indolent, looking down upon all strangers, and considering
labour to be unfit for all but slaves. The climate of Me¬
dina is in winter comparatively severe; but in summer
the heat is great, though not so oppressive as at Mecca.
Throughout the winter rain falls frequently and in great
abundance, so that the plain between the city and the
suburb is at that season generally covered with water.
Pop. from 16,000 to 18,000.
Medina del Campo, a town of Spain, in the province
and 28 miles distant from the city of Valladolid, is situated
in a plain on the left bank of the River Zapardiel, here
crossed by two stone bridges. The partido is crossed by
the high road between Madrid and Galicia, and that be¬
tween Valladolid and Salamanca. The town is well built,
and contains, besides remains of ancient convents, a colle¬
giate church and six parish churches, two primary schools,
and two hospitals,—the principal or general hospital, a
spacious and handsome edifice. On the E. of the town
is the celebrated Castilla de la Mota, still subsisting almost
entire. The surrounding country produces wheat, barley,
MED
and wine; the latter, especially the white, of superior qua- Medina
lity. There are also good pastures, which rear sheep, asses, del Rio
and mules. The population is mostly agricultural, but there bec0
are manufactures of chocolate, earthenware, hats, and some ^jgdio.
other articles. Grain and wine are exported. The popu- lanum.
lation amounted in 1848 to 2760. _ #
Medina del Rio Seco, a town of Spain, in the province
of Valladolid, from the city of which name it is distant
about 24 miles, is situated on two eminences on the right
bank of the Sequillo, here crossed by six bridges. The
town was formerly surrounded by a strong wall, of which
only remain three bastions and the six gates of the city;
in the environs are several shaded walks (alciniedcts') much
frequented. There are three parish churches : that of Santa
Maria, an elegant Gothic edifice, Santiago and Santa Cruz,
of Grecian architecture; two convents of Franciscan and
Carmelite nuns, and five ex-convents,—that of St Francis
being remarkable for the exquisite wood-carvings which it
contains. The educational institutions are numerous;
besides private establishments, there are two public schools
of primary instruction, and two grammar schools. There
are two general hospitals well endowed; also a foundling
and a maternity hospital. Of the surrounding district, the
low-lying lands are very fertile, the chief productions being
grain, wine, and legumes of various kinds. 1 he principal
manufactures are of watches, locks, and smithwork in gene¬
ral ; leather, and cloths of various kinds, especially baize,
are also fabricated. 1 he flour and bread of the town and
district has a reputation in Spain. Formerly this town was
a place of much importance in the internal commerce of
the country, and its trade is still considerable. The baize
of Siguenza is imported, dyed, and exported; and from
various quarters come other articles of manufacture as to a
common market. Its two annual fairs, on the 6th of April
and 18th of September, were formerly celebrated. Pop.
(1848) 4500. . . ,
Medina Sidonia, a town of Spain, in the province and
21 miles from the town of Cadiz, is situated at an elevation
of about 3000 feet above sea-level, in the form of an am¬
phitheatre, on a spacious hill in the midst of a plain about
4 leagues in circumference. The town is well built, and
the streets well paved and commodious. It has two parish
churches ; the one, Sta. Maria la Coronada, is a handsome
Gothic building; that of Santiago is not so attractive.
There exist two convents of nuns and five of monks. Of
the ten schools in the town, four are public schools of pri¬
mary instruction. There are two hospitals for the sick,
and orphan and foundling hospitals. 1 he surrounding dis¬
trict is traversed by the small rivers Alamo and Barbate,
and contains also a number of small lakes or lagunas, and
several mineral springs. From the mountainous nature of
the country, there is more pasture than arable land. Much
excellent fruit is grown. There are various brick and pot¬
tery works; coarse cloth is also manufactured to some ex¬
tent. Pop. (1848) of town and district, 10,534.
MEDIOLANUM {Milan), the capital of Cisalpine
Gaul, stood in the centre of the great plain of Northern
Italy, at an equal distance between the Ticinus {Ticino) on
the W., and the Addua {Adda) on the E. According to
Livy, it was founded in the territory of the Insubres by
the migratory Gallic hordes that crossed the Alps in t e
reign of Tarquinius Priscus. It was named after a vi lage
in Transalpine Gaul. Although the capital of the Insubres,
Mediolanum does not seem to have passed beyond the con¬
dition of a village until it became subject to the Romans
about 190 b.c. Then its pleasant site, in the middle of a
large fertile plain, recommended it as a place of residence,
and gradually raised it to importance. Strabo calls it a
considerable city ;” and in the time of Pliny the ounger i
had become a favourite seat of learning. During the wars
with the barbarians of Pannonia, Germany, and Gaul, it
M E D
Mediter- was often the head-quarters of the Roman emperors. At
rSeaan . Mediolanum attained its highest prosperity when
v t_ _r j Maxiriiian, about 303 a.d., chose it for his place of resi¬
dence. It then became the abode of a refined and pleasure-
seeking society. Temples, baths, elegant mansions, a
palace, a theatre, a circus, and a mint, were speedily erected.
It was now the capital of Northern Italy, and was thought
worthy by Antonius, a poet of the fourth century, to hold
the sixth place among his fourteen “ Illustrious Cities.” Me¬
diolanum continued to be the seat of the imperial court
until Honorius, alarmed at the approach of the Visigoths
under Alaric, repaired, about 403 a.d., to the impregnable
fortress of Ravenna. Its prosperity then began to decline,
and was almost extinguished by the pillaging it suffered
from Attila a.d. 452. However, it was still considered the
capital of Northern Italy; and in 476 a.d. became the seat
of the Gothic kings. Wrested from the Goths soon after¬
wards by Bdisarms, it was retaken and reduced to ashes
a.d. 539; yet it regained its prosperity in the middle ao-es,
and retains it to the present day.
MEDITERRANEAN SEA (Mare Internum), the
great inland sea which separates Europe from Africa, and
washes the shores of the three continents of the old world
extends from the Straits of Gibraltar, where it communi¬
cates with the Atlantic, to the coast of Syria, and lies be¬
tween 30. and 46. N. Lat., and between 6. W. and 36 E.
Long., having a total length of about 2300 miles, and a
breadth varying from 1100 or 1200 to about 80 between
Cape Bon and Sicily, supposing the latter to be a part of
the European continent. The modern name of the sea,
derived fioju its land-locked position, was not used by the
ancients. I he Romans called it Mare Internum or Mare
A ostrum, and its various parts had separate names, such as
the_/Egean, the Ionian, &c. By the Arabians it was known
&& Bahr-Rum, or the Roman Sea. In the present day it
is known to British sailors as the Straits; and the modern
Greeks designate it the White Sea, in contrast to the
Black Sea. The shores of the Mediterranean are as
varied in character and outline as the countries which it
washes. At its entrance stands the steep and lofty rock of
Gibraltar on the European side, and that of Ceuta on the
African, forming the pillars of Hercules, so famous in the
ancient classics. The Spanish coast is low and fertile,
with a great variety of mountains and plains in the back¬
ground. It is irregular in outline, and has numerous har¬
bours. Between France and Spain, the Pyrenees, with their
ig i peaks, extend as far as the sea, and terminate in the
bold headlands of Capes Norfeo and Creux. The coast of
France is low, flat, and marshy, bearing marks of the sea
having retreated considerably; but from the Bay of Hyeres
eastward it is of a more elevated nature. This character is
continued along the shore of the Gulf of Genoa, where the
sea is bounded by a steep, rocky coast, backed by the lofty
mountains of the Apennines, among the recesses of which
lie numerous fertile valleys. Very different in character is
the W. coast of Italy, from Tuscany southwards to the
confines of Naples. The whole of this region, which is
known by the name of Maremma, consists of low pes¬
tilential swamps, terminating with the Pontine Marshes.
The coast of Naples is remarkable for the beauty of its
scenery, presenting a bold appearance and an outline much
indented with gulfs and bays. To the E. of the Italian
Peninsula, the Adriatic, an arm of the Mediterranean,
stretches deep into the continent, and its two coasts pre¬
sent a remarkable contrast in nature and aspect. The
western shore is low and shelving, with few harbours; while
the eastern is bold and rocky, skirted with numerous islands,
and containing many safe and excellent stations for anchor-
age. The coast of Albania, from Valona southwards, is
skirted by the rugged and lofty range called Khemara, the
Acroceraunian Mountains, so much dreaded by the ancient
MED
469
seamen. The classic shores of Greece, which are washed
by the Mediterranean, present an irregular outline, with
numerous mountain ridges descending to the sea, and form-
ing large bays, behind which lie fertile valleys retiring
among the mountains. The E. coast of Thessaly is skirted
by the three famous mountains, Pelion, Ossa, and Olympus;
and the N. and E. shores of the Archipelago present
in general a bold and irregular outline. The N. shore
of the Levant has also many bays and harbours; and, not
far inland, rise lofty mountains, forming part of the snowy
range of Taurus. The Syrian coast presents a very varied
appearance, being in some places mountainous, but in
others low and flat. The Egyptian coast is low and sandy;
and a similar tract of country extends along the African
shore of the Mediterranean as far as Raser-Tyn, where
there is a mountainous district containing the site of the
ancient Cyrene. Further to the W. are situated the Syrtes,
which, though a source of terror to the ancients, have been
ascertained by modern investigators to be by no means so
difficult and dangerous of navigation as had been supposed,
i he coasts of I unis are fertile and well cultivated, with
numerous bays and harbours; and that of Algeria is re¬
markable for the beauty of its scenery and the fertility of
its soil. The same general character belongs to the coast
of Morocco, which extends from the borders of Algeria
past the Straits of Gibraltar. A remarkable contrast is ob¬
servable between the European and African shores of the
Mediteiranean; the former being irregular and much in¬
dented, whereas the latter are comparatively straight and
uniform. I he same difference, however, may be observed
in general between the outlines of the two continents; and
to this we may ascribe in some measure their different
destinies, and the higher degree of civilization that has
been attained by the European nations. The Mediterranean
contains a great number of islands, of which the largest,
arranged in the order of their size, are Sicily, Sardinia,
Crete, Cyprus, Negropont (the ancient Eubcea), and Cor¬
sica ; besides many of smaller size, lying singly or in groups,
such as the Balearic, the Ionian islands, and those of the
Archipelago. In several parts of the Mediterranean shores
there are proofs of a change in the coast-line; and it has
been a favourite theory that this sea, formerly a great lake,
was biought into its present condition by the bursting of
the barrier at Gibraltar from a violent rush of water either
from E. or W. This opinion, however, has no greater
authority than is due to a mere conjecture of more or less
probability. The Mediterranean is divided into two well-
marked basins. The western extends from Gibraltar to
the narrow channel between Sicily and Tunis; while the
eastern, comprising the Levant basin, with the Adriatic
and Archipelago, extends from the coast of Tunis to that
of Syria and Turkey in Europe, and is about twice the
size of the other. Altogether, its area may amount to
about 800,000 square miles. Its depth is in general very
great, and in many parts as yet unfathomed ; but between
the E. and W. basins there is a remarkable belt of shal¬
low water, showing that there is a sort of submarine eleva¬
tion in this part between Europe and Africa. Soundings
ot no great depth were obtained all the way from Sicily to
lums by Admiral Smyth; and the Adventure Bank dis¬
covered by that navigator, forms a marked feature of this
region, along with the Skerki Rocks, probably the same as
those mentioned by Virgil as “saxa latentia:”—
Mediter¬
ranean
Sea.
“ Saxa, vocant Itali mediis quae in fluctibus Aras.”
In regard to the water of the Mediterranean there are
CKir?^StanCf WOrthy °f notice- 11 has been con¬
cluded, both from chemical analysis and from the observed
facility with which salt is obtained from it, that the propor-
tion of saline ingredients is greater here than in the ocean;
and the ratio between the quantity of salt in the Mediter-
470
MEDITERRANEAN SEA.
Mediter¬
ranean
Sea.
ranean and the Atlantic respectively has been determined
by M. Bouillon la Grange, after a series of experiments,
to be 41 to 38. The phosphorescent brilliance of this
sea is now known to be produced by noctilucous animal-
cula, but it is not peculiar to the Mediterranean. The
prevailing colour of the water is a deep blue ; but in the
Adriatic ^it is of a greenish hue, and towards the E. it ap¬
proaches purple. _ •iii'
The Mediterranean receives many large rivers both trom
Europe and Africa, of which the most considerable are the
Ebro, Rhone, Po, and Nile. And, in addition to the rivers
by which it is fed, it derives a considerable supply of water
from the strong current which always sets in from the Black
Sea and the Sea of Marmora through the Dardanelles, and
also from the current which sets in from the Atlantic
through the Straits of Gibraltar. But as its level continues
unchanged, it would seem that the water entering it is not
more than sufficient to supply the waste occasioned by
evaporation. Some indeed have supposed that there is an
under-current setting outward through the Straits of Gib¬
raltar ; but this opinion does not seem to rest on solid and^
trustworthy evidence. A calculation made by Halley ot
the quantity of water removed by evaporation showed it
to be sufficiently great to preserve the level; but, according
to Smyth, the grounds for this theory are insufficient and
incorrect. But, however it may be accounted for, there
can be no doubt of the fact, that the system of compensa¬
tion is accurately adjusted between the water coming in
and going out. The principal current of the Mediterra¬
nean flows to the E., from the Atlantic, along the African
coast, till it reaches the coast of Syria and Asia Minor,
when it returns westward along the northern shores of the
sea. In the middle of the Mediterranean, between Sicily
and Africa, the currents are very irregular, varying accord¬
ing to the changes of the wind and weather. In the Adriatic
the current runs up the Dalmatian and down the Italian
shore with considerable steadiness. In the Archipelago the
prevailing direction is from the N.E., caused by the water
of the “ Pontic Sea”—
“ Whose icy current and compulsive course
Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on
To the Propontis and the Hellespont.”
The Mediterranean is subject to tides, though these are
very inconsiderable in comparison with other seas, and
very irregular in their motions. 1 his fact, however, cannot
be taken as any objection against the true theory of tides
discovered by Newton; the weakness of those in this sea
being a necessary consequence of its comparatively small
extent, and of the narrowness and position of its communi¬
cation with the ocean, which render it impossible for the^
level at any part to be considerably raised by the influx of
water through a passage which is narrow and in a direc¬
tion opposite to the course of the great tidal wave of the
world.
The prevailing winds in the Mediterranean are those
which blow from N. and W.; but in the spring months
S.E. and S.W. breezes are most frequent. Among the
most remarkable winds in this sea is the mistral, a cold
wind which comes from the snows of the Alps, and rushes
southward, over Provence and the valley of the Rhone, to
the sea, blowing with great violence and impetuosity, and
forming one of the scourges of Provence. Of a very dif¬
ferent character is the much-dreaded scirocco, a hot wind
blowing from the S.E. over the sultry deserts of Africa.
This blast is felt on the S. coast of Sicily ; but having passed
over a large extent of water, it is not so oppressive there as
when it has again become heated by traversing the island;
and it is especially felt at Palermo on the N. coast. An¬
other wind, very dangerous to ships, is the bora ; which,
like the ancient boreas, whence it derives its name, is a N.
or N.E. breeze. It is frequently accompanied with thunder,
lightning, and rain; and sometimes lasts as long as three
days, though its usual duration is fifteen or twenty hours.
Water-spouts are of frequent occurrence in the Mediter¬
ranean, and are much dreaded or at least carefully avoided,
by cautious navigators. They are believed to be the re¬
sult of the rotatory motion produced in the atmosphere by
whirlwinds, with the addition of the electricity of the air.
Electrical phenomena are common in this sea; and one of
the most remarkable and famous of these appearances con¬
sists of the balls of fire which play round the masts and
rigging of ships, called by the ancients Castor and Pollux,
and by the modern seamen of the Mediterranean, Corpo
Santo, or St Elmo’s fire. These meteors are harmless;
but when only a single ball appears it is believed to be a
bad omen. (See The Mediterranean; A. Memoir, Phy~
sical, Historical, and Nautical, by Rear-Admiral W illiam
Henry Smyth, K.S.F., D.C.L., London, 1854.)
The Mediterranean is the theatre of a very extensive
trade. Many large commercial cities, such as Barcelona,
Marseilles, Genoa, Leghorn, Naples, Palermo, Venice,
Trieste, Syra, Smyrna, Alexandria, and perhaps we may
add Constantinople, are built on its shores; and there
can be no doubt that its trade will increase with the
increasing civilization of the extensive countries round
the Black Sea and its eastern shore, and the opening
(which cannot be long delayed) of the old route to India
through Egypt. In the meantime we take leave to sub¬
join, in illustration of what has now been stated, the fol¬
lowing account of the exports from Great Britain to the
Mediterranean previously to the interruption occasioned by
the Russian war, and in 1856:—
Account of the Declared Value of the Exports of Entish
Produce and Manufactures to the several Countries
and Territories {exclusive of France and Spain) border¬
ing on the Mediterranean and Black Sea, in the years
1849, 1850, and 1856.
The Sardinian territories....
Tuscany 
The Papal territories 
Naples and Sicily 
Austrian territories on the
Adriatic  
Malta 
Ionian Islands 
Greece 
The Turkish dominions, ex¬
clusive of Wallachia, Mol
davia, Syria, and Egypt
Wallachia and Moldavia 
The Russian ports on the 1
Black Sea )
Syria 
Egypt   
Tunis   
Algeria 
Morocco 
t... j
1849.
Aggregate value  8,174,144 8,024,804
L.
740,806
777,273
202,518
1,115,260
658,992
387,744
165,805
288,847
2,373,669
218,577
186,996
338,366
638,411
3,228
12,551
65,101
L.
774,512
769,409
222,559
1,026,456
607,755
314,386
135,912
202,228
2,515,821
294,604
157,111
303,254
648,801
5,128
15,069
31,799
L.
1,143,689
736,538
311,114
1,202,183
968,145
541,097
351,344
261,777
4,416,029
142,964
148,695
757,774
1,587,682
4,093
20,233
131,042
12,724,399
The Mediterranean is interesting, not only from its
geographical and physical character, but from the associa¬
tions which connect it with the history, and the influence
which it has exerted on the trade, condition, and pros¬
perity of mankind in general, and especially of the nations
situated along its shores. Adam Smith has shown how well
it was fitted to promote the early commerce and navigation
of the ancient world ; while the riches and prosperity of the
nations by whom it was navigated, and their intercourse with
each other, increased their knowledge and enlarged their
minds. Thus the Mediterranean became a most important
MED
Medoc
means of the civilization of the ancients; and even the great
Meerman. e,0Pment of literature, poetry, and philosophy, for which
these nations were distinguished, may be believed to have
had some connection with these circumstances, when we
remember that the Phoenicians, the earliest commercial
people in the world, had the reputation of being the
inventors of letters; that the father of verse as well as
the father of history in Greece had evidently travelled
much on the shores of the Mediterranean; and that the
birthplace of Greek philosophy was in the Asiatic colonies,
which were distinguished also for trade and seafarino- acti-
vity. However this maybe, it is certain that the most
civilized of ancient nations dwelt along the Mediterra¬
nean: Egypt, Phoenicia, Greece, Carthage, Home, each in
urn,played their part in history; and if in modern times this
sea is no longer the seat of the world’s masters, it is partly be¬
cause new regions and a wider sphere having been opened
mankind have quitted this, the cradle as it were of their
young energies ; and partly also because a great part of the
shores of the Mediterranean have been long subject to the
bll£™"S a”d disastrous influence of the Turkish sway.
MEDOC, a district of France, formerly comprised in
the old province of Guyenne, and now forming the N W
portion of the department of Gironde. This district is’
particularly famous for its claret wines.
MEDUSA, in fabulous history, one of the three Gorgons
]fhorcys and Cet0- (See Gordons.)
MEDWA1 (the ancient Vaga), a river of England,
which rises in the S.E. of the county of Surrey, near East
Gi instead, flows m a winding N.N.E. direction across the
county of Kent and joins the Thames by a broad estuary
at Sheerness. It passes Tunbridge and Maidstone, and
becomes at Rochester and Chatham a tidal stream of o-reat
depth, spreading out into a broad estuary, and forming an
important harbour for the British navy. It is 60 miles in
length, for more than 40 of which it is navigable.
MEEANEE, a town of India, situated in the British
province of Sinde, on the banks of the Fulailee branch
it *ndus> ar|d 6 miles N. of Hyderabad. Here on the
17th hebruary 1843 Sir Charles Napier gained a brilliant
victory over a Beloochee force of vast superiority in point
of numbers, headed by the ameers of Sinde. The British
troops amounted only to 2800 men, with twelve pieces of
artillery ; that of the enemy consisted of 22,000, with
fifteen pieces of artillery. After a close and obstinate en¬
gagement for above three hours, during which theBeloochees
showed desperate valour, the right of their position was
carried by the Anglo-Indian cavalry, and their army totally
routed, losing artillery, ammunition, standards, and camp
with considerable stores and some treasure. The British
loss amounted to 256 men killed and wounded ; that of the
enemy was estimated at 5000. Six of the principal
ameers surrendered themselves immediately after the
battle. Lat. 25. 26., Long. 68. 26.
MEERMAN, Gerard, a learned writer on law, was
born at Leyden in 1722, and was early distinguished for his
erudition. In 1748 he was nominated pensionary of Rot¬
terdam ; and in 1757 he was sent on an embassy to Great
Britain. He died at Aix-la-Chapelle in December 1771.
The principal works of Gerard Meerman are Novus The-
saurus Juris Civilis et Canonici, in 7 vols. folio, 1751-54 ;
and Origines Typographicce, 4to, 1765. In the latter he*
attempts to prove that his countryman Lawrence Koster
w-as the inventor of the art of printing. To the former an
eighth volume was added by his son.
Meerman, Jan, an eminent Dutch scholar and states¬
man, was the only son of the subject of the preceding ar¬
ticle, and was born at the Hague in 1753. Scarcely was he
ten years old when he published, with the aid of his teacher
a translation of the Marriage Force of Moliere. He after-
wards studied under Ernesti, at Leipsic, and under Heyne
MEG
471
Megalo¬
polis.
at Gottingen. On his return from a tour through Saxony Meerut
and rrussia, he repaired to Leyden to finish his studies, and 11
there he received the diploma of Doctor of Laws in 1774.
Jan Meerman was a great tourist, and published full ac¬
counts of the observations he made during his travels
through almost every country in Europe ; yet at the same
time he had become so conspicuous for his learning and
public activity, that on the accession of Louis Bonaparte in
806 to the throne of Holland, he was appointed director of
the fine arts, and minister of public instruction. These
offices he discharged with great zeal and success. In 1810,
when Holland was incorporated with France, Meerman
became count of the empire and senator. In the latter ca¬
pacity he was a thorough-going supporter of Napoleon. He
died at the Hague on the 15th August 1815. Meerman’s
principal woife are—Specimen Juris Publici de Solutions
Vincuh quod ohm fuit inter sacrum Romanum Imperium et
ijfnrati I^lgU resPuh^as,\to, Leyden, 1774 ; History of
Wilham, Count of Holland, and King of the Romans, in 5
vois. 8vo, 1783-97; and An Historical Account of the North
EuroPe\m 6 vols. 8vo, Hague,1805-6.
c i k • • i a t0)vn of Hindustan, and the principal place
ot the British district of the same name, is situated upon
the western bank of the Kalee Nuddee. It has been from
ancient times a place of considerable consequence, and is
mentioned amongst the early conquests of Mahmoud of
Ghizm in the year 1018. In 1399 it was taken and des¬
troyed by -Tamerlane. It was afterwards rebuilt; and when
this part of the N.W. provinces came into the possession
ot the British, it was fixed upon as the capital of one of
the districts into which the British possessions in the Doab
of the Ganges and Jumna were subdivided. In 1809 it
was made one of the principal military stations under the
Bengal presidency ; and more recently the head-quarters of
artillery for the same presidency. It has recently (1857) ac-
quired an infamous celebrity as the place where the mutiny
of the Bengal army, which spread with fearful rapidity, first
broke out. It was here that the men of the 5th regiment
o Bengal cavalry suddenly fell upon their officers, and then
released 70 of their comrades who had been imprisoned,
under sentence of court-martial, for insubordinate conduct,
t was here that the first massacre of Europeans, including
women and children, took place; and it was from this place
that other native infantry regiments, joining the mutinous
oth cavalry, were allowed to escape to Delhi, and, for the
first time in the history of British India, to set at defiance
the power and authority of the British government. Meerut
is 32 miles N.E.from Delhi; Long. 77. 46. E., Lat. 29. 1.
N. 1 he district of which this place is the capital lies be¬
tween Lat. 28. 33. and 29. 17., Long. 77. 12. and 78. 15.
It is about 57 miles in length and 48 in breadth, and has
an area of 2332 square miles.
MEGALOPOLIS {Sinano), the later capital of Ar¬
cadia, stood on the River Helisson, in the middle of a
spacious plain on the N.W. border of Arcadia. It was
founded at the suggestion of Epaminondas in 370 bc
shortly after the battle of Leuctra, and was intended to’be
the capital and stronghold of the Arcadian confederation
agamst Sparta. After the lapse of three years it was
finished, and was peopled by settlers drawn from forty
(Afferent towns. Yet, owing to the inadequate number of
its inhabitants, the ‘ great city” never attained to the im-
portance that had been expected. On the overthrow of
the Theban supremacy it was forced to strengthen itself
against Sparta by an alliance with Macedonia. At length,
in 222 b c., it was surprised by the Spartan king, Cleo-
menes III ; the greater part of its magnificent structures
were lase to t le gtound ; some of its inhabitants were put
o le swor > ar>d the rest escaped with difficulty to Messene.
Soon afterwards, however, the fugitives returned and rebuilt
tneir city. But Megalopolis never recovered its former im-
472 MEG
Megara portance; and in the time of Pausanias it was little else
II . than a field of ruins. It was the birthplace of the great
Megaris. generai Philopcemen, and of the historian Polybius.
MEGARA, the chief city of the Grecian state Megaris,
was built on the hills about a mile from the shore of the
Saronic Gulf. According to the traditions narrated by
Pausanias, the town was founded by Car, the son of Pho-
roneus. In the course of twelve generations Lelex suc¬
ceeded to the government, and conferred upon the inhabi¬
tants the name of Leleges. A subsequent king, Nisus,
called the city Nisaea, and gave the same title to the port
which he built on the sea-shore. In the same reign, how¬
ever, the name was changed to Megara, in honour of
Megareus, son of Poseidon, who had been summoned from
Bceotia to assist Nisus, and had died in the city; but the
port-town still continued to be called Nisaea. These ac¬
counts, however, have not been shown to be out of the
region of mere fable ; and the first fact in the early history
of Megara is, that it was included within the ancient limits
of Attica. During the reign of Codrus it was wrested
from the Athenians by the Dorians; and after remaining
for some time in subjection to Corinth, it finally asserted its
independence. The favourable situation of Megara now
speedily raised it to the height of commercial prosperity.
The great highway between the Peloponnesus and Northern
Greece running through its territory, brought all the traffic
of the country within its reach; and its proximity to the
Saronic Gulf on the one side and to the Corinthian on the
other, gave it facilities for trading both with the East and
the West. To what prosperity Megara had attained in the
sixth century before the Christian era is shown by the
important colonies it planted. It founded Megara Hyblaea
in Sicily in 728 b.c., Astacus in Bithynia in 712 b.c.,
Chalcedon in 674 b.c., Byzantium in 657 b.c., and several
others. But as a result of the commercial opulence, the
lower classes became the most influential part of the com¬
munity ; and after a severe contest, the Dorian governors
w’ere compelled to resign their power to a demagogue,
Theagenes. This potentate was expelled about 600 b.c.,
and a lengthened struggle between the democracy and
aristocracy ensued. In 455 b.c. the Athenians, being sum¬
moned to the assistance of the Megarians against the
Corinthians, built the tw’o long walls connecting Nisaea
with Megara. On the outbreak of the Peloponnesian war
Megara became an ally of the Spartans. But the Mega¬
rians paid dearly for their hostility to Athens. During
seven years their fields were annually wasted, their city was
besieged, and their port, Nisaea, was blockaded. However,
in the eighth year of the war they were relieved by Brasi-
das the Spartan general, and succeeded in establishing a
firm and exclusive oligarchy. After this period the histo¬
rical notices of Megara are few and unimportant. It was
again under a democracy in 357 b.c. It surrendered with¬
out a struggle to a Roman army under Metellus; and in the
time of Strabo it was a Roman colony. Megara vras cele¬
brated for its philosophical school, founded by Eucleides, a
disciple of Socrates. It is now an insignificant village,
with about 1000 inhabitants.
MEGARIS, a district of ancient Greece, in the northern
part of the Isthmus of Corinth, was bounded on the S. by
the Saronic Gulf, on the W. by Corinth and the Corinthian
Gulf, on the N. by Bceotia, and on the N.E. by Attica.
It extended along the coast for about 25 miles; and its
extreme breadth was estimated by Strabo to be 120 stadia.
With the exception of the “ White Plain,” in which Me¬
garis stands, the district is crowded with rugged chains of
hills. I he Geraneian Mountains extend eastward from the
shores of the Corinthian Gulf, sending out offshoots through
the entire country, and sinking gradually as they approach
the Saronic Gulf. Originally Megaris w^as inhabited by
dEolians and lonians, and formed part of Attica. It subse-
M E H
quently fell under the dominion of the Dorians. As it con- Mehemet
tained no town of any importance except Megara, the history All
of that city is the history of the district. (See Megara.) , II
MEHEMET ALI, or Mohammed Ali, or Mohammad v
’Alee, Pasha of Egypt, was born in 1769,—rose by military
energy to the pashalic of Cairo in 1806,—seized upon
Syria in 1830,—but was deprived of it by the sultan in
1840, after the intervention of the European powers, when
the pashalic of Egypt was made hereditary in his family.
He administered the affairs of Egypt till 1848, and died in
1849, aged eighty years. (For a full account of his career,
see the article Egypt.)
MEHIDPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in one of the
outlying possessions of Indore, or the territory belonging to
the Holkar family. It is situated on the banks of the River
Seepra, and is celebrated as the scene of the decisive vic¬
tory obtained by the British in 1817 over the army of
Holkar, whose power was in consequence effectually and
irretrievably overthrown. The loss on the part of the
British amounted to 174 killed and 604 wounded; that of
the Mahratta chief was estimated at 3000 men. In the
treaty of Mundesor, concluded shortly after, Holkar sub¬
mitted to terms which reduced him to the condition of an in¬
significant and dependent power. Lat. 23. 30., Long. 75. 40.
MfiHUL, Etienne Henri, one of the most remarkable
composers of France, was born at Givet, in Ardennes, on
the 24th of June 1763. His father was a cook, and desti¬
tute of education. Young Mehul’s first lessons in music
were derived from a poor blind organist of Givet, and such
was the boy’s aptitude, that, when ten years old, he was
appointed organist of the Franciscan church there. In
1775 an able German musician and organist, Wilhelm
Hanser, was engaged for the monastery of Lavaldieu, a
few miles from Givet, and Mehul became his occasional
pupil. In his sixteenth year Mehul was taken to Paris by
a military officer, and placed himself under Edelmann, a
good musician and harpsichord player. Mehul’s attempts
at instrumental composition in 1781 did not succeed, and
he therefore turned his attention to vocal music, and espe¬
cially dramatic. The great composer Gluck received him
kindly, and gave him advice in his studies. After va¬
rious delays and disappointments during his efforts for six
years to obtain, at the Grand Opera, a representation of his
Alonzo et Cora, he offered to the Opera Comique his
Euphrosine et Corradin, which being accepted and per¬
formed in 1790, at once fixed his reputation. The critics
acknowledged in it great energy of dramatic expression,
and a brilliant instrumentation; but objected to a general
want of graceful melody, and to heaviness and monotony
in the harmony and accompaniments. His opera of Stra-
tonice had great success. After several other operas which
did not succeed, his Adrien appeared, and added much to
his fame. He had been appointed one of the four inspec¬
tors of the Paris Conservatory, but that office made him
feel continually the insufficiency of his early studies, and
the falseness of his position. Timoleon, Ariodant, and
Bion followed Stratonice, with various success. Epicure
was composed jointly by Mehul and Cherubini; but the
superiority of the latter was evident. Mehul’s next opera,
Elrato, failed. After writing a number of other operas,
his health gave way, from an affection of the chest. He
composed in all forty-two operas, besides ballet music, and
songs for festivals of the republic. After lingering for
several years, he died on the 18th of October 1817.
Among Mehul’s contemporaries and countrymen may be
mentioned Dalayrac, Gretry, and Monsigny, as successful
and popular operatic composers. Herold, another French
composer of celebrity, was a pupil of Mehul, and died in
January 1833. Boieldieu, Halevy, and Auber, have added
much to the reputation of the more modern school o
French opera composers. (g. f. G.)
Meiners.
M E H
Mchwas MEHWAS, a district of Hindustan, in the province of
Gujerat, situated on the S.E. bank of the Nerbudda River.
It literally signifies the residence of thieves, which character
' formerly attached to the inhabitants, who live by plundering
their neighbours. Every man who in this turbulent region
could muster twenty horseman, considered himself as an
independent chief, and set out on a marauding expedition.
When the political control over the Mehwas chiefs became
vested in the British government, the best provision prac¬
ticable was made to meet these evils; and as in such a
country crimes attended with violence were most to be
apprehended, steps were taken for their suppression with a
strong hand, and for the introduction of a well-administered
system of criminal justice, to which the country was pre¬
viously a stranger. It was decided that all persons charged
with capital offences,such as gang-robbery, or murder, within
the territories of these chiefs, should be tried before a court
of justice, in which the British resident and three or four
chiefs should sit as assessors. This court was established
in 1839, and the results, it is stated, have been found satis¬
factory.
MEIBOM, or Meibomius, Marc, a learned philologist,
was born about 1630, at Tbnningen in the duchy of
Schleswig. His first work, a collection of seven ancient
authors on music, was dedicated to Queen Christina of
Sweden, and procured for him an invitation to the court at
Stockholm. There he lived for some time in the enjoy¬
ment of a pension from his royal patroness. At length,
having undertaken, at the request of the queen, to conduct
a concert in the manner of the ancient Greeks, he was so
much offended at the roars of ridicule and laughter which
his fantastic performance elicited from the courtiers, that
he left Sweden immediately. He bent his steps towards
Denmark, and there Frederick III. appointed him his libra¬
rian, and gave him a chair in the university of Upsal.
But in a short time some cause of discontent induced
Meibom to vacate his offices, and to repair to Holland.
His next appointment, the professorship of belles lettres in
the university of Amsterdam, was taken from him after the
lapse of a year, in consequence of his fastidious aversion to
teach the sons of burgomasters. After sojourning in
France for some time, he repaired to England in 1674,
intent upon publishing a new edition of the Hebrew Bible ;
but his whimsical emendations on the sacred text met with
no approval, and he was compelled to return to Amster¬
dam without having accomplished his cherished project.
Towards the close of his life he was driven to sell a
part of his library to supply his necessities. Marc Meibom
died at Utrecht in 1711. The following is a list of his
works :—Dialogus de Proportionibus, folio, Copenhagen,
1655; Antiques Musicce Auctores Septem, in 2 vols. 4to,
Amsterdam, 1652; De Veteri Fabrica Triremium, 4to,
Amsterdam, 1671; Davidis Balmi Duodecim et totidem
Sacrce Scriptures Veteris Testamenti Integra Capita,
prisco Hebreeo Metro restituta, folio, Amsterdam, 1698.
An edition of the ancient Greek mythologists, 8vo, Am¬
sterdam, 1688, and an edition of the Lives of the Philoso¬
phers, by Diogenes Laertius, in 2 vols. 4to, Amsterdam,
1692.
MEINERS, Christoph, a philosopher, historian, and
literateur of Germany, was born at Warstadt, near Ot-
terndorf in Hanover, in 1747. Passing from the gymna¬
sium of Bremen, where he left behind him a reputation fox-
extraordinary ardour, he entered the university of Got¬
tingen, where he completed his education, and afterwards
received the appointment of professor of philosophy in
1771. Although as a student he despised the lectures of his
masters, despite their acknowledged eminence, preferring to
study alone and by the aid of books, yet as a professor his
influence and success were by no means remarkable. He
was subsequently appointed vice-rector of his university,
YOL. XIV.
M E I
473
Meissen.
and became one of the most active members of the Royal Meiningen
Society of Gottingen, established a short time before by the
illustrious Haller. He received the title of Aulic Counsellor
from the Hanoverian government; and had the honour to
be appointed by the Emperor Alexander to the delicate mis¬
sion of selecting professors capable of naturalizing science
and letters in the empire of Russia,—a task which Meiners
discharged to the entire satisfaction of his imperial patx-on.
He died on the 1st of May 1810. Meiners occupies a
higher position as a writer than as a philosopher. The in¬
tellectual independence of his earlier years was mox-e ap¬
parent than i-eal when he attained to maturity. The suc¬
cess of his writings is chiefly attributable to two causes,—
their popular style, and their practical character. His style,
besides being very clear and methodical, is characterized
by a happy combination of candour and good sense, which
pleases the reader and awakens his interest. On meet¬
ing with a speculative problem, his first consideration is
not how to subject it to a thorough-going analysis, but
rather how to discoux-se about it in an easy, popular man¬
ner. He accordingly waged a perpetual war upon the dis¬
ciples of Leibnitz and Wolf, and the partisans of Kant,
denouncing them as unintelligible scholastics and dream¬
ing mystics. Philosophy in the hands of Meiners ceased
to deal with the recondite and the abstx-act; it became
an agreeable piece of study, not requiring much thought,
and doing no violence, by an abstract terminology, to the
taste ot the most fastidious. The only genuine philoso¬
pher of the eighteenth century he believed to be Rous¬
seau ; and he spared no pains in endeavouring to pro¬
pagate his doctrines and excuse his errors. Meiners la¬
boured to prove, from ancient and modex-n history, that
public prosperity and individual wellbeing are alike insepar¬
able from enlightenment and virtue. His writings exerted
considerable influence in Germany, and his views of the
physical and moral inferiority of the Negro race used to
be triumphantly quoted in the British Parliament by the de¬
fenders of the slave trade.
Of the works of Meiners, which were very voluminous,
the principal are,—Historia Doctrines de vero Deo, 1780;
Gesch. des Ursprungs, fyc., der Wissenschaften in Griechen-
land u. Rom., 3 Bde., 1781; Gesch. der Schonen Kilnste,
1787; Gesch. des Verfalls der Sitten, fyc.; der Romer,
1791; Gesch. der Religionen, 1806—7; Untersuchungen
iiber die Denk. u. Willenshrcifte, 1806.
MEININGEN, a town of Central Germany, capital of the
duchy of Saxe-Meiningen, is situated on the riglxt bank of
the Werra, 33 miles E.N.E. of Fulda. It stands in a valley,
sun-ounded by wooded hills, and is protected by walls and
ditches. The old part of the town is not well built; but
the newer portion is regular and handsome. The principal
building in the town is the palace of the Dukes of Saxe-
Meiningen, where they have resided since 1681. This
building contains a gallery of paintings and engravings, a
museum of natural history, and a large library. Besides
this, Meiningen contains the house of assembly for the
states of the duchy, three churches, several schools and
hospitals, and a theatre. The manufactures of the place
consist of woollen and linen stuffs, leather, &c. The town
has ten annual fairs, but the trade is not very considex-able.
Pop. 6451.
MEISSEN, a town of Saxony, circle of Dresden, occu¬
pying a picturesque position on the left bank of the Elbe,
nf ^ -^res<^en- The town is for the most part
ill built, and the streets are narrow and gloomy. The
principal building is the cathedral, a fine Gothic edifice,
surmounted by a spire adorned with elegant open work,
and containing numerous ancient monuments of the an-
cestois of the Saxon line of px-inces and others, as well as
several pictures by Albert Dui-er and Cranach, among
which are portraits of Luther, his wife, and his friend Fre-
3 o
474 M E I
Meissner dei'ick, the elector of Saxony- Close to the cathedral is the
II Princes’ chapel; and not far oft stands the palace of Al-
Mekran., brechtsburg, formerly the residence of the margraves, but
" now used as a porcelain manufactoiy, liomwliicli the finest
articles are produced. On a high rock, near that on which
the palace stands, and joined to it by a stone bridge, stands
the former convent of St Afra, now used as a school. There
are also several hospitals and other charitable and educa¬
tional institutions in Meissen. The chief branches of in¬
dustry pursued here are the manufacture of porcelain, em¬
ploying 500 or 600 hands, and the making of wine. There
are also sugar refineries, tanneries, and dyeworks, but they
are not of much importance. Pop. 8914.
MEISSNER, Augustus Gottlieb, a popular German
writer, was born at Bauzen in Upper Silesia in 1753. After
studying three years at Wittenberg, he went to study law
at Leipsic; and afterwards held the offices of chancery-
clerk and keeper of the archives at Dresden. In 1785 he
was appointed professor of aesthetics and classical literature
at the university of Prague ; and in 1805 became director
of the High School at Fulda, where he remained till his
death in 1807. In addition to some translations from the
dramas of Moliere and Destouches, Meissner wrote the
operas of Das Grab des Mufti, Der Alchymist, Die Schone
Arsene, which enjoyed a fair degree of popularity ; but the
work which rendered him a general favourite with the
public was his “ Sketches” (Skizzen, Leipzig, 1778-96), ex¬
tending to fourteen series, and made up of essays, tales, and
dialogues, &c., written with much lively vigour and quaint
pleasantry, and displaying subtle powers of observation and
clear-sighted sagacity. These pieces, besides charming the
readers of light literature in Germany, attracted the notice
of foreign readers also, and were translated, in whole or in
part, into French, Danish, and Dutch, and into English in
Thompson’s German Miscellany. Meissner followed up
the plan of these sketches in his Tales and Dialogues {fEr-
zdhlungen u. Dialogen, 1781-89), which afford very agree¬
able and often highly instructive reading. Besides being
an extensive contributor to a great number of literary
journals, Meissner produced a series of romances of a his¬
torical and biographical nature, the principal of which are,
—Bianca Capello, 1785 ; Masaniello, 1785 ; Spartacus,
1792 ; Epaminondas, 1798; Das Leben des Julius Cdsar,
1799.
MEKLONG, or Mekhlong, a town of Siam, is situated
at the mouth of a river of the same name, 30 miles S.W. of
Bankok. It has a harbour for small vessels, and the trade
is considerable. Pop. from 10,000 to 13,000.
MEKONG, Menam-kong, or Cambodia, a river of Asia,
which is supposed to rise in the Chinese province of Yun¬
nan, near the frontiers of Thibet, and which flows S.E.
through a fertile valley till it falls into the Chinese Sea by
several mouths. The river is navigable in the province of
Yun-nan ; and it receives large volumes of water from the
neighbouring mountains. In many parts the stream is
deep; but in some places it is interrupted by shallows,
rocks, and falls. Many flourishing cities are situated orl
its banks.
MEKRAN, or Mukkan, a province of Beloochistan,
bounded on the N. by Afghanistan and the province of
Sarawan, E. by those of Jhalawan and Lus, S. by the
Indian Ocean, and W. by Persia. It lies between 25. and
28. N. Lat., and between 58. and 66. E. Long.; and has a
length of 500 miles, a breadth of 200, and an area of
100,000 square miles. The northern part of this district
is mountainous, being traversed by two parallel ranges of
mountains from E. to W. The most northern of these,
which is the highest, is called the Wushutee Mountains;
and between the two ridges lies a tract called Punjgoor,
of very inferior elevation. The whole of this northern dis¬
trict bears the name of Kohistan, or highlands. The south-
M E L
ern part of the province consists of a low, flat country, for Mela.*
the most part barren and destitute of vegetation. Mekran
is separated from the adjoining province of Lus, on the E.,
by a range of hills called the Kara, running from N. to S.
From the mountains down to the sea there stretch numerous
water-courses, which are the beds of furious torrents in the
rainy season, but at other times are quite dry. In this pro¬
vince there are two wet seasons,—one in February and
March, when the wind is generally N.W.; and the other
from June till August, when the country is visited by the
S.W. monsoon. From March till October the weather is
extremely warm, especially in the beginning of August,
when the heat is so great as to confine the inhabitants to
their houses. Along the coast there is hardly any winter
at all, though in the highlands the weather from November
to February is cool. The country being generally barren,
the people are chiefly employed in pastoral pursuits. In
some of the valleys a small quantity of corn is raised; in
other parts vines are cultivated; and in the hottest places
the date palm thrives remarkably, furnishing an important
article of food. The trade of this province is inconsider¬
able, consisting in the exportation of wool, hides, dates,
&c.; and the importation of cloth, iron, sugar, &c. Many
of the inhabitants of the coast are employed in fishing, and
live to a great extent on fish, as their ancestors did in the
days of Alexander the Great. Mekran is in a state of
great anarchy and confusion, being partly subject to Persia
and partly to the Imam of Muscat; while the most power¬
ful tribe, the Narroi Belooches, employ themselves in fre¬
quent and rapid forays, carrying off the inhabitants as well
as their cattle. Through this province there are two prac¬
ticable routes for an army from Persia to India, one
through the highlands, about 100 miles from the sea, and
the other along the coast. The former, though more diffi¬
cult of passage, and inaccessible for artillery, is better sup¬
plied with water and provisions than the latter, which was
that taken by Alexander on his return from India. Pop.
estimated at 200,000.
MELA, Pomponius, the earliest Roman writer on geo¬
graphy, flourished in the first century of the Christian era.
From the fact that his surname was Mela, and that he was
a Spaniard by birth, some have inferred that he was iden¬
tical with L. Annaeus Mela, the son of Seneca the rhetori¬
cian ; but the only incidents in his life that are known as
certain are gleaned from his work. In it we learn that he
was born on the shore of the Bay of Algesiras, at a town which
various lections have severally rendered Tingentera and
Cingentera. His mention of the town of Caesar Augusta,
and his occasional allusibns to Augustus, indicate that he
must have lived at some period after that emperor. At the
same time the fact that he speaks (iii. 6) of a mighty
emperor triumphing on account of the conquest of Britain,
renders it almost certain that he lived in the reign of Clau¬
dius, the first Roman potentate who can be said to have
subdued that island. #
The title generally given to the work of Mela is De Situ
Orbis libri iii. In the introduction the author divides
the northern, or known hemisphere, into three parts:
Europe, bounded on the S. by the Mediterranean, and on
the E. by the River Tanais {Don); Africa, bounded on the
E. by the Nile, and on the N. by the Mediterranean; and
Asia, the remaining portion. Then, commencing at the
Pillars of Hercules, and passing along the southern shore of
the Mediterranean, he describes Mauritania, Numidia,
Africa Proper, Egypt, Arabia, Syria, Phoenicia, Cilicia,
Pamphylia, Lycia, Caria, Ionia, /Eolis, Bithyma, Paphla-
gonia, and the other districts along the coast of the E*uxine.
In the second book he begins at the Tanais {Don), and,
coasting along the European shore, he describes Scythia,
Thrace, Macedonia, Greece, the Peloponnesus, Epirus,
Illyricum, Italy, Gallia Narbonensis, and the eastern coast
M E L
Slelampus of Spain. He then concludes this book by a description of
|] the Mediterranean islands. The third book is occupied
tiion°" ai\acc°unt of the western coast of Spain, the western
v ^ coast of Gaul, the islands of the Northern Ocean, Germany,
Sarmatia, the countries on the Caspian Sea, Carmania,
Persia, Arabia, Ethiopia, and that part of Mauritania which
borders on the Atlantic. In the composition of his work
Mela has followed Eratosthenes, and other Greek geogra¬
phers, with a closeness that sometimes prevents him from
availing himself of the fuller and more accurate information
of his own day. The text, chiefly on account of the
abundance of proper names, is swarming with corruptions.
Simplicity, conciseness, and perspicuity are the character¬
istics of the style, dhe best editions of Mela are those of
Gronovius, 8vo, Leyden, 1728, and Tzschuckius, 8vo, Leip-
sic, 1807. There is an old English translation, entitled
The rare and singular Work of Pomponius Mela, that
excellent and worthy cosmographer, of the situation of the
vv orld, most orderly prepared, and divided every parte by
its selfe: with the Longitude and Latitude of everie King-
dome, Regent, Province, Rivers, &c., translated in Eng-
lyshe by Arthur Golding, Gent, 4to, London, 1590.”
MELAMPUS, a famous physician and soothsayer in
fabulous history, was the son of Amythaeon. His mother
is variously represented to have been Eidomene, Aglaia, and
Rhodope. While living with his uncle Neleus, King of Py-
los, in the Peloponnesus, he happened one day to fall asleep
on the grass in front of his house. A brood of young ser¬
pents, which he had tamed, crawled upon his head, and
began to lick his ears. Wakened by their touch, he started
up, and discovered for the first time that he understood the
chirping or the birds on the trees, and had thus acquired the
means of interpreting the future. About the same time he
had an interview with Apollo by the side of the Alpheus
(Rufia), and was initiated by him into the mysteries of
medicine. Melampus had gained great repute as a sooth¬
sayer, when his brother Bias fell violently in love with Pero,
the daughter of King Neleus. The father, however, de¬
clared that no man could win the maiden’s hand but he who
should carry off the oxen of Iphiclus from Phylace. As
that herd was guarded by a huge dog of noted ferocity,
Bias did not dare to attempt the feat, but called in the aid
of his soothsaying brother. Melampus accordingly pro¬
ceeded to drive off the oxen, was caught, as he had fore¬
seen, in the attempt, and was thrown into prison. During
his confinement he contrived to make known his superna¬
tural gifts, and was asked to prescribe a remedy by which
Iphiclus might become a father. The prescription proved
successful, and Melampus was presented with the coveted
herd as a reward. Lie was next employed by Anaxagoras,
King of Argos, to cure the women in his kingdom of an
epidemic frenzy. In consideration of this service he was
rewarded with one-third of the territory of Argos for him¬
self, and another for his brother Bias. Instead of this story,
however, some relate another. According to them, the
three daughters of the Argive King Proetus were the per¬
sons whom Melampus restored to sanity; and in return for
his aid the physician received the hand of Iphianassa, or
Iphianeira, the eldest of the princesses, and a third part of
the territory of her father. By this wife he is said to have
had four children,—Antiphates, Manto, Bias, and Pronoe.
Melampus was reckoned by the ancients to have been the
first prophet, and the first who practised the art of medicine.
I he medicinal herb /xeXa/xTroStov {sneeze-wort), acquired
its name from having been first used by him. He received
divine honours after death, and his temple was built at
ASgosthena in Megaris. His descendants were a family of
prophets.
MELANCTLION, Philip, or Melanthon, as he was
accustomed to spell his name towards the close of his life,
was born at Bretten, or Bretheim, a town of the Lower Pa-
M E L 475
latinate, 16th Feb. 1497. His father, George Schwarzerde, Melanc-
or Schwarzerd, was a native of Lleidelberg, an armourer of thon*
some celebrity in his trade, and a kinsman of the famous '''■“■'V*"'
scholar Reuchlin. He was a man pious and affectionate,
but at the same time stern and unflinching; and his calm,
truthful nature seems to have been deepened into a grave
and gloomy earnestness by the continued rankling of a sick¬
ness begun four years before his death, and by his friends
attributed to an accidental draught of slow poison. On his
deathbed he committed his son, then a boy of eleven years,
to God’s guidance, in prospect of “ terrible tempests that
were about to shake the world.” Melancthon’s mother,
Barbara Reuter, was a daughter of a distinguished citizen
of Bretten, who had for some years been mayor of the town.
What her husband was from principle she was by instinct;
and with her instinctive love of truth and charity there
mingled an idealizing grace which seems to have bordered
on superstition. She was the author of the popular house¬
wifely rhyme, beginning
“Almosen geben armet nicht.”1
She was passionately fond of young Philip, and remained
a widow until the tie which bound them together was
loosened, not without many misgivings on her part, by
his marriage. On account of the armourer’s incessant
occupations, the early education of her favourite boy fell
into her hands; but she was assisted by her father, and
Reuchlin, her husband’s kinsman, seems to have taken
great interest in his progress. In approbation of Philip’s
boyish acquirements this devoted scholar sent him a pre¬
sent of two books, a Greek grammar and a Bible; and
it is interesting to note that thus early his talents were
turned into their destined channel, Greek literature and
sacred learning. At a school at Pfortsheim, where George
Simler was rector, Philip received his classical education.
He lived, along with John Reuter, in the house of Reuch-
lin’s sister, and was thus frequently brought into familiar
intercourse with the rugged author of the Epistolce Ob-
scurorum Virorum. From Reuchlin, who had allowed
himself to be dubbed “ Capnio” (Kapnos being the Greek oi
Rauch, smoke), the young Schwarzerde (black earth) re¬
ceived the Grecized name of Melancthon, by which he is
now universally known. In 1509 he was sent to the univer¬
sity of Heidelberg; and in 1512 he removed to Tubingen,
where he acquired so great a reputation for scholarship as
to deserve a high encomium from Erasmus, who predicted
that himself and all the other lights of learning would soon
be eclipsed by this stripling of eighteen. In the beginning
of 1514 Melancthon received his doctorship in philosophy.
He immediately began to give public lectures in rhetoric,
and to expound Virgil and Terence and other authors.
Of his inner history, as he was now approaching the crisis
of his life, we can obtain only a passing glance. At a later
period he tells us how he shuddered at the remembrance of
his youthful image-worship; but we know that at this time
he was a diligent student of the Scripture, and that as he
carried the favourite Bible of Frobenius to the church, the
monks, who thought every one a Jew who read Hebrew
and every one a heretic who read Greek, did not fail to in¬
sinuate the heathenism of reading books of suspicious bulk
within the sacred precincts.
He had been thus engaged for three years, when, on the
nomination of Reuchlin, he was appointed by the elector
of Saxony professor of Greek in the university of Wittem-
beig. All iiibingen,” says Simler, “lamented his de-
parture; but when he arrived at Wittemberg, after a
1 Alms-giving beggareth not:
Church-going hindereth not:
To grease the car delayeth not:
Gain ill-gotten helpeth not:
God’s book deceiveth not.
Miiller’s Reliquien.
76 M E L A N
Melanc- Journey which was a continued ovation, his slight figuie,
thon. hesitant expression, and ungraceful gait, cieated an impies-
 ^ sion far from favourable. The facility and grace of his
inaugural oration, however, quickly dispelled the feais of
the professors; and Luther, who had shaken his head with
the rest was among the foremost to celebrate the learning
and power of his youthful colleague. Melancthon, on his
part, was not slow to appreciate the depth and warmth of
Luther’s character. A letter is extant, which seems to
have been written about this time, in which Melancthon
says, that “ if he loved any man on earth with his whole
heart, that man was Martin.” And thus began the inti¬
macy of two friends, destined, with their united strength, to
roll the religious as well as the literary world back on its
axis, but each leaving the impress of his own human weak¬
ness on the machinery which they framed to effect the re¬
volution. “ Luther,” says D’Aubigne, “ possessed warmth,
vigour, and strength ; Melancthon clearness, discretion, and
mildness. Luther gave energy to Melancthon; Melancthon
moderated Luther. They were like substances in a state
of positive and negative electricity, which mutually act
upon each other. If Luther had been without Melancthon,
perhaps the torrent would have overflowed its banks. Me¬
lancthon, when Luther was taken from him by death, hesitated
and gave way, even when he should not have yielded.”
Under the teaching of Melancthon, Wittemberg became
the school of the nation. The scholastic methods of in¬
struction were summarily abandoned; and in a Discourse
on Reforming the Studies of Youth, which Melancthon
gave in the first year of his professorship, the key-note
was struck of a deeper earnestness in philology, and ot a
keener appreciation of truth, felt by minds of fearless truth¬
fulness to be sacred, although buried in the classics of hea¬
then antiquity. During that year his lectures were divided
between Homer and the apostle Paul; and it is character¬
istic of the man that the same devout and reverent spirit
guided his studies in both. In reading Homer he announced
it as his aim, like Solomon, to seek Tyrian brass and gems
for the adornment of God’s temple. It is also significant
of his tendency to purify where others would destroy, that,
though at first carried away by Luther’s denunciation of the
Peripatetic philosophy, he quickly retracted his opinion, and
sought to use the logic of the schools as a wholesome dis¬
cipline in the service of theology. He was instrumental
also, by his advent at Wittemberg, in stimulating and
assisting Luther in the translation of the Bible, which was
begun as early as 1517, but was progressing somewhat fit¬
fully and slowly. All this happened within the bosom of
the Church of Rome, with which his colleague and he were
soon to be in open rupture.
Issuing from the patronage of Reuchlin, and deeply im¬
bued with love for the Scriptures, Melancthon adopted
without difficulty the principles of Wittemberg. In proof
of his earnestness, he attended Luther and Carlstadt to the
disputation of Leipsic. He took no public part in the de¬
bate, but, by his private suggestions to the combatants, he
attracted the angry sarcasms of Eck, who was indignant
that this grammarian, as he called him, should dare to in¬
terfere in the discussion. On its conclusion, Melancthon
addressed an account of the debate in a letter to CEcolam-
padius; and so lightly did the passions of the time agitate
his truthful nature, that this epistle contains no exaggerated
eulogies of his own party, and even mentions the general
admiration entertained towards Eck on account of his varied
talents. Yet that vain polemic professed to be offended at
this narrative, and affecting to appreciate the superior eru¬
dition of Luther, rejected with scorn the tribute offered by
so unworthy a hand.
From this time forward Melancthon devoted himself
almost exclusively to theology, and his history becomes so
thoroughly interwoven with that of the Reformation, that
C T H O N.
only those points can be touched in which he stood aloof Melanc-
or alone among the band of Reformers. His life was chiefly tho11,
spent in writing books, and visiting colleges and churches v-"-'7
at the command of the elector. In 1520 he married Catha¬
rine Krapp, the daughter of a burgomaster of the town,
and by her he had two sons and two daughters, who all sur¬
vived him. She seems to have been of a very timid dis¬
position. He admired her; was forced often to yield to
her entreaties; but he never gave her half the love fie gave
to his books ; and on the marriage-day, conscious of a kind
of half-heartedness in the affair, he could not help saying
she deserved a better husband. In 1521 he rendered what
is his most valuable contribution to theological literature.
His Loci Communes Rerum Theologicarum were a sort of
summary of Christian doctrine, in which the truths asserted
by Luther in his various compositions were reduced to a
system, and thus more easily inculcated. The subjects of
difference with the Romish church are distinctly stated
with reference to scriptural proof, and without controversial
argument—a method of persuasion better suited to moderate
minds than the most eloquent appeals of impassioned reason.
It was the opposite to the method of Luther ; yet the latter
was so sensible of its advantages, and so little bigoted to
his own style, that he bestowed the strongest possible
eulogy on the production of his friend: he ranked it in¬
comparably above the writings of the fathers, and pronounced
it to be the best book he had ever seen except the Bible.
That in the heat of contending parties the exposition should
be so calm, is a beautiful proof of the natural bent of
Melancthon’s mind to idealize his antagonists; but this
necessity of his nature was all the more perilous for his
peace and power, when error threw a veil over its practical
extravagances, and became attractive only when impersonal.
Thus, when Stubner and Cellarius, escaping from among
the raving artizans of Zwickau, forced themselves on the
peaceful society of Wittemberg, and gave utterance to their
solemn impostures in his presence, the mind of Melancthon
was perplexed and shaken. In pensive adoration of the doc¬
trine of heavenly influences, which they put in the forefront
of their teaching, he received and protected the men whose
whole lives and utterances were a libel on the Spirit’s agency.
It is even said that he went so far as to advise his scholars
to renounce the study of profane literature, and to confine
their industry to the reading of the Bible and the practice
of mechanical arts. Such power had the simple brightness
of delusive doctrine to kindle reverence in his mind. It
needed the keen practical instincts of Luther to detect
the rent in the skirts of the idol’s shining robe, and by a
strong hand to expose the human folly and trickery con¬
cealed under the mask of mystery before which his com¬
panion trembled.
The share which Melancthon had in the transactions ot
the Diet of Augsburg has been already minutely given in
this work under the Life of Luther. He fell under the (
italitates of his enemies at a time when a final blow re¬
quired to be struck, but when his vision was hemmed in
and his spirits oppressed by the dark clouds that over¬
hung the national horizon. He had not the strong faith
of Luther either in the warlike mission or the final tri¬
umph of truth ; and it is no wonder that in such a battle¬
field the two friends should have parted company. That
oppressive love of home, which was a peculiar feature
in Melancthon’s character, acting on a spirit tuned from
boyhood to superstitious reverence, seems to have asserted
its sway in this crisis of home-leaving from the Church
of Rome; and in the entire absence of a sublime re¬
venge against error and wrong, which is the birthright
of the true reformer, there was no passion left in the
mind of Melancthon to still the struggles of human ten¬
derness, or break the chains of youthful awe. Besides, his
catholic spirit, which had strong yearnings, although no
MEL
Melanc- prophetic glimpses, shrunk from the sad necessity of con-
thon. verting forts of defence into armed sanctuaries of solid
stone, lest the building of the one temple of God should
be delayed till not the tottering walls of Babylon, but the
too narrow Jerusalem of the Reformed Church, should
crumble into the dust. At all events, those who now inherit
his hesitancy profess thus to interpret his spirit. The Interim
of Augsburg, drawn up by Pflug, Sidonius, and Agricola,
with the view of bridging over the chasm between the
Roman Church and the Reformed, although it did not
receive the approbation of Melancthon, is famous as having
called forth the Adiaphoristic controversy, in which Me¬
lancthon propounded his views on the obligation of things
indifferent to the personal salvation and purity of the be¬
liever. This Interim adultero- Germanum, as Calvin styled
it, contained nearly the entire system of Romish theology;
and Melancthon and the Philippists generally addressed
themselves to the hopeless task of so modifying its state¬
ments as to accommodate them to the views of the Reformers.
He was willing to tolerate both a popedom and a hierarchy,
stripped, however, of divine right, and deprived of all power
in matters of faith. He thought the church should allow
seven sacraments, provided the name of sacrament was not
given to those rites only of human origin. The relation
of faith to works, and the doctrine of the sacraments, might,
in his estimation, be veiled in a judicious obscurity of phrase.
The contest assumed a new significance after the publica¬
tion of the Leipsic Interim in 1548. In this deed the
Philippists defined what those things were which they re¬
garded as indifferent; and in which, for the sake of peace
and unity, they thought they might be at liberty to obey
the emperor. It must not, however, be forgotten, that
from the views given in the Loci Communes as the ex¬
pression of his own faith Melancthon never swerved; and
that he regarded the surrender of more perfect for less
perfect forms of truth as a painful sacrifice conscientiously
rendered to the weakness of erring brethren.
By this time Luther had been two years dead. From
their earliest intimacy he had delighted to call himself the
forerunner of Philip, and had compared himself to a storm-
wind ushering in the still small voice of his friend. The
storm-wind, however, did not cease at Luther’s death, and
in the general confusion the calm voice of Melancthon was
scarcely heard. The last years of his life were spent in fruit¬
less conferences with the representatives of Rome on the
one hand and the more distinguished Reformers on the
other, in somewhat feeble replies to the fierce assaults of
his enemies, and in the more pleasant duties of his profes¬
sional office. How much his mild spirit was depressed by the
contention of the times may be gathered from the tone of
holy happiness which elevates his correspondence when¬
ever, in his later years, he is called to celebrate the death
of a dear friend. During the last three years of his life
he suffered much from cold and intermittent fever. His
wife died in the end of 1557; and the fatal year when he
should be 63 years of age—a term to which he had looked
forward with a mysterious dread as that beyond which
his mortal existence could not possibly be prolonged—was
fast approaching. In 1558 he calmly adjusted the desira¬
bility of living or dying; and in the one balance he found
nothing but sin and the rage of theologians to be weighed
against the light of God’s face, the unveiling of the mysteries
of providence on earth, and the full intelligence of Christ’s
nature in heaven. On the 12th April 1560 he delivered
his last lecture ; and his few moments of strength were spent
in writing the Chronicon, a narrative of general history from
the Creation to the Reformation. On the 19th April of
that same year he breathed his last, having lived little
more than two months beyond the period which he con¬
sidered a fatal term. His body was laid in a leaden coffin
close beside that of Martin Luther.
MEL 477
Melancthon’s Life has been written by Camerarius, and Melbourne,
from his biography we draw almost exclusively the details
of his private and domestic history. There are, however,
more recent sketches of his life and times by Karl Matthes ;
and by C. F. Ledderhose, Heid. 1847-8. In English there
is a somewhat meagre biography by F. A. Cox, London,
1815 ; but the most enduring monument of his fame is
the Reformatorum Opera, edited by Bretschneider, but
still unfinished, the first 22 vols. of which do not exhaust
the works of Melancthon.
MELBOURNE, the capital of the colony of Victoria
in South-Eastern Australians situated on the River Yarra-
Yarra, at the head of the large estuary of Port Phillip, in
S. Lat. 37. 48., E. Long. 144. 58. The site was selected
and occupied in the year 1835 by a small colonizing party
from Van Diemen’s Land. The town was officially re¬
cognised and designated two years afterwards by the go¬
vernment of New South Wales, to which colony Melbourne,
together with the surrounding district, pertained until its
formation into an independent colony in 1851 under the
present name of Victoria. The capital of the future colony
was named in honour of the English prime minister of
the day, Lord Melbourne.
The rapid growth of Melbourne has given it an exten¬
sion far beyond the limits of its original plan. The prin¬
cipal part of the town is still on the northern bank of the
river, where it was first founded ; but considerable divisions
or wards have sprung up on the south side also, where South
Melbourne, Sandridge, St Kilda, and the western part of
South Yarra, are comprised within the city boundary. On
the northern bank the site consists of two eminences, called
respectively the Eastern and Western Hills, which, with the
intervening hollow, have been overspread with streets and
houses. The lower situations along the bank, and for a
short distance up this hollow (now the main thoroughfare
called Elizabeth Street), were until lately exposed to floods
from the river ; but the municipal improvements have now
so considerably raised these exposed places as to cause little
or no apprehension on this account for the future. The
southern side of the river is flat and swampy, excepting the
sandy margin upon the bay where Sandridge is built, and
the rising ground where the other parts of Melbourne
already spoken of are laid out. To the westward, on the
N. side of the Yarra, is another flat called Batman’s Swamp,
having a salt lagune, without outlet, and a creek or chain
of ponds entering it at the north, but without stream in its
bed save on rare occurrences of heavy rains. So much sur¬
rounding low land is considered unfavourable to health;
and the low parts of the town are decidedly so, especially
in the present imperfectly drained condition of Mel¬
bourne. The original block of the town was laid out with¬
out open reserves, probably from the moderate anticipa¬
tions of the future city. In the subsequent extension,
however, this great defect has been remedied. Besides
the Royal Park to the N.W., and the Police Paddock
and other large spaces on the outskirts, there are the beau¬
tiful natural sites of the Carlton and Fitzroy Gardens,
which are already being surrounded by the houses of the
expanding capital.
I he undulation of the site has occasioned some artificial
levelling, although not to a great extent. The streets are
mostly at right angles; and being of considerable length,
straight, and of ample width, they have a good appearance.
All the principal lines are well finished, being macadamized
in the middle, and drained, kerbed, and to a great extent
flagged, on either side. In the original plan there were
alternate lanes or narrow streets, which had been intended
to serve as back entrances to allotments extending from the
main streets. As the town increased, however, and the
lands became very valuable, the original allotments were
subdivided to a degree far beyond what had been antici-
478
M E L B 0 U R N E.
Melbourne, pated, so that those lanes soon became independent streets,
and among the busiest hives of population and trade.
They are thus an unhealthy feature of the older town ; and
the mistake has not been repeated with the newer plans.
The climate of Melbourne in its mean results is cooler,
as usual in the Southern Hemisphere, than that of the same
latitude in the N., but it is subject to very frequent changes,
particularly during the summer season. The mean tem¬
perature of January last (midsummer), for example, was
660,4. The highest indicated temperature was ]01°T,
the lowest 48° ; while the mean daily range of the month
was so considerable as 190,4. It is not, therefore, a cli¬
mate suited to invalids, as is often supposed. It possesses,
however, an agreeableness of character, arising from the
great proportion of fair and sunny weather, which is espe¬
cially noticeable to the British emigrant. Another mis¬
take, still more common, attributes to Australian colonies
a very diminished supply of rain as compared with Eu¬
ropean countries. On this subject the following results are
interesting, as they compare the rain-fall at Melbourne with
that at London :—At Melbourne the annual mean of five
years (1847-51) gave 32*63 inches; while at London the
mean of twenty years, ending in 1846, gave only 24*04
inches. The seasons of greatest rain in each are somewhat
different. The wettest months at Melbourne were those
between April and November inclusive, when the monthly
mean was 3*4 inches; while the driest were between De¬
cember and March, the monthly average being only 1*3
inch. Thus the most rain occurred from the last half of
autumn to the beginning of summer; while in London, it
would appear, the rain falls proportionably most from mid¬
summer to the beginning of winter (June to November).
This is almost an exact reversal; but as the opposites in
the antipodean seasons have been allowed for, it follows,
that both in London and at its antipodes the greatest
proportions of rain are occurring during about the same
time.
The commerce of Melbourne has already attained to a
scale that constitutes it, so far as regards that test, the
principal port of the British colonial dominions and ot the
Southern Hemisphere. This great and sudden development
is due to the Australian gold discoveries that took place in
1851. Although the first discoveries were made in New
South Wales, yet Victoi'ia, where the gold was soon after
found, has ever since yielded by far the larger proportion ;
and as nearly all the auriferous wealth flows through Mel¬
bourne, that place has thus acquired its surpassing impor¬
tance.
The following figures represent the import and export
commerce of the port of Melbourne for the last two years
(1855 and 1856) according to the declared value at the
customs:— *
1855. 1856.
Imports L.10,232,279 L.13,240,751
Exports  12,706,849 14,363,250
Nearly the whole external commerce of the colony has
been gradually concentrating in Melbourne. For the year
1855 the total amounts for the colony were,—imports,
L.11,568,904; exports, L.13,469,194 ; from which we ob¬
serve that Melbourne possesses nearly eight-ninths of the
import and sixteen-seventeenths of the export commerce.
The export of gold is in the proportion of five-sixths of the
whole amount of exports.
The great and yearly expanding importance of Mel¬
bourne as a seaport demands for that part of our subject a
short notice. 1 he city is 8 miles by river course from the
mouth ot the karra, and thence to the Heads of Port
Phillip is 35 miles. These Pleads are but 2 miles apart; cind
through this strait, so narrow as compared with the expanse
of Port Phillip, the ebb and flow ot the outer ocean sweeps
with a strong current of 5 or 6 miles an hour, rendered more
remarkable by the eddying and jumbling of the water Melbourne,
caused by the great inequality of depth in the channel,
Ships sailing inwards are in a few minutes transported from
the stormiest to the calmest waters. Each in-flowing tide
is charged more or less with sand, sustained while the waters
are in motion, but deposited when they have come to rest
within the bay. Thus has arisen a system of sandbanks
extending 12 miles inwards, and navigable by several chan¬
nels, the deepest of which, called the South Channel, takes
a circuit by the S. and E. of the bay. As the entrance is
dangerous, particularly at night, pilots cruise about outside.
The danger, however, is now much diminished since a
second light has been added to Shortland’s Bluff, so as to
afford a safe entrance by keeping the two in line.
The anchorage is at Hobson’s Bay, the upper part of Port
Phillip, where the larger vessels were discharged by means
of lighters until within the last two years, when the Mel¬
bourne and Hobson’s Bay Railway began to expedite
this tedious process. The railway from Williamstown, now
nearly completed, will be a further improvement; and
although considerably longer, it has the advantage of a bet¬
ter sheltered jetty than the other. Extensive wharf accom¬
modation has been recently made at Melbourne to accom¬
modate the fleet of the smaller shipping and the lighters.
The authorities, in regard to harbour improvement policy,
have been for some time undecided between deepening the
present circuitous river-course and opening a new and
straight cut to the bay; the first being 8 miles, while the
other would be only about If mile. Opinion now inclines
to the first. The river has two bars or shallows,—one at the
mouth, the other half-way to Melbourne ; and neither has
more than nine feet of water at usual flood-tides. Be¬
sides these, however, other places, although not so shallow,
require to be deepened. Neither scheme can be carried
out without heavy expense; still the object to be attained
is greatly more important than the consideration of its
cost. A patent slip on a large scale is nowr being erected
at Williamstown. The rise and fall of tide in the bay
has usually a ramre of only three feet. Persons inter¬
ested in shipping and merchandise should be careful, in
bills of trading, of the use of the words “ Port of Mel¬
bourne,” which, although intended to mean Melbourne
itself, is now usually held to be the anchorage oft Wil¬
liamstown, unless the vessel is destined for or is able to
proceed up to “ Melbourne Wharf.”
Melbourne is the seat of a municipality, which was con¬
ferred in the year 1843. The mayor and aldermen are
elected by the council. The following is the valuation of
the city, taken for the purpose of levying the rate, for the
six years ending 1857 :—
1852   L.174,723
1853   638,824
1854   1,553,965
1855   1,077,725
1856   726,807
1857   911,414
The valuation for each year is taken towards the end of
the year preceding. We here observe the great rise in
value caused by the gold discoveries. Not less striking is
the reaction after 1854, when the colonists had gone too
great a length. The year 1856 gives less than half the
value for 1854, notwithstanding that some extension and
improvement had been effected intermediately. As the co¬
lony is again actively progressing, the value for 185/ shows
a large advance on that of the preceding year. The num¬
ber of houses for 1857 is given at 10,334, affording the un¬
paralleled average of nearly L.90 of yearly value for each
house.
The municipal revenues are considerable. In 1854 they
amounted to L.69,938 in gross total, and in 1856 to
L.71,717, which last amount comprised LAS,000 of city
MEL
Melbourne, rate, L.10,000 of lighting rate, and L.8000 of market dues.
^ The expense of salaries for 1856 was L.l2,954. In 1854
L.500,000 was borrowed by the corporation under the
sanction and with the guarantee of the colonial govern¬
ment. With so effective an aid the town was greatly im¬
proved in its streets. Already nearly a million sterling
may be computed to have been spent in such improve¬
ments.
Melbourne is the seat of the colonial government, which
is now, since the recent concession of political freedom,
administered on the constitutional plan of that of England.
There are two houses of parliament, both elected by the
people; while the governor is nominated by the crown.
The press is an active agent, and issues three large daily
papers in Melbourne, besides various others at longer in¬
tervals.
Melbourne already possesses many public institutions of
a charitable or useful description. The hospital was begun
in 1846; and in 1856 administered to 1725 in-door and 3393
out-door patients. There is also a benevolent and a lunatic
asylum, a mechanics institution and public library, and
latterly a spacious and costly university, which as yet,
however has not been adequately supplied with pupils, the
Parliament-House, which is still unfinished, will be a very
large and handsome structure.
The costliness of everything, and the rush and bustle of
life and business during the first years of the gold-digging,
caused the erection of many poor and temporary structures
throughout the town. Many grotesque-looking edifices of
wood and iron had been rapidly put up, which contributed
little by way of ornament, and still less of comfort under
the extremes of the climate. An entire suburb of tents on
the southern side of the river acquired the significant name
of Canvastown ; but it has now happily quite disappeared,
and with it much misery and mortality. The iron and
timber buildings are gradually being displaced by a better
kind of edifice as their sites get more valuable. There
are now many handsome shops, and a considerable profu¬
sion of plate-glass, which begins to appear in the windows
of private residences as well as of numerous shops and
warehouses. Many houses of timber or iron still remain ;
but, with few exceptions, the custom is now to build of
brick or stone, particularly of the former, as bricks are now
largely made in the country. The various churches, which
are chiefly collected upon the Eastern Hill, exhibit amongst
them some large and costly edifices. The banking com¬
panies, too, have erected handsome places of business; and
many substantial warehouses of the merchants are scattered
over the town. The river is crossed by a bridge of un¬
usually large span. The chief thoroughfares are crowded
with traffic, with foot-passengers and omnibuses, to an
extent not inferior to that exhibited by the larger and most
stirring of the British towns.
Melbourne boasts of a large “ Theatre-Royal,” nearly
equal in its accommodation to the largest London houses.
There are two smaller theatres, and a spacious “ Astley’s.”
The last is a wooden fabric, and being capable of containing
4000 persons, it is much used for the political and other
“ mass meetings” of the colonists. In the suburbs are
“ Cremorne Gardens, ” where fireworks, Sebastopol sieges,
and other attractions are nightly exhibited. The annual
races last for three days, and are always so absorbing as
almost to cause a general holiday-making. Cricket, too,
is a favourite pastime both in Melbourne and throughout
the colony.
In front of the town-hall and adjacent police-office is a
considerable stand of cabs. There are regular daily coaches
to the interior towns that are rising rapidly upon or near to
M E L
479
the different gold-fields; and a growing fleet of steamers Melchise-
maintains regular communications with neighbouring ports d®0-
and colonies,—namely, daily to Geelong, and at wider in-
tervals to Alberton, Sydney, Portland, Adelaide, Laun¬
ceston, and Hobart Town. Railway travelling is as yet
confined to the two miles of the Melbourne and Hobson’s
Bay line, and a small part of the Geelong and Melbourne
line next the former town; but it is expected that the
present year (1857) will witness the opening of the entire
way, together with the branch of the Hobson’s Bay line to
St Kilda, and the line to Williamstown. The great lines
to the gold-fields are as yet scarcely commenced.
Among the more recent improvements in the city con¬
nected with the sanitary and general wellbeing, we may
notice the erection of an elegant and substantial market¬
place in the Custom-House Square; and in the same locality
a savings-bank and a fine exchange edifice for the use of
the commercial interests, and a place of meeting for the
Chambei of Commerce. In January 1856 Melbourne was
lighted with gas. At a latter period of the same year a
supply of water was introduced throughout the town, raised
from the river by pumping machinery. By this arrange¬
ment, besides the supply to the dwellings, there is a regular
watering of the streets; while the risk from fire is greatly
diminished. This supply, however, is only temporary,
pending the completion of the gigantic works connected
with the Yan Yean reservoir, near the head of the River
Plenty, about 18 miles to the N.E. of the town. Im¬
mediately following this completion will come the much-
wanted drainage and sewerage, upon which the health of
the population of Melbourne so greatly depends.
The increase of the population of Melbourne has been
as remarkable as that of its commerce. The census of
1841 gives it 4440; that of 1846 a little short of 10,000.
In 1851, just prior to the gold discoveries, it had at¬
tained to 23,000; but in 1854 the numbers were 53,235,
while the suburbs contained 23,330,—making a total of
76,565.
A census taken on 29th March last (1857), but the results
of which have not yet been made public, will probably give
to Melbourne about 70,000 within the city boundaries, be¬
sides 30,000 in the suburbs, making a total of 100,000
souls. (vy. w—H.)
MELCHISEBILC, (p“l^>"0 Sq, rexjustitice), the name
of an individual who occupies an important place amongst
the characters which appear in the Old Testament history, as
typical of Christ. Very little, however, is said in Scripture
regarding him personally; his name occurs only twice in
the Old Testament (in Gen. xiv. 18, and in Psalm cx. 4);
and the reference to him in the New (in Heb. vii. 20, and
yii. 1) has respect only to his typical character. His name
is mentioned for the first time in the sacred history on the
occasion of the return of Abraham from the defeat of the
four kings or sheikhs who had invaded the district of Sodom,
and carried captive his nephew Lot. In the valley of Shaveh,
or “ The King’s Dale,” probably the same valley as that
mentioned under the same name in 2 Samuel xviii. 18 the
victor was met by Melchisedec, who is described as “ the
King of Salem,’ and who, with the generous readiness of
eastern hospitality, set before him and his troop “ bread and
wme,”—that is a plentiful repast.1 Whether the Salem
here mentioned is the same as that mentioned in Psalm
Ixxvi. 2, and which is plainly Jerusalem; or is, as Jerome
suggests, a place near Scythopolis, and which he identifies
also with the Salem near to which John the Baptist baptized,
remains still a matter of dispute among scholars. The ma-
jonty o emment names is in favour of the former opinion;
but Bochart, Rosenmiiller, and others, have decided for
1 Patrick, in loc. Josephus, Antiq. i. 9.
480 M E L C H I S E D E C.
Melchise- latter.1 In addition to his royal dignity he sustained
<lec'' also the sacerdotal office : “ he was priest of the Most High
Godand in this capacity he pronounced a benediction
on Abraham. In return for his kindness, and especially
from reverence to his priestly office, the patriarch gave him
a tithe of all the spoil he had taken in that expedition, from
which he was then returning.
This is the sum of what Moses records respecting Mel-
chisedec; and the only addition that can be made to the
recital from the other passages above referred to is, that his
priesthood was not derived from hereditary descent, but had
been conferred on him by the immediate appointment of
God.2 Meagre, however, as this account is, there is some¬
thing in the character and position of the individual to whom
it refers of so singular a nature, as at once to excite curi¬
osity, and stimulate further investigation. That in a land in¬
habited by the accursed race of Canaan, and at a time when
the knowledge of the true God was confined apparently to
Abraham and his dependents,3 an individual descended from
that race should have been found uniting in himself the two
offices of priest and king, worshipping the true God of hea¬
ven and of earth,4 and so eminent in dignity and piety that
his blessing was gratefully received by Abraham, and the
divinity of his priesthood acknowledged on the part of the
patriarch by an offering to him of tithes, are circumstances
which cannot fail to excite the surprise of every reader of
the sacred narrative. It is natural for him to ask—Who or
what was this extraordinary character ? From what race did
he spring ? Whence did he derive his knowledge of the true
God ? Or how came he to be “ a king of righteousness,”
and “ a king of peace,” as well as a priest of God, in the
land of Canaan ? To these questions the narrative of Moses
furnishes no reply ; and what is said of him in other parts of
Scripture5 only tends to heighten our curiosity, by the ele¬
vated rank which is there assigned to him as a type of the
Messiah. Our only resource in such a case is probable con¬
jecture, and to this it is not surprising that expositors of the
Scriptures, both in ancient and modern times, should have
had recourse ; nor is it to be wondered at that the opinions
which they have advocated on the subject have been both
numerous and discordant. To recapitulate the whole of
these would only be to occupy space which might be far
more usefully filled; we shall therefore confine ourselves
to a statement of one or two of the most prominent, with
a brief view of the arguments by which they have been
enforced.
1. By the Jewish expositors generally Melchisedec is
said to have been Shem, the son of Noah, and this, as we
learn from Epiphanius {Hceres. lv., p. 205), was also the
opinion entertained by the Samaritans. It has likewise
been held by a few Christian interpreters, amongst whom
* is Luther. The passages from Jewish writers advocating it
have been carefully collected by Bochart (Phaleg., lib. ii.,
c. 1), who has also very satisfactorily shown its absurdity.
Apart from the decisive evidence furnished against it by the
statement of Paul, that Melchisedec was one whose descent
could not be identified with that of the Levites (/v») yevea-
Xoyov/j.evo'i e£ avrwv, Heb. vii. 5),—a statement which is not
true of Shem, who was in the regular line of Levi’s progeni¬
tors,—it seems highly unreasonable that Moses, who often
mentions Shem, should here introduce him under another
name, without giving any explanation as to the person really
intended; nor is it easily conceivable that Abraham should
have been described as “ sojourning in a strange country,”
if he had been in the immediate vicinity of his ancestor Melchise-
Shem. The Jews, moreover, are not unanimous in this dec¬
opinion, for Josephus tells us that Melchisedec was a prince
of the Canaanites ;6 and in one place of the rabbinical book
Sohar7 he is spoken of as a type of the King of true peace.
2. Augustin and Theodoret severally inform us of a class
of heretics in the early church, who received the name of
Melchisedechians, from their holding the opinion that Mel¬
chisedec was a mighty divine power (dei virtutem, geydXrjv
nva kolL Ociav Svvdfjuv), superior to Christ, and the model
after which Christ was formed. The founder of this sect
was one Theodotus, an usurer, who seems to have flour¬
ished about the year 174.8 An advance upon this opinion
was made by Hierax, who, as we learn from Epiphanius,
identified this divine power with the Holy Spirit (Hcer. lv.,
p. 304). The sect seems to have commanded little atten¬
tion, and their opinion is worthy of notice only as forming
one of the heresies of the early church.
3. By some of the fathers, and not a few of the more
modern expositors, Melchisedec has been regarded as the
Logos or second person of the Trinity, who appeared to
Abraham, not incarnate, but only, as Epiphanius expresses
it, Iv iSe'a dv9pd)Trov, in the model of man. In defence of this
opinion, its advocates adduce, 'first, the acknowledged fact
that such appearances were vouchsafed to the patriarchs,
as in the case of Abraham, when “ the Lord” communed
with him respecting the destruction of Sodom, and of Jacob,
when he wrestled with the angel, and saw “ God face to
facesecondly, the evident mystery attached in Scripture
to the person and character of Melchisedec, “ of whom,”
says Paul, “ we have many things to say and hard to be
uttered;”9 thirdly, the assertion of the same apostle, that
Melchisedec was not mortal, implied in his declaration, that
whilst other men who receive tithes die, “ it is witnessed of
him that he liveth ;”10the strong and unqualified
terms in which the unearthly origin of the “ order” of his
priesthood, and its perpetual duration, are spoken of by the
same apostle, as well as by the psalmist ;”u fifthly, the lan¬
guage of Paul in regard to the mysterious existence of Mel¬
chisedec, as “ without father, without mother, without de¬
scent, having neither beginning of days nor end of life,”
—language strikingly applicable to Christ,—“ whose goings
forth have been of old from everlasting,” but hardly to be
understood of a mere man ; and, finally, the circumstance
of Melchisedec’s receiving tithes as a free-will offering from
Abraham, a homage which was rendered by the pious to
none but the Almighty. On the side of this theory are
ranked some eminent names both in the early and in the
modern church. It is enough to mention those of Ambrose,
Damianus, Moulin, Cunseus, Outrein, Hottinger, Starke,
Gaillard, Ridgley, Hunter, Henry, and Brown. An able
defence of this opinion has appeared in a work entitled
Melchizedek, by the author of Balaam, Elijah, &c., Lon¬
don, 1834, the production, we believe, of a lady. Ihe
opinion is very tiilly examined and refuted in vol. ii. ol
Wardlaw’s Systematic Theology, p. 315.
4. By far the most common opinion is, that Melchisedec
was a righteous and powerful king, a worshipper and priest
of the Most High God, in the land of Canaan, and a type
of Jesus Christ. In support of this opinion it is contended,
first, that the mysterious character attributed to Melchi¬
sedec in Scripture is nothing more than belongs to all the
prophetical types; and that when Paul says he has many
things to say respecting him which are hard to be uttered,
1 See besides Rosenmuller s Scholia on the passage, the commentaries of Tuch and Knohel.
2 Heb. vii. 3. Fuller on Gen. xiv. 18. 8 Josh. xxiv. 2. 4 Gen. xiv. 19.
® Ps. cx. 4. Heb. vi. 20. 6 Xxvxvcti'au De bell. Jud. vii. 18.
7 Lech lecha, fol. 60, col. 237, ed. Sulz., quoted in Professor Tholuck’s Comment, zum briefe an d. Heb. in loc.
8 Theodoret, Hoer.fab., lib. ii., cap. 6. ap. Suicer. Thes. Eccl. v. 11. 1° Heb. vii. 8. 11 Heb. vii. 3, &c. Ps. cx. 4,
MEL
Melchise- he only means, that owing to the carnality of those to whom
v | eC ; 'vas writing, the revelation which he was about to give
v ^ ^ 16 spiritual character of Melchisedec as a type of Christ,
would not be ^easily apprehended ;x secondly, that Ins being
described as aTrarwp kcu ayr'jTwp, may mean that he was the
nrst of his family who sustained the royal and sacerdotal
dignity ; or, if it be understood naturally, it implies nothing
more than that his descent was not matter of record, in the
same way as Sarah is called ap.rjTwp by Philo, because her
mother’s name is not known, or as Servius Tullius is said
}y Livy to have been born patre nullo, matre serva, because
only lus mother’s name (Cornicula) was matter of history;
thirdly, that what is said of his being “without beginning
of days or end of life,” refers merely to our ignorance of the
time and manner of his birth and of his death, which are
purposely left unrecorded, in order that he might serve as
a type of Christ, “ who ever liveth fourthly, that the ex¬
pression, “ of whom it is testified that he liveth,” is only a
concise repetition of the preceding statement ;2^%, that in
all the certain instances of Divine appearances recorded in
the Old Testament, the fact of the Deity’s being present
is made apparent in the narrative itself; and that this not
being done in the case of Melchisedec renders it unjustifi¬
able, without express authority from some other part of
scripture, to suppose thathe was such an appearance; sixthly,
that had Melchisedec been himself the Son of God, the
apostle would not have said that he was “ made like (dota-
fxoaapxvo's, assimilatus, likened to, compared to) the Son of
God, for this would have been to compare him with him¬
self ; seventhly, that no sufficient reason is apparent from the
narrative for so extraordinary a revelation as that of the
second person of the Trinity in human shape, nor does any
end worthy of such means seem to have been answered by
the interview; and, finally, that Abraham’s offering of a
I1™ f1,e SP011 might with great propriety be presented
to Melcmsedec, though only a man, as an act of homage
not to himself, but to that God whose priest he was, and
in whose name he had blessed the patriarch. This view of
the subject has been adopted by a majority of the fathers
as well as of modern divines. It has been strenuously de¬
fended by Dr Owen, in his work on the Hebrews, where
he denounces the opposite opinion as a series of “ ground¬
less fables” and “ woful mistakes ;” and has received the suf¬
frages of the greater part of those who have commented
upon that epistle, amongst whom may be mentioned the
names of Calvin, Cameron, Scott, Blomfield, Stuart, Kuinoel,
i holuck, and Lbrard, It may be regarded as the common
opinion of the orthodox church.
According to this opinion, the reasoning of St Paul in
the passage referred to, goes to establish an analogy between
Melchisedec and Christ, in respect of the following points:
... . JV). and designation, both being denominated
king of righteousness,” and “ king of peace ;” secondly, of
obscurity of descent, both being without beginning of clays or
end of life, the one because his genealogy is not recorded,
the other, because with regard to him this was literally true;
thirdly, of the homage rendered to both by their receiving
tithes as a free-will offering, the one in the name of the God
whom he served, the other in his own name; fourthly, of
the peculiar character of the office they sustained, neither
havinghad either predecessors or successors, the one because
God arranged it so, the other because it was of necessity so ;
fifthly, of the superiority of both to the priests under the
M E L
481
law, the one having blessed, as a superior, Abraham, the Melchthal
father of Levi, the other having abolished the whole eco- II
nomy of the Levitical priesthood by the sacrifice of him- Meleager-
self.4 la)
MELCHTHAL, Arnold of, one of the restorers of
owiss freedom, was the son of a wealthy proprietor, and
was born in the canton of Unterwalden, in the latter half
of the thirteenth century. His real name was Winckelried,
but he was universally known by the name of his residence!
At this time Switzerland groaned beneath the oppression
of Albert of Austria. One day the valet of Handenberg,
an Austnan bailiff, seized upon a yoke of oxen belonsino-
to Melchthal s father, and, as he was driving them away, re¬
marked, that peasants, if they wanted to eat bread, should
hold the plough themselves. Stung by such insolent rapa-
^'xy> young Melchthal struck the menial to the ground, and
fled from punishment to his native fastnesses. The infor¬
mation that his father’s eyes had been put out by the re¬
vengeful tyrant, served only to strengthen his determination
to free his country. He received into his confidence Furst,
of the canton of Uri, and Stauffacher, of the canton of
Schwytz. On a night of November 1307 the three pa¬
triots met on the solitary banks of the Lake of Lucerne,
and there they took an oath to advocate in their several
cantons the cause of freedom, and to drown every revengeful
feeling and every personal motive in the one prevailin'*-
desire for the liberty of their country. The bold feats of
William Tell, in the same month, accelerated the execution
of their plans, and raised to arms the natives of Uri, Schwytz
and Unterwalden. Arnold of Melchthal, along with his
compatriots F first and Stauffacher, led the mountaineers on
to victory. On the battlefield of Sempach he is said to have
attempted, single-handed, to break an impregnable line of
Austrian lances, and to have fallen with “a sheaf of spears ”
sticking in his breast.
MELDRUM, Old, a burgh of barony and a parish of
Scotland, Aberdeenshire, 18 miles N.N.W. of Aberdeen.
The town contains an Established, a Free, a United
Presbyterian, and an Episcopal church; two schools, and
a savings-bank. The inhabitants are employed in aoricul-
ture, weaving, brewing, distilling, &c. Market-day, Satur¬
day. Pop. (1851) of burgh, 1579.
MELEAGER, a Greek epigrammatist, and the collector
of the first Anthologia that is known, was the son of Eu-
crates, and flourished at Gadara in Palestine about 60 u.c.
His collection was made from the works of forty-six authors,
and was entitled Sre^avos, 77/e Garland. The authors
were Anytus, Myro, Sappho, Melanippides, Simonides,
INossis, Rhianus, Erinna, Alcaeus, Samillo, Leonidas, Mna-
salces, Pamphilus, Pancrates, Tymnes, Nicias, Euphemus,
Damagetus, Callimachus, Euphorion, Hegisippus, Perseus!
Diotimus, Menecrates, Nicaenetes, Phaennus, Simmias!
Parthems, Bacchylides, Anacreon, Anthemius, Archilochus5
Alexander (Etolus, Polycletus, Polystratus, Antipater, Po-’
sidippus, Hedyles, Sicelides, Plato, Aratus, Cheremon,
Pnedimus, Antagoras, Theodorides, and Phanias. This
collection has disappeared, but we possess 131 epigrams
which are said to have been the production of this poet
I hey are written principally on amorous subjects, and are
remarkable for the elegance of their versification. The
best editmns of Meleager are that of Manso (Jena 1789)
of Meinecke (Lips. 1789), and at Graefe (Lips 1811). See
Fabncms, Bibhoth. Grwca, tom. iv.; Prolegomena to the
2 w6 Z°ri h® USeS iS- which the Vulgate renders ininterpretabilis.
Wardlaw rejects this with the remark, “ This will not do,” and adonts in nreferpn™ tt.a • + ■
Christ; an interpretation, again, which Ebrard says “ is mere nonsense.” W? beo- to disse!u f ^hich referS <?he liveth” ^
tion which Wardlaw rejects “will do” Ebrard shows; and that the view which Ebrard denounp° ^ declsi°ns- That the interpreta-
proved by Wardlaw. wmcn JWarcl “enounces is not “nonsense” is sufficiently
8 See Chrysostom, Homil.; Calvin, Comment.; Tholuck, Comment, in loco • AleximWa a* ,
VOL. XIV. ’ Alexander s Congregational Lecture, 2d edit., p. 423 ; &c.
3 p
IM
482
MEL
M EL
Meleda
fllelendez
Valdes.
Anthologia of Jacobs ; Reiske in his Preface to his
Antkologia Grceca; Schneider in his Analecta Critica,
fascic. 1; Burette, Memoires de VAcad, des Inscript, xix.
MELEDA (anciently Melita), an island of the Adriatic,
off the coast of Dalmatia, from which it is about 3 miles
distant, and 17 W.N.W. of llagusa. Length 23 miles;
breadth 4 miles. The island contains lofty mountains of a
bare and dry aspect; and there are also some fertile but
not well cultivated valleys, producing corn, wine, vege¬
tables, and fruits. Sheep, goats, bees, and silk-worms are
reared in large numbers and with considerable care. The
coast is irregular, and contains numerous harbours, one of
which, Palazzo, on the N. of the island, is reckoned the
best in Dalmatia. Meleda has been supposed by some to
be the scene of the shipwreck of St Paul; but this, opinion
is now very generally abandoned in favour of the modern
Malta. Pop. 900.
MELENDEZ VALDES, Juan, a distinguished poet of
Spain, was born at La Ribera del Fresno in Estremadura,
on the 11th of March 1754. After studying philosophy at
Madrid he went to the university of Salamanca at the age
of eighteen, where he pursued the study of law, and made
the acquaintance of some of the most eminent literary men
of the time in Spain. His earlier efforts at versification
were in imitation of Lobo, who had still many admirers,
but who belonged to a bad school. The elder Moratin,
however, who was thoroughly opposed to the vicious poeti¬
cal taste of his time, was beginning to leave traces of his
influence on the mind of the young follower of Lobo, when
a fortunate accident brought Cadahalso to Salamanca. The
svmpathetic discernment of this eminent poet and soldier
soon detected the latent genius of Melendez, and induced
him to take him to his house, where he spent great pains in
disclosing to the young poet the beauties of the elder lite¬
rature of Spain, and of the cultivated nations of Europe.
It was through Cadahalso that Melendez first became ac¬
quainted with the literature of England, which subsequently
exerted so marked an influence on his poetic development.
He was accustomed to remark in later days, that it was John
Locke who first taught him to reason, and that four lines
of Pope’s Essay on Man were superior to all that poet ever
wrote. The devoted friendship of Cadahalso met, accord¬
ingly, with an ample reward in the great success of his
pupil; and it was afterwards said, with as much truthful¬
ness as point, that “ among all the works of Cadahalso, the
best was Melendez.” But the most commanding mind of
the time was that of Jovellanos, whose friendship Melendez
afterwards formed through Gonzales. This new relation¬
ship at once exercised a decided and salutary influence
over him. In 1780 he obtained the prize of the Spanish
Academy for the best eclogue, although he had to contend
with a formidable rival in Yriarte, his senior in years, and
in court favour. The performance of the latter was written
in the declamatory style of some of the older and weaker
Spanish pastorals ; while the Batilo of the former was fresh
from the fields, and, as one of the adjudicators said, “ seemed
absolutely to smell of their wild flowers.” Melendez, on
going to Madrid the following year, was received with much
cordiality by Jovellanos, and received new honours from
the academy of San Fernando for a Pindaric Ode On the
Glory of the Arts. He was shortly after appointed pro¬
fessor of the humanities or philology at Salamanca, which
enabled him to return to his favourite haunts on the banks
of the Tormes. In 1784 he was induced by Jovellanos to
compete for the prize offered by the city of Madrid for a
dramatic performance. His comedy of The Wedding of
Camacho (has Bodas de Camacho') secured the vote of
the judges, but was received coldly by the public, and soon
fell into neglect. The talent of Melendez was not dramatic ;
and he made an attempt the following year to retrieve his
fallen fortunes by presenting the public with a volume of
lyrics and pastorals ; a species of composition for which his Meletius.
genius was peculiarly adapted. His success was extraor-
dinary. The genuine simplicity and tenderness of those
pieces, their elegant versification and light gracefulness,
their rich, truthful descriptions of natural scenery,—all com¬
bined to communicate to them a fascination such as had
not been known in Spain since the disappearance of the
eminent names of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
Indeed, so subtle and exquisite is the grace of those charm¬
ing poems, that it is precisely the sort of beauty which is
sure to be lost in being strained through any translation.
Three counterfeit editions of this small volume appeared
in 1785, and were sold off as fast as they were printed.
In an unfortunate hour Melendez, the darling of the
court, resolved to leave his happy retirement, and solicit a
place under the government. In 1789 he was made ajudge ;
and in 1791 was elevated to a position of honour in the
chancery of Valladolid: this new duty did not, however,
estrange him from the muse. He published in 1797
a new and greatly enlarged edition of his works, which
he dedicated to the Prince of the Peace, with whose mis-
government the poet was now too closely connected, from
the necessities of his political position. This new effort
did not add greatly to his fame. The influence of English
and German literature was more obvious than salutary. In
his Ode to Winter he imitates Thomson, and The Fall of
Lucifer is a faint echo of Milton. The fervid glow of the
rare old Castilian verse was not consistent with the laboured
moralizings and dreary metaphysical discussions which Me¬
lendez, after the manner of Jovellanos, now packed into his
lines. The prince was flattered by the dedication, however,
and attached the poet to the court at Madrid, where Jovel¬
lanos was a minister of state. But the next year saw these
eminent men in exile; and it was not till 1802 that Me¬
lendez, by the mitigation of his persecution, was permitted
to return to the scene of his early fame at Salamanca.
After six years came the revolution of Aranjuez, when he
hastened to Madrid only to be in time to witness the
ascendancy of the French power, to which he, in a moment
of infatuation, gave in his adherence. On being sent as a
commissioner to Oviedo, he was led out by the infuriated
populace to be shot; and on another occasion his house
was sacked, and his valuable library destroyed, by the very
party whose interests he served. Melendez fled ; and after
dragging out four miserable years in exile in the south of
France, he died at Montpellier on the 24th of May 1817.
Melendez solaced himself during the heavy hours of exile
by preparing a complete edition of his works, with numerous
corrections and additions, which was published, with a Life
of the author, by Quintana, at Madrid, in 4 vols. 8vo. His
anacreontics stiil retain their fame; and he is universally
regarded as the greatest poet Spain had known for an entire
century. (See Ticknor’s History of Spanish Literature,
vol. iii.)
MELETIUS, Bishop of Antioch, a famous ecclesiastic,
was born about the beginning of the fourth century at
Melitene (Malatiah) in Armenia Minor. His first im¬
portant pastorate, the bishopric of Sebaste, was rendered
so intolerable, through the stubborn conduct of the people,
that he resigned it shortly after his appointment, and re¬
tired to Bercea {Aleppo') in Syria. At this time the Arian
controversy was engrossing the minds of the Christians of
the East, and was fast extinguishing all deep and true piety.
The pastors fed their flocks with nothing but the dry for¬
mulae of doctrine and the vehement ebullitions of sectarian
zeal. But Meletius, keeping ever in view the design of
the priesthood, endeavoured, both by his ministrations in
the pulpit and by his walk in private life, to recommend to
his people the essential doctrines of the gospel. He thus
undesignedly secured the respect of both the factions in
the church, and was elevated by universal consent to the
MEL
Meletius. see of Antioch in 360. The public conduct of Meletius
v'—novy became more decided. He saw that in his influential
position he was bound to act a part in a dispute that was
interrupting the concord of the Christian world. Accord-
iHgty* *n bis inaugural discourse in 361, he expressed, in
subdued yet unmistakeable terms, his sympathy with the
orthodox party. T.his confession awakened the slumbering
spirit of controversy in the church of Antioch. The Arians
forthwith charged Meletius with Sabellianism and othei
crimes, and in the course of a month he was banished to
his native Melitene by command of the Emperor Constan-
tius. At the same time the orthodox party in the church
of Antioch seceded from the communion of the Arians.
On the accession of the Emperor Julian in 362 Meletius
was iccalled from exile. He now bent all his energies to
effect a union between the Eustathians and the orthodox
section that had separated from the Arians at his own de¬
position ; but the former party, although they had seceded
from the church of Antioch on the same grounds as the
latter, could not sympathize with the liberal-minded Mele¬
tius, and declared that they would recognise no bishop who
had been consecrated by Arians. The Council of Alex¬
andria interfered to settle this dissension, and sent Lucifer
Cagliari to Antioch. But that hot-headed bishop was
the worst mediator that could have been found; and he
immediately destroyed all hope of a reconciliation, by or¬
daining Paulinus bishop of the Eustathians. Soon after
the accession of Valens in 364 Meletius was again banished.
He was recalled, along with other exiles, by an edict of
Gratian in 378; and not long afterwards he was reinstated
in his bishopric. His exertions were again turned towards
a union with the Eustathians, but were frustrated by the
unrelenting prejudice of their bishop, Paulinus. Meletius
died at an advanced age while attending the Council of
Constantinople in 381. His body was conveyed to Antioch,
and buried with great honour beside the tomb of the martyr
Babylas. Gregory of Nyssa pronounced his funeral oration.
A part of the inaugural sermon of Meletius at Antioch is
piinted in the 5th vol. of Galland’s Bibliotheca Patrum.
Meletius, the founder of the sect of the Meletians, was
Bishop o( Lycopolis in 1 hebais in the beginning of the
fourth century. During the bitter persecutions that assailed
the Christians in the reigns of Diocletian and Maximian, he
and his superior, Peter, Archbishop of Alexandria, were fel¬
low-prisoners for the faith. Torture and hardship mean¬
while were wringing from many an abjuration of their
leligion. Some of these backsliders, however, could not
enjoy in peace the freedom they had so ignominiously
bought, and, repairing to the two imprisoned bishops, they
cesired to be reconciled to the church. Peter at once de¬
clared that their request ought to be granted after they had
undergone a suitable penance; but Meletius, occupyino-
as a metropolitan a rank second only to the archbishop^
ventured to oppose this decision, and refused to have any
intercourse with traitors to the faith until the close of the
persecution. The question was then submitted to the vote
of the imprisoned Christians, and was settled by a majority
agreeing with the opinion of Meletius. The schism, thus
begun in a dungeon, was carried by the prisoners to the
mines of Phoenon in Arabia Petraea, and rose into promi¬
nence when Meletius was finally liberated. The head¬
strong bishop then set himself to overturn the authority
of Peter in his archbishopric of Alexandria. He travelled
through the patriarchate, ordaining and excommunicatin<r
in the most arbitrary manner, attracting to himself many
followers, and utterly disregarding all the protestations of
the Egyptian bishops, and the sentence of deposition that
Peter launched against him. This proselytizing tour was
afterwards extended into Palestine. At length, in 325,
the Council of Nice arrested Meletius in his reckless career,
and fixed him down at Lycopolis as a mere titular bishop,
MEL
without any active jurisdiction. He did not long survive
this sentence.
The Meletians, or, as they called themselves, “ The
Church of the Martyrs,” were chiefly characterized by
opposition to the Patriarch of Alexandria. So prominent
was this feature that they afterwards sacrificed their ortho-
doxy, and entered into alliance with the Arians against
Athanasius. They continued a distinct sect, however, till
the fifth century.
MELFI, a town of Naples, province of Basilicata, on a
high volcanic eminence, 75 miles E.N.E. of Naples, and
34 S. of Foggia. The town has narrow streets; and is de¬
fended by walls, now in a ruinous condition, and by an
ancient Norman castle. On the 14th August 1851, Melfi
was visited by a tremendous earthquake ; the ancient cathe¬
dral with its tower was laid in ruins, the college and
several churches and monasteries were destroyed, 163 houses
were thrown down and 278 injured, and more than 600 of
the inhabitants perished in the ruins. This town was for¬
merly the capital of the Norman possessions in Southern
Italy, and the seat of the baronial councils. The hall
where these councils used to meet has been in recent
times changed into a theatre. "I he neighbouring country
is rich in wine, which forms the principal article of trade.
Pop. 9582.
MELI, Giovanni, born the 4th of May 1740, died the
20th of December 1815, at Palermo in Sicily. Although
his works are all written in the vernacular of his native
island, he has left a reputation as one of the greatest modern
poets of Italy. He early became a graduate in the faculty
of medicine, and at the same time displayed a strong sym¬
pathy for the philosophical doctrines of Wolfius. His
poetical talents, however, made him accepted in literary
rather than scientific circles. His Italian verses were ad-
mil ed for tlieir smoothness, and for their delicate sentiments
and graceful descriptions. He was induced soon after by
the Prince of Campofranco to write his verses in the Sici¬
lian dialect; and while it was with considerable reluctance
that he complied with the wishes of the prince, his patron,
he nevertheless applied himself to his new vocation with so
much energy and taste, that he ultimately gained for him¬
self a place among the brightest names in Italian literature.
Fie took the language of the people, adopted all the grace
and strength with which a southern and imaginative race
love to clothe their affections and feelings, and applied it to
so many different styles, forms, and subjects, as to show its
flexibility, aptitude, and inexhaustible power in expressing
all forms of sentiment, from the tenderest to the strongest^
from the most familiar to the most abstract, without losing
its vivacity, harmony, and dignity. Not that he was the
first poet who cultivated his native dialect: not a few poets
of some note, and above all Vitali, called “// Cieco di Ganci”
(the blind poet of Ganci), who was the author of ah epic
entitled Sicily Delivered, or the Conquest of Sicily by the
Normans, had preceded Meli; but none of them had enjoyed
the advantage of a liberal education. Meli’s first poem
La Fata Galante, in eight cantos, published before he’
was twenty, won for him at once a high reputation, which
Ins subsequent works did not diminish. His longest poem,
Don Chisciotte (Don Quixote), in 12 cantos, is of the mock-
!rV?Pe’ 1'7es7eTi)lmF the ^mous novel of Cervantes.
I he Orujine del Hondo, a satire on the philosophical doc-
tune of pantheism, is a more original production, and
wntten much in the same style. He has attempted, with
admirable success, all styles of poetry except the dramatic;
but the species of composition in which he truly excels is
in eclogues and anacreontics. The life-like spontaneity of
his dialogues, and the direct simplicity of his odes, have
se c om icen surpassed even by the classic and copious litera-
me o ay. Meh has been compared to Burns; and his
in uence over the Italian mind would have been equal to
483
Melfi
II
Meli.
484
MEL
Melissus that of the Scottish poet over the English, had Italy enjoyed
II the social and political advantages of England. Yet the
Melksham. pame 0p even during his lifetime, was not confined to
^ v ^ ^]]0 country in whose language he sang. Alfieri, Cesarotti,
Ilezzonico, Denina, Metastasio, Pananti, and Casti, the
greatest men of the day, admired his genius, although they
regretted he had not written in the language of Italy. No
less a man than Foscolo attempted to translate his poetry
into Italian. Professor Rosini of Pisa accomplished this
task, although with indifferent success. The translations
into the other dialects of Italy have been more happy.
Gregorovius, the author of Wanderings in Corsica, is at
present (1857) translating them into German.
Meli, having studied medicine, was appointed to the chair
of chemistry at the university of Palermo, a position which
he held till his death. An edition of his essays on scientific
subjects was published in Sicily, of which the most esteemed
are his Riflessioni std Meccanismo della Natura Rapporto
alia Conservazione e Riparazione degV Individui, Palermo,
1839. A medal was struck in honour of him by order of
the Prince of Syracuse, bearing his portrait, with the in¬
scription, “Anacreonti Siculo” A tomb was erected in St
Francesco, Palermo, by his family; and the inhabitants of
Palermo raised a public monument to him in one of the
squares of their town. (See Poesie di Giovanni Meli,
Palermo, 1847; and No. IX. of the Foreign Quarterly Re-
view, 1829. (e. f.)
MELISSUS, a philosopher of the Eleatic school, was
born in Samos, and flourished about 444 B.c. He took a
very active part in the political struggles of his country, and
his fellow-citizens honoured him on one occasion with the
command of a naval armament. Little more is known re¬
specting his life. Like almost all the philosophers of this
epoch of Greek speculation, he composed a treatise on “Being
and Nature” (Trepi (/nxrews). He raised a vigorous protest
against the empirical sensualism of the Ionic philosophers,
among whom he spent his life in his native island. His
master, Parmenides, maintained that the senses could fur¬
nish nothing certain, and that the study of being, essentially
and absolutely one and immoveable, was the only occupa¬
tion worthy of a philosopher. Zeno, again, had proved to
the lonians that to admit matter is to admit divisibility,
which is the condition of extension ; but being is indivisible,
and hence matter has only a phenomenal existence. Such
was the position of antagonism of the two schools when
Melissus appeared. He attempted to enlarge the basis of
the Eleatic school by borrowing the notions of time and
space admitted by the lonians, but ignored by Parmenides.
Having pronounced being to be infinite and one, Melissus
applied the same quality to time and space, which led him
to their identification. Nothing relative, according to him,
can be eternal; motion is impossible, for being is infinite,
and motion requires a void. Aristotle {Alet. i. 8) accuses
Melissus of confounding being with matter, but places him
higher than Parmenides as a philosopher. As for the exist¬
ence of the gods, Melissus, like the rest of his school after
the time of Xenophanes, declared that it was impossible to
arrive at any certainty. Melissus was the last represent¬
ative of the Eleatic doctrines. (See the Fragments of Me¬
lissus, collected by Brandis, Comment. Eleat., Copenhagen,
1813.)
MELKSHAM, a market-town of England, Wiltshire,
situated on a slope near the Avon, 26 miles N.W. of Salis¬
bury, and 96 W. by S. from London. It consists of one long
and irregular street; and the houses are of stone, and well
built. On the other side of the Avon, which is here crossed
by a handsome stone bridge, stands a suburb, known by
the name of I he City. I he church, which is believed
to be as old as the twelfth century, is in the form of a cross,
with a tower, which stood formerly in the centre, but was
removed in 1845 to the west end. Melksham has also
MEL
places of worship for Independents, Baptists, Methodists, Melloni.
and Quakers. There is a large market-house and town-
hall, built in 1847, in the Grecian style of architecture.
Melksham has, besides, national and British schools, and a
savings-bank. In the neighbourhood mineral springs were
discovered some time ago, near which have been erected
baths and houses for the accommodation of visitors. In
the reign of William the Conqueror Melksham seems to
have been a place of considerable importance. It has since
fallen off; but of late years has been raised by the intro¬
duction of the cloth manufacture. Besides this manufac¬
ture, and that of ropes, the town has large corn mills, and
a considerable trade in leather and malt. It is also the seat
of a county court; and petty sessions are held here. Pop.
of town (1851) 2931.
MELLONI, Macedonio, a distinguished natural philo¬
sopher, born at Parma in the year 1800. Before he was of
an age to explain or even to understand his own feelings,
he delighted to pass whole nights in contemplation out of
doors, wandering in the fields—a habit which gave a very
great impulse to his scientific genius. With a decision, as
resolute as it was prompt, he did not mistake his vocation,
but at once applied himself to his favourite science, in which
at an early age he made great progress. Little was known
at that time among natural philosophers respecting the ra¬
diation of heat; and Melloni set early to work to advance
the cause of discovery in that department of science. He
had scarcely left school when the chair of natural philo¬
sophy was offered him at the university of Parma; and hy-
grometry being the special branch allotted to him, he taught
it from 1824 to 1831. In the progress of his researches
into the nature of radiation he found occasion to employ
an ingenious instrument termed the thermoscopium, invented
by Nobili, a distinguished physicist of that time, for deter¬
mining slight variations in the temperature of bodies. No¬
bili himself appreciated the importance of the results ob¬
tained by his young friend, and gave an account of them
in an article in the Bibliotheque de Geneve. In 1831 po¬
litical events in Romagna and the duchies compelled
Melloni to expatriate himself. He found an asylum in
France, where he arrived with his thermoscopium. He
there became the friend of Arago, the celebrated secre¬
tary of the Academic des Sciences, and was subsequently
appointed to a professorship in the college of Dole, in the
department of Jura, a situation which his thirst for discovery
induced him to resign. He then went to Geneva, w'here
he was welcomed by Pier Prevost and Auguste de la Rive,
who placed at his disposal their rich collection of scientific
instruments. After six months’ assiduous experimenting
he succeeded in establishing a number of important facts
with regard to the radiation of heat both through solids and
liquids. He hastened to Paris to lay his discoveries before
the Academy of Sciences, but being received coldly by that
body, Melloni resolved to publish the results of his experi¬
ments ; this led to his being awarded the Rumford medal
by the Royal Society of London. After receiving this
foreign tribute to his genius, the Institute of France, in the
person of Biot, also acknowledged his merits. (See Me¬
moirs de l’Academic des Sciences de Paris, vol. xiv.) The
paper submitted to the academy by Melloni is entitled,
Descrizione ed Usi di un Apparecchio proprio aManifestare
ed a Misurare i Fenomeni del Calorico Raggiante. Melloni
had now secured his place among the most eminent men of
Europe; and, through the influence of Arago and Hum¬
boldt, he was enabled to return to his native country with
the consent of Austria, then the ruling power in Italy. Un¬
der these circumstances, the King of Naples, at the sugges¬
tion of Arago, did not hesitate to appoint Melloni director
of the meteorological observatory, then in course of erec¬
tion on the slope of Vesuvius. Among the many brilliant
results obtained by Melloni in this new sphere, must be
MEL
Melraoth. mentioned his discovery of heat in the lunar light, which
led to the solution of one of the most important problems
of modern physical science, viz., the analogy of radiant heat
to %lit- At the meeting of the Italian scientific congress
at Naples in 1845, Mellon! was elected vice-president of the
physical section. He was made a member of the com¬
mission to establish lighthouses on the coast of the king¬
dom, when he published a very able popular account of
r resnel’s pharos. The political events of 1848, and the
reaction which followed, agam interrupted Melloni’s scien¬
tific pursuits ; for although he had taken no part in politics
during his residence at Naples, he was in 1849 ejected from
his post simply for the liberal opinions he had once professed,
and which he still held. He retired to his villa at Portici,
near Naples, where, amid bitterness of spirit and disappoint¬
ment, his love of science never abated. In 1850 he pub¬
lished there the first volume of La Lermocrosi, o la Colo-
razione Calorifica, which he dedicated to Francis Aragoand
Alexander Humboldt. This compilation, in which he de-
sciibes his own conclusions, and sketches methodically the
progress of science since his first discovery, did not distract
his mind from experimental researches. The last years of
his life were devoted to the study of electricity, and he com¬
municated many new facts in this branch of science to the
Dibliotheque ZJniverselle de Geneve. Melloni opposed with
gieat discrimination several ideas of Faraday with regard
to the diminution of velocity observed in an electric current
passing through submarine or subterranean wires, as com¬
pared with an equal current passing through wires sus¬
pended in the air. 1 he Englishman had made experiments,
from which he endeavoured to deduce a confirmation of
his theory of conductability, to the conclusiveness of which,
however, the Italian demurred.
He died of cholera at his villa of Portici on the 11th of
August 1854. Besides his principal work, La Termocrosi,
which he left incomplete, or at least unpublished, he con-
tributed numerous papers to the Annales de Chimie et
Lhj/si que,t\\c (omptes llendus of the French Academy; the
JBibliotheque de Geneve ; the Atti della Reale Academia di
Napoli ; and the Aluseo di Scienze e Letteratura, a Neapo¬
litan periodical, in which may be found his discussions and
observations on the action of calamite and the electric cur-
lent, on polarized light, on ponderable bodies, and also his
objections to the theory of t araday. (For further informa¬
tion respecting Melloni’s discoveries, see the Sixth Disser¬
tation, chap, vi., sect. 8 ; also the article Heat.) (e. f.)
MELMO IH, William, a learned member of Lincoln’s
Inn, was born in the year 1666. He was called to the bar
in 1719, was treasurer of Lincoln’s Inn for the year 1730,
a.nd died in 1743. In conjunction with Mr Peere Wil¬
liams, Mr Melmoth was the publisher of Vernon’s Reports,
under an order of the Court of Chancery. But the perform¬
ance for which he is justly held in remembrance is The
Great Importance of a Religious Life Considered, London
1749 ; of which above 100,000 copies were sold during the
last century. Phis admirable treatise was published anony¬
mously, and was for some time erroneously attributed to
John Percival, the first Earl of Egmont. A new edition of
this work, with a memoir of the author and four appendices,
was privately printed as a present to the benchers of Lin¬
coln’s Inn by Charles P. Cooper, Esq., London, 1849. (See
Memoirs of William Melmoth, published by his son, 1796.)
Melmoth, William, son of the preceding, was born in
1710. He was bred to the law, and appointed a commis¬
sioner of bankrupts in 1756; but the greater part of his
life was spent in retirement, partly at Shrewsbury and partly
at Bath, where he was distinguished alike for integrity of
conduct and for scholarly culture and an elegant taste. He
first appeared as a writer in 1742, when, under the name
of Sir 1 homas Fitzosborne, he published two volumes of
Letters on Several Subjects, which have been much ad-
M E L
485
Melrose.
mired for the just and liberal remarks with which they Melodica
abound on various topics, moral and literary. In 1747 he
published a translation of the Letters of Pliny, in 2 vols.
8vo, which, for elegance, precision, and correctness, is one
of the best versions of a Latin author that has appeared in
our language. In 1753 he published a translation of Ci¬
cero’s Letters, in 3 vols., which were followed up in 1773 and
1779 by richly annotated translations of the treatises De
Amicitia and De Senectute. In his remarks on the treat¬
ise De Amicitia he combated the opinion of Lord Shaftes-
bury, who had imputed it to Christianity as a defect, that
it contained no precepts in favour of friendship ; and also
that of Soame Jenyns, who had represented this very omis¬
sion as a proof of its divine origin. The concluding work
of Mr Melmoth consisted of memoirs of his father, published
in 1796. He died at Bath on the 15th of March 1799, at
the age of eighty-nine.
MELODICA, a keyed instrument in the form of a harp¬
sichord, and having a flute register of three and a half oc¬
taves, from the lowest G of the violin upwards. It was in¬
vented by J. A. Stein at Augsburg in 1770.
MELODICON, a keyed instrument invented by Peter
Riffelsen at Copenhagen in 1803. Its sounds were pro¬
duced by the friction of pointed rods upon a revolving cy¬
linder of steel. Riffelsen had previously constructed another
instrument with tuning-forks of different dimensions.
MELODION, an instrument invented by Dietz at Em¬
merich in the Netherlands. It was in the form of a small
harpsichord, with a pedal which moved a wheel. The
sounds were produced by metal rods caused to vibrate by
the friction of the wheel.
MELODY. See Music.
MELPOMENE, in fabulous history, one of the muses,
daughter of Jupiter and Mnemosyne, who presided over
tragedy. Horace has addressed the finest of his odes to
her, as to the patroness of lyric poetry. She was generally
represented as a young woman with a serious countenance ;
her garments were splendid; she wore a buskin and a gar¬
land of vine leaves, and held a dagger, or the club of Hera¬
cles, in one hand, with a sceptre and crown in the other.
MELROSE, a burgh of barony of Scotland, Roxburgh¬
shire, on the Tweed, near the N. foot of the Eildon Hills,
36 miles S. of Edinburgh, and 12 N.W. of Jedburgh. The
town probably derives its name fron Moel or Mull-rhos, a
point or headland in the river; and the site was occupied
by a Culdee house founded in 635. This was superseded
by the Cistercian abbey, begun by David I. in 1136, and
completed in 1146. This building having been destroyed
by the English under Edward II. in 1322, was rebuilt by
Bruce four years afterwards; and the heart of that mon¬
arch, after having been carried to Spain by Douglas, was,
on the death of that earl brought home and buried beneath
the high altar. The abbey was completed by James IV.;
but was again destroyed by the English in 1545. Although’
this fine building suffered considerably from the hands ^of
the Reformers, the main cause of its present ruinous con¬
dition must be traced to the hostile incursions of the Eng¬
lish, and to the carelessness and depredations of later times
when the stones were frequently carried off and employed
in building other edifices. The church was laid out in the
form of a cross, of which the length of the nave and choir
was ^ Ret, and the breadth 79; the length of the tran¬
sept 130 feet, and the breadth 44. The building was sur¬
mounted by a tower, part of which is still standing along
with the walls of the nave, choir, and transept. The rest
of the abbey however has been destroyed, except a portion
of the walls of the cloisters. Its architecture is not reduc¬
ible to any of Rickman’s styles of English Gothic. It more
neaily approaches to continental structures, especially
Strasburg cathedral; and the whole building is profusely
ornamented with rich and exquisite carved work. Some
486 MEL
Melsungen 0f the piers are crowned with foliage, so delicately chi¬
ll gelled, that a straw may be thrust in between the various
'Melville.^ anc} ieaves> The window and door in the south tran-
sept are considered the most perfect parts of the building,
and are very richly decorated. The eastern window is also
much admired for the symmetry of its form and the rich¬
ness and delicacy of its ornaments. Its dimensions are 36
feet in height by 16 in breadth. The grave of Alexander
II. is pointed out here, as lying under a marble slab not
far from the high altar ; and many others, noblemen and
priests, are buried in the abbey, including several of the
Douglas family. A beautiful description of Melrose is given
by Sir Walter Scott in the Lay of the Last Minstrel. Pop.
(1851) of town, 966.
MELSUNGEN, a town of Hesse-Cassel, situated on
the left bank of the Fulda, 13 miles S. of Cassel. The
town is walled, with four gates; and contains a castle,
church, and hospital. The manufactures consist of woollen
cloth, leather, tiles, &c.; and there is a considerable trade
in wood and linen. Pop. 4220.
MELTON-MOWBRAY, a market-town of England,
in Leicestershire, situated at the confluence of the Wreak
and Eye, 14 miles N.E. of Leicester, and 92 N. by W. of
London. The town is well and substantially built, chiefly
of brick; and consists of two main streets. The parish
church is a large and handsome Gothic building, in the
form of a cross, with a lofty and richly adorned tower in
the centre. There are also churches for Independents,
Wesleyan and Primitive Methodists, and Roman Catho¬
lics ; several schools and alms-houses; besides a subscrip¬
tion library, news-room, and theatre. Melton owes its
prosperity and celebrity to its being the centre of the
hunting district, and the seat of the Melton Hunt. It is
on this account resorted to by the leading sporting men of
England, and by some from other countries, during the
season, which lasts from November till March. Upwards of
800 horses, with their grooms, &c., may be accommodated
in the excellent stables of Melton; and in the neighbour¬
hood there are many hunting seats. The chief manufac¬
tures of the place are lace and hosiery; and the trade
consists chiefly in pork pies and Stilton cheese, which is
made here, though it takes its name from Stilton in Hunt¬
ingdonshire, where it was first sold. John Henley the
orator was born here in 1692; and Melton is also remark¬
able as the scene of a defeat of the parliamentary troops by
the royalists in 1644. Pop. (1851) 4391.
MELUN, a town of France, capital of the department
of Seine-et-Marne, is pleasantly situated on the Seine, 27
miles S.S.E. of Paris. The town stands on both sides
of the river, especially on a slope on the right bank,
and partly on an island joined by two bridges to the other
parts of the town. The oldest part of Melun is that on
the island; and it is well, though irregularly built, con¬
taining a large prison, a ruined palace, and the church of
Notre Dame. The part on the right bank, called St
Aspais, includes a large and regularly built square, an old
Gothic church, the ruins of an old abbey, the prefecture,
formerly a Benedictine abbey, a theatre, baths, &c. On
the left side of the river stand the cavalry barracks. The
town has a public library, as well as a college and several
schools. Melun has manufactures of woollen and linen
cloth, leather, china, plaster, &c.; and there is a consider¬
able trade in grain. This town was anciently called Melo-
dunum, and was taken by the Romans under Labienus,
one of Caesar’s generals. It was afterwards captured by
the English under Henry V. in 1420, but was recovered
by the French fifteen years afterwards. Pop. (1851)
7528.
MELVILLE, Andrew, a Scottish divine of distin¬
guished talents and learning, was born at Baldovy in
Forfarshire on the 1st of August 1545. His father,
MEL
Richard Melville, who was connected with a family which Melville,
boasted its descent from the blood-royal, was slain at the
disastrous battle of Pinkie, fought on the 10th of Septem¬
ber 1547, when Andrew, the youngest of nine sons, had
only completed his second year. He lost his mother dur¬
ing the same year, and the care of the orphan boy devolved
upon his eldest brother Richard, who afterwards became
minister of the adjacent parish of Marytoun. As he early
discovered great aptitude for learning, he was removed to
Montrose, where he was instated in the rudiments of the
Latin language. In the year 1559 he was sent to the
university of St Andrews, where he became a student in
St Mary’s College, and greatly distinguished himself by
his early proficiency in classical learning, particularly in his
knowledge of Greek, a language at that time unknown
even to the lecturer on Aristotle of his university. Mel¬
ville left this university with the reputation of “ the best
philosopher, poet, and Grecian of any young master in the
landand in the autumn of 1564, when he had completed
his nineteenth year, he proceeded to Paris with the view
of prosecuting his studies at the university of that city, then
at the height of its celebrity. Here Melville enjoyed the
advantage of hearing the prelections of Turnebus, professor
of Greek in the Royal College ; of Mercier and Quinquar-
boreus, professors of Hebrew and Chaldee ; and of the cele¬
brated Peter Ramus, who had greatly distinguished himself
by his strenuous opposition to the philosophy of Aristotle.
In addition to his other engagements, young Melville com¬
menced the study of civil law, at that time taught by
Balduinus, or Baudouin, a very eminent civilian of Paris.
During the second year of his residence he had attained
to such proficiency in the Greek language, that he was
able to speak it with great fluency and copiousness. He
left Paris in the year 1566, and repaired to the university
of Poitiers to prosecute the study of law. Here, owing
to his great celebrity, he was appointed a regent in the
college of St Marceon, though he was only twenty-one years
of age. He continued to prosecute his legal studies for
three years at Poitiers; but owing to political disturbances
he was ultimately compelled to seek a residence elsewhere.
Leaving behind him his bocks and other effects, and fixing
a small Hebrew Bible in his girdle, he, in company with
a Frenchman, set out for Geneva. When the two pedes¬
trians reached the gates of that city, their money was all but
entirely spent; Melville, however, had the good fortune to
obtain, through the influence of Beza, the professorship of
humanity in the academy of Geneva, and was thus enabled
to support for a time his less fortunate companion.
Geneva was at this time a most conspicuous bulwark of
the Reformation. It afforded an asylum to many perse¬
cuted Protestants of eminent piety and learning. 1 he
academy of Geneva, which was a university without the
name, could boast of various professors of the highest re¬
putation. The chair of Calvin, its first and most celebrated
professor of divinity, was now occupied by Beza, who was
likewise a man of eminent talents, and who with his pro¬
found knowledge of theology united many of the graces of
polite literature. Melville, still eager to learn, became a
student under this venerable professor; and acquired a
knowledge of Syriac from Bertram, the professor of oriental
languages. In the year 15 72 the atrocious massacre of
St Bartholomew compelled many of the French Protestants
to abandon their native country and seek refuge in Geneva.
Melville had the good fortune on this occasion to make
the acquaintance of the celebrated scholar and thinker,
Joseph Scaliger, for two years professor of philosophy at
Geneva. He also heard the lectures of Bonnefoy on
oriental jurisprudence, who, along with Hotman, anothei
distinguished refugee, was paid by the magistiates o
Geneva for delivering lectures on civil and ecclesiastica
law.
Melville. After having retained his professorship for five years
lie was at length induced by the urgent solicitations of his
mends in Scotland to revisit his native country. He ac¬
cording left Geneva in the spring of 1574; and in passing
tnrough 1 ans engaged in a controversy, which lasted se¬
veral days, with one James Tyrie, one of the antagonists
of Kn°x at the college of the Jesuits. He arrived in
-Edinburgh in the beginning of July 1574.
Melville had already distinguished himself by his Latin
poetry, and his reputation as a man of talents had reached
bis native country. It was about this period that he made his
hrst appearance as an author. His earliest work was entitled
Carmen Mosis, ex D enter on. cap. xxxii. quod ipse moriens
Israeli tradidit ediscendumet cantandumperpetuo, Latina
paraphrasiillustratum. Cui addita sunt nonnullaEpigram-
mata,et Jobicap. in. Latino car mine redditum. Andrea Mel-
vmo bcoto auctore, Basileae, 1574, 8vo. The Earl of Morton,
legent of the kingdom, was desirous of retaining him in
the capacity of a domestic chaplain; but he had no wish to
become a courtier; and he was persuaded that his labours
would be most available to his countrymen if he were
placed in one of the universities. On the death of John
Houglas, who had accumulated the offices of Archbishop
of St Andrews, provost of St Mary’s College, and rector
ot the university, a proposition was made for placing him
at the head of the college; but on being very strongly
urged to accept of a similar appointment at Glasgow, he
was finally induced to give it the preference. On his instal-
Jation as principal of the Glasgow university in November
o74, he found that institution in a very unsatisfactory
condition. When he commenced his academical labours
his only coadjutor was Peter Blackburne, who officiated as
a regent and managed the scanty revenues of the founda¬
tion. I he exertions of the principal himself to elevate
the teaching and improve the character of the university
were quite prodigious. He initiated his students in the
principles of Greek grammar; introduced them to the
Dialectics of Ramus and the Rhetoric of Talmus; read
with them the best classical authors, as Virgil and Horace
among the Latins, and Homer, Hesiod, Theocritus, Pindar,
and Isocrates among the Greeks; taught them the Ele¬
ments of Euclid, with the arithmetic and geometry of Ra¬
mus, and the geography of Dionysius; read with them
Ciceros Offices, Paradoxes, and Tusculan Questions, the
Ethics and Politics of Aristotle, and certain of Plato’s
Dialogues; expounded natural philosophy; taught the
Hebrew language, accompanied with a praxis upon the
Psalter and books of Solomon ; initiated the students into
Chaldee and Syriac; and, to complete the theological cur¬
riculum, went through all the common heads of divinity
according to the order of Calvin’s Institutes, besides giving
lectures on the different books of Scripture. This course
of study was completed in six years. After some time
however, he succeeded in increasing the staff of professors,
and restricted himself to divinity and oriental languages
Ihe learning, talents, and energy of Melville speedily
raised this university from its ruinous condition, and secured
for it the reputation of being the first seminary in the king¬
dom. Students were attracted from all parts of the country,
and among these were not a few graduates from St An¬
drews, who were disposed to learn what their former
masters could not teach. Various individuals who after¬
wards rose to eminence were here trained under his dis¬
cipline. Melville’s influence in advancing the literature
of his native country was great and lasting; nor was it less
considerable in improving the condition of the Scottish
church. He was a member of the General Assembly con¬
vened at Edinburgh in March, as well as that convened at
the same place in August 1575. The lawfulness of epis-
copacy was debated in this latter assembly; and he there
maintained the negative side of the question in a speech
MELVILLE.
which, as Spotswood admits, “was applauded by many.”
For the more mature discussion of this subject, the assem¬
bly appointed a committee of six, of which Melville formed
one, who presented a report expressive of a mild but
essential hostility to episcopacy. This report was approved
by the assembly held in April 1576; and those bishops
who had not already undertaken some parochial cure, were
enjoined to select particular parishes for the exercise of
their pastoral functions. This was the first step towards
the abolition of diocesan episcopacy in Scotland. Of the
assembly held in Magdalene Chapel at Edinburgh in the
month of April 1578, Melville was chosen moderator.
Second Book of Discipline now received the sanction
of this ecclesiastical judicature ; and it was resolved that
bishops should no longer be described as lords, but should
be addressed like other ministers.
After a residence of six years at Glasgow Melville was
removed to St Andrews, where he was installed as principal
of St Mary’s College, in the month of December 1580.
Ihe university of St Andrews had very recently been sub¬
jected to a salutary reform, and this college had been appro-
pi lated to the study of divinity. The office of primarius
professor of divinity was then conjoined, as it still continues
to be, with that of principal. Here, again, however, owing
to the temporary incompleteness of the university, the
enthusiastic principal, in addition to his own lectures on
systematic theology, “taught learnedly and perfectly the
knowledge and practice of the Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriac,
and rabbinical languages.” In this new situation he had to
contend with new difficulties; but his superior talents and
learning, with the firmness and consistency of his personal
character, enabled him to overcome all opposition.
. Melville took a prominent part in the subsequent eccle¬
siastical struggle of his country against the restoration of
popery. At a General Assembly held at St Andrews in
April 1582, he was again elected moderator, and assisted
in drawing up a vigorous remonstrance, complaining of their
grievances, and craving redress. A deputation of the mem¬
bers, with the moderator at its head, was named for the
purpose of presenting this remonstrance to his majesty
uho was then residing at Perth. It was accordingly pre-
sented to the king in council; and on its being read, the
Earl of Arran asked with an angry countenance, “ Who
dare subscribe these articles ?” “ We dare,” said the un¬
daunted Melville, and immediately signed his name, the
other commissioners following his example. The minions
of power were overawed by their intrepidity, and dismissed
them without any formal censure.
On one occasion Melville, in a public sermon, took the
liberty of animadverting on certain public abuses, when the
provost of the city abruptly quitted the church in the
middle of the discourse, not without muttering his hioffi dis¬
pleasure at the unsparing zeal of the preacher. The gates
of St Mary’s College exhibited placards threatening to
bastinade the principal, to set fire to his lodgings, and to
expel him from the city. But in the midst of these excite¬
ments he not only continued firm and undismayed but
summoned the provost before the presbytery for contempt
of divine ordinances. He was soon afterwards exposed to
danger from another quarter. He was cited to appear
before the Privy Council on the 17th of February 1584 to
answer to a charge of having, on the occasion of a fast kept
n'pang W Prec^g month, uttered “rtain seditious and
treasonable words in his sermon and prayers. Furnished
burthTnd^65111110111'18 °filiS he rePaired to Edin-
burgh, and having appeared before the council, he entered
he hadU ar>etXP rnatl0ni andJdefence of the expressions which
however to y ^P1^ T1^ Privy Council resolved,
owever, to pioceed against him, when he declined its juris-
rWl /11 E Tnt!en Protest- On the reading of Melville’s
declinature the king and Arran were roused to unseemly
487
Melville.
488 M E L V
Melville. rafTe ; l)Ut they had to deal with a man whom the frowns
r v1^ of royalty could not intimidate, and he pleaded his own
cause with the most unshaken firmness and resolution. In
the course of his speech lie appealed to the authority of the
Scriptures; and unclasping a Hebrew Bible that was sus¬
pended at his girdle, he threw it on the council table, and
challenged any of his judges to show that he had exceeded
his instructions. He was, however, found guilty of behav¬
ing irreverently before the council and of declining its
jurisdiction, and was sentenced to be imprisoned in the
castle of Edinburgh, and to be further punished in his
person and goods at the pleasure of the king. On learn¬
ing that the place of confinement was changed to Black¬
ness Castle, a dreary dungeon kept by a dependent of
the Earl of Arran, he escaped from Edinburgh, and next
day proceeded to Berwick. This rigorous treatment of so
learned and eminent a man excited no small degree of
popular indignation. Having obtained permission to visit
London, he proceeded on his journey, bearing with him
instructions from the exiled nobles who were then residing
at Berwick. During the ensuing month of July he paid a
visit to the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and was
received with great marks of respect. After an absence of
twenty months, Melville and the banished lords returned to
Scotland in the beginning of November 1585. He lost no
time in using his best endeavours for the recovery of those
liberties of which the church had recently been deprived.
He undertook a mission to various parts of the kingdom for
the express purpose of securing a united effort among his
brethren, to effect a change in the ecclesiastical polity of
the country.
During the absence of Melville the university of St
Andrews had witnessed many vicissitudes; but in the month
of March 1583 its zealous and learned principal returned to
the scene of his former labours. When Du Bartas, an
envoy from the King of Navarre, accompanied King James
to St Andrews, they came to hear a lecture from Melville;
and he pronounced an extempore discourse, which is said
to have given “ satisfaction to all the hearers except his
majesty, who considered some parts of it as levelled against
his favourite notions of church government.” Aroused by
the efforts made by the archbishop to induce his majesty
further to encourage prelacy, the intrepid reformer, despite
the threats of the king, delivered an elaborate discourse on
the following day, directed against the positions of the arch¬
bishop, and characterized by great eloquence and power;
on which the royal auditor condescended to deliver a
speech, enjoining all to respect and obey the archbishop.
The imperial disputant afterwards deigned to partake of a
collation in the college, and was regaled with “ wet and dry
confections and all sorts of wine.”
Of the General Assembly held in June 1587 Melville was
elected moderator; and on the 17th of May 1590 he was
present at the coronation of the queen, and recited a Latin
poem which he had composed for the occasion, and which
was immediately published (Sre^avtcrKtov, ad Scotia
Regem, habitum in Coronatione Regina, 17 Mali 1590,
per Andream Melvinum, Edinb. 1590, 4to). His anta¬
gonist, Adamson, who died on the 19th of February 1592,
bad been deprived of his office, together with all its emolu¬
ments, by the king. Left to poverty and contempt, Mel¬
ville hastened to pay him a visit, and not only procured
contributions from his friends at St Andrews, but even con¬
tinued for several months to support him from his private
resources. ihe death of this accomplished and unfor¬
tunate prelate was speedily followed by the formal restora¬
tion of presbytery ; and Melville, after being again elected
moderator of the General Assembly of May 1594, subse¬
quently accompanied the king on his expedition against the
popish lords, after the battle of Glenlivet; and his majesty,
who had requested their attendance, found him a very
I L L E.
faithful and able counsellor. When an attempt was after- Melville,
wards made to recal the popish lords from banishment,
Melville, with other commissioners, was admitted to a
private audience of the king, when, taking his majesty by
the sleeve, and calling him “ God’s silly vassal,” he proceeded
to address him in a strain which was “ perhaps the most
singular, in point of freedom, that ever saluted royal ears,
or that ever proceeded from the mouth of a loyal subject,
who would have spilt his blood in defence of the person and
honour of his prince.” While some applaud the courage
of this undaunted presbyter, others may be equally disposed
to condemn him as guilty of unwarrantable insolence to his
sovereign. For several years ensuing the king made re¬
peated attempts to regulate the church according to his own
arbitrary notions, but constantly found a strenuous opponent
in the worthy principal of St Mary’s. After repeated and
fruitless endeavours on the part of the king to prevent
Melville from occupying a seat in the General Assembly of
the church, his majesty at last, by his sole authority, com¬
manded him, under pain of treason, to confine himself within
the walls of his own college ; a sentence afterwards relaxed
by the intercession of the queen, so as to permit him to
move within a circuit of six miles from St Andrews.
Andrew Melville was one of the eight presbyters called
to London by King James on his accession to the English
throne, for the overt purpose of restoring the tranquillity of
the church, but, as is confidently believed, with the secret
intention of circumventing this formidable scourge of epis¬
copacy. Melville and his colleagues, however, conducted
themselves with so much firmness and skill, that they w'ere
dismissed with unequivocal marks of approbation on the
part of those who were present. “ The English nobility,”
says M‘Crie, “who had not been accustomed to seethe
king addressed with such freedom, could not refrain from
expressing their admiration at the boldness with which
Melville and his associates delivered their sentiments before
such an audience, at the harmony of views which appeared
in all their speeches, and the readiness and pertinency ot
the replies which they made to every objection with which
they were urged.”
Before quitting the metropolis various artful but fruitless
expedients were adopted for corrupting the integrity of the
staunch Presbyterians of the north. They were, besides,
treated to lectures on the beauties of episcopacy, and per¬
mitted to witness one of its most imposing spectacles, which
only served, however, to excite ridicule in the irreverent
minds of the stern presbyters, and which found vent in
a trenchant epigram of Melville’s (Melvini Musa, p. 24,
anno 1620, 4to), who was obliged to appear at Whitehall
and answer for his obnoxious verses. On appearing before
the king and council, Bancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury,
began to expatiate on the aggravated nature of his offence,
which he described as coming within the definition of
treason. “My lords,” he indignantly exclaimed, “Andrew
Melville was never a traitor; but there was one Richard
Bancroft (let him be sought for), who, during the life of
the late queen, wrote a treatise against his majesty’s title to
the crown of England; and here is the book.” Bancroft,
who was totally unprepared for such an act of retaliation,
sat in mute astonishment, while Melville proceeded to accuse
him of profaning the Sabbath, and of silencing and imprison¬
ing faithful preachers of the gospel for scrupling to con¬
form to the vain and superstitious ceremonies of an anti-
Christian hierarchy. He gradually advanced so near this
pontiff as to shake his lawn sleeves; and calling them
Romish rags, he thus continued to address him: “If you
are the author of the book called England Scottizing for
Geneva Discipline, then I regard you as the capital enemy
of all the Reformed churches in Europe, and as such I will
profess myself an enemy to you and your proceedings, to
the effusion of the last drop of my blood ; and it grieves me
MEL
Melville, that such a man should have his majesty’s car, and sit so
high in this honourable council.” After some altercation,
Melville was informed that he had been found guilty of scan-
dalum magnatum, and was to be committed to the custody of
the dean of St Paul’s till the king should signify his pleasure
as to his further punishment. On the 26tli of April he was
again summoned before the council. The King of Great
Britain, France, and Ireland had recourse to the expedient
of stationing himself in a closet where he could hear with¬
out being seen ; and he received the appropriate reward of
hearing himself mentioned with the utmost freedom of
speech by the most undaunted of his subjects. By a most
inquisitorial sentence, worthy of Rome or Toledo, he was
committed as a prisoner to the Tower. His nephew, who
had written an epigram on the superstitions of the church,
was commanded to fix his residence at Newcastle-upon-
I yne, and not to move beyond a distance of ten miles from
that town.1 Their brethren were permitted to return to
Scotland, but were each of them restricted to particular
limits.
For the space of about ten months the prisoner was
subjected to the most rigorous treatment; no person was
allowed to visit him; he was not permitted to retain a ser¬
vant, and was even denied the use of pen and ink. But his
manly spirit was still unsubdued, and he endeavoured to
amuse his solitary hours by composing Latin verses, which,
with the tongue of his shoe-buckle, he engraved on the
walls of his prison-house. From these unnecessary re¬
straints he was at length released by the intercession of
some of his friends at court, and particularly of Sir James
Semple, but the king could not yet be induced to open the
doors of his prison. At the expiration of four weary years
he was released at the intercession of the Duke of Bouillon,
who invited him to fill the chair of biblical literature in the
Protestant university of Sedan. He was now in the sixty-
sixth year of his age, and had long filled an honourable and
conspicuous station in his native land, to which he felt that
strong attachment which his countrymen so generally feel.
It was accordingly with some degree of reluctance that the
brave old presbyter prepared for this voyage to France.
He embarked, however, on the 19th of April 1611, and
having spent a few days at Rouen and Paris, he arrived at
Sedan in the course of the ensuing month. In this univer¬
sity he was associated with several of his countrymen, which
served to lighten his banishment; yet he did not cease to
cherish some lingering though faint hope of being per¬
mitted to deposit his bones in the land of his fathers. His
naturally vigorous constitution had been impaired, however,
by his protracted imprisonment; and he terminated his
eventful life at Sedan in the year 1622, at the age of
seventy-seven.
Melville was small in stature, and was alike conspicuous
for his vivacity of body and mind. His elasticity of spirit,
which he appears to have retained till the last years of his
life, was accompanied with a warm and impetuous tempera¬
ment, which, however, was free from all personal malignity.
From his early youth he was distinguished by fervid and
consistent piety. He was a man of the most unblemished
integrity; nor did his enemies, who were sufficiently nume¬
rous, venture to charge him with sordid or selfish motives
of conduct; their accusations chiefly relate to his want of
personal reverence for the king, and to his want of venera¬
tion for bishops. In private life he appears to have been
very amiable and affectionate: if his indignation was easily
M E L
489
roused, it was also easily appeased. Melville was unques¬
tionably possessed of very uncommon talents, and he had
acquired an ample and varied store of erudition. Such was
his indifference to literary reputation, however, that although
so capable of writing in prose or verse, he committed very
few works to the press. In the excellent Life of Andreio
Melville by Dr M‘Crie, 2 vols. 8vo, 1819, will be found an
enumeration of his works, to which may be added a MS.
Commentamus in divinam Pauli Epistolam ad Romanos,
auctore Andrea Melvino Scoto.
Melville, Sir James, whose name is familiarly known
to the readers of Scottish history, was born in the year
1535. He was the third son of Sir John Melville of
Raith in Fifeshire, by his wife Helen, the eldest daughter
of Sir Alexander Napier of Merchiston. At the age of
fourteen he had the misfortune to lose his father, who, hav¬
ing espoused the Reformed doctrines, was, at the instigation
of Archbishop Hamilton, brought to the scaffold at Stir-
ling, convicted of high treason. The archbishop having
found means of seizing upon his estate, Melville’s widow
and children were reduced to a state of penury. Through
the influence of the queen-regent, young Melville was at¬
tached to Monluc, Bishop of Valence, as a page of honour.
After a series of curious adventures, the young Scot reached
Paris, where, during his mastei'’s absence at Rome, he was
left to improve his education. Young Melville having ac¬
cidentally come under the notice of Montmorenci, the great
constable, after obtaining the bishop’s consent, took him into
his service. In this position he witnessed several cam¬
paigns in France and Flanders during 1553. The kind¬
ness of his patron procured him a pension from the king
during the following year.
In 1557 he bore arms at the battle of St Quentin, where
the constable’s army was totally defeated, and he was him¬
self wounded and taken prisoner. He attended the con¬
stable during his captivity ; from which he was delivered by
the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis, concluded in the year
1559. In the course of the same year the king, at Mont-
morenci’s suggestion, sent him on a secret mission to Scot¬
land, where, under the pretext of paying a visit to his re¬
lations, he was instructed to use his best endeavours for
ascertaining the real views of the Prior of St Andrews and
his adherents. During Melville’s absence the constable^
his master, had the misfortune to kill his sovereign, Henri
IF, in a tournament, which led to his removal from the
court. Melville, although received with the greatest kind¬
ness, judged it expedient to try his fortune in another
country, and he now directed his views towards Germany.
He entered the service of the elector palatine, and was
employed by that prince on various diplomatic missions.
In company with the elector’s second son Casimir he
visited France during 1561 ; and he there made a tender
of his services to Queen Mary, who was on the eve of re¬
turning to Scotland. She received him very graciously,
and urged him “ when he wes to retire him out of Ger¬
many, to com hame and seme hir Maieste, with friendly
and fauorable offers.”
Having received communications from Moray and Mait¬
land, requiring him, in the name of their royal mistress, to
return home for the purpose of being employed in some
affairs of consequence, Melville took leave of the elector
palatine, and after executing a commission to the Queen
of England with which he had been intrusted by his Ger¬
man master, he directed his steps towards Scotland, and
Melville.
1 James Melville was afterwards permitted to reside at Berwick, where he died on the 19th of January 1614 in the fifty-ninth year
of his age, and the eighth of his banishment. He was twice married, and left several children. He appears to have been an upright
and disinterested man : his zeal, less fiery than that of his uncle, was equally uniform and consistent, nor did the offer of a bishopric
shake his attachment to presbytery. His talents were much inferior to those of his uncle. He is the author of various works in the
Latin and Scottish languages. His Diary, recently printed for the Bannatyne Club, contains much curious information relative to the
ecclesiastical and literary history of that age.
VOL.XIY* _ 3 Q
490
M E L
M E M
Melville
Bay
Melville
Island.
presented himself to Mary at Perth on the 5th May 1564.
The Queen of Scots received him graciously, and engaged
him in her service, bestowing upon him a pension of a
thousand marks.
After an interval of a few months, Melville was intrust¬
ed with an embassy to the Queen of England. Of his
proceedings on this occasion he has given a circumstantial
and characteristic account, in which the characteristic weak¬
nesses of Elizabeth are very prominently displayed. He
continued his attendance at court after the queen’s mar¬
riage with Darnley, and must sometimes have had a diffi¬
cult and delicate part to perform. On the birth of a prince,
19th June 1566, he was instantly despatched to convey
the intelligence to Elizabeth, and returned to his royal
mistress with a choice collection of court gossip respecting
the serious manner in which Elizabeth took to heart the
news which had just come from Scotland of the birth of a
prince. During the following year, when Mary was inter¬
cepted by the Earl of Bothwell, he was among her other
attendants, and along with her was conducted to Dunbar
Castle, but was only detained for a single day. Amidst the
civil commotions which succeeded he appears to have
pursued a prudent and cautious tenor of conduct, and to
have abstained from involving himself too deeply with either
of the adverse factions. He had adhered to the queen till
she was committed to Lochleven Castle. During the
eventful regency which ensued Melville had some concern
in public affairs; and after the king received the reins of
government into his owTn hands he was appointed a gentle¬
man of the bed-chamber, and a member of the Privy Coun¬
cil. He was not, however, acceptable to James’s favourite,
the Earl of Arran, through whose influence his name was
in 1584 expunged from the list of privy councillors. He
did not entirely lose the king’s favour, but was soon after¬
wards consulted on various occasions; and was in 1590
attached to the queen’s household.
When the king succeeded to the crown of England his
majesty was anxious to retain his services, but he being
desirous to “ spend the remainder of his days in contem¬
plation, begged his Majestie’s permission thereto.” He died
on the 13th of November 1617, at the mature age of
eighty-two. (Wood’s Peerage, vol. ii., p. 112.) From the
eldest brother of Sir James Melville is descended the noble
family of Leven and Melville.
Melville employed some portion of his declining age in
writing memoirs of his public life; and the work was pub¬
lished by his grandson, George Scott of'Pitlochie, sixty-six
years after the death of the author. The Memoirs of Sir
James Melvil of Hal-hill; containing an impartial Ac¬
count of the most remarkable Affairs of State during the
last Age, &c., London, 1683, fob: Edinburgh, 1735, 8vo.;
Glasgow, 1751, 12mo. The fidelity of the editor, however,
was liable to strong suspicion, which was naturally aug¬
mented by the consideration that no early copies of the
memoirs could be traced in any public or private library.
But a manuscript, apparently in the handwriting of the
author, was at length discovered in the collection bequeathed
to the Bose family by the Earl of Marchmont. From this
manuscript the work was printed for the Bannatyne Club:
Memoirs of his own Life by Sir James Melville of Halhill.
m.d.xlix.—m.d.xciii. ; Edinburgh, 1827, 4to. Melville’s
memoirs, in this authentic form, are a most valuable acces¬
sion to the stock of original materials for Scottish history.
METV1LLE BAY, an inlet of Baffin’s Bay, on the
coast of Greenland, Lat. 76. N., Long. 60. to 64. W. It was
from this bay that the last despatch was received from the
unfortunate expedition of Sir John Franklin, July 1845.
Melville Island, an island lying off the N. coast of
Australia, between 11. 8. and 11. 56. S. Lat., and 130. 20.
and 131. 24. E. Long. It is separated from the mainland on
the E. by Dundas Stiait, which is 15 miles in breadth, and
on the S. by Clarence Strait; while on the W. it is sepa- Memel
rated (fom Bathurst Island by Apsley Stiait, 46 miles in
length, and varying from 1^ to 4 in breadth. The coasts Memmi.
of the island, on all sides but the N., are high, and in many
places bold and precipitous; but on the N. the coast is
low, and abounds in shallow bays. The whole island is
well wooded, and in some places very thickly, except on the
W. coast, where the trees are few and stunted, by reason
of the N.W. monsoon. The height of the central part is
100 or 130 feet; and throughout the whole island vegeta¬
tion is luxuriant, and many sorts of timber, useful for car¬
pentry and shipbuilding, are obtained here. In all the
creeks of Melville Island alligators abound ; and turtles are
found in great numbers on all the coasts, except that of
Apsley Strait. The animals found in the island closely
resemble those of Australia. The climate from October
till April or May is unhealthy, on account of the excessive
heat and moisture of the atmosphere. The N.W. mon¬
soon begins about November, and rain falls in great abun¬
dance during all the hot season. From May till September
the weather is dry and pleasant, though the heat even then
is great. The inhabitants are divided into small tribes, and
lead a wandering life, being chiefly employed in hunting.
They are not much inclined to intercourse with Europeans.
MEMEL, a seaport of E. Prussia, in the government of
Konigsberg, is situated at the entrance of a large inlet of
the Baltic called the Kurische Haff, near the mouth of the
Dange, 74 miles N.N.E. of Konigsberg; Lat. of light¬
house 55. 43. 7. N., Long. 21. 6. 2. E. The town con¬
sists of three parts—the old town, the new town, and
Frederick’s Town ; besides several suburbs. It was sur¬
rounded by walls in the time of the Teutonic knights,
and is still fortified, having a citadel with four bastions,
built in 1250, and part of which is now employed as a prison.
Memel contains two Lutheran churches, one Calvinistic,
and one Roman Catholic church, a synagogue, several
schools and benevolent institutions, two arsenals, an ex¬
change, and a theatre. The harbour, which is spacious
and secure, is obstructed by a bar at the entrance of the
Kurische Haff; where the depth of water is never more
than 18, and sometimes as low as 13 feet; so that large
vessels are obliged to load and unload in the roads. The
harbour is commanded by the citadel; and at the en¬
trance stands the lighthouse, 128 feet high, with a very
brilliant stationary light, which is visible to the distance of
20 miles. The principal articles of manufacture are wool¬
len cloth and soap ; and there are also in Memel breweries,
distilleries, shipbuilding yards, &c. The position of the
town on the Baltic, and its proximity to the Russian fron¬
tier, render it a place of considerable trade. The follow¬
ing is an account of the number and tonnage of the ves¬
sels which have entered and left the port from 1851 to
1854:—
Year.
1851  1104
1852   740
1853   984
1854  1766
Entered.
Ships. Tonnage.
Cleared.
143,210
92,083
129,591
208,984
Ships.
1198
760
1007
1570
Tonnage.
141,808
97,132
134,380
183,266
The number of vessels belonging to Memel was in
1855, 85, and in 1856, 88. The principal exports are,—tim¬
ber (chiefly oak and fir), corn, hemp, flax, oil, wool, hides,
tallow, &c.; and the imports consist of salt, coal, herrings,
cutlery, cotton, yarn, &c. The town was partially de¬
stroyed by fire in 1854. Pop. 10,769.
MEMMI or Di Masting, Simone, a celebrated Italian
painter, was born about 1285 at Siena. According to
Vasari, he was a pupil of Giotto, and in 1298 was engaged
under that master in the mosaic of the Navicella at Rome.
But as Memmi was then only fourteen, Vasari’s account has
been doubted byRumohr, Lanzi, and others. He was, how-
MEM
Memmin- ever, a close student of G,otto’s works, and at an early a^e
MEM
491
gen
II
Memnon.
painted the portico of St Peter’s at Rome in the style of that
artist. So notable was this performance that he was imme-
^ diately invited to the papal court at Avignon. Here he be¬
came intimate with Petrarca; and the respective arts of the
painter and the poet were employed to commemorate their
mutual friendship. Memmi painted the portrait of Laura,
the lady-love of his friend the poet; Petrarca, in return,
immortalized Memmi in two of his sonnets. After produc¬
ing at Avignon many good pictures, both in fresco and
distemper, Memmi returned to Siena, and was employed in
the decoration of the palace and cathedral of that city.
Invited to blorence by the general of the Augustines, he
painted in the chapter-house of Santo Spirito a masterly
and elaborate picture of the Crucifixion. Soon after his re¬
turn to Siena his last illness attacked him. He contrived,
however, to travel to Avignon, and there he died in 1344.’
A few of Memmi’s numerous productions still exist. In
the Campo Santo at Pisa are his stories from the life of San
Rameri, and his famous “ Assumption of the Virgin.” His
histories of Christ, San Domenico, San Pietro’ Martire,
and part of his history of the Preaching Friars, are found
in the chapter-house of the Spanish Friars at Florence.
Peh a' ca s manuscript copy of Servius on Virgil, which is
preserved in the Ambrosian Librarv of Milan, contains a
miniature of exquisite conception by Memmi. It represents
Virgil engaged in composition, and raising his eves heaven¬
ward to catch the ray of inspiration. A shepherd,'a husband¬
man, and a warrior standing before him intimate the respect¬
ive subjects of the Bucolics, Georgies, and ^Ineid. The
function of the critic is indicated by a representation of Sta¬
tius drawing aside a veil of delicate transparency.
“Memmi’s works,” says Vasari, “prove that he pos¬
sessed great power of imagination, and was well versed in
the best methods of composing his groups in accordance
with the manner of those days.” A great tribute is paid to
im hy I etrarch : £‘ I am acquainted,” he says in one of
his letters, “with two illustrious painters,—Giotto the Flor-
entine^ of great fame among moderns, and Simone of
Siena.” (Vasari’s Lives of the Painters, and Lanzi’s His¬
tory of Painting.)
, MEMMIN GEN, a toivn of Bavaria, circle of Swabia
situated on a tributary of the Iller, 43 miles S.W. of Augs¬
burg. The town is walled, and contains a handsome town-
hall an arsenal, barracks, several churches, schools, hos¬
pitals, &c. It has manufactures of woollen, cotton, and linen
fabncs, stockings, ribbons, tobacco, iron and copper wares,
Nc.; and there is a considerable trade in salt, wool, corn,
and the various manufactures of the place. Memmin<ron is
noted as the scene of a victory gained by the French under
Moreau over the Austrians, 10'th May 1800. Pon. T^OO
MEMNON, the Resolute or Steadfast (from p.mA
1. I he son of Aurora and Tithonus, a hero of the Trojan
war. Homer mentions him in the Odyssey as remarkable
for his beauty, and alludes to his having slain Antilochus
the son of Nestor. {Odyss. iv. 188,‘xi. 521.) Hesiod
speaks of him as king of the Ethiopians. {Theog. 984-5.)
Later writers give us much fuller accounts of Memnon ;
but it must not be therefore concluded that he was not
until then celebrated; for Arctinus of Miletus, who is as¬
signed to the middle of the eighth century b.c., wrote a
poem, JEthiopis, of which his history probably formed the
main object. (Heyne, Excurs. xix., ad 2En. i.) The story
of Memnon is variously told by the later writers, all agree¬
ing that he came to the aid of Priam with a force of Ethio¬
pians} and was slain by Achilles. {Diet. iv. 4, vi. 10;
Quint. Smyrn. ii. 30, et passim; Tzetz. Posthom. 235;
Pans. x. 31 ; Apollod. iii. 12, sect. 4 ; Diod. Sic. ii. 22, iv.
/5, &c.) Some call him a leader of Indians as well as
Ethiopians, or consider the two identical. Those addi¬
tions which make Memnon to have been sent bv Teuta-
mus.
a king of Assyria, whose vassal his father was, and Memnon.
which connect him with Susa, probably result from an at-
tempt to gain a synchronism of Greek and Assyrian his¬
tory. Any direct endeavours to find a place for Memnon
in Assyrian and Egyptian history, which might at first sight
be ascribed to native sources, are especially important with
reference to his story and his connection with various places
and monuments. In the cases of both countries thev ap¬
pear to be wholly of Greek origin, or at least of an origin
extei nal to the nations to whose liistories they have been
attached. I he fragments of Assyrian history preserved by
ancient writers contain no direct mention of Memnon ; but
in one list there is an evident reference to him. In it oc¬
curs the name of Feutamus, with in one version the addi¬
tion, in a very corrupt form, that in his time Troy was
taken by the Greeks. (Cory’s Ancient Fragments, 2d ed.,
P’ ^7.) I he character of the whole list, which consists of
Assyrian, Persian, and Greek names, strung together so as
to fill up a certain period, makes any further examination
needless. 1 here does not seem to be any other mention
of Memnon which could at the first view be even conjec-
turally assigned to an oriental source. The supposed
ESyPtian. reference to Memnon of the same kind is equally
unauthoritative, although found in a far different document.
The list of dynasties, epitomized from the lost work of
Manetho, the Egyptian historian, contains, under some
leigns, historical observations which are not always original.
(See Manetho.) Among these notices is one relating to
Memnon. It is said of Amenophis, the seventh or eighth
sovereign of the eighteenth dynasty, the Amenoph III. of
the monuments, that he is considered to be Memnon
and the speaking stone. {Anc. Frag., p. 116, 117.) It
was a statue of this king that was celebrated as the Vocal
Memnon; but there is strong reason to suppose that it did
not become famous until long after Manetho’s time; and the
Egyptians, as appears from the inscriptions of visitors on
the statue, took no interest in the vocal phenomenon. It
is reasonable, therefore, to regard the notice in the lists,
like others of a similar character, as not virtually Egyptian,
and added by an epitomizer or chronologer. I'he examina¬
tion of the inscriptions of the statue has however shown,
as positively as can be on evidence of this kind, that
the connection of Memnon with Egypt wtis of Greek
origin. J hus the old Greek tradition or myth is our only
authority. If we carefully consider it, we can scarcely do
wrong in concluding Memnon to be a mythological per¬
sonage. Whatever view we take of the Trojan war itself;
whether we consider it, with some, as purely mythological;
or, wfith others, as having a vague historical basis; or, again,
w ith others, as having a sure historical basis; w^e must be
ready to admit that most of the heroes are mythical. If
we suppose, as seems most reasonable, some of"those from
whom descent was claimed by contemporaries of Homer to
be personages whose memory was preserved in tradition
we may fairly argue the reality of not a few Greek heroes •
but we could scarcely apply this argument to the case of
foreigners who were not even Trojans. The Greek form of
Memnon’s name also, like Agamemnon, is somewhat against
his reality, although it should be noted that its root is found
in the Semitic languages arid in Egyptian (see Hiero-
gliphigs, vol. XI., p. 372); so that it might be similar to an
original name both m sound and in signification. If, however
we hold that there was, at about the time to which the Trojan
war has been usually assigned, a great struggle between
the Greeks and the As.atics in the Troad, we find strong
reason for supposing some such expedition from the East
as that of Memnon. The progress of modern research is
tending to show the truth of the broad outlines of many
such traditions, as it indicates the general state of the
countries to which they refer. The power of the Assyrian
empire about this period was so great, that it is scarcely
492 ' ME M
Mcmnon. possible that a war of any length and importance could have
^ ^ ^ f been wa^ed on the western coast of Asia Minor without its
interference ; and Memnon—who in the older form of the
story is always an eastern Ethiopian, as the son of Aurora
should be, and not a western—may with his forces be taken
to represent some such aid from Assyria. It was not un¬
natural, that as in subsequent times Egyptian sites were in
some manner connected with Memnon by Greek travellers
or their guides, he should have been associated by later
authors with the western Ethiopians also,—unless, indeed,
this last idea gave rise to a search for Memnonian remains
in Egypt. The twofold geographical division of the Ethio¬
pians was known to Homer and Herodotus, is indicated in
the Scriptures, and has been, last of all, confirmed by the
cuneiform inscriptions, and, we may venture to say, by eth¬
nology also. It is worthy of remark, that the chief indivi¬
dual identified in Egypt with Memnon appears in his race
to have singularly corresponded to the Memnon of the later
writers, since there is reason to believe him to have been
sprung from the eastern as wTell as the western Ethiopians;
but this agreement can hardly be considered as more than
fortuitous.
Although tombs of Memnon, and structures or places
called after him, were shown in various countries, there are
but two which can be considered of high importance,—the
Acropolis of Susa, called the Memnonium or Memnonia, and
the great western suburb of Egyptian Thebes, bearing the
latter name. The former town is called by Herodotus Mem¬
nonian (v. 54), doubtless from the Acropolis, which was pro¬
bably its most ancient part. Pausanias alludes to the thick¬
ness of its walls (lib. iv., c. xxxi., § 5). The suburb of
Egyptian Thebes called Memnonia (to. Me/mWa) is gene¬
rally held to have included all the buildings on the western
bank of the river ; but Sir Gardner Wilkinson considers it to
have been only a part of Pathyris, the “ Libyan suburb.”
(Modern Ec/i/pt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 137.) It must have
been, however, the most important quarter. Its name can
scarcely be said to be of Greek origin, for it is as old as the
time of Ptolemy Physcon, when a Greek identification of its
edifices, or of the famous vocal statue, would not have been
able to give a name to part of a town so thoroughly Egyptian
as Thebes, though it could easily originate a corruption. We
have only to remember the manner in which purely native
names by a slight change were connected with Greek my¬
thology or tradition, as in the cases of Canopus and An-
tseopolis, to see how easily a name resembling Memnonia
would have been converted by the Greeks into that word.
The Vocal Memnon is the northernmost of two seated
colossi, representing Amenoph III., placed in the approach
to a temple now utterly ruined, in the midst of western
Thebes. The temple appears to have been wholly raised
by the same sovereign ; and if any structure were specially
called by the Greeks a Memnonium, it must have been this;
although it is more probable that all the temples, or at least
the larger ones, in the quarter bore this name. It is a com¬
mon error to call the temple of Rameses II., or the llame-
seum of El-Kurneh, the Memnonium. The height of
each of the two colossi is about 47 feet, and they rest upon
pedestals about 12 feet high. Greek and Latin inscriptions
on the Vocal Memnon, chiefly on the legs, attest that visitors
, have heard the voice of Memnon, and paid this work of re¬
verence to him, for they are proscynemas. The inscriptions
record the visits of Hadrian and the Empress Sabina and their
suite, ol eight governors of Egypt, and several other persons
holding office. 1 he number of inscriptions known is seventy-
two, ot which thirty-five bear dates. The earliest is of the
ninth year of Nero; the latest of the reign of Septimius
Severus. We learn from them, and the concurrent testi¬
mony of ancient writers, that the vocal phenomenon did
not occur, or at least did not attract attention, until after the
Roman conquest, that apparently it ceased at the time of
NON.
Severus, and that it was an object of veneration to the Memnon.
Greeks and Romans, and not to the Egyptians. At this '
time the statue was broken in two ; and it was from the por¬
tion remaining in its place, the lower half, that the sound
seemed to come. Some of the inscriptions agree with Pau¬
sanias in ascribing the overthrow of the statue to Cambyses ;
but Strabo heard that it had fallen through an earthquake.
The former opinion seems on the whole the more reason¬
able, since it has the weightier evidence on its side, and be¬
cause such a convulsion as would suffice to break a mono¬
lithic statue would be far more violent than any recorded to
have happened in Egypt. Yet there are traces of the effects
of earthquakes in that country, and probably at Thebes ; and
it is not to be forgotten that Eusebius relates that one
which occurred b.c. 27 destroyed this town. It is to this
earthquake that Letronne ascribes the overthrow of the
statue. The upper part was subsequently restored, and it
is not improbable that this was done by order of the Em¬
peror Septimius Severus, as the same savant conjectures.
The sound is said to have resembled the twanging of a
harp-string or the striking of brass. The ancient writers
who speak of the time of its occurrence say that it was at
sunrise, when the sun’s rays first struck the statue; but the
inscriptions show that it did not always occur until some
time, often a considerable time, after sunrise. As to the
cause of the sound opinions are much divided, and mainly
with respect to its genuineness. Sir Gardner Wilkinson
argues it to have been an imposture, and cites the remark¬
able fact that one of the stones of which the upper part is
formed, just above the main fracture, when struck gives a
metallic sound. {Mod. Egypt and Thebes, vol. ii., p. 160-162.)
M. Letronne considers that the sound cannot have been the
result of an imposture, and shows that similar sounds have
been heard to proceed from stones under the influence of the
sun’s says. Several of the writers of the great Description
de VEgypte frequently heard such a sound, always shortly
after sunrise, apparently issuing from one of tlm roof-
stones of the granite sanctuary of the temple of El-Karnak.
Mr Lane also states (in his MS. journal) that in the neigh¬
bouring temple, called the Rameseum of El-Kurneh, he
heard for several successive days “ a single, distinct, musical
sound, like that produced by a harp-string, evidently pro¬
ceeding from some stone above him.” I his occurred shortly
after noon. He supposes that at this time the stone be¬
came exposed to the sun, and suddenly expanding by the
increase of temperature, produced the sound. There is
therefore a possible explanation of the voice of Mem¬
non, which, if an imposture, could scarcely have been suc¬
cessfully maintained in such a position for two centuries.
It is easy to understand how the Greeks, finding a statue
which gave forth a musical sound when touched by the
solar rays, in a place called Memnonia, or having a name
nearly resembling this, supposed it to represent Memnon,
who thus saluted his mother; and the Egyptian priests
would have readily encouraged the delusion ; or they may
have even originated the idea, to impose upon the Greeks.
—In these observations on the Vocal Memnon we have
mainly followed M. Letronne’s Statue Vocale de Memnon,
an essay which, notwithstanding some faults of strained
reasoning, is the most learned and satisfactory one that
has been written on this curious subject.
2. Memnon tbe Rhodian, a Greek commander in the
Persian service. At the time of Alexanders invasion he
governed the west coast of Asia Minor. I he battle of the
Granicus was fought against his advice, and he was after¬
wards invested with the entire command of the west of
Asia. He defended Halicarnassus with great skill and ob¬
stinacy, and when it was no longer tenable crossed to Cos.
Having large supplies of money from Darius, he collectec
a mercenary force, and projected the invasion of Greece.
After several successes in the subjugation of the islands, he
MEM
Memphis died at Mytilene b.c. 333. He appears to have been the
II only general in the Persian service capable of offering any
Mena. serious resistance to Alexander.
3. Memnon, a governor of Thrace, who made a revolt
while Alexander was in the East, which was soon sup¬
pressed by Antipater.
4. Memnon, a Greek historian of the Roman period,
probably of the first or second century of the Christian era.
He wrote a history of the town of Heraclea in Pontus, part
of which Photius has preserved in a somewhat copious ab¬
stract. His historical accuracy is much to be commended,
but he shows great ignorance of geography. These re¬
mains are given in the Fragmenta Historicorum Grce-
corum (Didot), vol. iii., pp. 525-558. The best separate
edition is that of J. Conr. Orelli, Leips. 1816. (r. s. p.)
MEMPHIS, an ancient city of Egypt, the site of which
is on the W. bank of the Nile, about 10 miles S. of Cairo.
Its name, in Egyptian, was Men-nufr, signifying the “ good
abode,” or, as some think, the “ abode of the good one,” or
Osiris. In Hebrew it was called Moph or Noph. The
sacred name was Ptah-ee, “ the abode of Phthah,” or Vul¬
can, its chief god. The foundation of Memphis is ascribed to
Menes, the first king of Egypt, who reigned about b.c. 2700.
On the division of the kingdom not long afterwards, it be-
canee the capital of successive Memphite dynasties, which ap¬
pear to have lasted, with one considerable break, through
about a thousand years. Under the Fourth Dynasty, which
was the second Memphite one, the most famous of the pyra¬
mids near the city were raised. During this long period it
seems to have been the most important city of Egypt.
When the whole country was united under one Theban
sovereign (b.c. cir. 1525), Memphis became the capital of
Lower Egypt, and probably had a larger population than
the kingly residence, Thebes. Under the Lower Egyptian
dynasties that ruled after the Theban line Memphis re¬
covered much of its importance, and was virtually the chief
town until the foundation of Alexandria. After this it was
the native capital for some time, and second only to the
new city. It was finally ruined by the foundation of El-
Fustat, upon the opposite bank, by the Arab conquerors.
The most important edifices and monuments of Memphis
were the temple of Phthah, the Serapeum, the burial-place
of the bulls Apis, and the pyramids. The first of these
was the chief temple of the place; and successive kings
from the earliest times made additions to it. Its site is
marked by but scanty remains, for it has been used as a
quarry, like the other Memphite monuments, by the Mo¬
hammedan inhabitants of the successive Arab capitals.
I he ruins of the Serapeum, and the vast subterranean se¬
pulchre of the bulls Apis in connection with it, have been
lately discovered by M. Mariette. The pyramids, which
were the tombs of kings, and apparently of other royal per¬
sonages also, extend along the edge of the desert behind
Memphis for several miles N. and S. Around them are
the tombs of subjects. (For further information see the
article Egypt.) (r. s. p.)
Memphis, a town in the state of Tennessee, Shelby county,
North America, pleasantly situated on the Mississippi, just
below its confluence with the Wolf River, 420 miles below
St Louis, and 209 miles W.S.W. of Nashville. The town is
built on a bold promontory, 30 feet above the river; while
below, a bed of sandstone running into the river forms a
convenient landing-place. The town has a large esplanade
in front, and many very handsome buildings, of which the
chief are,—six or seven churches, an academy, a medical col¬
lege, two banks, &c. Memphis is a place of great trade and
growing importance ; while shipbuilding and manufactures
of iron, cotton, and ropes, are also carried on. Pop. (1850)
8841 ; (1853) about 12,000.
MENA, Juan de, a Castilian poet of considerable merit,
was born at Cordova about 1411. He was early left an
M E N 493
orphan ; and at the age of twenty-three, as Romero naively Menage,
informs us, he first gave himself to “ the sweet labour
of good learning,” pursuing a regular course of study at
Salamanca and Rome. On his return he was made a
governor of his native city; and his learning and skill
as a poet soon gained for him admittance at the court of
Juan II., where he secured the friendship of the veteran
soldier and elegant poet the Marquis of Santillana, and
afterwards received the appointment of Latin secretary
to the king and historiographer of Castile. He became
ultimately a kind of poet-laureate. If a battle was won,
Juan de Mena had to celebrate the victory in verse; if
a pacification took place between the king and his son, the
poet recorded the restoration of harmony in appropriate
song; and if the Constable de Luna received a slight
wound, Juan was ready with his quintillas to soothe the
pain. He found friends also among eminent personages in
Portugal. The Infante Don Pedro, himself a versifier of
some note, made the acquaintance of Juan while in Spain,
and on his return to Lisbon addressed him in tolerable verse,
and afterwards wrote a skilful imitation of the Spanish poet’s
El Laberinto. De Mena died suddenly in 1456 at Tor-
relaguna, where Santillana, his fast friend and patron, wrote
his epitaph, and erected a beautiful monument to his me¬
mory, which stands to the present day. Some of De Mena’s
shorter effusions are extremely pleasant and amusing; but
the greater number of his minor poems are full of affecta¬
tion and fashionable conceits. His poem of the Seven
Deadly Sins, although of grave pretensions, is but a dull
allegory full of pedantry and false metaphysics. The Coro¬
nation, written in honour of his noble patron the Marquis
of Santillana, is a sort of light parody on the Divina Co¬
media of Dante, and while an improvement on his previous
poem, is nevertheless overloaded with unprofitable learn¬
ing. The descriptive passages, however, are often admir¬
able, and the versification is smooth and flowing. His long
poem, the Labyrinth, or The Three Hundred, the com¬
position of which was spread over a large portion of his life,
was designed to teach, by vision and allegory, the duties
and destinies of man, and is written in direct imitation of
Dante’s great work. Of the historical portraits introduced
into the poem, the best are those of the poet’s countrymen
and contemporaries. Passing by the courtly flattery paid to
the king and the constable, there are occasionally lines of
uncommon power and tenderness, recording the premature
fate of some noble Spaniard, such as the Count de Niebla.
This poem met with great admiration at court; it was sub¬
mitted to his majesty piecemeal as it was composed, and
had the honour to receive a correction from the royal pen.
Some have accorded to De Mena the title of the “ Spanish
Ennius,” a distinction which may be considered generous,
but can hardly be called just. He has always had a respect¬
able position with his countrymen, if he cannot be consi¬
dered absolutely popular. The most elaborate editions of his
works are those of the learned Hernan Nunez de Guzman,
with a comment, 1499; and of the eminent scholar, Fran¬
cisco Sanchez de las Brozas, commonly called El Brocense,
also with a glosa or comment, 1582. These editions have
been frequently reprinted. The principal materials for the
Life of Juan deMena are to be found in the verses of Fran¬
cisco Romero, in the Epicedio en la Miuertc del Maestro Her¬
nan Nunez, 15/8, at the end of the Pefranes de Hernan
Nunez. (Ticknor’s Hist, of Spanish Lit., vol. i., 1849.)
MENAGE, Gilles, “the Varron,” according to Bayle,
‘ ofntl?e seventeenth century,” was the son of the Avocat
du Roi, and was born at Angers on the 15th August 1613.
A tenacious memory and a keen desire for knowledge car¬
ried him speedily through his course of studies, and at the
eaily age of nineteen he assumed, in accordance with the
wishes of his father, the advocate’s gown. But his early
developed bias towards literature was irrepressible; and after
494
MEN
MEN
Menai practising at the bar in Angers, Paris, and Poitiers, he aban-
Sirait doned the profession in disgust, and entered the church.
Soon afterwards his promotion to some sinecure benefices
enabled him to devote all his time to his favourite pursuit.
His varied accomplishments introduced him to the most
select literary society, and in no long time he was received
into the family of Cardinal de Retz. But Menage was too
self-willed for a protege. His caustic wit and sarcastic hu¬
mour were exercised without any compunction on the po¬
litical creatures of the cardinal, and his unwillingness to
soothe the vanity he had wounded aggravated the offensive¬
ness of his conduct. Accordingly, he was forced to leave
the house of his patron after a few years. He retired to a
dwelling of his own in the cloister of Notre Dame, and
there he began to gather around him on Wednesday even¬
ings those literary assemblies which he called Mercuriales.
About this time he might have been admitted into the
French Academy had he not preferred to ridicule the dic¬
tionary of that body in his Requete des Dictionnaires. The
latter part of Menage’s life was embittered by the attacks
of those authors whom his iil-tempered satire had provoked.
He died on the 23d July 1692. So unrelenting were his
enemies that they made even his death a subject for their
satirical wit. Of the voluminous works of Menage the fol-
lowingarethemostimportant:—Dictionnaire Etymologique,
or Orignes de la Langae Franyaise, fob, 1694, and 2 vols.
fob, Paris, 1750; Origini della Lingua Italiana, fob, Ge¬
neva, 1685; an edition of Diogenes Laertius ; Anti-Baillet,
8vo, Paris, 1685; Juris Civilis Amcenitates, 8vo, Paris, 1667 ;
and Poemata Latina, Gallica, Grceca,et Italica, 12mo, Am¬
sterdam, 1687. After his death was published
in 2 vols. in 1693-94, and afterwards in 4 vols. in 1715.
MENAI STRAIT, an arm of the sea in North Wales,
separating the island of Anglesea from the county of Car¬
narvon, and extending from N.E. to S.W. to a length of
about 14 miles, with a breadth varying from 200 yards to
2 miles. The navigation of this strait was formerly im¬
peded by dangerous rocks, many of which, however, have
been removed, and ships, especially those with a tonnage
of less than 100 tons, now pass through in safety. The
Menai Strait is chiefly remarkable for the two bridges
by which it is spanned. The Menai Suspension Bridge,
by Telford, was begun in 1819 and opened in 1826.
It is of a very elegant form, and is supported by two
piers, the distance between which is 550 feet, and the
whole roadway, which is carried over four arches on
one side and three on the other, has a length of 1000
feet, and a breadth of 30 feet. The height of the bridge
above the level of high-water is 100 feet, and the total
suspending power of the bridge, exclusive of its own
weight, is calculated at 1527 tons. The cost of the
erection was L.120,000. The Britannia Tubular Bridge
is a still more wonderful erection. It was built for the
Chester and Holyhead Railway by Stephenson, and was
completed in 1850, after having been in the course of
construction for four years. Owing to the necessity that
it should be 100 feet above the water throughout, it was
impossible to construct the bridge in the usual way with
arches ; and on account of the vibration to which it would be
liable, the suspension principle was not employed. It was
therefore constructed of tubular beams of iron, by means of
which the greatest amount of strength with the least weight
was obtained. 1 hese beams form eight large tubes, which
rest upon three towers in the sea and an abutment on the
land on each side. I he whole length of the roadway is
1841 feet, and its height above high-water is 101 feet, while
the total height of the central tower is 230 feet. The weight
of all the tubes is nearly 11,000 tons, being more tlian that
of four line-of-battle ships fully equipped ; and the cost of
the whole was L.621,865. (See Iron Bridges, vol. xii.,
p. 607.)
MEN AM, or Meinam, a river of Siam, rises in the Chi¬
nese province of Yun-nan, flows southwards through the
centre of Siam, and after traversing for about 800 miles a
rich and well-cultivated country, discharges itself into the
Gulf of Siam. It is the most important river in Siam, and
its name signifies, in the language of the country, “ mother
of waters.” The Menam is navigable as far up as Chiang-
mai, in the Laos country, but its course is frequently in¬
terrupted by rapids and falls. At certain seasons it over¬
flows its banks,—a circumstance which contributes greatly
to the fertility of the neighbouring land, and to the facility
of communication between different parts. On the banks
of the Menam stand the ruins of Ayuthia, the ancient capi¬
tal, and the city of Bankok, which is the chief town.
MENANDER, the most eminent poet of the new co¬
medy in Greece, was the son of Diopeithes and Hegesis-
trate, and belonged to the demus of Cephissia. It is gene¬
rally agreed that he was born in 342 b.c., the same year in
which his father commanded the Athenian forces in the
Hellespont against Philip of Macedon. He had theadvan-
tageof receiving his education from his paternal uncle, Alexis
the comic poet, and Theophrastus the philosopher. An inti¬
mate friendship which he formed at an early age with Epi¬
curus may account for much of the tone of his subsequent
w'orks. Menander’s first play, entitled ’Opyrj, wTas exhibited in
his twenty-first year, and gained a prize. Not so successful
were the majority of his after efforts. His genius scorned
to stoop to the gross jesting that was so palatable to the
mob; and accordingly, out of more than a hundred comedies
which he composed, only eight won the palm. Yet the
popular sentence was reversed by a band of select admirers,
including Ptolemy, the first Greek King of Egypt, and De¬
metrius Phalereus. So intimate, indeed, was he with the
latter, that on the expulsion of that eminent statesman from
Athens, he with difficulty escaped being put to death.
Menander had an estate at Piraeus; and it is said that he
was drowned while swimming in the harbour of that place
in 291 B.c. The Athenians erected a tomb to his memory
not far from that of Euripides. His statue was also placed
in the theatre ; an honour, however, which was conferred
upon too many to be of much value.
Only some fragments of Menander’s numerous plays re¬
main. They were lately printed by Meineke in the fourth
volume of his Fragmenta Comicorum Grcecorum, 8vo,
Berlin, 1841. They were also published, with a Latin
version by Diibner, as an appendix to the Aristophanes of
Didot’s Bibliotheca Scriptorum Grcecorum, 8vo, Paris, 1840.
Many of them have been translated into English by Cum¬
berland in the Observer.
Menander was the first that established the superiority of
the new comedy over the old. Clearly perceiving that every
form of the drama ought to be a representation of nature,
he abolished the use of the chorus, and changed comedy
from a satire upon persons into a description of manners.
He subdued the boisterous mirth of the old comedy, and
by introducing occasionally the deep earnestness of tragedy,
rendered his incidents at once more impressive and more
life-like. So exquisitely faithful, indeed, were his delineations
from nature, that Aristophanes the grammarian exclaimed in
quaint admiration, “ O Menander ! O Life ! which of you
two copied from the other ?” The estimation in which
Menander was held by the ancients is indicated by the
number of his imitators. Among his countrymen, Alciphron
and Lucian borrowed from him. Among the Romans the
best writers of comedy were often the closest imitators of
Menander. Caecilius stole from him many of the titles,
and probably a great part of the substance, of his plays.
Afranius is accused by Horace, in the language of allegory,
of wearing a gown that once fitted Menander. So openly
and extensively did Terence plagiarize from the famous
Greek comic poet, that Caesar addresses him as <£ Dimidiate
Menam
II
Menander.
MEN
Menasseh Menander.” The following eulogy of Menander is given
by Quinctilian (x. 1.) :—“ He has delineated the picture of
human life most accurately; his invention is fruitful, his
eloquence powerful, his characters, passions, and manners
proper and natural.”
Menander was handsome in person, polished in his man¬
ners, and self-possessed in his bearing. His scrupulous
attention to elegance and effect transformed him sometimes
into a coxcomb. He was wont to come into his patron’s
presence with a mincing gait and languid air, redolent of
perfumes, and clad in a nicely adjusted robe ; yet the
native good-humour of his countenance could not be con¬
cealed by his affectation, nor driven away by his repeated
defeats at the public theatre. Meeting on one occasion his
most formidable competitor, he said to him, “ Pray, Phile-
mon, do you not blush when you carry off the palm from
me ?” I hat the morality of Menander was not below that
°f his own age is shown by the fact that his plays were
universally read, were prescribed by teachers to their pupils,
and were represented at private banquets. (See the dis¬
sertation on the life of Menander affixed to Meineke’s Me-
nandri et Philemonis Reliquice, 8vo, Berlin, 1823.)
MENASSEH, Ben Israel, a celebrated rabbi, the son
of a rich merchant, was born in Spain about 1604. At an
early age he fled along with his father from the terrors of
the Inquisition, and repaired to Holland. In his eighteenth
year he succeeded his teacher Isaac Uziel as expounder of
the Talmud in the synagogue at Amsterdam. His great
work, Conciliador nel Pentateucho, Amsterdam, 1632, in¬
troduced him to the favourable notice of the learned among
both Jews and Christians. In the following year a Latin
translation, by Dionysius Vossius, appeared under the title
of Conciliatory sire de Convenientia Locorum S. Scripturce
quce pugnare esse videntur. About 1639 the seizure of
his property by the Spanish Inquisition drove him to settle
at Basle as a merchant. Induced soon afterwards to visit
England in the hope of obtaining more privileges for his
nation, Menasseh was favourably received and entertained
by Cromwell. He died at Amsterdam about 1659. The
lest of Menasseh’s important works are,—an edition of the
Hebrew Bible, without points, in 2 vols. 4to, Amsterdam,
1635; an edition of the Talmud, with notes, 8vo, Amster¬
dam, 1633; De Resurrectione JSIortuorum libri hi., 8vo,
Amsterdam, 1636; De Fragilitate Humana ex Lapsu
Adami, deque Divino Auxilio, Amsterdam, 1642; Spes
Israelis, 12mo, Amsterdam, 1650; and A Defence of the
Jews in England, London, 1656. The Conciliador has
been translated into English, by E. H. Lindo, in 2 vols.
8vo, London, 1842. Dr I homas Pococke has written the
Life of Menasseh in English.
MENDE, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
of the same name in the department of Lozere, is pleasantly
situated on the left bank of the Lot, 75 miles N.W. of
Avignon. The town, which is nearly triangular in shape,
is ill built, with narrow, crooked streets. The principal build¬
ings aie the cathedral, a Gothic edifice, with two spires;
and the old episcopal palace, which is now the prefecture!
The town has also a library and a picture gallery. In the
vicinity is the hermitage of St Privat; and the surrounding
country is studded with country houses. The manufacture
of coarse woollen stuffs, which bear the name of the town,
is extensively carried on here, and these articles are ex¬
ported to Germany, Spain, and Italy. The town was for¬
tified in 1151 by Adalbert, Bishop of Gevandan, and the
ramparts now form a fine walk. This town suffered much
in the civil wars of the Reformation, and was taken no less
than seven times. Pop. (1851) 6345.
MEN DELSSOHN, Bartholdy Felix, one of the most
distinguished musicians of the nineteenth century, was born
at Hamburg on the 3d of February 1809. His grandfather
was the celebrated Moses Mendelssohn, a Jewish philoso-
M E N
495
pher and writer on various subjects, and, among these, on Men-
the aesthetics of music. His father was a wealthy merchant ^Issohn.
of the Jewish persuasion at Berlin, who spared no expense
on the literary as well as musical education of his son
Telix. His mother, an accomplished woman, gave him his
first lessons in music. During a visit to Paris, he and his
sister received lessons on the pianoforte from Madame
Bigot; and on his return to Berlin he was placed under
Berger the pianist and Zelter the teacher of harmony and
counterpoint. He received some lessons from Hummel;
and in a few years became a first-rate pianist and an ex¬
cellent organist, besides acquiring a practical knowledge
of the violin, and a familiarity with the powers and uses of
orchestral instruments. In 1821 he had become an excel¬
lent pianist, and had learned to improvise with great facility
upon any musical theme given to him; while his retentive
memory enabled him to play without book most of the finest
classical pianoforte compositions. Being really in one sense
an amateur musician, from the wealthy condition of his
father, he was at full liberty to develop his musical powers
in any form that he might choose. In that respect he was
not like Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and others,
who, as young prodigies of musical talent, had nevertheless
to make their bread by their art, and to endeavour to con¬
sult the taste of the public. Probably this superiority of
social condition may have influenced his feelings and the
style of his musical compositions. Certainly he seems in
general to have cared little for the production of that
flowing and impressive melody which forms so great a charm
in the works of the great composers just named, and to
have devoted his attention rather to the effects of instru¬
mentation, and to the resources of harmony, modulation,
and counterpoint. In his fifteenth year he published two
quartets for pianoforte, violin, viola, and violoncello. Next,
a grand sonata for pianoforte and violin, and a third quartet.
In 1827 he brought out at Berlin a comic opera, Die
Hochzeit des Camacho, which did not succeed, and was
withdrawn. This disappointment seems to have disgusted
him for life with opera-writing. A copy of that opera,
arranged for pianoforte, &c., was published at Berlin. In
1829 Mendelssohn visited London, and the writer of this
article then heard him perform, at a rehearsal in the Phil¬
harmonic Society’s rooms, a double concerto with Mos-
cheles in a style that excited great admiration, and wit¬
nessed his conducting of his Overture to A Midsummer
Night's Dream, with a minute attention to the details of
orchestral effect which seemed quite new to the performers,
and not a little annoying to their self-love ; for Mendelssohn
frequently stopped them, and made them repeat the passages
over and over until he ivas satisfied. But the lessons that
he then and afterwards gave them were not forgotten :
they were laid to heart, and in a very few years rendered
the London Philharmonic orchestra one of the best in
Europe. From London Mendelssohn went to Edinburgh
with his friend the Chevalier Neukomm, and after a short
residence there, visited some of the most remarkable scenery
of Scotland. His visit to Staffa suggested his Overture to
The Cave of Fingal. He afterwards went to Paris, and
performed there ; and then visited Italy, where he remained
about four years. After his return to Berlin he was en¬
gaged in a music-directorship at Dusseldorf, which he re¬
signed in 1836, in consequence of irreconcilable dissensions
which arose between him and the artists and amateurs. It
was there that he composed and produced his Oratorio of
St Paul. In that year he married at Frankfort. In 1837
he settled in Leipsic as director of the concerts; and the
university conferred on him the title of Doctor. He was
called to a court appointment at Berlin, but soon obtained
eave to letum to Leipsic, where he felt that he could serve
his art better than at court. At Leipsic he composed most
of his w orks ; and by his unwearied exertions at last formed
496
Men¬
delssohn,
llartholdy
Felix.
MEN
in that town a school of music, which is now one of the
best in Europe. He was frequently called away from
Leipsic to conduct performances of his own music, and
several times revisited England, which, next to his own
Germany, was the land he best loved. His last visit to
England"was in 1846, to conduct his Elijah, written for that
year’s Birmingham festival. Incessant labour at last affected
his health, and rendered relaxation indispensable. He pro¬
ceeded to Switzerland. In May 1846 he received news of
the death of his sister, Madame Hensel, whom he tenderly
loved. From this severe shock he never recovered. He
endeavoured to divert his mind by making sketches of
Swiss scenery,—for drawing and painting were among his
many accomplishments,—but he felt that his bodily frame
was decaying, and used to speak to his friends and relatives
of his approaching death. Soon after his return to Leipsic
he was attacked, on the 8th of October 1847, by a violent
cerebral affection, which proved fatal on the 4th of No¬
vember following. He left a widow and children to lament
his premature death. His amiable manners, as well as his
extraordinary accomplishments, endeared him to numerous
friends, among whom he reckoned several in Great Britain.
His domestic virtues are highly spoken of by all who knew
him intimately. He was below the middle height, and
delicately formed ; his countenance handsome and intellec¬
tual, though somewhat effeminate. A good classical scholar,
and well acquainted with modern languages, he possessed
an accomplishment that is very rare among continental
musicians—e'.e.,he spoke and wrote English remarkably well.
Though not absolutely endowed with musical genius, his
musical talents were of the highest order. The dry and
pedantic discipline of Zelter may have repressed the estro
of his gifted young pupil, and such training left its impress
for a long time upon the compositions of Mendelssohn.
About that time also several German theoretical and aesthe-
tical writers began to declaim against Italian melody, and
to insist that in music harmony and modulation were all
in all. The bad effects of this false doctrine are but too
evident in the music of the new German school. Men¬
delssohn’s early death prevented the full development of
his powers of composition, for it is evident that his style
was becoming year after year more free and melodious.
His St Paul, his Elijah, and his Symphony in A, are proofs
of this. Most of his earlier works show more of musical
learning and calculation than of melodic inspiration. As
he never was compelled to write for bread, he always wrote
his best—always carefully and conscientiously. He was
not easily satisfied with his own works. His knowledge of
the art of musical composition was great; his musical
reading very extensive, and his memory prodigious; his
skill as a pianist and an organist almost unrivalled. Be¬
sides the works above named, Mendelssohn published the
following compositions:—Overture, Meerstille, &c.; Over¬
ture, Melusina; Quintet in A for stringed instruments;
two grand Quartets for stringed instruments; two Concertos
for pianoforte, with orchestra; Octet for stringed instru¬
ments in E flat; three Quartets for pianoforte, violin,
viola, and bass; grand Sonata for pianoforte and violin ;
Sonata for pianoforte and violoncello; seven characteristic
pieces for pianoforte alone ; Rondo for pianoforte ; Sonata
for pianoforte; Fantasia on an Irish air; three Fantasie for
pianoforte; six melodies, without words (Lieder ohne worte),
for pianoforte alone; Concerto for the violin ; religious
Chorus, for four voices, Aus defer Noth ; Are Maria, for
eight voices ; religious Chorus for eight voices, Mitten wir
im Lebensind; three Latin and German Motets, with organ
accompaniment; the forty-second Psalm, with orchestra;
grand Cantata for the anniversary festival of Albert Diirer;
grand Cantata for the fete given by Alexander von Hum¬
boldt to the natural philosophers assembled at Berlin ; three
collections of songs for a single voice, with pianoforte;
M E N
music to Goethe’s \\alpurgis Nacht; six Sonatas for the Men-
organ ; music for A Midsummer Nights Dream ; Choruses delssohn,
to Antigone; Symphonies for grand orchestra, in score. Moses.
The above is an approximative list. Among his works that
he left unpublished were,—Music to CEdipus ; Choruses to
Racine’s Athalie ; one act of his Opera of Lorelei/ ; songs
for one voice and pianoforte, of which some of the best were
written for Jenny Lind. (g. f. g.)
Mendelssohn, Moses, was born in 1729 at Dessau,
where his father was teacher in a Jewish school. Like all
Jewish children he was from his infancy instructed in the
Talmud, but the Moreh Nevochirn (“ Guide to the W an-
derers”)ofMaimonides was the subject of his most passionate
study. To the end of his days, in an impaired constitution
and a distorted spine, he carried the marks of his youthful
devotion to that book. In 1742 he came to Berlin, follow¬
ing in the footsteps of his instructor David Frankel, and
in the tide of all the aspiring Jewish youth of the day.
Here, under Rabbi Israel, who had been expelled from
Poland for his liberal studies, he added mathematical know¬
ledge to the circle of his attainments; and under his
teachers Emmerich, Keisch, and Solomon Gumpertz, he
became acquainted with Latin and modern literature. His
own philosophical genius led him to Locke, Leibnitz, and
Wolf. At this time he was indebted to his countrymen
Itzig, Marcus, and Bernhard for support. The last of these
was a wealthy silk manufacturer, who, from being tutor to
his children, ultimately raised him to partnership with him¬
self in trade. No sooner did Mendelssohn rise above beg¬
gary than he inaugurated the grand mission of his life by
aiming a blow at the bleak Talmudism ot his nation. Along
with Tobias Bock he prepared some short scientific tracts
in Hebrew,—a step which called forth the rage and ana¬
themas of the rabbis. In 1754 he became acquainted with
Nicolai and Lessing, and began a friendship to which he
owed much, and from which the critic, at least, derived profit
in being furnished with the prototype of Nathan the tf ise.
From this time he devoted himself to the study of mental
philosophy. His first work was the Briefe uber die Emp-
Jiudungen (“ Letters on the Sensations”), and this was fol¬
lowed by a variety of short treatises, distinguished for
acuteness more than for originality, but, above all, for the
fine ethical tone which ran through them. He was engaged
for many years in vindicating Lessing from the charge of
Spinozism, which had been brought against him by Jacobi.
His best known work, however, in this department of
study is the Phcedon, or “ Dialogue of Socrates with his
friends on the Immortality of the Soul.” The characters
and descriptive parts are taken from Plato, but the argu¬
ment is new. Mendelssohn founds his doctrine, not on the
simple texture of the soul, which renders it incapable of
being resolved into component parts, but on its nature as
exempting it from the ordinary laws of change. Kant,
however, has shown that this is no argument against the
soul’s annihilation, and is not even satisfactory against the
hypothesis of its gradual enfeeblement and ultimate de¬
cadence without any organic change. Of far greater his¬
torical importance were Mendelssohn’s labours for the
elevation of his Jewish countrymen. His translation of the
Pentateuch into classic German, printed in Hebrew cha¬
racters, introduced the literature of Germany into the Jewish
schools of Poland, and ultimately extinguished the text¬
books which had been conned for ages under the teaching of
the Rebbe. Mendelssohn’s position in the literary world
was all the more startling that it was entirely novel, and
whatever influence it gave him was sacredly devoted to the
service of those of his own creed. His little book entitled
Jerusalem appeared in 1783 ; and, along with two pamp -
lets written by the historian Dohm somewhat earlier, paved
the way for the civil emancipation of the Jews. In these
patriotic efforts he was seconded by many ot his countr)-
*
Mendez
Pinto.
MEN
men ; and the work which he left unfinished was carried out
by Hartwig Wesseley, Izaak Euchel, and David Friedlander.
In the internal reform of the synagogue, however, he had
no share. I hat was the second harvest of his labours, and
one which, in the strictness of his own religious life, he did
not anticipate.
Mendelssohn’s literary labours were frequently inter¬
rupted by attacks of sickness. His constitution, shattered
in early youth, received a new shock from every paroxysm
of mental activity. Lavater’s attempt to win him to Chris¬
tianity prostrated him in a long and painful illness; and, in
his zeal to defend his friend Lessing from the stigma of Spi-
nozism, he so overtasked his energies as to bring on a fever,
which terminated his existence in 1786. His works have
been collected and published, along with a biography, at
Vienna in 1838. A translation of the P/icudon into Eng¬
lish appeared in the same year.
MENDEZ PINTO, Ferdinand, was born at Monte-
mor-o-velho in Portugal, and was at first servant to a Portu¬
guese gentleman. In expectation of making a fortune, he
embarked for India in the year 1537; but his vessel being
taken by the Turks on his passage out, he was carried to
Mokha, and sold to a Greek renegado, and afterwards to
a Jew, in whose possession he continued till he was re¬
deemed by the governor of Ormus, who procured him an
opportunity of proceeding to India, agreeably to his ori¬
ginal design. During a residence of twenty-one years
in that country he was an eye-witness of many important
transactions, and experienced many singular adventures.
He returned in 1558 to Portugal, where he enjoyed the
reward of his labours, after having been thirteen times a
slave and sixteen times sold. A very curious account of
his travels was written by himself, and published in Lisbon
m 1614, folio. This work was translated into French by
Bernard Figuier, a Portuguese gentleman, and printed at
Pans in 1654, 4to. It is written in a very interesting
MEN
manner, and in a style more elegant than might have been
expected from a man whose whole life had been spent in
the camp and in slavery. It relates with much credulity a
great variety of particulars relating to the geography, his¬
tory, and manners of the inhabitants of China, Japan,
Pegu, Siam, Achem, Java, and other countries.
MENDICANTS, or Begging Friars, a religious order,
appear in ecclesiastical history in the thirteenth century, at
a time when the older castes of monks had lapsed into
luxury and indolence, and were neglecting the instruction
o the people. The men selected for this new society were
well versed in the truths of the gospel, and were full of
piety and holy zeal. Utterly destitute of all fixed revenues
and possessions, they were forced to face every kind of
hardship and self-denial. They were found in every coun¬
try, under every variety of climate, travelling from village
to village on their mission of love, suffering the ridicule of
the scoffer and the persecution of the jealous ecclesiastic,
toiling at times in the fields to earn a shelter for the night,
receiving with cheerfulness the smallest crust that poverty
could spare, and preaching continually, both by their lives
and by their words, the healing truths of the gospel. In
no long time their self-denying humanity and spotless cha¬
racter recommended religion to all classes of the laity, and
requickened the dying influence of the church. Accord¬
ingly, Innocent III. thought it his duty to increase the re¬
spectability and usefulness of the Mendicants by releasing
them from the jurisdiction of the bishops, and by rendering
them responsible to the Roman see alone. The example
of this pope was followed by several of his successors, and
in consequence of this high patronage the number of the
Mendicants continued to increase greatly. Of their many
orders, the Franciscans and Dominicans speedily usurped
all the zeal and influence of the others. Admitted, as con¬
fessors, into the confidence of all classes, they gradually
VOL. XIV.
stripped the clergy of all power and repute. At the same
time their own reputation for zeal and piety procured their
admission to the pulpits of pious bishops, and to the chairs
of several universities. Young men of talent, brought up
at their feet, were fascinated by their learning and elo¬
quence, and caught their apostolic zeal. Their influence,
therefore, spread rapidly through every country, until all
Europe was filled with admiration and esteem for the Men¬
dicants. In course of time they found their way into the
highest civil offices, into the cabinets of kings, and the
courts of popes. Becoming intoxicated with prosperity, they
began to grow worldly-minded, to lend themselves as tools
foi papal extortion and ambition, to be puffed up with arro¬
gance, to build spacious mansions, and to fare luxuriously.
They even presumed to declare that they were the only
real ministers of the gospel, that their indulgences were
superior in efficacy to all others, and that they had super¬
natural intercourse with the saints, the Virgin Mary, and
the Supreme Being. For some time a spirit of hatred
against the Mendicants had become universally prevalent
among the clergy, and it now broke forth into open hos¬
tility. Foremost among the assailants, William of St Amour,
a doctor of the Sorbonne, attacked them in 1255 in a book
entitled Fhe Perils of the Latter Times. Several replies
were written by Bonaventura, Thomas Aquinas, and other
Mendicants; and in 1256 the controversy was stopped for
the time by the decree of Pope Alexander IV., that Wil¬
liam of St Amour should be banished, and that his book
should be burned. The first check that the society expe¬
rienced happened in 1272, when Gregory X., in a general
council at Lyons, reduced their many orders to four, namely,
the Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites, and Augustiniansl
Yet their influence did not decrease along with their
number. Many cities about this time were "divided into
four parts, to afford distinctive spheres for the four sections
of the Begging Friars. To receive the sacraments from a
Mendicant priest, and to be buried in a Mendicant church,
were the earnest wishes of every one. In the fourteenth
century it was a common custom for those tottering on the
brink of the grave to enter the ranks of this order, in the
sure conviction that they were thus securing their salva¬
tion. Many on their deathbeds were comforted by the
thought that the tattered Franciscan or Dominican gar¬
ment in which they had ordered their dead limbs to be
wound would save their souls at the last day. The Men¬
dicants, however, during this century met with the most
determined opposition from the clergy in all countries, and
more especially from John de Polliac in France and John
Wickliffe in England. This hostility continued until it was
completely merged in the greater struggle of the Reforma¬
tion. In the sixteenth century the position and influence
of the Mendicants were usurped by the newly-instituted
Society of Jesus.
MENDIP HILLS, a range of hills in England, county of
Somerset, extending through the centre of the county from
W. by N. to E. by S., having a length of about 25 miles
with an average breadth of 4 or 5, and rising in some
places to the height of 1000 feet. The central rido-e of
these hills consists of old red sandstone, on the slopin-
sides of which strata of mountain limestone recline at
various angles. These strata in several places entirely
cover the sandstone, which is prominent in the most ele¬
vated parts of the range, forming four distinct ridges nearly
equally distant from one another. The most remarkable
features m the Mendip Hills are, a cavern called Woolsey
o e, and the Cheddar Cliffs, a long range of perpendicular
crags overhanging a defile in the hills. The mineral pro¬
ductions are of considerable importance, consisting of lead,
zinc, calamine, and coal. Part of the ground is cultivated,
a P25tion *s uset* as pasturage for sheep.
NDOZA, Diego Hurtado de, an eminent scholar,
3 R
497
Mendip
Hills
il
Mendoza.
498 MEN
Mendoza, statesman, and general of Spain, and grandson of the ele-
DieS0 gant Santillana, was born at Granada in 1503, of a family
Hurtado whic]^ after ^ blood-royal, was perhaps the most illus-
trious in the kingdom. Lope de Vega turns aside in Ins
Arauco Domado to boast that the name of the Mendozas
had been nobly great for three-and-twenty generations. As
Diego had five brothers older than himself, he was origi¬
nally destined for the church ; and after receiving his ele¬
mentary education at home, he proceeded to Salamanca,
where he studied Latin, Greek, philosophy, and canon and
civil law. But Mendoza early showed a decided predilection
for politics and elegant literature, and resolved accordingly
to abandon the idea of becoming a churchman. During his
residence at the university he produced his Lazarillo de
Tormes, a work of real genius, which appeared in 1553,
and which has been a favourite in most modern languages
down to the present day. It is a sort of comic romance,
written in that gusto picaresco, or style of the rogues, so
peculiar to Spain, and which, since the time of Mendoza, in
the Gil Bias of Le Sage, and other works, has become famous
throughout the world. Its object is to satirize all classes
of society by assuming the character of a dexterous rogue,
who, in his capacity of servant, gets behind the scenes and
sees the actors in undress. It is written in a rich, bold,
racy, Castilian style ; and some of its sketches for freshness
and spirit are unsurpassed in the whole range of prose works
of fiction. The light, jovial, flexible audacity of the hero
rendered him a great favourite with the grave Castilians.
It nevertheless proved too much for the clergy, who issued
an order for its expurgation, and solemnly denounced the
anonymous author. Several continuations of the Lazarillo
de Tormes, by different writers, appeared afterwards, but
none of them possessed much merit. Leaving the univer¬
sity, Mendoza joined the great Spanish armies in Italy;
and while he entered with enthusiasm upon the duties of
his new profession, he nevertheless found occasion, when
the troops were unoccupied, to indulge his strong literary
sympathies by listening to the lectures of the celebrated
professors of Bologna, Padua, and Rome. The keen in¬
sight of Charles V. soon detected qualities in the young
Spaniard which he resolved to turn to good account. Ac¬
cordingly, in 1538 he appointed him his ambassador to
Venice, afterwards made him military governor of Siena,
and at a somewhat later date employed him to sustain the
imperial interests at the famous Council of Trent. In
1547, while the council still sat, he was despatched by his
royal master as a special plenipotentiary to Rome, to bring
Pope Julius III. to a proper understanding. He boldly
confronted and overawed his holiness in his own capital,
and after rebuking him in open council, established him¬
self in Italy, and governed that country for six years with
great talent and firmness. But Charles, eager to conciliate
the European powers before his abdication, began to alter
his policy; and Mendoza, anxious for rest from his trying
labours, returned to Spain in 1554 with a imputation for
skill as an ambassador which afterwards passed into a pro¬
verb. The policy of Philip II. and the temper of Men¬
doza were little suited to one another, and the harsh tyranny
of the emperor soon found means of ridding himself of the
trusty ambassador. Having engaged in a passionate dis¬
pute with a courtier in the palace, the latter drew his dagger
upon Mendoza, when the old warrior, who had lost little of
the fire of his youth, though sixty-four years of age, wrested
the weapon from the hands of his assailant, and flung it out
of the balcony, throwing, as some add, the courtier after it.
Ihe spirited veteran could not be pardoned for such an
affront to the royal dignity, and with his honours and gray
hairs thick upon him, he was exiled from the court. The
man, however, who in his college days had written I^azar-
illo, and who during the busiest negotiations had always
found time to cultivate letters, was not likely to lament
MEN
very deeply his apparent disgrace, if it brought him into Mendoza,
closer intimacy with his old travelling companions, the Inigo
Amadis and the Celestina. He accordingly found so- LoPe2 dej
lace during his exile in writing poetry, collecting marfu-
scripts, and in composing his Guerra contra los Moriscos, or
“ War against the Moors” (1568-1570). From Mendoza’s
long residence in Venice and Rome, and from his early
and close intimacy with Boscan, he could hardly have
escaped from the influence of the Italian school of poetry.
Yet his verses, both in spirit and in form, are often charac¬
terized by a strong Spanish element; and while the reader
meets obvious traces of his careful study of Horace and
Pindar in his “ Epistle to Boscan” and in his “ Hymn to
Espinosa,” those beautiful productions are nevertheless full
of the genuine old Castilian spirit. Some of his letrillas have
a charming gaiety about them, and a light and idle humour,
which savours much more of the author of Lazarillo than
of the dignified ambassador. His history is written with
great power and energy, in a style closely modelled after
Sallust and Tacitus, displaying by turns more exuberance
than the one, and nearly all the severity of the other
This work is characterized by great impartiality,—not spar¬
ing even the author’s own immediate relations who played
an important part in these Moorish wars, and doing the
hated enemies of his country so much generous justice that
the book could not be published until 1610. Altogether it
is perhaps the finest specimen of historical writing in the
Spanish language. It was Mendoza’s last work. In 1575
he obtained permission to return to Madrid, but died shortly
after his arrival, at the advanced age of seventy-two.
Previous to his death Mendoza bequeathed the valuable
classics and manuscripts he had collected with so much
trouble in Italy, Greece, and Granada, to the Royal Library
of the Escurial. The first complete edition of the Guerra
de Granada is that of Montfort, with a Life of the author,
Valencia, 1776, 4to. The only edition of his poems is that
of Juan Diaz, Madrid, 1610, 4to. (See Life of Mendoza by
N. Antonio in the Bibliotheca Nova ; also Ticknor’s Hist,
of Spanish Lit, vol. i., 1849.)
Mendoza, Inigo Lopez de, commonly known as the
Marques de Santillana, the most elegant scholar and poet
of the brilliant court of Juan II. of Spain, was born in 1398
of a highly distinguished family, which has sometimes claimed
its origin from the Cid himself. His father, the Grand Ad¬
miral of Castile, having died while Inigo was yet young,
the family possessions, then the largest in the kingdom, were
almost entirely wrested from the young heir by those bold
and rapacious barons who then divided among themselves
the resources as well as the power of the crown. But it did
not accord with the temper of a Mendoza to submit to such
wrong. As early as the age of eighteen we find that, partly
by law and partly by force of arms, the young nobleman
had succeeded in recovering his estates ; and, as Oviedo
quaintly informs us, “ so began forthwith to be accounted
much of a man.” From this period we find him acting an
important part in the stirring and wild times from which the
reign of even the polished Juan II. was not free. If he
suffered a defeat from the Navarrese, he gained enduring
glory by his personal bravery and military skill; and at¬
tained to the rank of a marquis after the battle of Olmedo
in 1445. While Santillana was frequently compelled to op¬
pose the policy and conduct of the royal favourite, the con¬
stable Alvaro de Luna, he seems to have had but little share
in the last scenes of the singular tragedy which found its
catastrophe in the sacrifice of that able minister. From the
fall of the constable till the death of Santillana in 148o, the
marquis spent the greater part of his time in literary retire¬
ment.
During the confusion and violence of a turbulent age,
the active part which he was called upon to take in state
affairs never for a moment destroyed Santillana s earnest
MEN
Mendoza, attachment to elegant literature. He remarked to Prince
Henry, that “ knowledge neither blunts the point of the
lance nor weakens the arm that wields a knightly sword.”
His poetical works reflect distinctly the several influences
of education and literary intercourse peculiar to his position
and time. His works connect themselves more or less with
the Provencal, Italian, and Spanish schools. The most
graceful of all his poems is entirely in the Provencal man¬
ner, and yet for beauty and sweetness it has never been
surpassed either in the Provencal or in the Spanish. It is
called UnaSerranilla(a, little mountain song), and was com¬
posed on a little girl whom he found, when pursuing his mili¬
tary life, tending her father’s flocks on the hills; and “ the
charming milk-maiden of sweet Finojosa” has borne some
portion of her charms, even through the clumsy medium
of translations, to many readers far beyond her native hills.
The Marques has likewise the reputation of being the first
to introduce the Italian sonnet into Spain ; and which, since
the time of Boscan, has gained for itself such a prominent
place in the poetry of that country. The sonnets of San-
tillana possess little merit, however, except that of smooth
and graceful versification. In his poem on the death of
the Marques of Villena he imitates the opening of the
Inferno ; and his piece on the coronation of Jordi re¬
minds the reader not unfrequently of the Purgatorio of
the great Italian. His principal works, however, were chiefly
in the manner then popular at the Spanish court; and many
of them are so filled with conceits and affectation as to be
almost destitute of value. Yet occasional passages are to
be found in his Ages of the World, and Fall and Death of
the Constable, which for strength, fluency, and grace, are
worthy of the highest praise. But the most important, if not
the most popular, of the poetical works of Santillana is the
Comedieta de Ponza, founded on a great naval engagement
near the island of Ponza in 1435, and approaching in its
structure the form of a drama. It is, however, a sort of
dream or vision, and as the poem was written shortly after
the occurrence of the national calamity at Ponza, the prin¬
cipal figures are those of his own time. It is written in the
old Italian octave stanza, in easy verse, prankt full of all
manner of ancient learning, awkwardly introduced, and fre¬
quently displaying very bad taste. The most popular of all
this nobleman’s works is his collection of proverbs, made
at the request of Juan II. for the instruction of Prince
Henri. It is made up of a hundred sentences in rhyme of
no poetical value, each containing one proverb. The Mar¬
ques made another collection of unrhymed proverbs, ga¬
thered, as he phrases it, “ from the lips of the old women in
their chimney-corners.” In these “ short sentences drawn
from long experience,” as Cervantes calls them, Spain is in
advance of all other countries. One of the most important
documents we possess respecting the earlier Spanish litera¬
ture is from the pen of this nobleman, and consists of a
letter on the poetic art, written about 1455, and addressed
to the young Constable of Portugal, who had asked the
Marques for a copy of his poems.
The leading facts in the life of this remarkable man are
to be gathered from the Chronicle of Juan II.; but a very
excellent sketch of him is to be found in Pulgar’s Claros
Varones, c. iv.; and a clumsy but elaborate biography in
Sanchez, Poesias Anteriores, vol. i. (Ticknor’s Hist, of
Spanish Lit., vol. i., 1849).
MENDOZA, a province, town, and river of the Argen¬
tine Confederacy, South America. The province is bounded
on the N. by that of San Juan, E. by San Luis, S. by an
unsettled and desert region, and W. by Chili; and is about
150 miles in length, and nearly the same in breadth. The
country for the most part is flat, except towards the W.,
where the Paramillo range of the Andes and some other
branches diversify the form of the surface. In this part of
the province are found several volcanoes. The principal
MEN 499
rivers are the Mendoza, the Desaguadero, and theTunuyan; Mendriso
and there are several lakes. The soil is for the most part II
sandy and sterile, but when well watered it is by no means e‘
unproductive. Corn, fruits, olives, and wine are the chief ^ ^ ‘ ,
articles produced; and these, along with hides, soap, and
tallow, constitute the most part of the export trade. Silver
and copper are found here, as well as limestone, alum,
slates, &c. Mendoza is an independent state, owing little
subjection to the central government of the confederacy.
The governor, who has the chief executive authority, is
elected by the Junta or provincial assembly. The capital
is Mendoza, situated at the foot of the Andes ; Lat. 32. 53.
S., Long. 69. 6. W. The city is neatly built and pleasantly
situated; and from its dry, healthy climate, has obtained
the name of the Montpellier of South America. The
houses are for the most part low, and have gardens or
orchards round them. Among its buildings are a handsome
church and several convents. The public promenade, called
the Alameda, which is about a mile long, under a fine
avenue of poplars, is one of the best in South America.
Pop. of the town, 12,000; of the province, 57,000.
The River Mendoza rises in the above province, near the
volcano of Aconcagua; flows S.E. till about 10 miles from
the town Mendoza, then turns to the N., and after a total
course of 200 miles, falls into Lake Guanacache.
MENDRISO, a town of Switzerland, the capital of a
district of the same name, in the canton of Tesino. It con¬
tains 1550 inhabitants, who are active and intelligent,
and carry on much silk spinning. Being on the southern
declivity of the Alps, the climate and productions resemble
more those of Italy than the rest of Switzerland. It is
only three miles from Lugarno, and nine from the lake of
Como; and the vicinity yields excellent wheat, wine,
tobacco, and silk. It consists chiefly of one long street,
with a collegiate church, a Capuchin convent, and a nun¬
nery of Ursulines.
MENEDEMUS, a Greek philosopher, was the son of
Cleisthenes, a man of poor means, but of noble birth, and
was born about 300 b.c. at Eretria, the capital of Euboea.
According to his biographer Diogenes Laertius, he was
trained by his father to the trade of building and tent¬
making. But Athenaeus represents him in his younger
years as a miller, grinding in the mill all night, and studying
philosophy during the day. A military appointment which
he received at Megara gave him an opportunity of prose¬
cuting his favourite study under Stilpo. He then re¬
paired to Elis, and became a disciple of the Elean school
of philosophy, which had recently been founded by Phaedo.
On his return to Eretria, Menedemus became a teacher
of the doctrines he had learned at Elis. His character
probably prevented an immediate rise in his new vocation,
but was no doubt the means of his ultimate success. He
was grave and taciturn, satirical, and disposed to rebuke
every misdemeanour by a stinging sarcasm; fiery in
temper, and declaiming frequently till be became black in
the face. As he was indistinct in his elocution, we may
infer that he was not very fascinating in his prelections.
Yet his open and sterling disposition, and the satisfactory
nature of his instructions, raised him to so great an emi¬
nence that the doctrines which he taught became identified
with his school, and the Elean philosophy came to be called
the Eretrian. In the same slow and sure manner did he
rise to the highest civil offices. While Menedemus was
thus acquiring fame and riches he was living in the same
house with Asclepiades, the long-tried friend who had been
his companion in his early hardships, and who was now
admitted to be his companion in his good fortune. The
avowed favour of Menedemus for Antigonus Gonatas led
him to be suspected of a design to betray Eretria into that
monarch’s power. With the intention of vindicating his
patriotism, he repaired to Antigonus, and besought him to
500
M E N
MEN
Menelaus.
Menehould restore his country to freedom ; but meeting with a refusal,
he starved himself to death, at the age of seventy-four.
As Menedemus did not commit his opinions to writing,
the distinctive principles of the Eretrian school have been
very partially and very vaguely ascertained. From Diogenes
Laertius, however, we know that they resembled the school
of Megara in the extreme and frivolous subtlety of their
dialectics. Adopting also the Megaric doctrine, that exis¬
tence was of necessity simple, and was therefore knowable
only by direct cognition, they rejected all negative and
hypothetical propositions. The same extreme generaliza¬
tion they employed in evolving a system of ethics. After
taking an articulate distinction between the good and the
useful, they proceeded to prove that all the virtues, though
considered by ordinary thinking to be distinct from each
other, are merely different forms of one idea, and are there¬
fore essentially identical. They concluded their ethical
system with asserting the complete identity of the goodsa\d
the true.
MENEHOULD, Sainte, a town of France, capital of
an arrondissement of the same name, in the department of
Marne, is situated between two rocks on the Aisne, 26
miles E.N.E. of Chalons. The town is well and regularly
built, and contains two fine squares, and a town-hall with an
elegant front. There is also a tribunal of primary instance
and a college; and the town has several fine promenades.
The manufactures consist of hosiery, leather, &c.; and in
the neighbourhood are several iron, glass, and china works.
There is a considerable trade in wine, corn, wood, &c.
The town is ancient. It was formerly fortified, and has
been besieged and taken several times;—taken in 1436 by
the English, and retaken by the Constable Richemont;
besieged in vain by the Protestants in 1562, and by Charles
II. of Lorraine in 1592; taken in 1652 by the Spaniards,
and recovered in the next year by Louis XI V. Pop. (1851)
4137.
MENELAUS, King of Lacedaemon, was the son of
Atreus, and brother of Agamemnon. He appeared among
the numerous princely suitors for the hand of Helen, the
beautiful daughter of Jupiter and Leda, and was successful.
His wife, however, was afterwards carried off by Paris, the
Trojan prince, and could not be reclaimed either by threats
or by negotiations. All the Greek chiefs were accordingly
summoned by Menelaus and Agamemnon to avenge this
insult. A fleet of sixty ships was equipped, and a formi¬
dable expedition set sail against Troy. During the ten
years’ siege of that city Menelaus maintained the character
of a sagacious counsellor and a lion-hearted warrior. On
one occasion, according to Homer, he engaged with Paris
in single combat before the two armies, dragged his ad¬
versary across the plain by the helmet, and would have
avenged his own wrongs with his own hand, had not Venus
interfered to save her favourite. He entered Troy in the
wooden horse, and during the sack and massacre that en¬
sued he recovered Helen, and carried her off. Returning
homewards, Menelaus encountered a storm that wrecked
one part of his fleet on the coast of Crete, and drove the
other, which contained himself, to the coast of Egypt. He
then wandered about uncertainly for eight years, driven by
fortune to Phoenicia, ^Ethiopia, and Libya, and even to Ja-
pygia in Italy, and Eryx in Sicily. At length he arrived in
Mycenae at the very time when the Argives were threaten¬
ing to stone Orestes and Electra for the murder of their
mother Clytaemnestra. On the apotheosis of Castor and
Pollux, the kingdom of Laconia was surrendered to Mene-
aus by his reputed father-in-law Tyndareus. It is related
by Honaer, that when lelemachus, wandering about in
search of his father arrived at Sparta, he found Menelaus
and Helen enthroned in great magnificence in a lofty palace
that blazed in splendour like the sun or moon. They were
Celebrating, amid a crowd of princely guests, the marriage
of their son Megapenthes to a daughter of Alector, and of Menes
their daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus. On account of ||
his relationship to Jove, Menelaus, according to Homer, Meng-
was fated to be transported, along with his wife, to the Ely- Tseu-
sian Fields without ever tasting death. Their tomb, how-
ever, was wont to be shown at Therapne, not far from
Sparta. (Horn. II. and Od.)
MENES. See Egypt.
MENGS, Antony Raphael, a distinguished painter,
was the son of a Danish artist of no high standing, and was
born at Aussig in Bohemia on the 12th March 1728. From
his sixth year he was forced by his father, on pain of severe
chastisement, to study drawing for sixteen hours every day
during both summer and winter. After receiving instruc¬
tions in miniature and enamel painting, he was carried by
his parent to Rome in 1741. On his arrival at Dresden in
1746 Mengs was appointed court painter to King Augustus.
A second visit was paid to Rome in the subsequent year, for
the purpose of renewing his studies and gaining a know¬
ledge ot anatomy. It was there in 1748 that his genius was
first fully displayed in a picture of the “ Holy Family.” The
model for the Virgin was a beautiful peasant girl, who in
the same year became his wife, and induced him to embrace
the Catholic religion. Returning to Dresden soon after¬
wards, he was appointed principal court-painter, and was
presented by the king with a pension of 1000 dollars. A
commission from the king to execute an altar-piece for the
new chapel at Dresden rendered it necessary that he should
return to Italy with his family in 1752. Simultaneously
with the work just mentioned Mengs painted a copy of
Raphael’s “ School of Athens” for Lord Percy, afterwards
Duke of Northumberland. The outbreak of the Seven
Years’ War stopped the payment of his pension, and pre¬
vented his return to Saxony. This misfortune, however,
was compensated by his appointment in 1754 to the pro¬
fessorship in the new academy of painting in the Capitol.
Invited about this time to Naples, he executed the portraits
of the Neapolitan royal family. On his return to Rome in
1757 he began his first attempt in fresco, the ceiling of
the church of St Eusebio. His masterpiece, however, was
the beautiful ceiling in the Villa Albani, representing
“ Apollo and the Nine Muses on Mount Parnassus.” In
1761 Mengs, at the request of Charles III. of Spain, pro¬
ceeded to Madrid, and was employed there for several
years in executing an oil-painting of “ The Passion,” for
the bed-chamber of the king, and some frescoes represent¬
ing the “ Birth of Aurora,” the “ Apotheosis of Hercules,”
and the “ Apotheosis of Trajan.” His declining health, how¬
ever, rendered a change of climate necessary, and in 1769.
he returned to Italy. After a sojourn of three years, occu¬
pied chiefly in the painting of the ceiling of the Camera de’
Papiri at Rome, he repaired once more to Spain. But
in 1775, when his constitution wras almost prostrated under
the uncongenial climate, he bade a final farewell to that
country. On his arrival in Rome his sickness gradually
left him, only to be brought back with overwhelming force
by the death of his amiable wife in 1778. He died on the
29th June 1779. His friend, the Cavalier d’Azara, erected
a monument to him, and obtained from the King of Spain
pensions for his two sons and five daughters.
The character of his pictures is rather correct in design
than vigorous, and his tone of colouring is deficient in bril¬
liancy. His writings, edited in Italian by Azara in 1780,
contain many excellent observations both on the practice
and theory of his art. Among the various translations into
the principal modern languages is one into English in 2
vols. 8vo, London, 1796.
MENG-TSEU, whose name has been Latinized into
Mencius, the most eminent Chinese philosopher after Con¬
fucius, flourished during the first half of the fourth century
B.c., and thus belonged to the same epoch with Socrates,
M E N
Menin. Plato, and Aristotle. He was born in Tseou, a town in
—the province of Chan-toun", where his tomb is still shown.
He lost his father, Meng-Kho, a short time after his birth,
and his early education was left entirely in the hands of
his mother, a woman still held in high veneration by the
Chinese for the singular care and enlightenment which she
displayed in the training of her fatherless boy. Persuaded
that a bad example exercised a pernicious influence over
the mind of the lad, she repeatedly changed her place of
abode to remove him from temptation. She had the good
fortune ultimately to settle down in the vicinity of a public
school, which at once had the effect of stimulating his de¬
sire for knowledge. He became the disciple of Tseu-sse,
the worthy descendant and representative of Confucius,
under whom he made rapid advancement in the knowledge
of the doctrines of that illustrious philosopher. Meng-Tseu
soon found himself at the head of a group of ardent dis¬
ciples, with whom he wandered about, a sort of Chinese
Peripatetic, visiting, as the custom was, the different states
of the empire at once to learn and to teach. Living in an
epoch and in a country in which politics formed an inte¬
gral part of morals, Meng-Tseu, both from the peculiar
turn of his mind, and from his principles, felt disinclined to
separate them. Accordingly, in his work, the Meng, which
bears his name, he preserves a strict union between those
two sciences. His politics appear to have displayed more
decision and boldness than those of his master Confucius,
for whom he constantly professed the highest admiration.
While Meng-Tseu never ceases to inculcate the duty of poli¬
tical obedience, he nevertheless opposes strongly the law of
justice to the tyrannous will of power. If he was less solid,
he had a keener faculty than Confucius, and he assailed his
adversary, whether prince or otherwise, with the most ruth¬
less Socratic pertinacity, pursuing him from premise to con¬
clusion, until he had him t-r tangled in a network of absurd¬
ities. In his method and spirit he closely resembles his
great Greek contemporary, the terror of the sophists; and
there is perhaps no oriental philosopher who presents greater
attractions to a European reader. He considered philoso¬
phy the great regenerator of the human race; and his work
is one of the four classics which form the basis of instruc¬
tion in all the public and private schools of China. The
most eminent of her philosophers have expounded and
commented on him, and his works are in the hands of all
those who wish to attain to a knowledge of those eternal
truths which form the most solid basis of human society.
He died about the year 314 B.c. at the age of eighty-
four. J
Of Meng-Tseu s work, which has been frequently trans¬
lated into different European languages, there is a Latin
version by Stanislaus Julien, entitled Meng-Tseu, vel Men-
ciunn inter Sinenses Philosophos ingemo, doctrinti, &c.,
Confucio proximum edidit, &c., 8vo., Paris, 1824-1829.
There is also a French version by G. Pauthier in the Livres
Sacres de VOrient, Paris, 1840; and in the volume of the
Bibliotheque Charpentier, entitled Confucius et Mencius,
ou les Quatre Livres de Philosophie Morale et Politique de
la Chine, Paris, 1841 ; and there is an English translation
of the Four Books, executed by the Rev. Mr Collie, and
published at Malacca in 1828. (See Dictionnaire des
Sciences Philosophiques.)
MENIN (Flemish Meenen), a town of Belgium, province
of West Flanders, on the left bank of the Lys, 30 miles S.
of Bruges, and 7 W.S.W. of Courtray. It is regularly
built and strongly fortified, but has a dull and gloomy ap¬
pearance. The principal building is the church; and there
are also a college and several schools. The manufactures
consist of linen, lace, soap, oil, tobacco, woollen stuffs, cho¬
colate, and candles; and the town has also breweries, tan¬
neries, dyeworks, and bleachfields. The trade consists in
agricultural produce, horses, cattle, &c. Pop. 8268.
M E N
501
Menno.
MENIPPUS, a Cynic philosopher, with whose private Menippus.
history we are but very slightly acquainted. It is supposed
that he was a native of Gadara, a small village of Phoenicia
(Strab. xvi. 759), and that he lived before the year 200 B.c.,
as he is spoken of by Hermippus, according to Diogenes
Laertius. He was originally a slave, but having purchased
his liberty, he settled at Thebes, where he obtained the
rights and privileges of a citizen. Lucian, in his Dialogues
of the Dead, makes Diogenes describe him as “ old, bald-
headed, wearing a threadbare cloak, with abundance of
apertures in it, pervious to every wind, and patched with
rags of all possible colours; and as laughing incessantly at
those conceited pedants the philosophers, who are generally
the objects of his derision.” Varro in his Satires imitated
the style of Menippus, so that they were called Satirce Me-
nippeee. (Cic. 1, 2; Gell. xi. 18., xiii. 30.)
MENNO, surnamed Simonis, the founder of the sect of
the Mennonites, was born in 1505 at Witmarsum, a village
near Bolswert in Friesland. At first he was a Roman Ca¬
tholic priest, and was remarkable for nothing but gross sen¬
suality. He then became a secret convert to the opinions
of the Anabaptists, and in 1536 openly joined that body.
With a change of opinions a change of morals had been
simultaneous. He was now meek and gentle in disposition,
kind and courteous to all men, blameless in his conduct,
and full of apostolic zeal. With these qualities, a real
though undisciplined genius, a rough and forcible elo¬
quence, and a considerable amount of learning, combined
to raise him to a high position in the sect which he had
recently joined. He was accordingly requested in a short
time to assume the functions of a public teacher. In this
capacity he travelled with his wife and children through
East and West Friesland, Groningen, Holland, Guelder-
land, Brabant, Westphalia, and the German provinces on
the coast of the Baltic. By rejecting most of the extreme
tenets of the Anabaptists he attracted towards his minis¬
trations the judicious and liberal-minded of that sect, and
thus became the acknowledged head of a new body of se¬
paratists. As yet, however, the civil authorities recognised
no distinction between his followers and the radical Ana¬
baptists. Some of the Mennonites suffered martyrdom, and
others, including their leader, escaped the same fate only
by being received into the mansion of a kind-hearted noble¬
man in the duchy of Holstein. There they found a safe
asylum from persecution, and there Menno Simonis died
in 1561.
The Mennonites receive the old Anabaptist creed in a
form modified and considerably altered. The dogmas re¬
garding the millennium, the exclusion of magistrates from
the church, the abolition of war, the sinfulness of taking
oaths, and the vanity of human science, have lost much of
the harshness of their original features, and appear in an
aspect more conformable both to reason and revelation.
At the same time, the distinctive doctrine of the Anabaptists*
which declares that converts from other Christian churches
ought to be rebaptized, is repudiated. The blind fanaticism
that impelled the disciples of Anabaptism at the beginnino-
of the sixteenth century to believe in the divine appoint¬
ment of polygamy, to hold up the liberal arts to scorn and
hatred, to encourage the assassination of impious magi«-
trates, and to attempt to establish the kingdom of Sion in
the city of Munster, is likewise utterly disowned. Indeed,
so far have the Mennonites separated from the Anabaptists,
that the former disclaim all connection with the latter, and
believe that they have derived their origin and opinions
horn the ancient Waldenses. (See Anabaptists.) The
Mennonites are subdivided into several sects, slightly dif¬
fering from each other. Of these the principal two are
\\\c Mandnans or Memingians, and the Waterlandians.
(bchyn s Mennomtarum Histories, and Mosheim’s Eccle¬
siastical History.)
502
MENSURATION.
Mensura¬
tion.
1. Mensuration, or the art of measuring, involves the
construction of measures, the methods of using them, and
the investigation of rules by which magnitudes, which it may
be difficult^or impossible to measure directly, are calculated
from the ascertained value of some associated magnitude.
It is usual, however, to employ the term mensuration in the
last of these senses; and we may therefore define it to be
that department of mathematical science by which the vari¬
ous dimensions of bodies are calculated from the simplest
possible measurements.
The determination of the lengths and directions of straight
lines, including what are familiarly known as problems in
heights and distances, generally depends on the solution of
triangles, and will be discussed in the articles Trigono¬
metry and Surveying. The remaining portions of the
subject, which will form the subject of the present article,
are the determinations of the lengths of curves, the areas of
plane or other figures, and the volumes and surfaces of
solids. Even thus restricted, the science of mensuration is
obviously of very great extent, and our space will only per¬
mit us to discuss some of its more interesting and important
problems.
The reader will find tables of the numbers most frequently
required in mensuration at the end of this article, and a
complete account of measures in the article Weights and
Measures.
2. On the Numerical Expression of the Length of a Line,
the Area of a Surface, and the Volume of a Solid. If any
line be chosen as the unit of length, the square and cube
described upon it will be the units of surface and of
volume, or the “square” and “cubic” units. 11ms, if a
foot be the linear unit, a square whose side is a foot, and a
cube whose edge is a foot, are the square and cubic units.
The length of a line, the area of a surface, and the volume of
a solid, are then expressed by the numbers of units of length,
surface, and volume which they respectively contain.
3. From this it follows (l^)'that if l be the linear unit,
the length of a line which contains a units is al; or simply
a, for l is reckoned as unity.
4. {2d) If the length and breadth of a rectangle AD be
divided into linear units, and ^
lines be drawn through the
points of section, parallel to its
sides, it is evident that the
rectangle will be divided into
as many square units AE, as
there are linear units in its
length AB, repeated as often c
as there are linear units in its breadth AC ; or the number
of square units contained by the figure will be obtained by
multiplying its length by its breadth. Hence if the length
AB contain a, and the breadth AC contain b units, the
surface AD will contain ab square units.
5. (3c?) If the length, breadth, and height of a parallele¬
piped BCD be divided into linear units by planes drawn
parallel to its faces, it B
will obviously be divided
into cubic units such as a
EF; and if AB, AC,
AD contain a, b, and c
units respectively, it ap¬
pears from the diagram
that the portion of the
solid between the face
BC, and the plane passing through EG, EH, contains ab
cubic units. Similarly, each of the sections of the solid be- Mensura-
tween two contiguous planes passing through the divisions tion-
of AD, contains ab cubic units; and since AD is divided
into c parts, the whole solid contains abc units of volume.
The demonstrations of the preceding propositions might
be extended to include the cases where the linear dimensions
are fractional, or incommensurable with the linear unit.
SECTION I.—PLANE FIGURES CONTAINED BY STRAIGHT LINES.
6. To find the Area of a Rectangle.—It has been proved
in article 4, that if a and b be the sides of a rectangle,
the area = ab;
or the area of a rectangle is equal to its length multiplied
by its breadth.
Whence, also, if a be the side of a square,
the area of the square = d1.
Example 1.—Find the area of a square BD, whose side
is 15 chains 40 links.
Here the side of the square = 1540 links; therefore
the area = (1540)2 = 2371600 square links
= 23 a. 2 r. 34,56 p.
A. H
Example 2.—Find the area of a rectangle EG, whose
sides are 12 feet 6 inches and 9 inches.
The area= 12*5 x ’ 75 = 9'375 square feel.
7. To find the Area of a Parallelogram.—(i.) The area
in terms of the base and per¬
pendicular breadth.
The parallelogram ABCD
is equal to the rectangle
BEFC (Geom., sec. iv.,
theor. 1 ; or, Euc. i., 35).
Wherefore the area ABCD —
BC’BE = AD • BE; and put- A
ting AD = 6, and BE =//,
the area=bh ;
or the area of a parallelogram is equal to its length, mul¬
tiplied by its perpendicular breadth.
Example.—Find the area of a parallelogram whose
length is 37 and its breadth 5^ feet.
The area = 37 x 5’25= 194’25 square feet.
8. (ii.) The area in terms of the sides and the included
angle.—Let AB = a, AD = b, angle BAD = A.
Then BE = a sin A ; and since ABCD = BE-AD,
the area = ab sin A.
Whence the area is obtained by multiplying together
the two sides of the parallelogram and the sine of the
contained angle. j o* -
Example.—The sides of a paralieiogram are 36 and 25-o,
and the contained angle 58°.
The area = 36 x 25‘5 x sin 58° = 36 x 25'5 x * 8480481
= 778-50:
<
Mensura¬
tion.
MENSURATION.
or log area = log a + log 6 + L sin A - 10*
/ a = 36 log a =1 •5563025
5=25-5 log 5 =1-4065402
A =58° L sin A = 9-9284205
Area = 778-5 log area = 2-8912632
9. (iii.) The area in terms of the diagonals and their
contained angle.
It m, n are the diagonals, and I the contained angle, it
follows, from article 17, that the
area = \mn sin I.
Example.—Find the area of a parallelogram whose diago¬
nals, are 30 and 25, which make with each other an an-^le
of 60°. °
Area = £ x 30 x 25 x sin 60° = 15 x 25 x *8660254
= 324-76;
or log area = log m + \og n + L sin I -log. 2-10.
Whence g =
h2 + d1 — a?
But
25
2 2 2 /524-c‘2 —a5\
*=c -y=C’- (—25—)
>-c)
?ra= 30
?z = 2o
1 = 60°
Area = 324*76
log m= 1-4771213
log 72 = 1-3979400
L sin = 9-9375306
colog 2 = 9-6989700
be
log area = 2-5115619
If the parallelogram is equilateral, or a rhombus, the dia¬
gonals intersect at right angles, and sin I = sin 90° = 1.
Whence the area = 1577272.
Example. Find the ax-ea of a rhombus whose diagonals
are 30 and 20 chains.
The area = I- x 30 x 20 = 300 chains = 30 acres.
10. To find the Area of a Triangle—(i.) When the base
AC, and height BD are
given. Let AC = 5, BD
= h. Then, since a triangle
is halt a rectangle of the
same base and altitude
(Geom. p. 520), the area
of the triangle
= I bh ;
or the area, is equal to one-
half the product of one of the sides multiplied by the perpendi¬
cular let fall upon it from the opposite angle of the triangle.
Example.—-K side of a triangle is 40, and the perpen¬
dicular on it from the opposite angle is 14-52 chains.
The area = J x 40 x 14-52 = 290-4 sq. chains.
== 29 a. 0 r. 6*4 p.
^ W7}en two sides and the included angle are given.
—Let AC = 5, AB = c.
Since ABC = -^AC'BD, and BD = c sin A,
the area of the triangle = ^5e sin A ;
or the area is equal to one-half the continued product of the
two sides, and the sine of the contained angle.
Example.— The sides of a triangle are 30 and 40, and
the contained angle is 28° 57.'
The area=£ x 30 x 40 x sin 28° 5T = 600 x *4840462
= 290-43;
or, by logarithms—
Log area = log 5 + log c+L sin A + colog 2-10
i = 30 log |5=1-1760913
c = 40 log e = 1-6020600
A = 28° 57' L sin A = 9-6848868
Area = 290-43 log area = 2-4630381
12. When the three sides of the triangle are given.—Let
BC = a, AC = 5, AB = c; and put BD = ai, and AD = ?/.
Then CD = 5—y; u
2)714
s=357
s —a =102
5-5=119
s — c= 136
log = 2-5526682
„ =2-0086002
„ =2-0755470
„ =2-1335389
2)8*7703543
Area = 24276 log area = 4*3851772
13. When two angles and the adjacent side are given.—
Let the angles A, B and the side c be given.
The area = |-5c sin A.
c sin B c sin B
But 5=- .—— 7  
sm C sin (A + B)
Therefore substituting,
sin C = sin (A -J- B).
the area =
e2 sin A sin B
c2 = ;k2+372, and dt^x1+ (b-yy‘
2 sin ( A + B)
= ^c2 sin A sin B cosec (A +B);
and log area = 2 log c + L sin A + L sin B + L cosec (A + B)
+ colog 2 — 40.
Example.—T\\c side of a triangle is 2405 feet, and the
angles at its ends 77° 54', and 87° 40'. Find its area in
square miles.
2 log c= 6-7622302
L sin A = 9-9902426
L sin B = 9-9996398
L cos (A + B) = 10-6033590
colog 2= 9-6989700
log area in ft. = 74)544416
2 log 5280= 7-4452678
Area = 0-40661 sq. miles, log. areain miles = T-6091738
n\?^njd th!L^rea °f a Trapezoid.—Let AB = «, CD
(art’. 10)E=A' e" ABCD = ABC + ACD = Ja* + JM
c= 2405
A = 77° 54'
B = 87 40
A + B = 165 34
* Throughout this article we shall denote the logarithm of a number to fhp W in ^ 7  ~ 
rithm of the sine, cosine, &c., of an angle A by L sin A, L cos AU&c erShiceethpSei^?oJ,?L10?IoM-0r RimP1)' log n > and the tabular loga-
increased by 10, we have L sin A = log10 sin A + W,&c. wV shall also denote Te ^10 ! C°SineS’ &c-’ in the tables< are a11
by colog«. Sl° T J C- VV 6 Sliaa also denote the arithmetical complement of log n, or 10 - log «,
503
Mensura¬
tion.
__ (a + 5 + e) (5 + c — a) (<7 + c — 5) (a + 5 ■
^ I52
Whence, since the square of the area of the tri¬
angle is (^AC-DB)2 = ^52a-2, we have
(area)2 = -f £ -p c) LQf q. c q. c q. ^
Novv it we put 5=^(a + 5 + c), then ^(5 + c —a) = 5 —a,
&c. Therefore substituting
The area of the triangle = V{5(5 - a) (5 - 5) (5 - c)}-
O
Otherwise, since sin A = -|7v/{5(5-a) (*-5) (s-c)},
the triangle = ~ sin A=V{5(5-«) (5-5) (5-c)}.
Whence, to obtain the area of a triangle, from half the
sum of the three sides, subtract each side separately, mul¬
tiply the half sum by the three remainders successively, and
extract the square root.
Example 1.—The sides of a triangle are 3, 4, and 5 feet.
Find its area.
a = 5, 5 = 4, c = 3.
5 = 1(5 + 4 + 3) = 6 ; 5 - a = 1; 5-5 = 2; 5-c = 3.
The area = V0 x 1 x 2 x~3 = V36 = 6 square feet.
Example 2.—The sides of a triangle are 221, 255
and 238.
a = 255
5=238
c =221
504
MENSURATION.
Mensura¬
tion.
Hence the trapezoid ABCD —^{a + tyh',
or the area is equal to half the sum of the parallel sides
multiplied hy the perpen¬
dicular breadth.
Example. — Find the
area of a trapezoid whose
parallel sides are 12‘25 and
7‘5 chains, and its breadth
15*4.
The area = ix(12-2o + 7'5) x 15-4 = 7'7 x 197o
= 152,075 square chains.
= 15 a. 0 r. 32,2 p.
15. To find the Area of a Quadrilateral Figure—
(i.) When a diagonal AC and
perpendiculars DF, BE are
given.—Let AC = a, BE = w,
and DF = n. Then ABCD
= ABC+ADC = + A
(art. 10) ; or,
the quadrilateral = \a{m + n).
Hence the area is obtained by multiplying the diagonal
by half the sum of the perpendiculars.
Example.—In a quadrilateral the diagonal is 42, and the
perpendiculars 16 and 18.
The area = £ x 42 x (16 + 18) = 21 x 34 = 714.
16. (ii.) When a side AB and the perpendiculars DF, CE
are given.
The area = ADF + CDEF + BCE.
= £AF-DF + £(DF + CE)EF + iBE-CE(arts. 10,14)
= KAE-DF + BF-CE).
Example.—Let AB = 12, AF = 5, BE = 3, DF = 8, and
CE = 6. Then AE=l2dfc3 = 15 or 9.
BF = 12 -5 = 7
The area=^-(9 x 8 + 7 x 6) = 4 x 9 + 3 x 7 = 57; or,
= i(15 x 8 +7 x6) = 4x 15 + 3x7 = 81.
17. (iii.) When the diagonals and the included angle
are given. —Let AC = m, B
BD = n, AEB = I;
.*. BEC= 180° —AEB ;
.*. Sin BEC = sin I.
ABC = ABE + BCE
= £AE BE sin AEB
+ £ CE’BE sin BEC (art. 11)
= JAC'BE sin AEB.
Similarly ADC =£AC * DE sin AEB.
Whence ABCD = £AC • BD sin AEB ; or,
the area = imn sin I.
Therefore the area of a quadrilateral is equal to half
the product of the diagonals^ and the sine of their con¬
tained angle.
This rule obviously applies to parallelograms.
Example. 1 he diagonals of a quadrilateral are 30 and
40, and the included angle 48°.
The area = * x 30 x 40 x sin 48°
= 600 x *7431448
= 435 * 887.
18. (iv.) When the sides and the angle between the Mensura-
diagonals are given.—In the figure of article 17, let AB tlon*
= «, BC = 5, CD = e, AD = rf, BEC = I, AE = x, BE = y, K^'
EC = Z, ED =747.
Then x'2 + y‘2 + 2xy cos I = a2
y2 + z2 — 2yz cos I = 53
z1, + 7472 + 2zw cos I = e2
7472 + oc2 — 2wx cos l = d2
Whence 2(x + z) (y + w) cos 1 = a2 — b2 + c2 — d2.
But 2(« + z) (y + 747) cosI = |AC*BD sin I x 4 cot I,
= area ABCD x 4 cot I (art. 17).
Therefore the area = ^(a2 — b2 + c- — d1) tan I.
Example.—The sides of a quadrilateral in order are 10, 9,
8, and 7, and the angle between the diagonals is 80°. Find
the area.
a2 — £2 + c2_ ^=ioo —81+64-49 = 34.
.*. log area = log 34 + L tan 80° + colog 4 — 10
log 34= 1*5314789
L tan 80°= 10*7536812
colog 4= 9*3979400
Area=48*206. log area = 1*6831001
19. (v.) When the quadrilateral is inscribed in a circle.
—In the figure of article 17, let AB = 44, BC = 5, CD = 47,
AD = e?. Then, since the quadrilateral is inscribed in a
circle, D = 180° — B ;
and a2 + 5 — 2ab cos B = AC2 = c2 + d? ■\-2cd cos B.
T, -r, a2 + b2 — c2 — d2
From which cos B= 2{oJ + <,d) •
But (area)2 =\{ab + ed) sin B
=i(&+c + cZ —a) £(a + c + c2—i>) |(a + 6+d —c) ^{a + l + c—d).
Whence putting S = ^(a + i + c + 4/),
the area = ^{(s — a) {s — b) (s — c') (^ — c?)}.
Example.—In a quadrilateral, two sides are 120 and
104, and the contained angle 59° 29' 23" ; and the remain¬
ing sides are 78 and 50, and the contained angle 120°
30' 37".
Since the sum of the opposite angles = 180°, the figure
may be inscribed in a circle, and the formula applies.
44=120
5=104
c— 78
d= 50
352
s—176
s-a= 56 log = 1*7481880
5-5= 72 „ =1*8573325
5-c= 98 „ =1*9912261
5-4*= 126 „ =2*1003705
2)7*6971171
Area = 7056 log area = 3*8485586
20. (vi.) When the four sides of the quadrilateral and a
pair of opposite angles are given.—Since the figure (art. 17)
may be divided into two triangles whose areas can be
found by article 11 ; if 44, 5, c, and d be the sides, we have
evidently
the area = ^-(445 sin B +474* sin D).
Example.—To verify the calculation oi the area in the
example of last article.
a=120 log a=2-0791812 e=78 log e=l-8920946
5=104 log 5=2-0170333 d=50 log 1*6989700
B=59°29'23//LsinB=9-9352745 D=120°30'37"L sinD=9+352745
2ABC=10752 4-0314890 2ADC=3360 3-5263391
.-. 2ABCD=14112, and ABCD=7056.
21. To find the Area of an Irregular Polygon.
The figure may be divided into triangles or trapeziums;
MENSURATION.
Mensura¬
tion.
Ki
whose areas, found sepa¬
rately and added, will give
that of the whole figure.
Example.—In the figure - - iJ 
AD are given the diagonals
AC = 5-5, CG = 4-4, FD =
5’2, and the perpendiculars
BI=l-8, GH = 1*3, DK =
2*3, GL = 1-2, EM = 0*8. t*
Then, by articles 10 and
H,
2 ABCG = AC (BI + GH) =5-5 (1-8+ 1*3) = 17-05
2 DEFG = DF (GL + EM) = 5-2 (1-2 + 0-8) = 10-40
2 CDG=CG-DK = 4-4x 2-3 = 10-12
2 area = 37-57
area = 18-785
22. To find the Area of a Regular Polygon.—If AB
be one of the sides of the polygon, and C the centre
of the circle described about it,
the area of the polygon will be
equal to that of the triangle ABC
multiplied by the number of sides.
Let AB = a, and the number
of sides = n. Then, since the equal
sides of the polygon subtend equal
angles at the centre of the circle,
360°
ACB =
CD —AD cot ACD = 4a cot
180°.
•
n
180
and the triangle ABC = AD\DC = £a2 cot ;
n
180°
whence the polygon = Jwa2 cot ——.
(i.) Hence the area of a regular polygon is one-fourth of
the continued product obtained by squaring one of its sides,
multiplying by the number of its sides and by the cotangent
of the angle obtained by dividing 180° by the number of its
sides.
Example. Find the area of a regular polygon whose
side is 23 and the number of sides 15.
Log area = log n + 2 log a + L cot
lo
180°
180°
a = 23
ft = 15
= 12c
a =
Area = 9332*8
ft
1- 3617272
2
2- 7234556
log ft= 1-1760913
_ 180°
L cot — = 10-6725255
colog 4= 9-3979400
log area = 3*9700124
+ colog 4 — 20.
180c
23. (ii.) If the side of the polygon = 1, its area = ^ cot
and the area of a polygon whose side is a, may then be ob¬
tained by multiplying by a2. Since the number by which
a2 is to be multiplied is the same for all polygons of the
same number of sides, it is obvious that if its values be
calculated for ft = 3, ft = 4, &c., and the results collected in
a table, we shall obtain the area of any polygon by mul¬
tiplying the square of its side by the appropriate tabular
number.
Table I. contains the multipliers and their logarithms
for polygons of 3 to 12 sides.
Examples.—Find the areas of a regular pentagon whose
side is 25, and of a hexagon whose side is 20.
The multiplier for the pentagon is 1-7204774 ;
.*. the pentagon = (25)2 x 1-7204774 1075-298.
YOL. XIV.
To find the area of the hexagon by logarithms.
The logarithm for a hexagon = '4146519
2 log 20 = 2-6020600
Area of hexagon = 1039-230 3-0167119
24. To find the Area of a Regular Polygon inscribed in a
Circle.—Let AB (fig. art. 22) be a side of the polygon ; the
radius AC = r, and the number of sides = ft.
Then A CD = —;
ft
AD =
r sin
180c
and CD = r cos
180°
and since the polygon = ftABC = ft AD ■ DC,
- . 180° 180° , , . 360°
its area = ftr2sm  cos = \nr* sin ——.
ft ft * ft
Example.—The radius of a circle being 10, find the area
of an inscribed hexagon.
The area = J x 6 x 100 sin 60° = 300 x
= 150 x 1-7320508 = 259-81.
25. To find the Area of a Regular Polygon described
about a Circle.—In fig. to article 22, if FG be a side of the
polyglon of ft sides; since FG = CE • tan ECF=r tan
180°
 , and the polygon = ftCFG = ftCE • EF ;
therefore area = ftr2 tan
180°
Example.—Find the area of a regular hexagon described
about a circle whose radius is 10 feet.
Area=6 x 100 x tan 30° = 600 x -^- = 200 V3
W o
= 200 x 1-7320508 = 346-41.
SECTION II.—SOLIDS CONTAINED BY PLANES.
26. To find the I olume of a Rectangular Parallelepiped.
—If the parallelepiped be rectangular, and its edges be a,
b, and c, it has been proved in article 5, that its
volume = abc;
or the volume is equal to the length multiplied by the breadth
and by the height.
Example.—The volume of a parallelepiped whose length,
breadth, and height are 5, 4, and 3,
= 5 x 4 x 3 = 60.
27. To find the Surface of a Rectangular Parallelepiped.
—The surface of the parallelepiped (fig. art. 5) is evidently
=2BC + 2BD + 2CD;
.-. surface = 2{ab + ac + be.)
Hence the surface is double the sum obtained by adding
together the length multiplied by the breadth, the length
multiplied by the height, and the breadth multiplied by the
height.
Example.—The surface of the rectangular parallelepiped
whose length, breadth, and thickness are 5, 4, and 3 ’
= 2(5 x 4 + 5 x 3 + 4 x 3) = 2(20 +15 +12) = 94’.
28. To find the Volume of any Parallelepiped— (1.) When
the length AC of the base BC (fig. art. 29), its perpendi-
cular breadth CK, and the altitude BE of the parallelo
piped are given.—\t is proved (Geom. p. 536; Euc xi 34)
that a parallelepiped is equal to any other parallelepiped
having an equal base and the same altitude; and as this
other parallelepiped may be rectangular, its volume = base
x height (art. 26). Hence the volume of the parallele¬
piped AM - AC-CK-DE; or if AB = /, KL = m, and DE = n.
the volume = /mft.
Example.—the length of the base be 57, its perpen¬
dicular breadth 5}, and the height of the parallelepiped 13,
3 s
505
Mensura¬
tion.
506
Mensura¬
tion.
MENSURATION.
its volume = 57 x 5*25 x 13 — 2525'25.
29. (ii.) Given the edges of a parallelepiped, and their
inclinations, to find its volume. Let AM be the paral¬
lelepiped, DE a per¬
pendicular from D
upon BC ; and let
a spherical surface
whose centre is A,
cut the faces of the
parallelepiped in the
arcs FH, EG, GH,
and the plane ADE
in the arc HI.
Let AB = a, AC
= 6, AD=c, and the angles BAC = a, BAD=/3, CAD
= y. In the spherical triangle FGH,
2
sin F = -i :—as/{sin s sin (s - a) sin (s -/3)sin (s -y)},
sin a sin p v l ' 7
where s=^(a + (3 + y),
and sin HI = sin /? sin F ;
also DE = AD sin DAE=c sin HI = c sin /3 sinF;
and the parallelepiped
= parallelogram BCxDE = DExa5sina (art. 8);
therefore the volume
= 2ahc \/{sin s sin O-®) sin (S~P) sin
Example.—The edges of a parallelepiped are 4, 5, and 6,
and their inclination 40°, 50 , and 60
a = 40°
Find the volume.
= 50
= 60
S
S — a
s-P
*- y
150
75
35
25
15
log sin = 1’9849438
... =1-7585913
... =1-6259483
... =1-4129962
2)2-7824796
1-3912398
log a= -6020600
log b = '6989700
log c— '7781513
log 2= -3010300
Log area BC = 1-1090975
AG be
plane BEFC, it will
be divided into
two equal prisms
(Geometry, p. 536,
theor. iv.; Euc. xi.
28). Therefore the
prism AEF = £AG
= JABHC x DI
(art. 28) = ABC x
DI.
Volume = 59-0814 log volume = 1-7714511
30. The Surface of the Parallelepiped.—¥ vow art. 8 the
surface is evidently
= 2{ab sin a + ac sin /3 + be sin y).
Example.—Find the surface of the parallelepiped in ex¬
ample to art. 29.
a = 4, 5 = 5, c = 6, a=40°, /3 = 50o,y=60°.
Log a= -6020600 BC = 12-856
log 5= -6989700 similarly BD = 18-385
4 sin a =9-8080675 and CD = 25-981
57-222
Surface = 114*444
31. To find the Volume of a Prism.—If the parallelepiped
~ ’ cut by a
If the prism be polygonal, it may be divided into tri- Mensura-
angular prisms, as shown - - tion-
in the figure; and its vo¬
lume is equal to the sum of
these prisms.
= ABC x FL + ACD x FL
+ ADE x FL
= ABCDE x FL.
Hence, in any prism, if m2
= area of base, and h
= perpendicular height,
the volume = m2/j;
or the volume of any prism
is equal to its base multi
plied by its height.
Example.—The sides of the base of a triangular prism are
3, 4, and 5 feet, and its height 7 feet. What is its volume ?
The area of the base = 6 square feet (ex. 1, art. 12);
Therefore the volume = 6 x 7 = 42 cubic feet.
32. To fipd the Surface of a Prism.—The surface will
be obtained by adding the areas of the triangles or polygons
which form the ends of the solid, and of the parallelograms
which form its sides.
If the edges are perpendicular to the base, it is evident
(art. 6) that if /? = the perimeter of the base, and h - the
height, the lateral surface = ph ;
and m1 being the area of the end, the whole surface
= ph + 2nd.
Example.—Find the volume and surface of a prism
whose base is a regular polygon of 15 sides, a side of the
base 23 feet, and the height 75 feet.
The area of the base = 9332-8 square feet (ex. art. 22);
Therefore the volume = 75 x 9332’8 = 699960 cubic feet.
Also if the edges are perpendicular to the base, the surface
= 2x9332-8 + 15 x23 x 75
= 44540-6 square feet.
33. To find the Volume of a Wedge.—The base AC of
the wedge is a parallelogram, and the edge EF is parallel
to AB or CD. If
the plane EHG be ^
parallel to ADF, the
wedge will be equal
to the sum or differ¬
ence of the prism
AEHG, and the
pyramid CEG.
Therefore, if AB
— av EF = av a perpendicular from A upon CD = b, and
a perpendicular from F upon the plane AC = 5, the wedge
= |-AG x bh dt £BG x bh (arts. 31 and 35)
= \afih =t \{al a2) bh = bh^^fi + —3 " ^
= \bh{2a1 + a2).
Example.—The length and breadth of the base of a
wedge are 32 and 9, and the height 28 feet.
The volume = £ x 9 x 28 (64 + 21) = 3570.
34. To find the Vo¬
lume of a Rectangular
Prismoid.—The faces
BD and GE are rect¬
angles, whose planes
and sides are parallel;
hence the figure is evi¬
dently a frustum of a
pyramid.
Let AB = av AD
= 515 EF = «3, FG = A,
and the perpendicular from F upon the plane DB = «.
Mensura¬
tion.
MENSURATION.
The prismoid = wedge AED +wedge DEH
= 1^(2^ + a,) + $b3h(2a3 + a,) P = + i«2 cot5
= \h[alb1 + a3b3 + (a1 + «3) {bl + i3)].
But if the figure were cut by a plane parallel to, and
equidistant from the planes AC, EG, and if a2, b2 be the
length and breadth of this plane reckoned respectively
parallel to AD, AB,
then a, =i±^j b, =
Hence substituting
180°
n
the prismoid = \h {albl + 4a2&2 + a.Jb.^.
Since oxbv a2bv a3b3, are the areas of the ends, and
what may be termed the middle section of the fimire
parallel to the ends, the volume of the prismoid is obtained
by adding together the areas of its ends, and four times the
area of its middle section, and multiplying the sum by one-
sixth of the height.
Lxample. The sides of the base of a rectangular pris¬
moid are 12 and 8 ; the sides of the top respectively parallel
to those of the base are 6 and 4; and the height is 5.
Here ax=\2, a3 = 6, ^ = 8, b3 = 4, h = o.
a, + a3 _
Log ±a - -0969100, . , 2 180°
L Cot 30°= 10-2385606 hence4«' cor — =
•3354706
2
4-687
h2 =100-000
P =104-687
/ = 10-23
a,2 =
= 9;
b,=b-i±h = s.
2 2
The volume = |(12x 8 + 4 x9x 6 + 4x6) =280.
35. To find the Volume of any Pyramid.—The volume
of a pyramid is one-third of that of a prism of the same
base and altitude (Geom. p. 539, theor. 17, cor. 1; Euclid
xii. 7, cor. 1). It therefore follows (art. 31) that if a2 = the
base, and h = the height,
the volume = ^m^h ;
yt' the volume is one-third of the product of the base multi¬
plied by the height.
36. To find the Volume of a Eight Pyramid.—The
base AD is supposed to be a regular polygon; F is the
E
2-5 x 10-23 = 76-725 sq. feet
area of base = 16-238
whole surf. =92-963sq. feet
log base = 1-2105319
log h =1-0000000
colog 3 =9-5228787
log volume= 1-7334106
volume = 54-126 cubic feet.
180° "
log la2 cot2   = -6709412
n
Lateral surface = 3 x
log a = *3979400
2
•7958800
log n = -7781513
L Cot 30° = 10-2385606
colog 4= 9-3979400
Log area of base = 1-2105319   
38. To find the Volume of the Frustum of any Pyramid.
—Let the pyramid ACF be cut by a plane abc parallel to
the base ABC, and let
AB = Oj, ab = a2\ the areas
ACB = mf acb = m2; the
heights FG = AX, FH=/<2)
GH=h. Then the frus¬
tum AcB
= pyramid ACF - pyra¬
mid abc
~ (art. 35).
AF __ ax
aF
h_- ai
h ~
But
h„
«2
m,
Hence h.~
■ a., ml — m-i
m,h
my — m2
mfi
centre of a circle described about the polygon AD, and
Ef is perpendicular to the plane AD. El, perpendicular
to AB, is the “slant height.”
Let AB = a, EF = h, El = /, w = the number of sides
of the polygon.
1 80°
The area AD = £rca2 cot —— (art. 22) ;
and hence, since (art. 35) the pyramid:
its volume = ^na2h cot
UD, EF,
180°
37. To find the Surface of a Right Pyramid.—The
lateral surface of the pyramid = raABE = raAI-EI = £wa/.
180°\
rc )-
Hence the whole surface:
l + %a cot
i=\na
In the triangle EFI,
El2 = EF2 + FI2 = EF2 + IB2 cot2 BFI,
and h,-
m1—m2
Therefore the volume of the frustum
=  — = %h{m2 + mgnz + m2);
mx - m2 v 12 2 y
a formula which applies to the frusta of all pyramids
whether right or oblique.
39. The formula of article 38 may be put into a some¬
what different form.—If AB = a1, ab = a3\ area AC = m2
area ac=m3’, and if a2 m2 be the side and area of the
middle section of the frustum formed by a plane parallel to
and equidistant from, the planes AC, ac, we shall evidently
have {Euc. vi. 20, cor. 3)— J
m2 = c2a2, m2 = c2a2, m2=c2a2-,
where c depends on the nature of the polygon AD
Also a2 = ^(a1 + a3);
therefore 4<=c2 (a1 + a f = c2a2 + 2c2a1a3 + c2a32
=m2 + 2mlm3 + m32.
Now the volume of the frustum
7 ^2mi2 + 2™^ + 2m32)2 (art. 37).
Whence substituting
the volume = jh (m2 + 4m22 + m2) ;
or the volume of the frustum of a pyramid is obtained by
adding the areas of the ends to four times the area of the
i>Qi
Mensura¬
tion.
by which, according to the data given for calculating the
surface and volume of the pyramid, we may obtain l from h,
or h from l.
Example.—Find the volume and surface of an hexagonal
pyramid, each side of the base being 2 feet 6 inches, and
the length of the axis 10 feet.
a = 2-5, A =10, rc = 6; .*. = 30°.
MENSURATION.
middle section, and multiplying the sum by one-sixth of the
height.
Example.—Find the volume of the frustum of an hex¬
agonal pyramid, the sides of whose terminating polygons
are 4 and 3 feet, and its height 9 feet.
(i.) By the formula of article 38.—By art. 22 we find
= 41-569, and w22 = 23'383.
Whence rnyn2 = 3T177 ;
and the volume = 3 (41'569+ 31'l77 + 23'383)
= 288'39 cubic feet.
(ii.) By the formula of article 39.—The side of the
middle section, «2 = ^(4 + 3) = 3‘5.
Whence (art. 22) w22 = 3T826;
and the volume = f(4T569+ 127'304 + 23,383)
= 288,39 cubic feet.
40. To find the Surface of the Frustum of a Right
Pyramid.—In fig. art. 38 let the perimeter of AC = />n and
that of ac =pp, and the slant heights DF = lv EF = lv
DE = /, AB = ay, ab = a2; then the lateral surface of the
frustum is equal to the difference of the lateral surfaces of
the pyramids AFC, afc = \pfi — \,p^v
But-y-=—. .• A—=
k «2
Hence k~
and /2 =
! Pi-Pi
Pi1 ,
Pi-Pi ' Pi~ Pi
Therefore the lateral surface of the frustum
i2 —
Pi _
Pi-Pi
= ¥(Pi+Pl)-
Since t1 = —;
K
h =
o, — a.,
180°
Also, /j2 = h? + K cot2 ——- (art. 37);
and l —
&<2
h-
cot2 — = 4-687, we have
n
If / = the number of faces in the polyhedron,
m = the number of faces in each of its solid angles,
n = the number of sides in each of its faces, and
a = AB, the length of each of those sides ;
and if we suppose the planes ACO, ADO, CDO, to meet the
surface of a sphere whose centre is O in the arcs pq, pr, qrt
Mensura¬
tion.
Hence we may find l when h is given.
Example.—Find the lateral surface of the frustum in
last example.
al = 4, a2 = 3, h = 9.
Whence hx = = ;
the angles, p=- q=- r=-
2’
and in the spherical triangle pqr,
cos AOC = cot p cot q — cot — cot
' 1 m
whence cot AOC =
cos — cos —
m n
Also CO = AC cot AOC = AD cosec A CD cot AOC,
= \a cosec — cot AOC;
cot — (art. 22).
n
and the polygon ABE = —
Now, as the polyhedron is made up of l equal pyramids,
whose bases and altitudes are respectively the same as the
polygon ABE and the line CO,
CO • AEB (art 35.),
its volume
nla%
:_2U
cos —. cot
m
{-cos(^+') “s („T-1) )*
a form apparently impossible, but not really so; for in every
polyhedron cos
(7T 7T \ .
—+-) 1
m n)
is negative,
the angle H be-
° m n
and since \ai
, , (4 - 3) x 36 07
/, = 36-07, and l = v ^ =9-0175.
Hence lateral surface = 3(4 + 3) x 9-0175 = 189‘37 square
feet.
41. To find the Volume and Surface of a Regular Polyhe¬
dron.—Regular polyhedrons are solids contained by planes,
which are equal, similar, and regular
polygons ; each solid angle of the poly¬
hedron is contained by the same num¬
ber of planes, having the same in¬
clinations, and the polyhedron admits
of having a sphere inscribed within it,
or described about it. There are only
five regular polyhedrons, which are
enumerated in Table II.
Let ABE be one of the faces of
the polyhedron, O the centre of a cir¬
cumscribed sphere, and OC, OD per¬
pendiculars to the plane ABE and to
the line AB: then it is evident that AO and OC are the
radii of spheres described about the polyhedron, and in¬
scribed within it; that AB is bisected in D, and that C is
the centre of the polygon ABE.
ing >• 90° and < 180°.
It is evident (art. 22) that the surface
ln(P , 7T
= —— . cot —.
4 n
Example.—Find the volume of a tetrahedron whose
edge is 1.
The tetrahedron is contained by 4 equilateral triangles
and each of its solid angles has 3 faces; whence
a= 1, ?« = 3, « = 3, l— 4
Hence the volume =
m
4x3
= -=60°.
n
cos 60° cot2
60°
24 * ( — cos 120°)4
3-4
1^
V2
1178513;
and the surface = — cot 60
= V3= 1-7320508.
42. It obviously follows from the formulae of last article,
that the surface and volume of a polyhedron whose edge is
a, may be obtained by multiplying the surface and volume
of a similar polyhedron, whose edge is 1, by <r and ai re¬
spectively. The surfaces and volumes ot the five regular
polyhedrons, whose edges = 1, are given in table II.
Example.—Find the surface and volume of a regular
dodecahedron whose edge is 5.
The tabular surface and volume from table II. are
20-6457788 and 7-6631189.
The surface = 25 x 20"6457788 = 516-1444 <.
The volume = 125 x 7-6631189 = 957-88986.
MENSURATION.
Mensura¬
tion.
SECTION in.—THE CIRCLE.
The Circumference of a Circle.
1-3 ar5 „ \
~,'(r+i-3?+2;:4- 5F+&c-)
Putting x=r, the length of the quadrant AP
\l+2rZ+2^
3 , 1,3”5 0 \
+ 7. . + &C. 1
M-5 2,4,6*7
44. A very rapidly converging series for the circumfer¬
ence of a circle is obtained by the following process.
It is shown in Trigonometry, that
tan -1 w + tan ~1 w=tan -1 m~n
1 + mn ’
-i 1 f _i 1-4 _i 2
-= tan -—f = tan -
5 1 + 1 3
-i _I
i+A l“" 17
-tan-1 —
l + A ~ 46
tan'1&-tan“r
tan 1 1 - tan
tan-1 tan-1 i = tan~1J^li_ _
f —! 7 — ] 1
tan Jy— tan -
:tan‘
Whence, adding,
tan
1 +^fn
= tan
-i -l
239
-1 1-4 tan-1 i=tan-1 “1
^ ^ —i 1
-7 =4 tan — — tan
4 5
-i
239’
1
2395
for tan
— i
1=7 5 where tt is the circumference of a circle
whose diameter is unity.
Now, it is proved in Trigonometry that
tan- 1x = x-^x* + ±xs- lx7 + &c.
Therefore,
-=4^1—I. L I. L L. 1 1 1 ^
4 \ 5 3 53 + 5 ’ 5« 7 * 57 + 9 ’ P -&C J
^239 —3 ’ 239s + &C') ’
a rapidly converging series, from which the value of tt is
calculated as follows:—
1
”3
1
~7
g- =‘200000000
J-s=-000064000
-3= -• 002666666
j7— 000001828
g-9 = -000000057
•200064057
- • 002668494
• 197395563
4
• 789582252
-•004184076
Zr= *785398176
4 4
-•002668494
- ^9 = -• 004184100
• 000000024
-•004184076
7r=3T41592704, which is correct to 7 places.
314159
100000
= 3
Of which the successive convergents are
22 333 355
7’ 106’ 113’ &C‘
Of these
355
Il3
= 3-1415929,
which differs from the accurate value of tt only in the 7th
place of decimals. Whence the following rules:—
(ii.) To find the circumference of a circle roughly, mul¬
tiply the diameter by 22, and divide by 7.
Example.—The circumference of a circle 5 feet in dia¬
meter is about
5 xy-15-71;
which is correct only in one place of decimals.
(iii.) To find the circumference of a circle very nearly,
multiply the diameter by 355, and divide by 113.
Example.—The circumference of a circle whose diame¬
ter is 5 is
o x 355 , __ . _
jfjg = 15" ^0/964o ;
a result correct in 5 places of decimals.
(iv.) To multiply by k. Multiply by 22 and divide by
7, and from the result subtract \th of rfoth of the multipli¬
cand.—The result is too great by about its 200,000th part.
Example.—Find the circumference in last example.
5
22
7)110
15-714285
006250
Circumference = 15-708035
100)5
8)-05
•00625
47. 2 o find the diameter of a Circle when the Circum¬
ference is given.
(i.) It follows from article 45, that to find the diameter
we must divide the circumference by 3-14159, or multiply
by-318309866184.
509
The value of tt to 20 places of decimals is
3-14159265358979323846.
The functions of tt, which are most frequently useful in
Mensuration, will be found in Table III.
45. Since tt is the circumference of a circle whose dia¬
meter is unity ; and since the circumference of circles are
proportional to their radii, or to their diameters. (See Tri¬
gonometry.)
therefore if r = the radius; e?=the diameter ;
the circumference of the circle=7rcf=27rr.
Whence the following rules:—
(i.) To find the circumference of a circle, multiply the
diameter, or twice the radius, by 3T4159..., or 3-1416.
Example 1.—The circumference of a circle whose dia¬
meter is 5 feet
= 5 x 3-1415927= 15-7079635 feet.
Example 2.—Find the circumference of the earth at the
equator, the equatorial diameter being 7925-6 miles.
Log 7925-6 = 3-8990321
log tt= -4971499
Circumference = 24899-0 miles. 4-3961820
46. If we convert the value of tt into a continued frac¬
tion we obtain
Mensura¬
tion.
510
MENSURATION.
Or if c=the circumference of the circle,
j c c
d~Tr’ r 2n
Example.—The diameter of the circle whose circumfer¬
ence is 15*70796
= 15*70796 x *3183098 = 4*999998 = 5 nearly.
(ii.) To find the diameter roughly, multiply the circum¬
ference by 7, and divide by 22.
(iii.) To find the diameter nearly, multiply the circum¬
ference by 113, and divide by 355.
(iv.) To divide by tt, multiply by 7, divide by \\ and by
2, and to the result add \th of fill of the dividend. The
result is too small by about its 100,000th part.
Example.—Find the diameter in last example.
15*707964 1000)15*707964
 7 ' 8)*015 708
11)109*955748 *001964
2)9*995977
4*997989
*001964
4*999953 = the diameter.
Arcs of Circles.
48. Since angles at the centres of circles are proportional
to the arcs on which they stand (Geom. sec. iv., theor. 31;
or Euc. vi. 33),
if A = the number of degrees in the angle at the centre ;
r =the radius,
a =the arc which subtends the angle A,
nr : a :: 180°:A ;
A 180° a
.*. A= — .
% r
or A = 57*2957795 x -.
r
From this equation the following rules are obtained:— »
49- (i.) To find the number of degrees in an arc when
its length and the radius of the circle are given, multiply
the length of the arc by 57*29578, and divide by the radius.
Example.—If the radius of a circle be 25 and the arc
30, the number of degrees in the arc
QA
= 57*29578 x —=68°
2o
r5494 = 68° 45' 17"* 8;
or, by logarithms,
180
= 1*7581226
a =30
A = 68° 45' 17"*8
= 68*75494
1 80
log—= 1*7581226
7T
log a =1*4771213
colog A = 8* 1626961
log r = 1*3989400
subtended at the centre are given, multiply the number of Mensura-
degrees in the angle by the radius and by *0174533. For, Oon.
by the formula of art. 48, v—
180
Ar=*0174533 x Ar.
Example.—Given the radius 25 feet, and the angle at
the centre 68° 45' 17' *8, to find the length of the subtend¬
ing arc.
r =25 log r =1*3979400
A-68*75494 log A =1*8373039
From Table III. log^ = 2*2418774
Arc=30 feet.
log a =1*4771213
Since the length of an arc = x radius; if
(or
the length of an arc to radius = 1) be computed for the
various values of A, and arranged in a table (See Table
IV.), the length of any arc may be found by multiplying
the proper tabular number by the radius of the arc.
Example.—To find the length of an arc whose radius is
25, and angle 68° 45' 17”*8.
From Table IV. arc of 60°= 1*0471976
8° =
40' =
5' =
10’' =
7"=
0”*8 =
*1396263
116355
14544
485
339
39
1*2000001
.*. Arc to radius 25= 1*2 x 25 = 30.
A great variety of problems in finding the lengths of arcs
may be proposed. The following seem to be the most im¬
portant :—
52. (iv.) To find the length of an arc whose chord and
radius are given.—In fig. art. 22 we have given AC -r,
AB = 2c.
To find the length of the arc AEB. Put the angle
A c
ACB = A, then sin — = —; whence A is known, and the
2 r
length of the arc is found by art. 51.
Example.—The chord of an arc is 28*23214 feet, and
the radius 25 feet. Find the length of the arc.
Here c= 14*11607 logo =1*1497136
r=25 log r =1*3979400
From Table III. log-
a = 30 log a =1*4771213
r = 25 colog r = 8*6020600
A = 68°*75494 log A = 1*8373039
= 68° 45' 17"*8.
50. (ii.) To find the radius of the circle when the length
of the arc and the number of degrees which it contains
are given, multiply the length of the arc by 57*29578, and
divide by the number of degrees in the angle.
For, by the formula (art. 48.),
r=57*2957795 x A*
A
Example.—-The length of the arc is 30 feet, and the
angle, which it subtends at the centre. 68° 45' 17 "*8. Find
the radius of the circle.
= 34° 22' 38"*9
L sin ^ = 9*7517736
and A = 68° 45' 17"*8
Having ascertained A, we find, by art. 51, that the length
of the arc is 30 feet.
53. To find the Length of an Arc when its Chord, and
Height, or Versed Sine, are given.—In fig. art. 22, putting
DE = h;
*.* AC2 = AD2 + CD2; .*. r2=c2 +(r-A)2:
Hence r
=* K)
The radius r being known, the length of the arc is found
by art. 52.
Example.—Given the chord of an arc 28*23214 feet, and
its versed sine 4*36661, to find its length.
Hence the radius = 25 feet.
51. (iii.) To find the arc when the radius and the angle
c =14*11607
li = 4*3666
^ = 45*6334
n
50*0000
The radius r = 25*0.
log c= 1*1497136
log c2=2*2994272
log h= *6401444
Jog ^ = 1*6592828
15 h
M E N S U K A T I O N.
Mensura¬
tion.
We have now sin A = (art. 52),
whence A = 68°'75494;
and finally, by art. 52, the arc is found to be 30 feet.
*
The Area of a Circle.
54. In the figure to article 43, if CP = r2, CM = ;r, and
MP=y, the equation to the circle is a?2+^2 = r2, and the
area of the quadrant ABC.
7TT2
= r ydx -- ^ (?" — xf1 dx = ^
Whence the area of the circle = nr2. See also article
59.
55. A more elementary demonstration may be obtained
as follows:—
The area of a circle is greater than that of any inscribed,
and less than that of any circumscribed polygon; and by
continually increasing the number of sides of the polygons,
their areas will obviously approach to equality with each
other, and with that of the circle.
Let AB, FG (fig. art. 22) be the sides of regular inscribed
and circumscribed polygons,
n = the number of sides in each,
P = the area of the circumscribed polygon,
p = the area of the inscribed polygon.
Then putting 0 for the angle ACB,
<9 = -;
n
and, by continually increasing n, 6 diminishes indefinitely,
and ultimately
tan 9 sin 6
6
 = L (See Trigonometry.)
Now, P — nr- tan - = 77-r2 ■
tan -
n
(art. 25.)
> tan <9 .
—0— = nr- ultimately ;
c tan 9 , , .
f°r —= 1 ultimately.
\lso p = nr1 sin — cos — = nr2
11 n
. 7T
sin —
n
cos - (art. 24.)
<> sin 0 01. 1
= mr — • cos 9 = nr2 ultimately ;
t)
for--a ^ = 1 and cos 9 - \ ultimately.
v
Therefore, since we have always
P > area of circle > p ;
and since P and p both ultimately differ from nr3 by less
than any assignable quantity, it follows that
the area of the circle = nr2.
56. If d be the diameter of the circle,
d = 2r, and area = ^d2;
where ^ =-785398163397,
4 ' , ;
, again the area = nr‘r.
But ifc=the circumference, c=27rr,
therefore the area = \cr = |c x id.
Lastly, the area—tt?-2 =
4 tt2/-2 c2
where —= -07957747155.
4 n
Whence the following rules :—
(i.) The area of a circle is obtained by multiplying the
square of the radius by 3’14159.
Example.—The area of a circle whose radius is 3-5,
= (3-5)2 x 3-14159 = 12-25 x 3-14159 = 38'4845.
(ii.) The area of a circle is equal to the square of the
diameter multiplied by -785398.
Example.—The area of a circle whose diameter is 7,
= 49 x-785398 = 38-4845.
(iii.) The area of a circle is equal to half the diameter
multiplied by half the circumference.
Example.—The diameter of a circle is 7 ; find the area.
By article 45, the circumference =21-9911486 ;
therefore the area=3*5 x 10-9955743 = 38-4845.
(iv.) The area of a circle is equal to the square of the
circumference multiplied by "0795575.
Example.—The circumference being 21-9911486 ;
the area = (21-9911486)2 x -0795575 = 38-4845.
57. In the formulae of articles 55 and 56, if we put
C2 = the area of the circle,
V 7)
d=
where—.— = -5641896
V 7T
where-!-= W283792
fn:
c = 2fn-C where 2Vjt=3-5449077.
Whence, to find the radius, diameter, or circumference of
a circle when the area sis given, multiply the square root of
the area by -5641896, 1‘1283792, or 3-5449077 respectively
Example.—The area of a circle is 38*4845.
V38-4845 =6-2036
.-.radius = 6-2036 x -5641896 = 3-5
diameter =6-2036 x 1-1283792 = 7"0
circumference = 6-2036 x 3*5449077 = 21 -9911.
58. To find the Area of a Circular Ring.—The ring is a
plane surface bounded by two circles, described one within
the other, but not necessarily concentric. If r15 t-2 be the
outer and inner radii of the ring, its area
= ^ (l2-ri) = n 0i+r2) Oi-^2)-
Example.—Find the area of a ring whose outer and
inner diameters are 10 and 6.
= 5 and r2 = 3 ;
.-. area = 8 x 2 x 3-14159 = 50-2655.
59. To find the Area of a Sector of a Circle.—If r be the
radius of the circle (fig. art. 43), and 9 the angle AGP,
then the area of the sector AGP
= dO = iQr' = ^ arc x radius.
For the whole circle 9 = 2n',
.'. circle = irr2,
as was already proved in articles 54 and 55.
Or, since sectors have the same ratio as the arcs on
which they stand {Euclid 33, vi.), if A = the angle of the
sector, in degrees,
360°: A :: area of circle : area of sector;
sector=— nr2.
360
512
Mensura¬
tion.
' V '
MENSURATION.
Again’SinCC360=^ (ar‘-48)’
the sector = %ar;
and, finally, since 0=-,
T
the sector=^0r2.
We have therefore the following rules:—
(i.) The area of a sector is equal to the area of the whole
circle, multiplied by the number of degrees in the arc of the
sector, and divided by 360.
Example.—The radius of a sector is 25 feet, and its angle
68° 45' 17"*8. Required its area.
Here r=25, A = 68'75494;
(25)2 x 3-14159 x 68*75494 „
v  =375 sq.ft.
.*. area of sector =
Or, by logarithms,
360
log r= 1-3979400
2
2-7958800
log 7r= -4971499
log A = 1-8373039
colog 360=7*4436975
log area =2-5740313
Area =375.
Since, by art. 63, a sector
A , , Att ,
360
180
Att
sin~1 ~ +1 (r2 - ^2)i - ch.
=r2 sin-1- -c/= sector ACBD -triangle ABC.
61. We may also express the areas DEMP, ADBE, in
terms of AE, DE, and MP.
For, from the equation to the circle, >
(5 + c)2 + A2=r2 (a + c)2.
iX7, 52 + A2 —a2 (a —A)2 + A2 . . „
Wh<inCe C=-W^)’ r-—{a-b) ’ aDd >
=b + c='^^t.
2(a-b)
Wherefore, substituting area DEMP
<j[(a-bf + h*]\._-12(a-b)h
2(a — b) Sm (a-6/ +A2
+ (a2 + 2ai>
— 36* — A9)a| ■
where the length an arc of A° to radius 1, its area
loO
will be found by ascertaining the value of from Table
IV., and multiplying by the square of the radius.
Example.—To find the sector whose radius is 25 and
angle 68° 45' 17''-8.
From Table II. (see art. 51).—The length of an arc of
68° 45' 17"-8 to radius 1 = 1-2;
.*. area of sector = 1-2 x (25)2=1*2 x 625 = 375.
(ii.) The area of a sector is equal to one-half of the length
of its arc multiplied by its radius.
Example.—If the radius of a sector be 25 feet, and the
length of its arc 30 feet,
its area = £ x 30 x 25 = 375 square feet.
(iii.) If the radius AC and chord AB (fig. art. 22) be
given, putting AC=r, AB = 2c,
, .Ac
we have sin —,
2 r
whence A is known; and the area of the sector is found by
Rule (i.)
Example.—If the radius of a sector is 25, and the chord
of its arc 28-23214, what is its area?
Here A is ascertained to be 68° 45' 17”\8 (see art. 52);
and by Rule (i.) the area of the sector is found to be 375.
60. To find the Area of a Segment of a Circle.—Let C
be the centre of the circle, d
CD = r, DE = «, MP = 5,
CE = c, EM=A, AE = /.
Then, if EM=#, and MP
=y>
(y + c)2 + a;2 = r2,
and the area DEMP
~ 2
s* + 1
Also the area ADB =J ydx
4(« —6) (
When h — l, b — o\
■■■area abd=^{t
62. Again, since the area of the segment ADB= sector
ADBC — triangleABC; puttingangle ACB = 0,andAC = r,
the segment=^0r2 -^r2 sin 0 (arts. 59 and 11)
=£r2(0-sin 0).
Whence (i.) to find the area of a segment of a circle, find
the area of the corresponding sector, and subtract the tri¬
angle contained by the radii of the sector and the base of
the segment.
Among various particular cases of this problem, the fol¬
lowing may be noted:—
(ii.) Given the radius AC = r, and the angle at the centre
ACB = A°.
The sector ADBC = ^ ttt2 (art. 59);
360
the triangle ABC=£r2 sin A ;
.-. area of segment ABD =£r2^^^ — sin A.^
Example.—Find the area of the segment whose arc has
a radius of 25 feet, and which subtends an angle of 68° 45'
17'''8 at the centre.
r = 25 log r=l’3979400 In Ex. Rule (i.) (art. 59), the
2 area of the sector has been found
=375-000
the triangle =291-262
segment = 83-738
-Let
log r2=2-7958800 to be
A=68°45'17/,-8 LsinA=9-9694343
colog 2=9-6989700
2-4642843
Area of triangle 291-262.
(iii.) Given the Chord and Radius of the Segment.-
2c~ the chord, r= the radius, A= angle at centre.
rp, .Ac
1 hen sin — = -;
2 r
and A being known, the area of the segment is found by
Rule (ii.)
Example.—Find the area of the segment whose radius
is 25, and chord 28-23214.
c= 14-11607, from which A = 68° 45' l7"-8 (see-Ear. art. 52);
and the area is then found, by Rule (ii.), to be 83*738.
(iv.) Given the chord and height, or versed sine of the
segment.—Let 2c = the chord, h=the height, r = the radius.
r= \fh-\-<y) (art. 53).
Then A is found as in Rule (iii.), and finally the area is
obtained by Rule (ii.)
Example.—Given the chord of a segment 28*23214, and
its height 4-36661, to find its area.
c= 14-11607 and h = 4"36661,from which r = 25(seeart.53).
MENSURATION.
From r and c we have
A = 68° 45' 17"'8 by Rule (iii.)*
Finally, from r and A we find by Rule (ii.) that
the area = 83'738.
(v.) Given the height and radius or diameter of the seg¬
ment.—Let r= the radius, h— the height, then, by (ii.),
64. Tofind the Surface of a Right Cone.—Putting AB = l,
the lateral surface of the pyramid described about the cone,
513
and we have
the area ==i^Y^_s^n x:
.2.
h
versin A = —
r
Whence A is known, and the area may be calculated as
in (ii.).
If the radius be divided into n equal parts, and h be taken
successively equal to , &c., the corresponding values of
—, and of the factor
r’ \ 180
i A^may be calculated and
arranged in a table (see Table V.). The area of any seg¬
ment may then be ascertained by dividing its height by
the radius of its arc, so as to obtain the tabular versed sine
and the corresponding tabular number, and then multi-
plying the tabular number by the square of the radius of
the segment.
Example.—To find the area of a segment whose height
is 4-36661, and whose radius is 25.
Here A = 4-36661, <7=50.
rp i i . h 4-36661 , __ .
iabular versin = - = ——— = -175 nearly.
r 25 J
The tabular number for *175, obtained by taking the
mean of those for *17 and *18, is -134396;
area of segment = '134396 x (25)2=84 nearly.
The Cone.
63. To find the Volume of b
a Right Cone.—The right cone
is generated by the revolution
of a right-angled triangle ABC
about its side BC.
Let BED be the side of a
regular pyramid of n sides de¬
scribed about the cone, and
put AC = r, BC = A.
Then the volume of the
pyramid (art. 36)
= ^-CED-BC = irc-AC-AD
BC
= %nflh tan - = ^7rr24
n
7T
tan -
n
Mensura¬
tion.
= nBED = n AB
AD = nlr tan = irlr
n
tan —
n
But by increasing n indefinitely,
tan —
n
= 1
and the surface of the pyramid coincides with that of the
cone;
.-. surface of cone = rdr.
Also, if/?= the circumference of the base,
'Trlr = -J - 2t7t • l—^pl',
:. the convex surface =\pl.
Hence the convex surface of a cone is equal to half the peri¬
meter of the base multiplied by the slant height.
If we add the surface of the base, the whole surface,
= 7rr2 + irlr
= irr (r + /).
Again, if A = the vertical height,
Z=(r2 + A2)i
.*. surface =7rr{V + (r2 + A2)^j.
Example.—Find the surface of a cone whose height is
13, and the radius of its base 3-5,
The slant height 7=(169+12*25)^= 13-46 nearly.
The convex surface =3-14159 x 3-5 x 13-46= 148-0
The surface of the base (art. 56) = 38-5
The whole surface =186-5
65. To find the Volume of the Frustum of a right Cone.—
The frustum is cut off by a plane parallel to the base.
But by increasing n indefinitely,
Let the radii of the ends BC = r15
Cc = h. Also, let AC = h^ Ac = hr
bc=r2, and the height
Then r = —;
h„ rn
h
r, -r„
tan —
—— = 1 ultimately,
n
and the pyramid becomes ultimately equal to the cone.
Therefore the volume of the cone
= %f1h, or =\m-h;
where mf is put for the area of the base of the cone.
Hence the volume of a cone is equal to one-third the
product of the area of its base multiplied by its height.
Example.—Find the volume of the cone whose height
is 13, and the radius of its base 3’5.
The area of the base =38-4845 (Ex. (i.) art. 56) ;
Therefore the volume =£ x 13 x 38-4845 = 166-77.
VOL. XIV.
rdi
rJi
From which = —1"' , and h„ =
ri~r2 2
Since the frustum = difference of cones ABC, Abe,
its volume = ^rfh.-^fh^ (art. 63)
rf - rf
= ^irh
rx -r2
; ^Tthfrf + rfz + rf).
Or if af, a* be the areas of the ends of the frustum,
the volume = %h(a? + axa.z + af).
66. It may also be shown, as in art. 39, that the volume
= ^h(af + 4 ay -f- a32).
Where ax, a32 are the areas of the terminating planes of
the frustum, and a.f the area of a section parallel to these
planes, and equidistant from them.
3 T
514
MENSURATION.
Example.—Find the volume of the frustum of a cone, the
radii of whose ends are 3 and 4 feet, and its height 5 feet.
log 4= -6020600
log 3 =
•4771213
2
log(3)2= -9542425
log 7t = -4971499
log a 2 =1-4513924
log (4)2=1-2041200
•4971499
log o!]2= 1-7012699
” ' log <=1-4513924
<=50-266 2) 3-1526623
< = 28-274 log a.a2= 1-5763312
a,2=37-699 8 1 2
116-639
log = 2-0653519
log 5= -6989700
colog 3 = 9-5228787
Volume = 193-73. log volume = 2 2872006
67. To find the Surface of the Frustum of a Cone.—If
the slant heights (fig. art. 65) AB, Kb, B5, be lv /2, and l
respectively, it may be shown, as in last article, that
h—:
lrx
and /., = -
tan
= nr^h tan — = irr-h *  
n nr
But when n is increased indefinitely, the prism evidently Mensura-
coincides with the cylinder, tl0n-
and
tan —
n
= 1;
.’. the cylinder =Trr2h.
Or if m2 be put for the area of the base,
the cylinder = m2/«.
Hence the volume of a cylinder is equal to the area of
its base multiplied by its height.
Example.—Find the volume of a cylinder whose base is
4^ feet in diameter and its height 8 feet.
Here r = 2-25, h = 8.
log 2-25 =-3521825
rx-r2 ~ rx-r2
and since the lateral surface of the frustum is equal to the
difference of the lateral surfaces of the cones;
.-. lateral surface = 7r<j — 7r<2 (art. 64) ;
= 7r/'?_r?'=7r^ri+r2)-
T\ 12
Again, because the surface
= £/(27rr1 + 27rr2),
if pv p2 be put for the perimeters of the ends,
the lateral surface =^l{pl + pf.
The whole surface is obtained by adding to the lateral surface
the areas of the circles which form the ends of the frustum.
If the perpendicular height h be given, we have evi¬
dently
1= {h + (r1 - r }*.
Example.—Find the surface of the frustum of a right
cone whose height is 5 feet, and the radii of its ends 3 and
4 feet.
Here 4 = 5, 7'1 = 4, /"2=3;
.-. /=<25 + l)i = 5-099
Pl = 2 x4x 3-14159 = 25-133
p.^Z x 3 x 3-14159= 18-850
/>i 4-p2 = 43-983
Convex surface = ^ x 5"099 x 43"983 = 112-13
The areas of ends = 3T4159(9+ 16)= 78-54 (art. 56)
Whole surface = 190-67
The Cylinder.
68. To find the Volume of a Eight Cylinder. Ihe cy
Under is generated by the re- <2
volution of a rectangle A.Cca
about its side Cc.
Let ¥>Y)db be the side of an
equilateral prism of n sides de¬
scribed about the cylinder, and
put AC — r. Then the base of
the prism is a regular polygon
of n sides whose area
= nr2 tan - (art. 25.)
n J
Therefore the volume of the
prism
log (2"25)2 = -7043650
log 7r =-4971499
log 8 = -9030900
Volume =127-235. log volume = 2*1046049
69. To find the Surface of a Cylinder.—The lateral sur¬
face of the prism in last article = n x parallelogram Be?,
7T
tan
= 2« - AB " Aa=2nhr tan — = 2irhr'
n
But by indefinitely increasing n, the surface of the prism
will coincide with that of the cylinder, and ultimately
tan —
n
= 1;
.-. convex surface of cylinder = 2irrh.
Or, putting/) for the circumference of the base,
the surface =jo4.
Hence the convex surface of a cylinder is equal to the
circumference of its base multiplied by its height.
If to the convex surface we add the areas of the ends of
the cylinder, each = Trr2 (art. 55), we obtain
the whole surface = 27rr(r + li).
Example.—Find the surface of a cylinder whose base is
4^ feet in diameter, and its height is 8 feet.
2r=4-5, 4 = 8.
log 4"5 = -6532125 By art. 55,
log 8 = "9030900 surface of ends = 31-808.
log tt = -4971499 convex surface = 113-098.
Loo- convex surface = 2-0534524 whole surface = 144-906.
O
The Sphere.
70. To find the Surface of a Sphere or of a Spherical
Segment or Zone.—Let the
sphere be generated by the
revolution of the semicircle
ABD round AD; and put
AC = r, AF = x, BF=y.
Then
„ ^ « d>/ r-x
if = 2rx — ar, =  5
J dx y
and the surface generated by the revolution of the arc AB
= 2ttJ^ y ^1 + dx=2,irj' rdx = 2irrx.
Hence the convex surface of a segment whose height is 4
= 2-irrh.
MENSUKATION.
515
Also, if AG = «, AF = 6, FG = A, the surfiice of the zone
generated by BH
— rdx = lirrija — b) = ‘Z'tvrh :
= c?, the si
r‘<
= 2tt /
J 0
and, if AD = c?, the surface of the whole sphere
2r
rdx = 47rr2=vd2.
71. Otherwise: let BE be a tangent to the circle.
Then if the figure revolves about AD, BH will describe a
spherical, and BE a conical surface ; and if EG be taken in¬
definitely near to BF, the two surfaces will ultimately be
equal.
Let AC = r, and ACB = 0.
Then BF = r sin 0, and BE = FG cosec 0.
Also the conical surface
= 77 * BE (BF + EG) (art. 67)
= 277 * BF ’ BE, ultimately,
= 2nr sin 0 • FG cosec 6
= 2irr • FG.
Now, as this value is independent of 0, and is ultimately
the surface of the elementary zone generated by BH ; it is
evident that the surface of any segment or zone is equal to
27rr multiplied by the sum of the heights of the elementary
zones of which it is composed. Hence if AG = A, the
surface of the segment generated by ABFI = 27r7-A: or if
FG = A, the surface of the zone generated by BH = 27it/<.
Also, the surface of the sphere is obviously
= 27rr x 2r = 47rr2.
72. (i.) Hence the surface of a sphere is equal to four
times the area of its great circle^ 'or of a section by a
plane passing through its centre.
Example.—To find the surface of a sphere whose dia¬
meter is 7.
The surface of the circle whose diameter is 7 has been
found {Ex. (ii.), art. 6o) to be 38-4845.
Therefore the surface of the sphere = 4 x 38,484o = 153'938.
(ii.) The convex surface of a segment, or zone of a sphere,
is equal to the circumference of a great circle multiplied by
the height of the segment or zone.
Example.—Find the convex surface of a segment or of
a zone whose height is 3, the diameter of the sphere being
5. The circumference of the circle whose diameter is 5
has been found {Ex. (i.), art. 45) to be 15-70796.
Therefore the surface of the segment or of the zone
= 3 x 15-70796 = 47T2388.
73. To find the Surface of a Lune, a Spherical Tri¬
angle, and a Spherical Polygon.—It will be shown in
spherical trigonometry—-
(i.) That the area of a lune included between two great
circles of a sphere whose inclination is Q,
= 20r2; where r is the radius of the sphere;
(ii.) That the area of a spherical triangle whose angles
are A, B, and C, = r2(A + B + C - tt) ; and
(iii.) That the area of a spherical polygon of n sides, the
sum of whose angles is P, is
r2 {P- {n — 2)77}.
74. To find the Volume of a Sphere.—If we retain the
figure and notation of art. 70, the volume of the segment
generated by the revolution of the figure ABF,
^ X '770^
= 77 / y2dx = tt / [2rx — xf) dx= — (3r — x).
J 0 J 0 6
Also the volume of the whole sphere
E2r 4
~ "J y1 dx = ^ 77r3-
75. Or, if we suppose a regular polyhedron of n faces
described about the sphere, by indefinitely increasing n,
the surface and volume of the polyhedron will be ultimately
equal respectively to the surface and volume of the sphere.
Now, if a2 be put for one of the faces of the polyhedron,
its volume is equal to n pyramids, whose bases are each a2,
and their common height the radius of the sphere.
Therefore the volume of the polyhedron
= nx. \cdr ~\r x ncf,
= ^r x surface of polyhedron,
= %r x surface of sphere, ultimately,
= x 47rr2.
Whence the volume of the sphere = ^Trr3.
From this it follows that if be the diameter of the
sphere,
the volume = ^7rc?3.
.-. Since £77 = 4-1887902048, and £77 = 5235987756;
to fnd the volume of a sphere, multiply the cube of the
radim by 4*1887902, or the cube of the diameter by
*5235988.
Example.—Find the volume of a sphere whose radius
is 12.
The volume = (12)3 x |t7=:1728 x 4-1887902
= 7238-2295.
76. It obviously follows from arts. 70 and 74 that in a
sphere
radius = ^^- * •>/(surface) =~ • \/(volume) ;
1 0 3
diameter = ^^; . ^/(surface) = ^/. \/(volume) ;
3 3
surface = v'' • ttV (6 volume)2; volume = 7-7-• v'(surface)3.
ov 77 7
77. To find the Volume of the Segment of a Sphere.—
The volume of a segment whose height is h
s*h fh
= kI y^dx — n] {2rx — x1) dx = —~ (3r — A),
c/ 0 H 0 3
78. The same result may be obtained by supposing the
parallelogram ABEF, the qua¬
drilateral ABGF,and the seg¬
ment ABCD, to revolve about
AB so as to generate a cy¬
linder, a frustum of a cone,
and a segment of a sphere.
If AB be divided into equal
parts, A6, be, &c., each = c, and
the rectangles be, bi, ch, cf
&c.,be constructed, these rect¬
angles will generate cylinders;
and by indefinitely increasing
the number of parts into which AB is divided, the sum of
the cylinders generated by be, cf, &c., will ultimately be
equal to the segment of the sphere generated by ABCD,
and the sum of the cylinders generated by Ah, bi, See.
will ultimately be equal to the frustum of the cone gene¬
rated by ABGF ; while the cylinders generated by Ah,
bm, &c., constitute the cylinder generated by ABEF.. *
Now bid = Op1 = bp1 + 052= bp1 + bef;
.’. 77C • bhr = 77c " bp1 -f ttc • bef ;
or the cylinder generated by bm is equal to the sum of those
generated by be and bi; and because this is true of every
corresponding set of cylinders, we have,
Sum of cylinders generated by A//, bm, &c. = sum of cv-
linders generated by be, cf, &c. + sum of cylinders
generated by Ah, bi, &c.
Therefore since these sums are ultimately equal respec¬
tively to the cylinder generated by ABEF, the sphere
generated by ABCD, and the conic frustum generated by
ABGF, we have
Cylinder = segment of sphere + frustum of cone.
Mensura¬
tion.
516
MENSURATION.
Mensura¬
tion.
Now, if AF = r and AB = 4, we have
I5^ = r-/i;
therefore (art. 65) the frustum of the cone
= ~(3r*-3rA + /i2).
O
Also, the cylinder (art. 68) = 7rrz/i; therefore the segment
of the sphere
=«-*S--34(3r!-3r4 + A!)
=4\zr-k).
If we put h — 2r, we obtain the volume of the whole
sphere = ^Trr3, as in art. 74.
Example.—Find the volume of the segment of a sphere ;
the radius being 12, and the height of the segment 6.
The volume = ^ x 36 (36 - 6) = 3-14159 x 360
= 1130-9733552.
79. It is evident that we may prove, in like manner, that
the cylinder generated by AOHF is equal to the sum of
the hemisphere and cone generated by ADHO and AOF.
Whence it easily follows (arts. 63, 68), that if we have a
cone and sphere inscribed in a cylinder,
the cylinder = sphered-cone = sphered-^ cylinder;
the sphere = | cylinder, and
cone : sphere : cylinder : : 1 : 2 : 3 ;
a relation also obviously true from their ascertained vo¬
lumes, which are respectively §^r!, fwr3, and 23-r3.
80. Since, from the equation to the circle, y2 = 2rx — xl;
putting a for the radius BC of the base of the segment
generated by ABCD, we have
<r = 2rA —/r; .*.7-=—2h~'
SECTION IV. THE ELLIPSE.
82. To find the Length of an Arc of an Ellipse,
AC = o, BC = Z>, CM = a;, and
MP=y, the equation to the
ellipse is
ay + b2xz= a262;
dt/ h-x
whence -f-— —5-.
dx aly
The length of an arc BP
where eL =
a? - bl
Putting x = az,
the arc = dz
aIo
z'-f-
dz
n-IeV_EieV~i^-3
2 2-4 2-4-6
eVd-&c.}
To obtain the length of a quadrant of the ellipse, we
must integrate from x = 0 to x = a, or from 0 = 0 to z=\ ;
when we obtain (see Fluxions)
, j . at,,, w«ri c2 1 * 3e4 l-32*5e6 . ,
the quadrant APB =—{l--2-~Scc'f:
a rapidly converging series when e is small.
83. We shall obtain more and more accurate values of
the circumference of the ellipse according to the number of
terms of the above series we employ. The following is the
first approximation:—
Since (I — ^e2)^! ~ 2* + &c*>
we have the elliptic quadrant = y (1-Je2)* nearly
Whence, substituting, we obtain the segment of a sphere,
whose height is h, and the radius of its base a,
= ^(3a2d-A2).
Example.—The height of a segment of a sphere is 5,
and the radius of its base is 7.
Volume = 77 x 5(3 x 49d-25)
o
= -523599 x 860-450-29.
81. To find the Volume of the Frustum of a Sphere—
(i.) When one of the terminating planes passes through
the centre of the sphere.
Let BO = l, then AB ox h^r-l •, and the frustum ge¬
nerated by the revolution of ECHO = hemisphere gener¬
ated by AOH — spherical segment generated by ABCD,
= 'zv3 - - (r - If (2r + 1) = ^ (3r2 -12).
Example.—Find the volume of the frustum of a sphere ;
the radius of the sphere being 12, the height of the frustum
6, and one of its terminating planes passing through the
centre.
The volume = ^ x 6 (3 x 144 — 36)
O
= 3-14159 x 792
= 2488-1413816.
(ii.) When neither of the terminating planes passes
through the centre.
If h be the height of the frustum, and a„ a2 the radii
of its ends,
the volume = ~{3 {af + af) + /r}.
i
and the circumference of the ellipse
[(2af+(2bf\i
“7ri 2 j
nearly.
Hence the circumference of an ellipse is obtained approxi¬
mately by multiplying the square root of half the sum of
the squares of its axes by 3" 14159.
Example.—Find the circumference of an ellipse whose
axes are 3 and 4.
The circumference = 3"1416
(fif)
3-1416 x5V2
2
= 11-1 nearly.
84. To find the Area of an Ellipse.—The area of a
quadrant ACB (fig. art. 82)
85. Or if the ellipse ABA' and the circle ADA be di¬
vided by lines cd, cd\ &c., indefinitely near to each other,
and parallel to CD, the polygons A CD<7 , ACB5 , wi e
MENSURATION.
517
Mensura- ultimately equal to the circular and elliptic quadrants, in
tion. which they are inscribed ; and if AC = a, BC —6,
be: cd w b'c :: cd :: b : a. (Anal. Geom., art. 92, p. 553.)
Therefore the trapezoid bccU is to deed' in the same ratio
(art. 14); and hence also the polygon ACB5'' is to the
polygon A CD(T in the same ratio of a to b.
Therefore, since the polygons are ultimately equal to the
elliptic and circular quadrants, and the latter = jTra2, we have
a : b :: : elliptic quadrant ABC.
Whence the elliptic quadrant = ;
and the ellipse = •srai..
As this is the same as jtt x 2a x 25, the area of an ellipse
is equal to the product of the major and minor axes mul¬
tiplied by *78539.
Example.—Find the area of an ellipse whose axes are
3 and 4.
Area=3 x 4 x •78539 = 80*110613.
Spheroids.
86. To find the Surface of a Prolate Spheroid.—The
prolate spheroid is generated by the revolution of an ellipse
^ (fig. art. 82) about its major axis AA', and the equation to
the generating curve is therefore
dly'1 + Wx2 = a/b1.
Whence ^-= — and if e2= -——
dx ay a1
K1+i)‘= 3 (“’-") *•
Therefore, putting CM = 5, the convex surface of the frus¬
tum of the spheroid generated by the figure BCMP
=2/Hl+‘S)1=2?/4(a,~eV)1
87. To obtain the surface of the whole spheroid, we must
integrate from x= — a, to x=a, when we obtain
surface of spheroid = •[sin~1 e + e(l — e2)*}
vab
e
= 2wa2{l — e2 +
(l-e2)» . -1,
 — • sin e 1.
e
Example.—Find the surface of a prolate spheroid whose
axes are 5 and 3.
Here a=|, 5=|;
/25 —9\i 4 ,, , 9
•*€=("25-) =5’andl-e2=25-
Hence the surface = 2w { ^ +1 * | sin~1 |j-
= 12*5's-{*36 + *75 sin-1 0*8 J
Now log 0*8 +10 = 9*90309 = L sin 53° 7' 49"
= L sin 53°T30 nearly ;
therefore (art. 51)
sin-10*8 = -J- x 53*130 = *69547,
I o(J
and the surface of the spheroid
= 3*14159 x 12*5 (*36+ *69547) = 41*448.
88. To find the Surface of an Oblate Spheroid.—The Mensura-
oblate spheroid is generated by the
revolution of an ellipse A A' about its
minor axis BB. Hence if CM = a*,
and MP=y, the equation to the gene¬
rating curve will be aV + 52?/2 = a262;
dy cdx ( dif\
S-=-4y and^l+^i)
h
= ^ (c2 + ^;
tion.
, * a? —b1 , 52 a
where e2= r—, and c = ---=-M -e2C
« ae eK '
If CM = 5, the convex surface generated by the revolu¬
tion of the figure ACMP
(‘ +S) ‘tTrfs<?+S! *
= (c2 + A2)* + c2 log-+(c2 + ^)* j .
89. By integrating from x= -b to x = b, we obtain the
surface of the spheroid
(i + lzf! ,„g(i±0 }.
Example.—Find the surface of an oblate spheroid whose
axes are 5 and 3.
TT 5.3 4
a=2,6=-s
Surface = 2»(|)2(l+|.|l„gt±ij
= I2-o* (l+^-log9).
9 9
But — loge 9=— x 2*1972246 = *4943755 ;*
.*. surface = 12*5 x 3*14159 x 1*4943755 = 58*685.
90. To find the Volume of a Spheroid.—(i.) For the
prolate spheroid the equation to generating curve (art. 86)
is dfy1 + 52a;2 = a252.
r* +a
Whence the volume % J y^dx
vb- r+a
= -—fj (a2 — x*) dx = -|xa52.
91. Or if we conceive the figure of article 84 to revolve
about AA', so as to generate a spheroid and a sphere, we
may conceive these solids to be ultimately equal to two
series of elementary cylinders described by the rectangles,
whose bases are BC, be, &c., and CD, cd, &c., and whose
common altitude is Cc = cc = &c.
Then, because BC2 : CD2 :: (5c)2 : {cdj1 :: 52 : a2;
.*. w(5c)2 * cc : ir(cdy * cc :: 5’ : a2.
Whence the corresponding pairs of elementary cylinders
which constitute the sphere and spheroid are in the con¬
stant ratio of a2 to 52; and since the sphere = |^a3;
.*. a2: 52:: f^a3: spheroid.
Hence the spheroid = %irab2.
92. (ii.) For the oblate spheroid the equation to the
generating curve is aV + by2 — db2 (art. 88).
r+b
Whence the volume = -r / y^dx
■x2) dx=%xa2b.
-°2 A6 2
= rJja
*■ To obtain the logarithm of any number to the base e, multiply its common logarithm to the base 10 bv 2,30°58509‘>9
Thus loge 9=’9542425x2 3025850929=2,1972246. J - -
518
The same result may also be obtained by the method of
article 91.
93. On comparincj the expressions for the volumes of
oblate and prolate spheroids, it appears that either volume
is equal to two-thirds the area of the circle generated by
the revolving axis of the ellipse, multiplied by the length of
the axis about which it revolves: or the spheroid is two-
thirds of the circumscribing cylinder. Also, for both species
of spheroid, the volume is equal to the continued product of
the fixed axis, multiplied by the square of the revolving axis,
and by or *52359878.
Examples.—Find the volumes of an oblate and prolate
spheroid whose axes are 20 and 12.
The volume of the oblate spheroid
= x 100 x 6 = 800^ = 2513-274.
The volume of the prolate spheroid
= £/r x 36 x 10 = 480^=1057-962.
94. To find the Volume of a Segment of a Spheroid.
(i.) Tile prolate spheroid.—The segment is generated
by the revolution of AMP about AM (fig. art. 82).
If A be the origin, and AA' the axis of x, the equation
to the ellipse is
MENSURATION.
bW + aW^aW-,
Whence, by substitution, the volume of the frustum
= | A(2&2 + &'2).
a?(/r -1?)
tl~
y1 = -i (2ax
■X-);
and if AM = ^, the volume of the segment
= «•ifdx,
= —y- r (2ax — xl)dx=Ti .^fiZa — h).
a J0 o a
Example.—Find the volume of the segment of a prolate
spheroid, where the axes of the generating ellipse are 20
and 12, and the height of the segment 8.
Here a =10, 5 = 6, 4 = 8.
The volume
- * 36x64 (30 - 8) = 3-14159 xl2x64x22= 530-8034.
100
100
Example.—Find the volume of the frustum of a prolate
spheroid whose axes are 20 and 12, the height of the frus¬
tum being 2, and one of its ends passing through the centre
of the spheroid.
a= 10, 5 = 6, 4 = 2.
The volume = cT • ~ |qq (300-4) = 223-1787.
97. (ii.) The oblate spheroid.—Adopting the figure and
notation of article 88, the frustum is generated by the re¬
volution of ACMP about CM. The equation is
dfx1 + lryL = cfb1;
and if CM = 4, the volume
= i' "v
Also, if a, a' be the radii of the terminating planes, since
from the equation to the ellipse
«242 + a'252 = a252,
if we substitute for 42 we obtain the volume
= 7^ 4(2a2 + a'2).
Example.—Find the volume of the frustum of an oblate
spheroid whose axes are 20 and 12, the height of the
frustum being 4, and one of its ends passing through the
centre of the spheroid,
a = 10, 5 = 6, e=4.
100x4
The volume = 7r
36
(108-16) = 1070-469.
95. (ii.) The oblate spheroid.—The segment is generated
by the revolution of BMP (fig. art. 88) about BM ; where, if
B be the origin and BB' the axis of x, the equation to the
ellipse is
y' — jf (^bx-x2);
and if BM = 4, the volume of the segment
=(25*-x1) dx= — • — (35 - 4).
Example.—Find the volume of a segment of an oblate
spheroid, the axes being 20 and 12, and the height of the
segment 2.
«= 10, 5 = 6, 4 = 2;
nr 1 s/ zl
and the volume=7r • —- (18-2)= 186T658.
o 3b
96. To find the Volume of the Frustum of a Spheroid
when one of the Terminating Planes passes through the
Centre.
(i.) The prolate spheroid.—The frustum is generated by
the revolution of the figure BCMP (fig. art. 82) about
CM ; and if CM = 4, the volume of the frustum
If 5, 5 be the radii BC, PM of the terminating planes of
the frustum, since from the equation to the ellipse
It appears also from the last two articles that the volume
of a frustum, of either a prolate or oblate spheroid, one of
whose ends passes through the centre of the generating
ellipse, is obtained by adding the area of the smaller end to
twice that of the greater, and multiplying the sum by one-
third of the altitude of the frustum.
SECTION. V.—THE HYPEKBOLA.
98. To find the Area of an
Hyperbola.
(i.) The area of the seg¬
ment AMP.
Let C be the centre, and
CM the axis of *. The equa¬
tion is
cry2 — 52*2 = — cr52;
and if CM=4, PM = 4, the
area AMP
= lhk-a±
l0£
where 5 =
Mensura¬
tion.
MENSURATION.
Example.—Find the area of a hyperbolic segment whose
base is 48 and altitude 20; the transverse axis of the
curve being 60.
a = 30, /i = 24, and # = 30 + 20 = 50;
. . 30 x 24 720
380 ^ (2o00-900)4~ 40 ~18'
The area AMP
= |- x 50 x 24 -
30 x 18
. /50 24\
0g‘ (i30+ Is)
= T^(^+r)-
100. To find the Area
bounded by a Rectangular
Hyperbola and its Asymp¬
totes.—The equation to the
hyperbola referred to its
asymptotes is
a?
xy=~cp'
* c N
Let CM = #1, CN = #2, QN -yT
The area PMNQ -£ ydx
x 2 °#2 2 ° yl
From the equation:
= qT = “2^> °r ^r’an»^e CMP = triangle CNQ.
Whence sector PCQ = area PMNQ.
101. If the ordinates PM = ^1? QN = k2, and MN = h, be
given, putting xv x2 for CM, CN, as before,
0?“
xfi = -£- = x2k2, and xl — x2 = h.
Whence —- =
hkfi
2
and area PMNQ = log ^
«3 - ° '
Example.—G'wen the ordinates PM = 20, QN = 45 and
MN = 50, to find the area.
Here ^ = 20, h2 = 45, and h = 50.
The area -
50 x 20 x 45 , 45
45-20
log
20
= 1800 log j = 1459-67.
102. To find the Volume of an Hyperboloid.—The solid
is generated by the revolution of the hyperbolic segment
AMP about AM (fig. art. 98).
If therefore, we put AM = ^,
Pa + h vi pa + h
the volume =~ j — J (#a - a*) dx
J a dlJ a
= ‘3^'(3a + A)'
103. If PM = k, from the equation to the hyperbola
(art. 98),
ah?— tf^a + hy^ —a?W.
Whence -,=
a-
k2
= 600-270 loge 3 = 600-270 x 1-0986123 (note, art. 89)
= 303-3756.
Hence the whole segment, which is double AMP,
= 606-7513.
99. (ii.) The area of the sector ACP.
The area ACP = CMP - AMP = ^M - AMP
+ :
-/■(
= (mh + A2)4
I jo<T r»i + 2[A + (»?A + //2)i]
°a l m
If BD = ^, b2 = Amh; .\m =
Whence the arc BAG
b2
Ifi
Hi
=(6»+«»)1+Ij log | &i+8(;y+(y+«Ti)
519
2 ah + K1'
Therefore substituting, we obtain the volume of the hyper¬
boloid, '
_ nlik2 fia + h
3 2a + !i
Example.—Find the volume of an hyperboloid, the radius
of whose base is 24, its height 20, and the transverse axis
of the generating curve 60.
Here a = 30, k- 24, h = 20.
The volume ^ * (M)’, 90_+20
3 60 + 20
= 52 807r= 16587-6092.
104. The expression for the volume may be put into the
form ,70 0 „ 7
% 2a + §/>.,
2 2a+ h
whence the following rule:—As the sum of the transverse
axis of the generating hyperbola, and the height of the solid,
is to the sum of the transverse axis and § of the height, so is
half the cylinder of the same base and altitude to the volume
of the hyperboloid.
105. To find the Volume of the Solid generated by the
Revolution of a Rectangular Hyperbola about its Asymp¬
tote.
The solid is generated by the revolution of PMNQ (fig.
art. 100) about MN.
If CM = #1, CN = #25 and MN = ^,
4 rx'
the volume = 7r / rfdx=^— / £?£
J X2 ^ J X2 X1
_Tra? / I 1\ ^Tradi
4 y #2 xj #i#2 ‘
Now if rv r2 be the radii PM, QN of the ends of the solid,
a2
ri#i ~ r2#2 ~ 2~;
therefore #1#0=-~^—.
1 2 4rxr2
Whence the volume = c5-r1r24;
or the volume is equal to the continued product of the radii
of its ends, its height, and 3-14159.
Example.—Find the volume of the hyperbolic solid gener¬
ated by PMNQ, where PM = 20, QN = 45, and MN = 50.
The volume = 20 x 45 x 50 x or
= 141371-669.
SECTION VI.—THE PARABOLA.
106. To find the Length of an Arc of a Parabola.—The
equation to the parabola being y2 = imx,
the length of the arc AB, where AD = /«,
520
MENSURATION.
Mensura- Example.—If AD = 4, and B C = 12, then 5 = 6, and 5 = 4.
. tion- , 9 61
The arc BAC = 10 +— loge-g-
= 10 + | x 1*9236493= 14-3282.
107. To find the Area of a Parabola.—In the figure of
last article the area ABD
= / ydx — 2m!t J x^dx
o Jo
= ^nfrx? = %xy.
Or if AD = 5, and BD = 5,
the area ABD = f55.
Whence the area ABC = fAD*BC.
108. Or if PT be a tangent to the parabola AP, AB a
diameter, and P' a point in the curve indefinitely near to P ;
then P' will ultimately
be on the line PT,
and the parallelograms
P C, P B will be equal.
But because AB = AT
(Conic Sections, vol.
vii., p. 255, prop, ix.),
PD = ^PC, therefore
the parallelogram P'B
is double the parallelo¬
gram P'D ; and, if we
take a succession of dL
points, such as PP', in¬
definitely near to each
other, the areas APB,
APD may be conceived to be made up of parallelograms,
every parallelogram in the area APB being double the cor¬
responding parallelogram in APD. Hence the area APB
is double APD, or APB is f the parallelogram ABPD.
From this it follows that VAp = ^VY)dp ; or the area of a
parabola is tivo-thirds of the circumscribed parallelogram.
Example.—The base of a parabolic segment is 10 and
its height 4.
The area = § x 10 x 4 = 26f.
109. To find the Volume of a Paraboloid.—The para¬
bola ABD (fig. art. 106) revolving about AD = h, generates
the paraboloid whose volume
rh rh
= tt / y^dx = 47tw / xdx = '2'xmh'1.
Or if BD = 5, since 4m/i = 52,
the volume = ^irtfh.
The cylinder whose base is the circle described by the
revolution of BD, and whose altitude is AD, = irb*h.
Whence a paraboloid is equal to one-half its circum¬
scribing cylinder.
110. The same result may also be obtained thus:—If
AGC and BHD be two equal para- x»
bolas, whose vertices are A, B, and
if the figure revolve round AB,
ABCD will describe a cylinder, and
the parabolas will describe parabo¬
loids. If we also suppose that the
solids are cut by a number of planes c
indefinitely near to each other and parallel to the base of
the cylinder, we may conceive the solids to be made up of
elementary cylinders constituted between the contiguous
planes.
Now, if yl=px be the equation to the parabolas,
EG2=p * AE, and EH2=p- EB ;
.*. EG2 + EH2 =jtr (AE + BE) =/r AB = BC2 = EF2.
Also if we put h for the height of the cylinders whose bases
are in the plane described by EF, their volumes will be
ttA • EG2, ttA * EH2, 7t5 * EF2; and since ttA * EG2 + 7tA * EH2
= 7r/i ■ EF2, and a similar relation exists for every corre¬
sponding set of cylinders, it follows that the elementary
cylinders which constitute the paraboloids are ultimately
equal to those which constitute the whole cylinder.
Hence the two paraboloids are together equal to the whole
cylinder; and since the paraboloids are equal to each other,
each is equal to half the cylinder.
Example.—The diameter of the base of a paraboloid is
10, and its height 4.
Here 5 = 4, and 5 = 5.
The volume = |7r x 25 x 4 = 157*0795.
111. To find the Volume of the Frustum of a Para¬
boloid.—The frustum is generated by the revolution of
BDMP (fig. art. 106) about DM, where if AD = 51} AM
= 5„ DM = 5, 60 = 5^ MP = 52,
fk rh\
the volume = 7r / y2dx=\-Km l xdx
JK y
= 27rm(512 — 522) = <2.Trm{hl + 52) 5
= ^7t(4wj51 + Arnhfii = ^7t(512 + bf)h.
Or otherwise, the volume of the frustum is equal to the
difference of the paraboloids generated by ABD, AMP
= \-K{b?hy - 52252) = 2m7r(512 - 522)
= |7r(5 2 + 522)5.
Now since 7r52,7r522 are the areas of the circles generated
by the revolution of BD and MP, it follows that the volume
of the frustum of a paraboloid is equal to half the sum of
the areas of its ends multiplied by its height.
Example.—The radii of the ends of the frustum of a
paraboloid are 3 and 6, and its height is 3.
The volume = ^ x (36 + 9) x 3
= 212*058.
112. To find the Volume of a Parabolic Spindle.-
parabolic spindle is
generated by the re¬
volution of the para¬
bola AEB about A B,
a line at right angles
to CE, the axis of the
curve.
If CM = x, and MP =
y = a-
-The
-y, the equation to the curve is
—, where EC = a.
P
dx
Wherefore, if AC = 5, we have bi=ap, and the volume ge¬
nerated by the revolution of ACE
rh,, r6 / 2 ^ , A
=7o ,/dx-y, Kl-ir+?)
Hence the volume generated by the revolution of AEB is
equal to tV of a circumscribed cylinder.
Example.—The length of a parabolic spindle is 12, and
its middle diameter is 8.
Here a = 4, 25=12.
The volume = tt x 16 x 12 = 321*699.
lo
113. To find the Volume of the Frustum of a Parabolic
Spindle.—The frustum is generated by the revolution of
CEPM about CM.
MENSU RATIO N.
521
Mensura¬
tion.
If PM = «', and CM = A, from the equation to the parabola
P
r
and the volume =^J' —-+^2^
dx
rrh
= ^ (8a2 + 4aa' + 3a'2).
Example.—Find the volume of the frustum of a parabo¬
lic spindle, the radius of the end passing through the centre
of the entire spindle being 16, the radius of the other end
12, and the length 20.
The volume * 256 + 4 x 16 x 12 + 3 x 144)
= 13605T9.
SECTION VII. ON THE DETERMINATION OF THE VOLUMES
AND SURFACES OF SOLIDS OF REVOLUTION, GENERATED
BY PLANE FIGURES WHOSE AREAS AND CENTRES OF
GRAVITY ARE KNOWN.
114. Let a solid be generated by any plane figure CD,
revolving round an axis
AB, in the same plane,
but which is supposed
not to cut CD. The area
CD, and the distance
AG of the centre of
gravity of CD from the
axis AB, being known,
it is required to find the
volume and surface of the
solid.
(i.) To find the volume of the solid. — Let the plane of
the figure CD, in its initial position, be the plane of (#,?/) ;
let AB be the axis of x, and let 0 be the angle GA<? through
which CD revolves. Then an elementary area Sa’Sz/ of the
figure CD, in revolving through an angle will generate
an elementary solid whose volume is yhOSxSy. Therefore
the whole solid
The limits of x and y will depend upon the nature of the
revolving curve. But if y be the distance AG of the
centre of gravity from AB, we shall have, from the nature
of the centre of gravity,
the limits of x and y being the same as before. Therefore
the whole solid
= arc G<7 x area CD.
A more elementary proof may be obtained as follows :—
If A, the area CD, be made up of the elements av «2,
 a„, whose respective distances from AB are yv
y2 y» : then the solid generated by the element
at E
= a: x arc £6=0! x BE x angle TjHe=a]yl6 ;
and the whole solid
of the solid which is generated is equal to a prism whose Mensura-
hase is the revolving figure, and whose height is the length tloni
of the path described by the centre of gravity of the area of
the plane figure.
If the figure CD make a complete revolution round AB,
0 = 27t;
.'. the solid = area CD x circle whose radius is AG.
115. (ii.) To find the surface of the solid.—The surface
generated by an element hs of the perimeter of the figure
CD, revolving through an angle h9, is y?£i>s ; therefore the
whole surface
The limits depend upon the nature of the figure CD ;
but ify=AG, the distance of the centre of gravity of the
perimeter of CD, from AB,
Therefore the surface of the solid generated by CD
= 6y^Jds=axe Gg x perimeter of CD.
The same result may be obtained, if in the second de¬
monstration of the last proposition we substitute the ele¬
ments of the perimeter of CD for those of the surface CD.
Hence if any planefigure revolve about an axis in the same
plane with it, but which does not cut it, the surface of the
solid which is generated is equal to a rectangle whose base
is the perimeter of the revolving figure, and whose altitude
is the length of the path described by the centre of gravity of
the perimeter.
If the figure CD make a complete revolution, the sur¬
face of the solid
= perimeter of CD x circle whose radius is Kg.
116. Tofind the Volume and Surface of a Circular Ring.
—Let a be the distance of the centre of the generating
circle from the axis round which it revolves to generate the
ring, and r the radius of the generating circle.
Then the path described by the centre of gravity, either
of the area or perimeter of the generating circle = 2’s-a.
Also area of circle =w2.
Perimeter of circle = 2^r.
Hence volume of ring = 27r2or2.
Surface of ring = \%-ar.
Example.—Find the volume and surface of a ring 4
inches thick, and whose internal diameter is 6 inches.
Here the radius of the generating circle is 2 inches, and
the radius of the circle described by the centre of gravity
is 5 inches.
Volume of ring = 27r2 x 5 x 22
= 40 x 9-8696044 = 394-784 cubic inches.
Surface of ring = 4ir2 x 2 x 5
= 40+2=394-784 square inches.
SECTION VIII.—ON THE APPROXIMATE DETERMINATION OF
THE AREAS OF CURVES, AND THE VOLUMES OF SOLIDS, BY
MEANS OF EQUIDISTANT ORDINATES, OR EQUIDISTANT
SECTIONS.
= 0(0,^ +a^2+ +a^„) = %A,
= arc Gg x area CD.
Hence if any plane figure revolve about an axis which
lies in the same plane with it, but does not cut it, the volume
VOL. XIV.
117. Let AEB be any curve, and let the ordinates Cc,
De?, &c., be drawn perpendicular to AB, dividing it into
equal parts. Having given the lengths of the ordinates
and their common distance, it is required to determine,
3 u
522
MENSURATION.
Mensura¬
tion.
either accurately or approximately, the areas of the whole
curve AEB, or of the portion CEHAe; and also the
E TT'
C d 0 f &
volumes of the solids generated by the revolution of these
figures about the line AB.
118. To find the Area of the Curve.—(i.) As the ordinates
Cc, Dd, &c., are supposed to be near to each other, if
straight lines be drawn between AC, CD, &c., these lines
will nearly coincide with the curve, and its area will be
nearly equal to the sum of the two triangles ACc, BHA,
and the trapezoids CDdc, DEdc, &c.
Hence, putting
Cc = a1, Dd=a2, . . . Hh = aH, and Ac = cd=&c. = h,
we may assume (arts. 10, 14) that the surface AEB is
nearly equal to
ialh + i(a1 + a2)h + ±(a2 + a3)h+ .... +£auh;
or area = h(a1 + a2 + a3 + ...+«„) nearly.
Similarly it may be shown that the area of the figure CEHAc
= ^h{a1 + aH + 2(a2 + a3+ . . . +an_j)} nearly.
Therefore the area of any figure contained hy a straight
line and a curve is equal to the sum of the equidistant ordi¬
nates multiplied by their common distance ; or if the figure
be contained by a straight line, two perpendiculars at its
ends, and a curve, its area is equal to the two perpendicu¬
lars added to twice the sum of the intermediate ordinates,
and multiplied by half their common distance.
Example 1.—In a figure AEB, the ordinates are 5, 7, 9,
13, 8, 6, and 4, and their common distance 3.
The area = 3 (5 + 7 + 9 + 13 + 8 + 6 + 4) = 156 nearly.
Example 2.—In a figure such as CEHAe, where the ordi¬
nates taken in order are ax, a2, .... «7; the common distance
of the ordinates = 1, and their values are as follows :—
a2= 10-9087121
03=11-3] 37085
«4= 11-6189500
05= 11-8321596
«6=11-9582607
Sum = 57-6317909
2
115-2635818
«!= 10-3923048
a7= 12
22-3923048
115-2635818
2)137-6558866
area = 68-8279433
119. (ii.) A very close approximation to the areas of any
curvilineal figures, such as AEB or CcAH (fig. art. 117), may
generally be obtained by the following method :—
Let ch (art. 117) be divided into any even number of equal
parts; and let ABDC (art. 119) represent a portion of the
figure Cc/iH (art. 117), such as CceE terminated by two odd
ordinates Cc, Ee; then a curve, whose equation is
y=m + nx +px‘1,
may be supposed to pass through the points A, E, C (art.
119): and since these points are near each other, the curve
will coincide either accurately or very nearly with the curve
AEC.
Let F be the origin, and put AB = a1, EF = a2, CD = as,
and BF = FD=A.
Mensura¬
tion.
Then when x= 0, y=a2
x= h, y — a3
x— —h, y=a{:
and substituting in the equation, we obtain
a2=m
al = a2 — nh Aph?
a3 = a2->r nh + pit1.
Whence n=
a3~ai. _ a3 ~ 202 + ai
2h
p =
2h~
We have then the area AECDB
= ^ ydx —J' (m + nx-k-px2) dx
= 2 =^(^ + 405 + 03).
This result is usually obtained thus:—
The area AECDB is the sum or difference of the tra¬
pezoid ABDC and the parabolic segment AEC.
Now, ABDC = KAB + CD)BD = (01 + 03) A (art. 14);
and AEC = f AGHC (art. 108).
= §BD - EI = §BD (EF IF)
= | BD (EF^ M±CD) = ih , a+5^
Therefore the area AECDB
=/,(a1 + a,) i ih («^
= ^(01 + 402 + 03).
120. If now we put (fig. art. 117) the ordinates Cc = 01,
Dg?=02, Ee = 03, .... Hh = an,
we have CceE = %h(a1 + 402 + 03) ;
Ee^G = JA(03 + 404 + 05), &c.
Therefore the figure Cchll
=iHai + «”+ 2(a3 + a5 +.... + a„_2) + 4(a2 + a* +... +
121. The area ABGD may be derived from Cc/<H by
putting 01 = 0n = O. Substituting aL ... ar for the remain¬
ing ordinates a2. . . 0„_1, we then obtain the figure ABGD
= §A{02 + 04 + ... + 0r—i + 2(0j + 03 +...0r)} .
122. From the preceding demonstrations it follows, that
the area of any curvilineal figure, such as CcAH (art. 117)
whose base is divided into an even number of equal parts by
equidistant ordinates, is obtained by the following rule:—Add
together the tivo extreme ordinates, twice the sum of the in¬
termediate odd ordinates, and four times the sum of the even
ones. Multiply the result by the common distance of the
ordinates, and one-third of the sum is the area, either accu¬
rately or approximately. A similar rule may be derived
from the formula of article 121 for areas such as ABGD.
According to the relation subsisting between the ordi¬
nates 0J, 02, 03, the equation of art. 119 will be that of a
straight line or a parabola; hence the result obtained by
the above rule will be strictly accurate in the case of all
figures, such as Cc/iH (fig. art. 11 7), having those portions of
their boundaries CDE, EFG, which are terminated by the
odd ordinates, either straight lines or parabolic arcs. The
curve CEH may therefore be either wholly convex or wholly
MENSURATION.
523
Mensura- concave, towards A B, or partly convex and partly concave,
tion. provided in the latter case the points of contrary flexure occur
only at the odd ordinates ; for otherwise the intermediate arcs
could not be, even approximately, parabolic. When points
of contrary flexure occur, ordinates may be drawn at those
points, and the intermediate areas, being found separately,
may be added to obtain the whole surface. In other cases
where there are numerous points of contrary flexure, the
formula of art. 118 will probably give as good an approxima¬
tion to the area of the curve as that obtained by the more
complex formula of art. 121.
Example.—To find the area
of a quadrant of a circle. Draw
DE bisecting AC at right an¬
gles, then BD is an arc of
30°, and the quadrant ABC
= 3 sector DBC
= 3{BCED - CED} ;
DE2=DC2 —ECa, if we put
DE = cq, iy = a2, &c., we have
a?= 144 — 36= 1( ^
«/= 144-25 = 119, &c;
.-. 10-3923048
«,= 10-9087121
a3= 11-3137085
a=\ T6189500
a5= 11-8321596
a6= 11-9582607
a1= 12-0000000
also A = ^EC = 1 _
The area is then calculated as follows :—•.
a2= 10-9087121
a]= 11-6189500
a6= 11-9582607
34-4859228
4
137-9436912
a3= 11-3137085
ab— 11-8321596
23-145868]
2
46-2917362
rf, = 10-3923048
a7= 12-0000000
' 137-9436912
46-2917362
3)206-6277322
BCDE= 68-8759107
DEC = iCE-DE= 31-1769144
37-6989963
 3
quadrant = 113-0969889
may also be obtained by assuming that the points A, E, Mensura-
and C, are taken so near each other, that the solid gener- tL041
ated by ABDCE differs little from the frustum of a cone; Vs—V^/
for, by art. 66, its volume will evidently be
^-BD^oq2 + 4^a22 + roq2) = + 4a22 + a32).
125. If now we put in the figure of art. 117 as formerly,
Cc = oq, Dc?=a2, HA = an, &c., and cd=de = &c. = h,
the volumes generated by CEec, EGpe, See., will be respect¬
ively
ifl-4(flq2 + 4a22 + a32), ^h{a.^ + 4oq2 + a32) ....
{an\ + + aB2).
Whence the whole solid of revolution generated by CcAH
will be
\Trh\a? + alt2 + 2 (a/ + a.2 +.. an\) + 4(a22 + a42 +.. + an-i)}-
Example.—To find the volume of the frustum of a
sphere generated by the revolution of BDEC, in the figure
to art. 122, we have the values of a\. a22 as p Hows:—
>22=119
f a42 = 135
ila62 ~ 143
397
4
1588
«:i2=]28
«52= 140
268
2
~536
ap =108
<=144 ,
1588
536
2376
^.".^the volume of the frustum
= £ x 2376
O
= 2488-1413816; g
which agrees accurately with the value found by the for¬
mula of article 81.
126. As it may sometimes be more convenient to mea¬
sure equidistant circumferences of the solid of revolution
than equidistant radii; let tq, c2,.... cn, be the circumfer¬
ences of the circles described by the revolving points C, D,
&c. (art. 117).
^ Q ^ C ^
Then, since naL2 = -~-, naj‘ = -^-. Sec. (art. 56),
The quadrant whose radius is unity, obtained by divid¬
ing by 144, is -785396, which is correct to five places of
decimals. The area of BCDE, calculated by the rule of
art. 118, is 68-8279433 from which the quadrant whose ra¬
dius is unity, is found to be *789396, a result correct only
to two places.
123. To find the Volume of a Solid of Revolution.—
The solid is supposed to be generated by the revolution of
the figure CEHAe (art. 117) about the line AB.
Let ABCD (fig. art. 119) be a portion of the figure (art.
117) such as CEec, terminated by two odd ordinates; and
assuming EF, FD as axes, let
y‘1 = m + nx -\-px-
be the equation of a curve of the second degree passin
through the points A, E, C. Then if we put'
S;AB = a1, EF = a2, CD = a3, and BF = FD=/q ^
it will bejjfbund, as in art. 119, that <
2 a.2 - a2 a2 - 2a22 + a2^
m=a2, 2 1
242<
Hence^the volume generated by ABDCE j
rh Ch irh
= / i/dx ^ / i + nX + ^(a>2 + + “a2)-
124. A less rigorous demonstration of the same result
the volume of the solid of revolution will be
+ 2(c32 + c52 +.. + cf_2) + 4(c./ + C/ + .. + efif}.
127. Also, since ira2, ira2 .... vraf, are the areas of the
circles described by the revolving ordinates oq, a2,... .a
if s2,.... sn, be put for these areas, the volume of the solid
of revolution will be
lh{sf + 'V + 2(s.2 + s2 + ... + snA,) + 4 (^22 + «/ + ...+ iqij],
128. In the figure AEB (art. 117) Gq = 0, and an = o;
therefore the volume of the solid generated by its revolution
= §7rA{a22 + «h2+ an_2 + 2(a2 + a2+ a*2)} ; '
and the formulae of articles 125, 126 may be similarly mo¬
dified. J
The equation of art. 123 may either be that of a straight
hne, a circle, an ellipse, or a hyperbola, according to the rela¬
tions which may subsist between the ordinates av «2, a . Hence
the formulae of arts. 124-128 will be strictly accurate for
solids generated by the revolution of areas bounded by any
of these lines, subject to the limitation stated in art. 122.
129. If the curve which generates the solid of revolution
be everywhere convex to the axis of the solid, the volume
may be obtained by a somewhat simpler formula than that
of art. 124.
524
MENSURATION.
Mensura- Let the base of the figure be divided into any number
t*™- of equal parts by the ordinates a15 a2,.... an, whose common
distance is h.
Then if a parabola be described passing through the points
AE (fig. art. 119), and whose axis is the line BF, it will
coincide either nearly or exactly with the curve AE; and
by art. Ill the paraboloid generated by AEBF,
= ^5r(a1a + a/)/i.
Similarly if another parabola be described passing through
the points E and C, the volume generated by ECDF
= + «/)/*.
Therefore proceeding as in art. 125, the volume of the whole
solid of revolution
=\%h{a* + a„2 + 2 (a22 + a32 + .... +on2_1)}.
Example.—The volume of the segment, of a sphere which
is calculated in the example to art. 124, may be found as
follows:—
=108
a,2 =144
1330
1582
.*. volume = 2 x 1582
= 2485 nearly.
130. To find the Volume of any Solid.—Let s,, sv ... sn,
be the areas of equidistant sections, taken so near each
other that every two consecutive sections may be regarded
as sensibly similar. Then, since it has been proved in
art. 39 that the volume of any prismoidal solid, of which
sf sf s? are the areas of the ends and middle section, and
h half the height, is + 4s22 + s32); if we proceed as in
art. 125, we shall find that the volume of the solid is
expressed by the formula of art. 127, which therefore
applies not only to solids of revolution, but approximately
to all solids whatever.
a„2= 119
«:2=i28
«42= 135
a-2 =140
a/=143
665
 2
1330
ON GAUGING.
Gauging denotes the measurement of casks or of sub¬
stances liable to excise duties.
To Compute the Contents of a Cask from its Length and
Diameters at the Middle
andErid.—Let the axis of
the cask MN be trisected
in L and Q; then the A
usual form of a cask is
such that we may assume M
AB, DE to be straight
lines, and BCD the arc ■B:
of a parabola whose axis
is CO. The portions of
the cask AI, DF will then be frusta of cones, and DI will
be the frustum of a parabolic spindle.
Put CG = a, AH = 5, BI = e, and ML = LQ = QN = fi.
Then the volume generated by AL or DN
= (5Zr + 55c + 5c2) (art. 65) ;
and the volume generated by BQ
= jgQ (8a2 + 4ac + 3c2) (art. 113).
Now if AB be produced to T, because TB is a tangent
to the parabola BC, I K = 2CK, and by similar triangles
TK : BL - AM :: BK : ML, or 2(a-c) : c - 5 :: 1 : 2;
from which c = ^(4a + 5). 1 herefore substituting for c, and
adding, we obtain the whole content of the cask
= ^(39-04a2 + 25'92ab + 25-0462)
360
= (39a2 + 26a5 + 25b2) nearly.
Mensura¬
tion.
If a, b, and l are expressed in inches, since there are
277,3 cubic inches in a gallon, and
— = •000031470,
360 x 277-3
the contents of the cask in imperial gallons
= l (39a2 + 26ab + 25b2) x -00003147
Again, because 39a2 + 26a5 + 2552
b2
(1-)
= (39a2 + 26a5 + 2652) ^
39a2 + 26a5 + 266:
and since b is generally about fa,
52 1 128
1 39a2 + 26a5 + 2652-i 129 129;
therefore the content of the cask in gallons
= l (39a2 + 26ab + 2652) x ^ x *0003147
= l (fa2 + ab + b2) x -000812 nearly . . . (2.)
Example.—Let the bung and head diameters of a cask
be 32 and 24 inches respectively, and its length 40 inches;
required its content in gallons.
By formula (1) the content
= (39 x 322 + 25 x 242 + 32 x 24 x 26) x 40 x -00003147
= 93-29 gallons.
By formula (2) the content
= (f x 322 + 242 + 32 x 24) x 40 x -000812 = 93-54 gallons.
The contents of casks of any forms to which the pre¬
ceding formulae may not apply, may be determined with
great accuracy by the following method.
If a and b be the bung and head diameters, c the
diameter equidistant from the bung and head, and l the
length of the cask, all in inches, it is obvious, by article 124,
that the capacity of the cask in gallons
= l {a2 + 52 + (2c)2} x -00047205.
Example.—Let the bung and head diameters be 32 and
24, the middle diameter 30*2, and the length of the cask 40.
The capacity
= 40 x {(32)2 + (24)2 + (60-4)2} x -000472 = 99-1 gallons.
To find the Ullage of a Cask.—The quantity of liquor
contained in a cask partially filled, and the capacity of the
portion which is empty, are termed respectively the wet
and dry ullage.
(i.) The ullage of a standing cask is found by the method
of article 124 as follows:—
Add the square of the diameter at the surface, the square
of the diameter at the nearest end, and the square of double
the diameter half way between; multiply the sum by the
length between the surface and the nearest end, and by
•000472. The product will be the wet or dry ullage, ac¬
cording as the lesser portion of the cask is filled or empty.
(ii.) The ullage of a lying cask is found approximately
on the assumption that it is proportional to the segment of
the bung circle cut off by the surface of the liquor. The
rule adopted in practice is,
ullage = f content of cask x segmental area.
MENSURATION
525
Table I.—Areas of Polygons.
Table IV.—Lengths of Circular Arcs (Radius —\ Mensura-
Number
of Sides.
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
Polygon Side = 1.
Equilateral Triangle.
Square 
Pentagon 
Hexagon  
Heptagon 
Octagon 
Nonagon 
Decagon 
Undecagon  
Dodecagon 
Area.
0-4330127
1-0000000
1- 7204774
2- 5980762
3- 6339125
4- 8284271
6- 1818242
7- 6942088
9-3656407
11T961524
Log Area.
9-6365006
0-0000000
0-2356490
0-4146519
0-5603745
0-6380568
0-7911166
0-8861640
0-9715375
1-0490688
Table II.—Surfaces and Volumes of Regular
Polyhedrons
Polyhedron.
Tetrahedron ...
Hexahedron...
Octohedron....
Dodecahedron
Icosahedron...
Number and Nature
of Paces.
4 equilat. triangles
(i squares
8 equilat. triangles
12 pentagons
20 equilat. triangles
Surface.
1-7320508
6-0000000
3-4641016
20-6457788
86602540
0-2385606
0-7781513
0-5395906
1-3148302
0-9375306
Volume.
0-1178511
1-0000000
0-4714043
7-6631189
2-1816950
log
V olume.
0-0713338
O-OOOOOOO
9-6733937
0-8844056
0-3387940
Table III.—Functions of tt.
ft ...
2ft ..
4tr ..
r 2 -
••
180'
1
4-r
180
Number. Logarithm.
3- 1415927
6-2831853
12-5663706
1-5707963
1-0471976
0-7853982
0-5235988
0-3926991
0-2617994
4- 1887902
0-0174533
0-3183099
1-2732395
0-0795775
57-2957795
0-4971499
0-7981799
1-0992099
0-1961199
0-0200286
9-8950899
9-7189986
9-5940599
9-4179686
0-6220886
8- 2418774
9- 5028501
0-1049101
8-9007901
1-7581226
! JL _
6jr*
V ft”
Vft.
i
V ft
_2_
V ft
1
2\/ ft
3 /6
,vr"
TV
3/3
Vfft
log'ft
Number.
9-8696044
0-0168869
1-7724539
1-4645919
0-5641896
1-1283792
0-2820948
1-2407010
0-6203505
1.1447299
Logarithm.
0-9942997
8- 2275490
0-2485750
0-1657166
9- 7514251
0-0524551
9-4503951
0-0936671
9-7926371
0-0587030
Arc.
•0174533
•0:349066
•0523599
•0698132
•0872665
•1047198
■1221730
•1396263
■1570796
■1745329
•3490659
■5235988
■69,81317
8726646
1-0471976
De¬
grees,
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
80
90
100
110
120
Arc.
1-0646508
1-0821041
1-0995574
1-1170107
1-1344640
1-1519173
1-1693706
1-1868239
1-2042772
1-2217305
1-3962634
1-5707963
1- 7453293
19198622
2- 0943951
De¬
grees.
121
122
123
121
125
126
127
128
129
130
140
150
160
170
180
Arc.
2-1118484
2-1293017
2-1467550
2-1642083
2-1816616
2-1991149
2.2165682
2-2340214
2-2514747
2-2689280
2-4434610
2-6179939
2-7925268
2- 9670597
3- 1415927
Mi-
nutes.
Arc Se- A
•0 conds. -o)
002909
005S18
008727
011636
014544
017453
020362
023271
026180
029089
058178
037266
116355
145444
174533
0048
00
0115
0194
0242
0291
0339
0388
0436
0485
0970
1451
1939
2424
2909
Table V.—Areas of Segments of a Circle (Radius = 1.)
Area.
1-095445
1-114885
1-134372
1-153904
1-173479
1-193095
1-212750
1-232441
1-252167
1-271925
1-291714
1-311531
1-331374
1-351241
1-371130
1-391040
1-410967
1-430911
1-450868
1-470838
1-490818
1-510805
1-530799
1-550797
1-570796
(W. S.)
txon.
U *LdO
MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental
Diseases.
Defini¬
tions.
Mental Disease, Mental Derangement, or Mental
Alienation, comprises two great and distinct classes or
morbid affections of the mind,—the one, the result of dis¬
ease attacking a person of sound mind, is called Insanity or
Lunacy; the other, the result of original or congenital con¬
ditions of the individual, is called Idiocy^ or, in its lesser
degrees, Imbecility.
All modern physiologists are agreed in regarding the
brain as the organ of the mind ; it may therefore be stated
that these diseases result from affections ol the brain, the
one class (insanity) resulting from diseases ol a brain ori¬
ginally healthy ; "the other (idiocy) arising from original
defects in the brain, such as imperfect development, or
congenital disease of that organ.
Many attempts have been made to define insanity and
idiocy; but as the varieties of the mental diseases classed
under those general terms are so numerous, and their dis¬
tinctions in some instances so great, and in others so mi¬
nute, it mav be questioned whether it is possible to define
either so as to make the definition of any practical value.
Accordingly, most definitions will be found to be either so
general and comprehensive as to include sane persons, or
so circumscribed as to exclude many who are of unsound
mind. Those definitions which will bear criticism will be
found to be too general to be of practical use, and to amount
to little more than is conveyed in the terms mental de¬
rangement or unsoundness. A brief review of the subject
will make this apparent, and serve to show in what manner
insanity and idiocy can be best described and defined foi
all legal and practical purposes.
The celebrated Locke incidentally remarked that “ mad¬
men do not appear to have lost the faculty of reasoning;
but having joined together some ideas very wrongly, they
mistake them for truths, and they err, as men do that argue
right from wrong principles.” Idiots, on the other hand,
do not labour under delusions, or mistake mere ideas for
truths, but they reason imperfectly. It has accordingly
been said that the insane reason rightly from false pre¬
mises, and idiots reason falsely from right premises. It
was the fashion to consider this a definition of insanity and
idiocy. But it is obviously no definition at all, as it would
include all careless observers among the insane, and con¬
sign all illogical reasoners to the category of idiots. Almost
all attempts at a definition of insanity, both by medical
writers and legal authorities, have been founded on the same
idea which occurred to Locke,—namely, that in every case
of insanity there was some delusion, and that delusion was,
in fact, an essential feature of insanity. This continues to
be generally believed even at the present day, and has
been laid down in our courts of law authoritatively from
the bench. Proceeding upon this assumption, Dr Cullen
defined insanity to consist in erroneous or false judgment;
and Dr Haslam, to obviate the objection to this as a defi¬
nition, that some people also make errors in judgment as
to facts, added to the definition the impossibility of con¬
vincing the insane that this false judgment, error, or delu¬
sion, was a delusion. Dr Prichard rendered the definition
more precise in his work on “ Nervous Disorders,” by defin¬
ing insanity to consist in the conceptions of the mind being
mistaken for realities.
More recent authorities have introduced another element
into their definitions of insanity,—namely, the loss of self-
control—of moral liberty. Thus, M. Morel, one of the
latest French writers on insanity, defines it as “ une affec¬
tion cerebrale idiopathique ou sympathique enlevant a
I’individu lese a la fois dans ses fonctions physiologiques et
psychologiques, I’exercice de sa liberte morale, et con-
stituant des lors chez lui une depravation maladire dans ses
actes, ses tendances, et ses sentiments ainsi qu’un trouble
general ou partiel dans ses idees” (Etudes (Jliniques,
Morel, p. 214). And Mr Noble, the author of the latest
systematic work on insanity published in this country,
defines it to consist in “ chronic disorder of the brain
inducing perversion of ideas prejudicial to, or destructive
of, the freedom of the will.”
The impairment or loss of the power by which we re¬
gulate our actions, or the succession of our thoughts, or our
judgment regarding external objects or conceptions of the
mind, is certainly the most essential peculiarity of insanity
but this seems to be something different from the loss of
moral liberty, or the destruction of the freedom of the will.
Further, all these definitions seem to assume that there
must be some perversion of the understanding—some delu¬
sion in insanity. This is by no means the case. Nothing
is now more fully demonstrated in relation to the insane
than this, that there are many cases in which there are no
delusions, erroneous impressions, or false judgments, but in
which a morbid and ungovernable passion, emotion, or im¬
pulse, constitutes the disease. The late Dr Abercrombie
was nearer the truth when he described insanity to consist
in the undue (morbid ?) exercise of one or more powers or
faculties of the mind; and idiocy (including dementia) in
the deficient exercise or power of the mental faculties.
The one consists in a loss of balance ; the other in a loss of
power,—terms, however, too general for the purposes of a
definition.
Assuming that insanity is a disease of the brain, and
making provision for cases in which there are no delusions,
—cases of what is called moral insanity,—the following defi¬
nition appears to be as precise as any that can be arrived
at;—namely, that it is a chronic cerebral affection, in which
emotions, passions, or desires are excited by disease (not by
motives), or in which conceptions are mistaken for acts of
perception or memory.
This definition distinguishes two classes or general forms
of insanity,—one in which the emotions, passions, or desires
alone are affected, constituting cases of moral insanity.
There may be a general perversion of the emotions and
passions without delusions, or a morbid excitement of one
particular emotion or passion. In the one case the disease
is called mania, or general madness; in the other, mono¬
mania or partial insanity.
In the same way the second part of the definition in¬
cludes those cases in which there may be a general pertur¬
bation of the ideas or understanding, general excitement,
and incoherent raving on a variety of subjects, referable,
therefore, again to mania or general insanity ; and also cases
in which there is a perversion only in particular trains of
thought, or in reference to one object, and referable there¬
fore to monomania or partial insanity. I he various foims
of insanity are thus arranged in two great classes, moral
and intelligential, or emotional and notional; and in either
of these classes it may be either general (mania) or partial
(monomania).
The loss of self-control, and of the power of directing
the thoughts or correcting the judgment by an act of voli¬
tion, is an important feature of insanity, and probably con¬
stitutes the proximate psychological cause of the mental
condition of the insane. As was remarked by Dugald
Stewart, the insane are very much like persons asleep, by
whom the objects of reverie, and the conceptions which pass
through their minds, are believed at the time to have a real
Mental
Diseases.
MENTAL
Mental existence, because they cannot correct their judgment re-
Uiseases^ garding them by voluntarily referring to the objects by which
they are surrounded, as persons do when awake. Thus,
in dreams all the persons we see are really believed to be
actually before us; the events which are apparently taking
place fill us with pleasure or terror according to their cha¬
racter, because they are believed to be realities. Is it not
so with the insane? Is it not the suspension of some
power of volition, self-direction, or judgment, which makes
the insane the sport of their passions and desires, and gives
rise in them to the belief in the extraordinary delusions
which fill them with ecstasy, terror, or despair?
Idiocy can only be defined in very general terms as a
congenital mental deficiency. The degrees of this de¬
ficiency are infinitely varied, from the total absence of
anything like human thought or reason up to the smallest
amount of imbecility which distinguishes a naturally weak-
minded person from one of sound mind.
Historical The history of some sciences and arts may with pro-
retrospect. priety be consigned to oblivion as the cumbrous record of
ignorance and error; but the history of this department of
study is that of the development of the human mind,—of
man himself,—and is therefore deserving of study. The
philosophy of mind, and by consequence that of mental
diseases and their treatment, has, moreover, by no means
attained even at the present day such precision as to render
the opinions of previous authors uninteresting or super¬
fluous. (Feuchtersleben, Principles of Medical Psychology,
p. 23.) A brief historical sketch of the subject may there¬
fore be both instructive and interesting.
The most ancient historical records prove that insanity was
recognised in the earliest times. The Israelites were threat¬
ened with “ madness, and blindness, and astonishment of
heart for their transgressions” (Dent, xxviii. 28). David
feigned madness before Achish the King of Gath (1 Sam.
xxi. J3) ; and what is more curious, he alleviated the fits of
madness to which Saul was subject by his skilful playing on
the harp. The influence of music, and of those distractions
so much lauded in the present day for the treatment of
the insane, appears to have been also well understood by
the priests of ancient Egypt. There the temples of Saturn
were resorted to by crowds of melancholics. “ Whatever
gifts of nature or productions of art were calculated to
impress the imagination were there united to the solemnities
of a splendid and imposing superstition. Games and re¬
creations were instituted in the temples. The most volup¬
tuous productions of the painter and the statuary were
exposed to public view. Groves and gardens surrounded
those holy retreats, and invited the distracted devotee to
refreshing and salubrious exercise. Gaily-decorated boats
sometimes transported him to breathe amidst rural concerts
the purer breezes of the Nile. In short, all his time was
taken up by some pleasurable occupation, or rather by a
system of diversified amusements, enhanced and sanctioned
by superstition.” {Nosographie Philosophique, Find, tom.
ii. 28 ; Find On Insanity, by Dr Davis, Introduction,
p. xxii.) From the hands of the priests the care of the dis¬
ordered mind first passed into the domain of medicine
with the philosophers of ancient Greece. Pythagoras is
said to have employed music for the cure of mental diseases.
The order of the day for his disciples exhibits a profound
knowledge of the relations of body and mind, and consti¬
tutes a most, complete system of mental dietetics. The
early morning was divided between gentle exercise and
reflection, music and study; then came conversation, fol¬
lowed by gymnastic exercises, and a simple and tempe¬
rate diet; attention to public affairs succeeded, followed
again by walking and cheerful conversation, and after¬
wards a cold bath and supper, with a sparing allowance of
wine; and then reading, music, and reflection, concluded
the day.
DISEASES.
The formation of medical schools in Greece by the
disciples of Pythagoras completed the transfer of the sick
and insane from the trammels of superstition and priestcraft,
consolidated medicine into an art, and, in the department
of psychology at least, the philosophy of the Greeks ele¬
vated it to the rank of a science. The treatment of
mental disorders by Asclepiades, as described by Celsus
and Aurelianus, might almost be taken for an epitome of
the modern method. “ Music, love, and wine, employment
exercising the memory and fixing the attention, were his
principal remedies. He recommended that bodily restraint
should be avoided as much as possible, and that none but
the most dangerous should be confined by bonds. He was
peculiar in advising that the lunatic patient should be en¬
gaged in the self-regulation of his mental powers.” (Feuch¬
tersleben, op. cit., p. 36.)
Of the opinions of Hippocrates, the father of medicine,
on the subject of insanity, although contemporaneous with
Asclepiades, we know less, but yet enough to satisfy us
that he was a careful observer of the phenomena of that
disease.
1 he philosophy and the arts of Greece spread to Rome,
and the first special treatise on insanity is that of A. Corn.
Celsus, which distinguishes several varieties of insanity
and their appropriate treatment. Aretseus of Cappadocia
describes in graphic terms many additional varieties of the
disease, with their causes and prognostics. He and Aure-
lian both laud the psychiatrical treatment of Asclepiades.
Lastly, Galen, with all his learning, appears to have added
little to this department of medical observation and treat¬
ment.
Over the arts and sciences of Greece and Rome the
errors and ignorance of the middle ages gradually crept,
until they enveloped them in a vast cloud of worse than
Egyptian darkness. The insane, if treated at all, were
again consigned to the miracle-working artifices of priests,
or else totally neglected. Idiots and imbeciles were per¬
mitted to wander about clotheless and houseless, the sport
of the wanton and wicked thoughtlessness of children ; the
frantic and furious were chained in loathsome dungeons,
and exhibited for money like wild beasts; the monomaniacs
became, according to circumstances, the objects of su¬
perstitious horror or reverence; they were regarded as
possessed with demons, and subjected either to priestly
exorcisms, or cruelly destroyed as wizards and witches ; at
other times they were made the tools of the designing and
ambitious, and, as inspired instruments of the Deity, became
the leaders of revolutions and revolts. Vast epidemics of
insanity spread over Europe at various periods of the dark
ages; lycanthropy, vampirism, the Crusades, the dancing
mania, the pilgrimage mania of children, St Vitus’ dance,
and various other epidemics, followed each other in succes¬
sive generations. The total neglect or cruel treatment of
the insane continued, with little or no alleviation, down to
the end of the last century in all the civilized countries of
Europe. The revival of learning,—nay, even the recon¬
struction of medical science,—shed no ray of light upon the
unhappy victims of this disease.
During all this period, then, our subject can scarcely be
said to have a history. At best it is but the history of
scholastic disputations regarding the soul and the supposed
humours of the body, or a history of the demonomaniacs of
those times, the trials for witchcraft, and the wide-spread
massacres which followed; or a history of the epidemics re¬
ferred to, or of the neglect and cruelty with which the
helpless idiots or furious maniacs of all countries were
treated.
With the metaphysical speculations of Locke and Leib¬
nitz, followed by those of Bonnet, Condillac, and the Scot¬
tish school of metaphysicians, appears to have originated
t ie first impulse to the study of the subject from its purely
527
Mental .
Diseases..
v
528
MENTAL D I S E A S E S.
Mental psychological side. Added to this, came the doctrines of
Diseases. Stahl, which laid the basis for a psychological and practical
^ —s/ — ^ view of it, which gradually acquired solidity and system
from the researches into the anatomy of the brain and
nervous system by Soemmering, Reil, Meckel, and Gall.
During all this period, however, to which we can only
allude, no practical results followed as regarded the treat¬
ment of the insane. Public asylums, indeed, existed in
most of the metropolitan cities of Europe; but the insane
were more generally, if at all troublesome, confined in jails,
where they were chained in the lowest dungeons, or made
the butts and menials of the most debased criminals. Even
in the public asylums, many of which were endowed by the
munificence of philanthropists, the inmates were generally
confined in low and damp cellars, sometimes isolated in
cao-es or chained to the floor or wall; if harmless, they
were huddled together, without regard to their habits, in
cells not fitted to contain one tithe of the number immured
in them. The medical treatment consisted, perhaps, in an
annual bleeding and a few emetics ; while the lash was sys¬
tematically used, justified, and even recommended, as it had
been by such authorities as the celebrated Cullen. 1 hese
unhappy victims of disease were exhibited to the public like
wild beasts, and their passions irritated to gratify a morbid
and vulgar curiosity. They were often killed by the igno¬
rance and brutality of their keepers, sometimes during
rough methods of forcing meat into them, sometimes by
barbarous and violent beating.
Such was the state of the insane generally throughout
Europe at the commencement of this century; such it con¬
tinued to be in England so late as 1815, and in Ireland in
1817, as revealed by the inquiries of parliamentary com¬
missions in those years respectively ; such it doubtless was
also in Scotland, as the report of the commission appointed
in 1855, showing the neglected condition of the pauper
insane even at the present day, abundantly testifies. In¬
deed it cannot be doubted that in many countries of
Europe the insane are little, if at all, better cared for even
now, especially in rural and remote districts.
The greatest step in the amelioration of the condition of
the insane originated in Paris with the illustrious Pinel, who
; immortalized his name by liberating all the inmates of the
Bicetre from their chains in 1792. The success attending
his philanthropic efforts speedily led to great changes in the
treatment of the insane; and his distinguished successor
Esquirol endeavoured to extend the same humane principles
of treatment to all the asylums of France. One of the
earliest institutions of this country to adopt tlm humane
system of treatment was one belonging to the Society of
Friends near York, called the Retreat, where, under the
auspices of William Tuke, not only were chains, stripes,
and cruelty abolished, but the most enlightened principles
of moral treatment were adopted. The attention directed
to the subject by the published account of the Retreat
(1813) speedily led to the introduction of the law of kind¬
ness into some of our large public asylums. In the Lincoln
Asylum mechanical restraint of every kind was abolished
(1836). In the large asylum of Hanwell, Dr Conolly soon
afterwards, in spite of many obstacles, succeeded in carry¬
ing out the principle of non-restraint with remarkable suc¬
cess ; and he has continued to this day to advocate the
complete abolition of all mechanical restraint in the treat¬
ment of the insane in public asylums, with a devotion and
eloquence which has contributed very largely to the adop¬
tion of this principle throughout the county asylums of
England. The reports of the parliamentary committee
(1815,1816) led to the appointment of a permanent lunacy
commission in England, under the auspices of which a
number of new county asylums were erected, and in these
the principles of non-restraint, and the improved moral
treatment of the insane, were carried out and developed.
Similar results gradually followed a parliamentary inquiry Mental
into the condition of the insane in Ireland (1817). In ^
Scotland the philanthropic efforts of a few individuals led s—
to the erection of several public or chartered asylums in
the early part of the century; and in most of these (Edin¬
burgh, Glasgow, Dundee, Dumfries) at an early period,
(1840-42) not only was mechanical restraint almost entirely
abolished, but a great variety of moral appliances were in¬
troduced, such as schools, lectures, concerts, dramatic
representations, social entertainments, periodicals written,
and in some instances printed, by the patients, excursions
to the country, and numerous sources of healthy occupa¬
tion. If Scotland is still behind the sister countries, in
consequence of the want of a legal provision for her insane
paupers, she may well be proud of what has been achieved
by the spontaneous efforts of the benevolent, and of the
admirable manner in which her public asylums have been
conducted. In the multitude and variety of the moral
appliances for the cure and alleviation of insanity in use in
those institutions, she has been in advance of most of the
public asylums of either England or Ireland. The hospi¬
tals for the insane which have been erected in the various
states of the North American republic during the last
twenty years, have also been organized and conducted upon
the most approved and enlightened principles of modern
science: in them everything that can minister to the mind
diseased, by distracting it from morbid trains of thought,
the influences of literature, and science, and music, and
recreation,—have been added to the salutary regimen and
judicious medical treatment of well-arranged and well-
regulated hospitals.
Accompanying and assisting in this onward movement
we find valuable works on insanity appearing on the Conti¬
nent and in this country, of which a list is appended to this
article. An agent, not less important in the dissemination
of all the improved methods of treating the insane, was
found in the annual reports of the best public asylums; and
of those deserving of especial notice may be enumerated
the reports of the Retreat, of Lincoln Asylum, of Hanwell,
of the Northampton, Lancaster, Gloucester, and Stafford
asylums, and of the Scottish chartered asylums, particularly
those of Edinburgh, Glasgow, Dundee, and Dumfries, in
all of which the rapid progress of psychological medicine,
in its humane and moral aspects, was early and most fully
represented. The reports of the excellent county asylums
more recently established in England, those of the Ame¬
rican asylums, and, lastly, the valuable reports of the Com¬
missioners on Lunacy, have all contributed largely to the
spread of the new and improved methods of treatment.
Another and important agent in this cause has been the
establishment of journals specially devoted to medical psy¬
chology. The first of these appeared in Germany in 1806-
1808; then followed Acme’s ./owma/(1818-1826); Frie-
dereich’s Magazine (1829-1838) ; and, lastly, Dameron and
Fleming’s Alleqmeine Zeitschrift fur Psychiatric (1843).
In France the Annales Medico-Psychologiques (1841); m
America the American Journal of Insanity (1844); arid in
England Dr Winslow’s Journal of Psychological Medicine
(1848); and, lastly, the Asylum Journal (1853), successively
appeared, and continue to be published.
Special attention to the care of idiots has been a matter Idiocy,
of comparatively recent date. The establishment of schoo s
for their education, and the development of their latent oi
imperfect faculties, first attained considerable success er
M. Seguin at Paris. (Traitement Moral Hygiene ethdu-
cation des Idiots, par Edouard Seguin, Paris, 1846.) Dr
Giigenbuhl simultaneously (1840) established, under t ie
auspices of the Swiss government, an institution for the
cure of cretinism at Interlacken, on the Abenberg, wheie,
by commencing their treatment in infancy, it is said t iat
those congenital diseases upon which this condition e-
MENTAL DISEASES.
529
Mental pends have been cured. The interest excited by the phi-
Diseases. janthropic labours of this physician has led to inquiries into
^ the condition of idiots in various countries. A commission
of inquiry investigated the subject fully in Sardinia (Rap¬
port de la Commission pour etudier le Cretinisme, Turin,
1848), where, as also in Austria, Prussia, Wiirtemberg
and Saxony, Bavaria and Baden, institutions for idiots have
been established. A careful inquiry, under the direction
of Dr Howe, was made into the number and condition of
the idiot population in Massachusetts (U. S.), anda school
was established there for their benefit. Lastly, in Eng¬
land, at Bath, and afterwards at Highgate near London
(1847), and more lately at Dundee and Edinburgh (1855),
medico-educational establishments for idiots have been in¬
stituted, and promise to confer great benefits upon this in¬
teresting and helpless portion of the human family.
In concluding this brief historical retrospect, we cannot
refrain from expressing our surprise that the study of men¬
tal diseases has been deemed of so little interest or import¬
ance hitherto, as to form no part of the curriculum of me¬
dical education in this country. Although the large me¬
tropolitan asylums afford ample means of illustrating courses
of instruction in psychological medicine, the study of the
subject has never been required by our licensing medical
or surgical boards or universities. Lectures on mental dis¬
eases, both systematic and practical, have indeed been de¬
livered in many of the continental medical schools ; and of
late years, in some of the large asylums of London and in
that of Edinburgh, clinical lectures have been given ; but
attendance upon such courses of instruction is voluntary,
with the exceptional case of candidates for appointments
in the H.E.I. Company’s service, who have been required
during the last four years to attend an asylum for the in¬
sane for three months. This neglect seems altogether un¬
accountable, when we reflect upon the many collateral
sciences students of medicine are compelled to master, of
comparatively little value to them in actual practice, and
the many diseases, accidents, and operations, toxicological
and analytical investigations, they are carefully and mi¬
nutely schooled in, which it may never fall to their lot, in
a long life, to see or practise; while insanity, which affects
1 in every 400 or 500 of the population, and which, in
some of its stages or forms, they can hardly pass a week in
medical practice without being consulted about,—often in
circumstances requiring great judgment and skill,—is made
no part of their medical education at all.
Olassifica- ^ variety of methods have been proposed for classifying
tion. the different forms of insanity. Without entering into a
critical examination of these methods, it may be sufficient
for the purposes and limits of this article to give what ap¬
pears to be a comprehensive and convenient classification,
and one as nearly as possible in conformity with the terms
in common use among writers on insanity at the present
time.
Insanity consists either in a general or partial exaltation
or morbid excitement of the faculties, or an impairment of
them to a greater or less extent; and we have accordingly
three great divisons of the subject,—Mania, Monomania,
and Dementia, under each of which there fall to be arranged
various modifications, subdivisions, and complications; and,
lastly, we have Idiocy, consisting in anatural want of deve¬
lopment of one or more or of all the mental faculties. The
following table exhibits this classification, with the subor¬
dinate subdivisions referred to :—
I.
Mania.— General Derangement of the Faculties.
Affecting the emotions and passions
only :—Moral Insanity.
Affecting the intellectual faculties
also, generally :—Mania or Raving
Madness.
Puerperal Mania.
Delirium Tremens.
Acute 
Chronic ...
Periodic...
Remittent.
VOL. XIV.
II. Monomania.—Partial Derangement of the Faculties.
Melancholia 
Suicidal Mania....
Homicidal Mania.
Kleptomania 
Pyromania.
Dipsomania  
Satyriasis 
Nymphomania 
Monomania of Pride 
... Fear 
... Suspicion 
... Unseen Agency /
ffecting the desires, emo¬
tions, or passions only,
without delusion :—Mo¬
ral Insanity.
Affecting the intellect or
understanding, with de¬
lusions, illusions, or hal¬
lucinations : — Intellectu¬
al or Notiona Insanity.
Mental
Diseases.
III. Dementia.—Obliteration of the Faculties.
1st Stage.—Forgetfulness—loss of memory—senile de¬
mentia.
2d ... Irrationality—loss of reason—marked in¬
coherence.
3d ... Incomprehension—instinctive stage — fa¬
tuous.
4tA ... Inappetency—loss of instinctive action—
total fatuity.
General Paralysis with Insanity.
Epilepsy with Insanity.
IV. Idiocy.—Non-Development of the Faculties.
Imbecility.
Idiocy.
Cretinism.
I.—MANIA.
The most striking features of acute mania are the exalt¬
ations of the emotions, or, as it is commonly termed,
the excitement of the patient, the incoherence of his
ideas, the restlessness and agitation of his movements and
gestures, and the volubility and energy of his language.
The invasion of mania is sometimes sudden, and the dis¬
ease is at once developed by an outburst of violence or ex¬
citement. Most frequently, however, it is preceded by
some premonitory symptoms, of which the most frequent is
the want of sleep ; so constant indeed is this harbinger, that
a distinguished American writer (Dr Brigham) regarded it
as the cause of insanity. This sleeplessness is generally ac¬
companied by loss of appetite and derangement of the di¬
gestive functions. The patient often complains of headache,
confusion, and fear of going mad. He displays irritability
of temper and impatience of contradiction or interference.
He is unusually active, and full of new projects and ideas.
His settled habits become altered ; he neglects duties here¬
tofore punctually discharged, or becomes suddenly an at¬
tentive observer of duties before neglected. Not unfre-
quently he uses stimulants to excess, although before tem¬
perate in his habits. His affections are altered or per¬
verted ; he dislikes his nearest friends, and views all their
acts with suspicion and distrust. After these symptoms
have gradually manifested and developed themselves during
a period of a few days or weeks, he ultimately loses the
power of self-control, and his conduct becomes violent, or
his ideas and conversation incoherent, or both. In the for¬
mer case he destroys his clothing, strips himself naked,
dresses his naked body fantastically with strips of his blankets,
besmears himself with filth, talks incessantly and vocifer¬
ously, walks up and down, or flings his arms, or tumbles
his person about without ceasing. His conversation is cha¬
racterized by wit, or violence, or obscenity. All these
symptoms may exist without any delusions or any inco¬
herence of thought; but on the contrary the individual
may display great acuteness, intelligence, and wit, combined
with any conceivable amount of excitement, activity, ob¬
scenity, and destructiveness. Such a variety of mania be-
longs, then, properly to that kind of madness called moral
insanity; the emotions and passions being in a general
state of exaltation or excitement beyond the powers of
self-control, but without delusions affecting the intellect.
Most frequently, however, in a mania, the ideas succeed
each other without any apparent order, and the patient
3 x
530
MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental
Diseases.
raves or talks incoherently. Or some delusion seizes his
imagination, and, according to the nature of it, he is affected
’ with extravagant anger, joy, or terror. He is surrounded
by foes on whom he seeks to vent his rage; or he is about
to be married; or has become heir to enormous riches and
to titles of high rank ; or he imagines he is a divine being
endowed with supernatural powers, and he calls down
vengeance on all who oppose him ; or he fancies he is sur¬
rounded by objects of fear, by fire, and blood, and demons,
and he cries out with the utmost terror at the objects of
his disordered vision. There may thus, in those cases
where the intellect is affected, be only excessive activity of
thought, producing i-ambling and incoherent conversation ;
or there may be delusions—the belief in the creations of the
imagination ; or there may be illusions—the belief that
sounds or objects are other than they really are ; or, lastly,
hallucinations, or the actual perception, by the diseased
organs of sense, of objects, of persons, and things, and
sounds, which have no real existence.
The most essential and characteristic feature of acute
mania appears to be the loss of self-control,—1. Over the
voluntary acts, resulting in violent and excessive restless¬
ness, walking to and fro, wild, extravagant, bizarre gestures,
attitudes, and gesticulations. 2. Loss of control over the
feelings, emotions, and passions, which are sudden, impul¬
sive, violent, and varied in intensity and character. 3. Loss
of control over the ideas, which appear to succeed each
other without any order or law of succession, following
neither the laws of association nor those of volition, and be¬
ing therefore rambling and incoherent. The maniac can¬
not fix his attention ; he hardly sees or recognises external
objects; he is carried away by ideal terrors, and is the sport
of his own diseased imagination. He confounds time and
space, and persons and things, and himself, and is lost in an
endless whirl of delirium. There is a total overthrow of
the moral sense, the loss of all affection, of all regard to re¬
ligion, or probity, or decency: even the commonest in¬
stincts of nature disappear in the total overthrow of all that
is human and natural.
During all this time, however, the patient retains a cer¬
tain consciousness of self; he may, at least for a moment,
be brought to fix his attention and answer a question.
After his recovery he may even be able to tell all that
passed through his mind, all the delusions and hallucina¬
tions that haunted him, the attentions he received, the words
addressed to him, and the feelings which influenced him in
all his actions.
The countenance is remarkably altered in maniacs: it
becomes dark and contracted ; the eyes are brilliant, in¬
jected, and haggard, and expressive of suspicion,—wander¬
ing, but watchful; the sense of hearing is often rendered
very acute ; the tongue is dry and foul, and the patient is
de voured by thirst; the appetite is at one time voracious,
and at another seems lost; the skin is dry and greasy, and
exhales a disagreeable odour; the cold and fatigue, to
which they appear (only) to be insensible, affects them
equally with other persons, and they sink exhausted under
their own violence and incessant activity, or may die of
pneumonia or other diseases if unnecessarily exposed to
cod. I he pulse is generally small, weak, and frequent;
and the excretions diminished or irregular.
i he habits of maniacs are very offensive. None are
more constant than the tendency to go naked, to tear all
articles of clothing, bedding, and furniture, and to in¬
dulge in the most filthy and shameless practices and lan¬
guage.
The course of an attack of acute mania is very variable and
uncertain; sometimes it is transient, and may not exceed
twenty-four hours, or from three to five days. This how¬
ever is rare. A remission frequently takes place within
the first week, and after a brief tranquillity a fresh outburst
of excitement occurs. The average duration of cases of Mental
acute mania has been estimated at six weeks. Diseases.
In some cases a frequent remission continues to take
place, followed always, sooner or later, by recurrence of the Remittent
excitement. These are called cases of remittent mania, mania.
In other cases these remissions and aggravations occur Periodic
at regular intervals of time,—every month, every two, three, mania,
or six months, or every year ; and these constitute periodic
mania.
Again, the maniacal excitement continues with more or Chronic
less amelioration, but still presenting some of the more mania,
characteristic features of mania, such as noise, violence, and
destructiveness, for many months, or even years, and is then
called chronic mania.
The curability of mania has been variously estimated at
from 70 to 90 per cent, by different authorities. Although
the most alarming and unmanageable, it is the most curable
form of insanity.
The recovery is generally gradual, with occasional exa¬
cerbations : the patient sleeps, becomes stouter in person,
gives up his destructive habits, becomes tidy in his dress,
and slowly recovers, sometimes exhibiting a certain amount
of reaction in a prolonged depression and want of confi¬
dence in himself. Sometimes, though rarely, the recovery
is sudden; occasionally it is accompanied by some critical
termination, as it has been termed, such as the reappear¬
ance of some suppressed discharge or eruption, or the for¬
mation of large boils.
If the patient does not recover, the disease passes into
some other form,—either into chronic or partial insanity, or
more frequently into dementia; or he may die from exhaus¬
tion or the supervention of some fatal disease.
Puerperal Mania differs little from the disease de- Puerperal
scribed, except in the fact that it is peculiar to females after mania,
parturition, and, strictly speaking, occurs within a month
after delivery. It lias been confounded with hysterical
mania, with mania occurring during pregnancy, and with
insanity developed after prolonged nursing. But in all
these cases the disease more generally assumes some of the
forms of partial insanity, and does not differ from such dis¬
eases arising from other causes. In puerperal insanity the
homicidal impulse is not unfrequently developed ; and unless
the mother is watched, or the child removed, the offspring
may be destroyed by its unconscious and delirious parent.
Delirium Tremens is another form of mania (mania & Delirium
potu—brain fever), arising from the continued and intern- tremens,
perate use of stimulants. It may be termed a kind of alco¬
holic poisoning, arising from the accumulation of alcohol in
the system. It has also been ascribed to the intemperate
use of other narcotics, such as opium. The symptoms are
in some respects peculiar. The delirium is generally one
of alarm, of fear of robbers and murderers, and is accom¬
panied commonly with hallucinations of vision, and with
trembling of the limbs, copious sweating, and tendency to
exhaustion. Its course is short, and it terminates either
favourably or fatally within a few days ; and in some cases,
where the immediate danger and violent symptoms are re¬
covered from, permanent lesions remain in some form of
partial insanity.
II.—MONOMANIA
Was a term invented by Esquirol to designate cases of par- Mono-
tial derangement; the ancient name, melancholia being in- mania,
applicable, in its modern signification, to those varieties
where there was no depression of spirits. The term melan¬
cholia (lypemanie) he reserved for cases where there was
a true melancholy or depression, and monomania for other
varieties of partial insanity. As all, however, are cases of
partial derangement, all of them may be included under this
general term, and we may consider therefore melancholia
as one of the varieties of monomania.
MENTAL DISEASES. 531
Mental The general term monomania implies that the individual
'Diseases^ is deranged only on one subject, or in reference to one ob-
ject, or in one particular train of thought or faculty of
thinking, and that his intellect, judgment, and emotions
are otherwise sound, at least when not exercised on the
subject of his derangement. This, however, is not, strictly
speaking, true. There are exceptional cases in which per¬
sons have appeared to retain all their intelligence and rea¬
son, and every mental faculty, in a state of healthy exer¬
cise, except in reference to one point; but such cases are
very rare, and it is doubted whether, upon a close acquaint¬
ance with such persons, we would not discover other points
of insanity besides the one prominent and characteristic
one. In almost all cases of so-called monomania there are
other morbid indications besides the salient one,—morbid
dislikes or suspicions, morbid vanity or irritability ; some¬
times other delusions, sometimes hallucinations of the
senses. Still there is generally some one morbid impulse
or delusion sufficiently prominent to form the principal
and characteristic feature of the case, and to make the
name of monomania applicable and convenient, and ac¬
curate enough for the general purposes of a classification.
It may be observed further, that almost all cases of par¬
tial insanity (monomania) may be referable either to the
category of moral insanity, when an emotion, passion, or
desire is morbidly excited without any delusion ; or they
may be referable to notional or intellectual insanity, when
there are certain delusions. This distinction pervades most
of the varieties, and will be illustrated immediately in de¬
scribing the first variety of monomania.
Premoni- Monomania is always preceded by some premonitory
tory syrap- symptoms. Its invasion is seldom, like that of mania, sud¬
den. It is emphatically a chronic affection, compared with
mania, and produced generally by the continuous operation
of some deleterious influences. In almost every case there
exists a hereditary predisposition to insanity, and the attack
is preceded by some derangement of the general health ;—
in some cases it coincides with the development of scrofu¬
lous or pulmonary disease ; in others it is the result of
moral causes affecting the health, such as domestic anxie¬
ties, retired and secluded habits, reverses in fortune, disap¬
pointments in love or in business. The invasion of the
malady is commonly preceded by sleeplessness, by altered
habits,— the individual becoming irritable, suspicious, im¬
patient of interference, doing odd things ; the wife suspects
her husband, or the husband his wife ; he neglects his per¬
son or his food, or broods over some subject of vexation and
anxiety. At length some manifest delusion or some overt
act indicates that reason is upset. Some morbid propen¬
sity or appetite is developed, or some insane delusion is
adopted, corresponding in some way with the previous
character of the individual, the exciting cause of the dis¬
ease, or the more prominent subject of interest for the time.
In mania there is a complete perversion of the character,
dispositions, and habits ; in monomania the perversion most
commonly corresponds in some measure with the previous
character, or temperament, or habits of the individual,—the
delusion or morbid propensity which is adopted takes its
character from the prevailing train of thought preceding the
attack, or from the nature of the exciting cause of the dis¬
ease.
Melancholia attacks chiefly persons of a bilious or me¬
lancholic temperament; monomania of self-esteem and
pride, those of a sanguine temperament,—the temperament
modifying the form of the disease. If the moral causes
are of a depressing kind, the delusions and propensities de¬
veloped assume a corresponding character, and the patient
imagines he is ruined—that his soul is lost—that he is
about to be executed or poisoned. If the immediate moral
causes are of an exciting kind, the resulting insanity is of
a more or less gay and elevated character; the patient ima¬
gines he has succeeded to large estates or titles, or that he Mental
is a person of great power or genius. Diseases.
I he nature of the delusions of the monomaniac is often
determined by the more exciting public topics of the day,
and their character bears the date of the times. Among
the ancients the monomaniacs were prophets and pro¬
phetesses, hermaphrodites, or changed in sex, or converted
into pigs, foxes, or wolves. In the middle ages the dark
superstitions of the times produced many wizards and
witches, demonomaniacs and vampires. In modern times
it has been observed, that during the first Napoleon’s time
there were many Napoleons in the public asylums of
France. I here were many queens in our asylums, and
many pretenders to the crown, when our present sovereign
ascended the throne. Later years have seen many victims
of electrical machines and electricity, of mesmerism, and,
lastly, of spirit-rapping, in our hospitals. Instead of furies
and demons now pursuing the victims of morbid fears, as of
old, it is now the fear of the law, of justice, of prison, of
the police, or of being hanged.
Insanity in some of its forms is highly contagious; or
rather the imitative faculty, or the strong sympathies exist¬
ing between morbidly predisposed minds, is so great, that
the publication of any revolting murder by a homicidal
maniac, or the perpetration of some remarkable suicide,
immediately produces a host of imitators. When H. Cor¬
nier committed child murder, Esquirol was consulted by
many families of distinction, and of all ranks, whose
daughters were seized with a similar morbid impulse.
When a female committed suicide by leaping from the
summit of the Monument, she had so many imitators that
it was found necessary to guard the balcony at the top by
a cage.
1. Melancholia.—The subjects of melancholia are gene¬
rally of a spare habit of body, have dark hair and eyes, and
a brown or sallow complexion. The expression of the
countenance is fixed and immovable,—a tension of the
features expressive of fear, grief, or despair; the eyes are
fixed on the ground, or watching surrounding persons with
sidelong and suspicious glances. The pulse is commonly
slow and feeble, but hard and thrilling. The skin is dry and
hot, with the exception of the hands and feet, which are
bedewed with cold perspiration. The sleep is interrupted,
short, irregular, and often agitated by dreams and sudden
starts. The tongue is white and loaded, the breath offen¬
sive, and the bowels constipated. Melancholics are ex¬
tremely sensitive to external impressions, alarmed by the
slightest cause, irritable and impatient of interference.
They convert everything into a new source of distress, and
dwell without ceasing upon their misery, their fears, and
their sufferings. Melancholia may exist as a variety of
moral insanity, or insanity without delirium. There may
be no false belief, no delusion, but a simple abstract gloom,
deep and rooted melancholy, an inexplicable but hopeless
feeling of wretchedness, a loathing of everything, even of
life itself, and an anxious craving for death.” The suicidal
impulse in some such cases is remarkably strong, and
attempts to commit self-destruction are made by every con¬
ceivable method, and with the utmost craft and deliberation.
In most cases of melancholia, however, there exists some
delusion, which seems to be the focus round which the
feelings of gloom and horror concentrate. Such is the
common belief in eternal perdition ; that the person himself
has been the cause of ruin and misery to his family ; that
he has brought judgments and punishment upon the whole
human family; or that he has committed the unpardonable
sin, and is already suffering the pains of lost souls.
2. Very closely allied to these cases of melancholia are Monomania
t lose described as monomania of fear, in which the cha- of fear,
lactenstic feature is a constant dread and apprehension of
some coming evil,' a foreboding of misery,—a terror of
532
MENTAL DISEASES.
Suicidal
Monomania
of unseen
agency.
being hurried away, of being poisoned, or executed, or burnt
alive, or of some dreadful and unavoidable calamity.
Such delusions are sometimes not incompatible with the
discharge of the ordinary duties of life. The celebrated
Robert Brown, at the time when all the powers of his mind
were in full exercise, believed that his soul was annihilated,
and that instinct only, common to him and the brute creation,
was left to him. Cowper the poet believed that he alone of
all human beings was excluded from the vicarious merits
of our Saviour’s sufferings.
3. These two varieties of monomania are those most
frequently accompanied by a disposition to commit suicide.
Sometimes this impulse is a morbid impulse, unaccompa¬
nied by any delusion,—a loathing of life, a craving for death,
an irresistible impulse to commit self-destruction. This
must be regarded as another form of moral insanity, and
maybe termed suicidal mania. Most frequently, however,
this fatal propensity seems to originate in the dreadful de¬
lusions of the patient, in the despair arising from the con¬
viction of being ruined or eternally lost, or in morbid ap¬
prehension of some approaching and horrible calamity.
Not unfrequently these, as well as other varieties of mo¬
nomania, are associated with hallucinations of the senses ;
the persons affected hear voices threatening them with their
approaching doom ; or they see objects of terror, visions of
departed friends, or of demons; or they taste poison in
their food, or smell the sulphureous vapours of the bottom¬
less pit, of which they believe they are already the hopeless
inmates.
4. Allied to these forms of partial insanity are those cases
which has been described as monomania of unseen agency.
Founded, perhaps, upon some morbid sensations caused by
flatulence or neuralgia, the unhappy victims of the disease
believe that they are the sport of some mesmeric or elec¬
trical operations ; that gases are injected into their system ;
that they are subjected to some strange influence during
sleep ; that persons at a distance control and act upon them,
and even strike them; or that some person is actually in
the inside of their body, and sways their feelings and ac¬
tions according to his own will.
Monomania 5. Very different, indeed, in their external manifestations
of pride, and general deportment are the cases of monomania in
vanity, &c. which the sentiments of self-esteem, pride, veneration, and
love of approbation, are morbidly exalted. The delusions
under which such monomaniacs may labour are as varied
and as numerous as the objects which stimulate to ambition.
One may imagine himself endowed with exalted genius,—
he is a poet, or philosopher; another, 9. distinguished musician
or vocalist, although able to produce only the most disso¬
nant sounds from his favourite instrument, or to scream in
wretched discord with it; another believes he is a royal
or divine personage, or a prophet, or endowed with super¬
natural powers, able to cure diseases, to regulate the fate of
empires, or to command the sun ; another believes that he
has discovered some infallible cure for all human miseries,
that he is about to convert all mankind and make them su¬
premely happy ; another, that he can direct the elements
and give rain, sunshine, or storm; another is possessed of
enormous wealth, and has paid off the national debt, and
is about to build palaces and endow numerous institutions
for the public good. There is, however, in such per*
sons no loss of the idea of personal identity ; they are
still John Smith, or James Johnston, or Thomas Brown;
ant t ley ai e capable of acting with the utmost want of con¬
sistency of character,—performing the most menial acts,
or woiking industriously at some trade or domestic duty.
In some cases a morbid vanity amounts to folly or mad¬
ness without delusion ; and indeed any of the sentiments
passions, or desires may be exalted into morbid acflon
without delusion. In such cases the conduct of the indi¬
vidual may expose him to ridicule or pity, and he may be
looked upon as a harmless, half-witted creature ; but he may
buffet his way through life, supported by his own self-im¬
portance, and escape the restraints which society imposes
upon the morbid exercise of passions or propensities when
they interfere with the comfort, happiness, or safety of
others.
In other cases the overt acts of the individual may en¬
danger his own personal safety, may lead to the profuse and
foolish expenditure of his means, or may exceed the limits
which society deems tolerable; and he then becomes the
object of treatment or surveillance, or even of confinement.
To a morbid and ridiculous vanity such persons very often
unite other depraved and morbid propensities. Of these,
the most frequent, perhaps, is the practice of lying, and the
art of deceit. A propensity to steal and hoard every article
that can be surreptitiously appropriated is not an uncommon
symptom in cases of this kind of moral perversion. This
propensity to steal sometimes exists as a distinct form of
monomania, without any other very obvious departure from
sanity in the general state of the mind or conduct. It has
been called kleptomania. The propensity has sometimes
been exhibited by persons in the better ranks of life, who
had no motive to steal, but could not resist the incontrollable
impulse to purloin on all occasions. It is generally, how¬
ever, one of the symptoms only of other forms of insanity,
and of none more frequently than of those cases of moral
perversion just described.
The propensity to tear and destroy, which is so constant
in mania, sometimes also, in a minor degree, accompanies
partial insanity; in other cases the propensity to set fire to
things, described as a special variety of monomania, under
the name of pyromania, is a characteristic feature, and in
some instances, it is said, is the sole morbid impulse.
Of all the symptoms of insanity, those referrible to altered
affections, perverted desires, and morbid propensities, are the
most constant; and delusions ought rather to be regarded,
like hallucinations of the senses, as the accidental concomi¬
tants than as the essential features of insanity. In a large
proportion of the cases of partial insanity in particular, the
grand and distinguishing feature of the disease is, that the
conduct of the individual is irrational or insane,—different
from what it used to be, or from that of other people ; or
that his tastes, affections, habits, and propensities are
changed, and no longer regulated, as they were wont to be
or as others regulate them, by a due regard to personal
welfare and the settled opinions of society. He does things
which very often his own reason and conscience revolt at,—
things which he deplores and cannot help doing.
Such moral perversion is not unfrequently met with in
young persons, and is sometimes associated with some
natural peculiarities of character, such as inability to acquire
certain elements of education, disregard to personal cleanli¬
ness, or the pride, natural to all children, of being well
dressed. At an earlier or later period of youth, sometimes
about the age of puberty, this moral perversion is developed.
The person becomes irrascible, passionate, vindictive, and
dangerous; often violent without provocation; sometimes
destructive of clothing or furniture ; sometimes mischievous
and cruel; at other times disposed to wander from home,
without object or plan.
In persons who have passed the age of puberty this
disease sometimes affects the sexual desires or propensities,
and is indicated by gross obscenity of language, by licen¬
tious and lascivious looks, and acts of the most disgusting
kind. This disease, if not a symptom only of other forms
of insanity, is called satyriasis in the male, and nympho¬
mania in the female. It is sometimes a symptom of some
serious organic disease of the brain.
In other cases, and these not a few, in this country, the
incontrollable impulses of the patient lead him into habits
of inordinate drinking; and persons exhibiting those con-
Mental
Diseases.
Klepto¬
mania.
Pyro¬
mania.
Satyriasis
and nym¬
phomania.
MENTAL
Mental stitutional peculiarities described, not unfrequently display
Diseases. great violence when under the influence of intoxicating
liquors—becoming furious and dangerous.
In many ot the cases of the kind of moral insanity which
are referred to, the principal, and, indeed, in some the sole
feature, is an incontrollable craving for stimulants, and the
indulgence in them to an extent ruinous to health, and
happiness, and every hope in life. It is difficult to distin¬
guish this disease from mere drunkenness ; but it is unques¬
tionable that there is a diseased condition of the nervous
system, whether constitutional or the result of habit, or
partly both, in which the individual drinks without any self-
control, in which he cannot control himself, and is therefore
a proper object for control, protection, and treatment on the
part of others.
Oinomania. I his disease has been termed dipsomania by some autho¬
rities, by others oinomama. Both names are inexact: it
being neither a thirst, as the first implies, nor a thirst for
wine exclusively, as the second signifies, but a craving for
any kind of narcotic stimulants. It is more proper to
regard it as one of the varieties of moral insanity, of which
this craving for stimulants and insatiable use of them is one
of the principal symptoms. It is perhaps in few instances
the only symptom. The disease is generally hereditary,
and it will be found that the father, mother, or some other
near progenitor, has suffered from it. It is very generally
associated with a total disregard to truth. Such persons,
particularly females, are singularly mendacious. They will
resort to every possible device to procure stimulants, to
excuse their conduct, to deceive their friends; they gene¬
rally utterly deny their habits, and display a fertility and
ingenuity in deceiving themselves and others which is truly
remarkable. This disregard of truth is very often associated
also with a great deal of self-esteem and inordinate vanity.
Such persons do not drink from the pleasures which the
social board affords, but, on the contrary, in company will
often preserve a certain amount of decorum. Neither do
they drink for the pleasure which the wane gives them, for
in the absence of their favourite beverage they will have
recourse to any substitute. They labour under an incon^
trollable craving, and drink because they cannot help it.
No considerations of self-respect, no regard to domestic ties,
to religion, to the certainty of ruin, shame, or even death,
can prevent the individual drinking until he can drink no
longer. He sees his impending ruin; deplores his fatal
impulse, his inability to control his desires; and will assert
with tears, that if hell were yawning on one side of him and
a bottle of brandy standing at the other, he coidd not resist
the impulse to drink, although the next moment he were to
be precipitated into the gulf beside him. Such persons are
now generally regarded as no longer responsible agents,—as
insane,—and requiring, therefore, to be constrained and pro¬
tected against themselves. Our asylums contain many such
cases, although some degree of uncertainty prevails regard¬
ing the length of time they may be subjected to control;
and the want of some legal enactments regarding them is
much felt and complained of.
This disease sometimes assumes an acute form ; and ori¬
ginating in some accidental cause, a constitutional change,
or debilitating attack of disease, affects a person of tempe¬
rate habits and predisposition; and in such cases is, with
proper care, generally recovered from. Sometimes it as¬
sumes a periodical form; and persons have been known,
distinguished as merchants or men of professional or literary
reputation, who have been subject for many years to perio¬
dical attacks of insane drinking. But the most hopeless
form is when the disease is chronic,—when it has been slowly
engrafted upon a constitution hereditarily predisposed to it
by systematic indulgence in intemperate habits. Several
ot our most attractive authors, men of singular and varied
genius, have gradually sunk under this disease. One of the
DISEASES. 533
most noted of recent illustrations of this state is perhaps Mental
afforded by Edgar Poe, the American poet, whose \yhole Diseases,
life evinced that he laboured under moral insanity. Poor
Charles Lamb, who played cribbage to amuse his demented
father, and periodically conveyed his weeping sister to an
asylum, was, by his own confession, for many years of his
life, while he was writing to an admiring circle of readers,’
but a melancholy wreck, passing one-half of his time in the
most wretched distress, and the other half in miserable
imbecility.
One ot the most constant and salient features of insanity Monomania
is the suspicion which forms a prominent symptom in a vast of suspi-
number of cases of all kinds. It is common both to mania cion<
and monomania. Even when the mind is carried away by
a torrent of emotion or passion this is observed very gene¬
rally as a marked trait among other symptoms. The patient
watches every movement of his friends or medical attendant;
suspects they are plotting against him ; that he is supposed
to be mad, and that some one is about to carry him off to
an asylum; or suspects his food is drugged or poisoned.
Not unfrequently one of the first indications of insanity is
the idea entertained by the patient that every one he meets
is looking specially at him ; that the clergyman preached at
him ; that there is some plot of which he is the object.
What is thus common to most varieties of insanity comes
to be the principal feature in many cases of monomania:
some suspicion regarding some person or subject occupies
the mind and fills it with apprehension, while the faculties
remain comparatively sound in reference to other subjects.
Such cases have been designated monomania of suspicion.
I his variety of monomania is not unfrequently associated
with feelings of enmity and a desire of revenge against the
perpetrator of the fancied injuries under which the patient
suffers. In some cases the vindictive feeling is overpower¬
ing, and leads the patient to some dreadful deed of ven¬
geance. These are the cases of insanity which are most
dangerous to society. It was by such a monomaniac that
the Hon. Spencer Perceval was shot in the lobby of the
House ; and from such another Mr Drummond met a similar
fate, by being mistaken for Sir Robert Peel. (See the
w orks of Georget, Esquirol, Marc ; Prichard On Insanity ;
Simpson On Homicidal Insanity, &c., &c.)
I he propensity to kill, although generally stimulated Homicidal
into exercise by the belief in some imaginary wrongs, is mania,
sometimes an abstract impulse without motive,—a morbid
craving for blood,—an irresistible impulse to destroy. This
constitutes another variety oimoral insanity, and one which
has been generally repudiated in our courts of law as a
defence for homicidal acts. That this homicidal mania is
a real disease, in which the patient is carried away by the
incontrollable impulse of a morbid propensity, is established
by a large array of cases. The most noted illustrations of
this morbid state are those horrible tragedies so frequently-
recorded in the newspapers of a father or mother delibe¬
rately destroying their own offspring. Very often this
homicidal impulse is accompanied by a strong effort to
restrain it, or to save the victim of it by some timely warning.
Such persons have begged to be restrained, to prevent them
committing murder; or have called out to their friends to
save themselves by flight, before they expended their last
effort at self-control.
Religious madness, as it was called, at one time occupied Monomania
a aige space in works on insanity. It may with greater of supersti-
piopnety be called monomania of superstition. The sub-don.
jects of it aie generally profoundly ignorant of true religion.
I icy are inspired by fanatical excitement or superstitious
mars. One regards himself as a divine personage,—as the
Saviour again incarnate,—and is prepared to be immolated
for the sins of the world. Another is inspired with the
prophetic spirit, and denounces curses upon all around as
the worst of sinners. Another is the woman described in
534
MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental
Diseases.
Demono-
mania.
the Revelations, who is to give birth to a man-child. Or, again,
we find others possessed with demons, Satan himself,
accursed of God and man : the demonomania of former ages.
Such are the most frequent forms of partial insanity,
arranged conventionally} and perhaps accuiately enough
for practical purposes. ' But there are innumerable cases
which it is impossible to reduce to any classification, where
the patient is insane in reference to one particulai fact, and
not in a faculty or train of thinking. Of such cases are
those where persons have imagined themselves cocks, grains
of wheat, pumps, pairs of shoes, a half-crown, made of glass
or of gold ; where men have believed themselves pregnant,
and women have believed themselves men ; and innumer¬
able other fancies, which might be mentioned were it not
that they are as numerous and varied as the fancies which
the human imagination can conceive.
III.—DEMENTIA
Mental
Diseases.
Dementia. Consists in impairment or obliteration of the mental facul¬
ties—in a diminished activity of the mental operation, either
general or partial. In mania and monomania there is an ex¬
cessive activity of some feelings, or emotions, or faculties,—
a disturbance of the equilibrium of the mind: in dementia
there is a mental asthenia, an impaired action, a moral
atrophy. This impaired activity may vary from the smallest
appreciable weakness to the total loss ot all indications of
thought, consciousness, or volition,—to complete fatuity.
Dementia is most frequently the sequel of other diseases.
It is the most frequent termination ot mania or monomania
when not recovered from, or may follow apoplexy or re¬
peated attacks of epilepsy; although it is not unffequently
the original and sole form of an attack of mental derange-
ment. .
In demented persons external objects are generally viewed
with little or no interest, and they appear to be imperfectly
appreciated. Hence, perhaps, the impaired power of rea¬
soning, or comparing, or perceiving the relations of things ;
hence, too, probably the loss of memory, which is a prin¬
cipal feature of dementia. The objects or events around
being observed with little or no attention, make no impres¬
sion on the mind, and are immediately forgotten. Such
persons often retain a lively recollection of the events of
their childhood, and of everything connected with their
history up to the period of their insanity, and yet are totally
forgetful of all recent events ; so much so, as very often not
to remember that they have seen their husband, w ife, or child¬
ren, although visited by them only a few moments before.
In most cases of dementia, along with this impaired
memory there is a marked incoherence. I he ideas appear
to pass through the mind as in dreams or in reverie, without
any effort to direct them in a particular channel, without
any apparent connection or sequence, such as takes place
in the active operations of a healthy mind. Very oiten
such persons repeat words or sentences without attaching
any meaning to them ; they talk as if they were thinking
aloud, or rather as if they were not thinking at all, but
merely repeating by rote a series of old forms of speech,
or words associated together by their sound rather than
their sense.
The activity of the emotions and passions is altogether
destroyed, except when, as occasionally happens, a brief
paroxysm of excitement lightens up the drear monotony of
their stupor. In general they have no desires, no aver¬
sions, no hatreds, no affections; they are docile and passive;
they have no will of their own; they spontaneously deter¬
mine no act; they passively obey the will of others ; receive
the visits of their friends without pleasure, and part from
them without regret; they are insensible to all the griefs
and pleasures which affect others; at times they laugh at
some passing thought, and at others cry, as children laugh
or cry in their sleep according as their dreams are pleasant
or painful. _ v ,
Their movements are peculiar: some will walk up and sr**-
down incessantly; others will dance forhours together, pei-
forming some monotonous movement continually repeated.
Others, again, will sit for days, weeks, months, or even yeais,
in the same corner, crouched up in the same attitude.
Some will repeat incessantly the same words or the same
phrase night and day; others will preserve a unifoi m and
unbroken silence. Some clothe themselves in a ridiculous
way, and, if permitted, will adorn their persons with a vaiiety
of absurd ornaments.
The face is generally pale; the eyes watery; the looks
wandering, or fixed on vacancy ; the countenance destitute
of expression ; the body lean and emaciated, or at other
times loaded with fat.
The functions of organic life are performed with regu¬
larity ; the sleep is commonly profound, and the appetite
voracious.
Dementia is a rare disease in young persons, unless when
complicated with epilepsy, and is most frequently either the
termination of other forms of insanity or the accompani¬
ment of advancing age. The varieties may be conveniently
referred to different stages or degrees; and in the table of
classification we have given the four degrees distinguished
by Dr Prichard ; namely, 1. That of forgetfulness, or loss of
memory; 2. That of incoherence,, or loss of the power of
reasoning; 3. Incomprehension ; and 4. Inappetence, or
total fatuity. , .
Dementia is less curable than most of the vaneties of in¬
sanity already described. Occurring in young persons,
arising from removable causes of a debilitating kind, and
occasionally when the result of mania, it may be removed
by proper treatment; but a majority of the cases ot this
kind of mental derangement are very hopeless.
The duration and termination of uncured cases of demen¬
tia are very variable. W hen it is connected with serious
diseases of the brain or of other organs, such as the^ lungs,
it may terminate fatally within a short period, but if not so
complicated, the patients may prolong their existence to
nearly the average term of human life.
General Paralysis of the Insane.—The insane are General
more liable than others probably to paralytic attacks ; but Para y818,
the disease called general paralysis is one of a special char¬
acter, and may be viewed either as a variety of insanity
complicated with a peculiar affection of the motor powers,
or as this affection of the motor powers complicated with
insanity. The disease was first described by Esquirol and
other French alienistes, but is now generally known, at
least in all large asylums, in this country.
The characters of the mental disease which accompanies
this affection are generally so peculiar and distinctive as to
have acquired for it the name of Mania paralytica. I he
individual imagines that he is possessed of great wealth, an
he is full of projects involving the expenditure of enormous
sums of money; he believes that he is possessed also ot
titles and dignities of the most exalted kind; and, in short,
all his delusions are of the most extravagant character
(delire ambitieux). Conjoined with this theie is genera y
a remarkably facile disposition, so that the patient is easi y
coaxed and managed. The mental disease is not a ways o
this description; occasionally, but rarely, it piesents ie
features of melancholia or monomania, and generally after
a few months, when the violence of the first attack has
subsided, it passes into dementia, which gradually increase
and deepens until the fatal termination. . i n 0
The peculiar general paralysis sometimes precedes tne
development of mental changes, but more frequently coin¬
cides with them, or is gradually developed after a maniacal
attack. The first symptom is commonly a difficulty m arti¬
culating distinctly when speaking. I he speech is 1C
Mental
Diseases.
or mumbling, like that of a person intoxicated. Next, al¬
though sometimes first, the powers of locomotion become
— v — impaired, and the person walks unsteadily, balancing him¬
self with difficulty, like a drunk man. This loss of power,
or rather of control over the muscular movements, gradually
and slowly increases until the patient is unable to walk
without assistance, cannot speak at all, and can scarcely
swallow even liquids.
Patients labouring under this disease are generally sub¬
ject to attacks of stupor or insensibility, with convulsions
somewhat resembling epilepsy. Such attacks in some are
h equent and severe, and in others are seldom or very slight.
1 he disease is regarded as incurable, and death generally
takes place within one or two years. The fatal termination
sometimes occurs during one of those epileptiform attacks
to which the patients are subject; more frequently it is due
to the development of other diseases, such as consumption
01 diairhoea, or to the gradual exhaustion which accompanies
the progress of the affection, accelerated not unfrequently
by the formation of bed sores.
Epilepsy. Epilepsy with Insanity.—Epilepsy, or the falling sick¬
ness, has been known from the earliest ages, and from the
tenible character of the symptoms, it was ascribed by the
ancients to demoniacal possession or to the anger of the
gods. When it attacks young persons and continues to
afreet them, it appears to arrest the development of the
brain, and to produce a permanent imbecility. Persons of
matin er years who are subject to frequent epileptic fits have
a tendency gradually to become affected by some variety
of insanity. Sometimes it assumes the form of mania,
maniacal attacks supervening upon the occurrence of the
epileptic fits. 1 hese maniacal attacks are of short duration
generally passing off in a day or two, but are very frequently
chaiacterized by extreme violence. Indeed, maniacal epi¬
leptics are the most dangerous of all insane persons; their
fury is blind and impulsive, and no control or fear daunts
them.
Epileptics are also subject to various forms of monomania,
and not unffequently suffer from hallucinations of the senses.
. The most frequent effect, however, of continued epilepsy
is the gradual impairment of the memory, of the sensibility,
and intelligence, until the subjects of it fall into a complete
state of dementia. 1
I he tendency to dementia appears to bear a direct rela-
tmn to the frequency and persistence of the epileptic fits.
Epilepsy with insanity is generally regarded as incurable,
and the principal object in the treatment of the patients is to
guard them against the dangers incident to the fits ;—to pre-
vent diem falling upon sharp corners, or into the fire; or dying
of suffocation by turning over on their face upon the pillow
during a fit; and to secure them and others from injury
dining the delirium or violence of the accompanying mental
derangement. In the intervals between their paroxysms
many of them are active and industrious, and make them¬
selves useiul and agreeable; and it seems well ascertained
that by judicious management, good diet, suitable occupa¬
tion, and freedom from all causes of excitement or irritation
the frequency and violence of their attacks may be very
much diminished. ^
MENTAL DISEASES.
535
Pathology. The morbid appearances found in the bodies of those who
have died insane are not such as to afford a satisfactory ex¬
planation of the symptoms of the disease. Changes indica¬
tive of a slow inflammatory action in the membranes of the
brain are more or less frequent. Effusion of fluid beneath
the membranes and into the ventricles or cavities of the
brain is also a very frequent occurrence. These appear¬
ances are, however, very varied in their frequency and
extent, and are sometimes found in the brains of persons
who have not been insane. It is therefore inferred that
they are the accidental concomitants of other morbid
changes not yet recognised. Our ignorance of the minute Mental
anatomy of the healthy structure of the brain, and of those Diseases.
changes in its condition which accompany the exercise of
its functions, make it probable that we are yet unable to
appieciate by our means of observation those morbid
changes which are the cause of mental disease. Some
- authorities have contended that insanity is a disease of the
blood, and that the absence of pathological appearances in
the brain and the analogy between insanity and the effects
of alcohol and other poisons which act upon the brain through
me blood, afford strong presumptive evidence in support of
us hypothesis. Others, again, have maintained that in those
cases where no morbid changes have been found in the
main, the mental disease has been symptomatic of some
other bodily affection, such as disease of the liver, bowels
or uterus. Lastly, in general paralysis of the insane the
morbid changes generally found are more constant, such as
thickening and opacity of the membranes of the brain, and
effusion of serous fluid; and along with these, softenin<>- of
the gray matter of the brain, and enlargement of the nucle¬
ated cells which enter into its composition. In not a few
instances the white matter of the brain is increased in firm¬
ness and density. The large quantity of serous fluid found
in the cavity of the cranium in many cases must be accom¬
panied by a corresponding diminution of the size of the
brain; and it appears also to be determined that the brain
undergoes an increase in weight and in its specific gravity
during the progress of the disease. 3
riie piedisposition to insanity, it is well known, is eno-en- Causes,
t ered by marriages between blood relations. The children 1. Predis-
o cousins-german are, according to common observation, posing,
lequently of imbecile mind, idiots, or predisposed to in-Hereditary
sanity; and when intermarriages are confined within a predis-
limited channel during successive generations, they lead to Position.
t le production of a greatly deteriorated, scrofulous, imbecile,
and insane family.
Besides marriages between blood relations, there are
other causes affecting the parents which appear to have an
influence in engendering a predisposition to insanity in the
ottspring. Of this kind are strong mental emotions, hys-
teria insanity, over-exertion of the mental faculties, and
bad health on the part of the mother, and, perhaps, more
n equently than any other cause, excess in the use of wine
or other stimulants. Guislain states that he has known
a whole generation of lunatics born of a mother who was
habitually intoxicated for a series of years, although neither
s le, her husband, nor any of their families, were predisposed
to insanity. He has also known epileptic children born of
drunken parents, neither of w’hom were epileptic or pre¬
disposed to disease of the brain.
It is believed that the children of parents advanced in
life are more liable to insanity than others; and that any
causes which may produce nervous debility on the part of
one or both parents tends to produce imbecility or a pre¬
disposition to insanity in the offspring. 1
It may be observed that among the children of parents
predisposed to insanity there are remarkable peculiarities •
one perhaps is an idiot or imbecile, another is a great
libertine or drunkard; one may be distinguished by genius
of a particular sort while another is extremely reserved
and secluded in his habits; one is a poet, and another a
religious enthusiast; in fine, there are peculiarites and ec
centricities which distinguish one or more members of the
ami y m which hereditary predisposition to insanity exists
The hereditary predisposition is frequently developed
familyP ind’fa^heTa SUCCessive ^nfliers of the same
amily, and father and son, or mother and daughter will
become insane at the same period of life. ’
of^rln!^ alS° 'S generally’to the same form
grandson bernm CCeSslv.e 2jenerations, — father, son, and
g andson become maniacal or epileptic,—mother and
536
MENTAL DISEASES.
Mental
Diseases.
Age.
Sex.
Tempera¬
ment.
Previous
attacks.
Education
daughter have puerperal maniaa parent and a whole
family of brothers and sisters die of delirium tremens; and
of all facts of this kind, nothing is more remarkable or more
constant (according to M. Falret) than the constancy with
which the suicidal impulse is transmitted from parent to
child. A grandfather, a father, and son, have been known
to destroy themselves at the same ages and in the same
manner.
In consequence of the dislike which exists among most
families to admit that there is any insanity or scrofula in
their blood, it is extremely difficult to arrive at correct
conclusions as to the frequency of hereditary predisposition
to this disease in those affected by it; and accordingly we
find the hereditary tendency variously estimated by differ¬
ent writers: by Parchappe, e.y., it is estimated at 15, by
Guislain at 25, by Webster at 33, by Thurnam at 34, by
Esquirol at 45, by .lessen at 65, and by Holst at 69 per cent.
Lastly, M. Baillarger and Dr Browne deduce from their
observations that the predisposition is more frequently trans¬
mitted through the maternal than through the paternal side
of the family.
The predisposition to insanity appears to increase gra¬
dually with advancing age, being in infancy and childhood
very small, and in extreme old age, if we include senile de¬
mentia, very great. From an extended series of statistical
records, it appears that insanity is most frequent between
the ages of thirty and forty. Next in frequency is the
decennial period between twenty and thirty; and then
comes the period between forty and fifty. These results
do not, of course, give the number of insane of each age
relative to the entire number of the population alive at that
age, but only the absolute numbers affected at each de¬
cennial period. Making allowance for the successively
decreasing number of persons alive at each successive
period of life, it may be stated that, with the exception of
the first period named, insanity, including dementia and
fatuity, becomes more and more frequent with advancing age.
Neither sex appears, on an extended view, to be more
predisposed to insanity than the other. In some countries
and in some districts the frequency of insanity in one sex
is much greater than in the other; thus, in France the
proportion of insane females to insane males is as 14 to 11,
and in Paris as 3 to 2; on the other hand, in Great Britain
and Ireland, and in Norway and America, the relation
is reversed, the insane males being in the former as 13 to
12, in Norway as 6 to 5, and, taking the states of New
York and Connecticut alone, as 2 to 1. These remarkable
differences probably depend upon accidental circumstances,
such as the greater frequency and poignancy of the exciting
causes affecting the opposite sexes in these countries, than
upon any greater predisposition to the disease in one sex
as compared with another; for in collating the available
statistics of all civilized countries, Esquirol arrived at the
conclusion that the insane males were to the insane females
in the ratio of thirty-seven to thirty-eight,—a very incon¬
siderable difference taking into account the difference in the
actual numbers of each sex in the population.
The influence of temperament appears rather to deter¬
mine the form of insanity than to predispose to the
disease in one temperament more than another. Persons
of a melancholic temperament are more predisposed to
melancholia than to other forms of insanity ; the lymphatic
temperament predisposes to dementia; and the sanguine
temperament to acute mania, with great violence and ex¬
citement where the temperament is specially pronounced.
No cause predisposes more certainly to insanity than
previous attacks of the disease, however occasioned. Ex¬
posure to the same influences which developed it before
will almost certainly lead to its recurrence. The frequency of
relapses, as shown by the statistics of asylums, is very great.
Defective education, over-stimulation of the intellect at
an early age, the early indulgence in strong passions and Mental
sensual propensities, the neglect of the cultivation of the Diseases.^
will, of habits of self-control and self-denial, particularly
in mental constitutions naturally ill-balanced, conduce in
the greatest degree to the development of a predisposition
to mental disease.
The exciting causes may be either moral or physical, 2. Exciting
the former being those which affect the mind directly; the causes,
latter such as affect the body first, and through it the mind.
It is believed that the moral causes are more frequent and
efficient in the production of insanity than the physical.
Of this it is believed the greater frequency of mental dis¬
eases among highly civilized communities than among
barbarous or semi-barbarous nations, affords a strong proof.
In uncivilized countries the habits are uniform,—there is
the same invariable routine in the domestic history, in the
manners, customs, and social institutions. In highly civi-^
lized states, on the other hand, where every department of
life is full of competition, strife, and activity, the anxieties
of living are innumerable; and there is a constant change
of customs, of the position in life of individuals,—some rise
to fortune, while others suddenly sink to ruin. The poli¬
tical and religious controversies which agitate the com¬
munity ; the arduous pursuits upon which numbers enter,
stimulated by avarice or ambition ; the race alter fame; the
jealousies and rivalries of parties; the intrigues of private
file ; domestic griefs and anxieties, caused by jealousy, mis¬
fortunes, and poverty ;—are a few of the causes which may
serve to account for the extreme prevalence of insanity in
the European and North American states. In the tents
of the Arabs, the huts of the Indians, and among the
savages of Africa and the islands of the Pacific, insanity is
said to be unknown. In Nubia and Abyssinia travellers
failed to trace it. The insane in the asylums of Cairo and
Constantinople are an insignificant portion of the popula¬
tion. In China we are assured it is very rare. I he fol¬
lowing table, constructed from various sources, shows its
frequency in some of the more highly civilized states com¬
pared to the population :—
1 in each
In Italy    4879
... Rhenish Provinces    1000
... France   1000
...Westphalia  84®
... Belgium  84®
... United States  
... England    ^78
... Denmark   ®49
... Scotland   879
... Norway  8-9
... Iceland   8D
It is difficult to account for the great frequency of in¬
sanity in the countries last mentioned, unless it be due to
the scanty nature of the population, their miserable means
of subsistence, and the greater frequency of intermarriages.
Pine! estimates the frequency of moral causes, compared Moral
with physical, in the production of insanity, as 464 to 219. causes.
The most frequent of all the moral causes are domestic
griefs, anxieties, and reverses in fortune. Next in fte-
quency are violent emotions and passions, disappointments
in love, grief for the loss of relatives, and wounded ambi¬
tion or pride. . ,
It is inferred from statistical tables, that married peisons,
are less liable to insanity than unmarried.
Religion was at one time supposed to be a frequent
cause ; and it might be inferred that a subject calculated to
inspire, on the one hand, vivid emotions of happiness, or
gloomy forebodings, terror, and despair on the other, would
be likely to exercise an important influence on persons pre¬
disposed to mental disease, when their minds were ab¬
sorbed with such feelings. Nevertheless, as a cause it is by
no means frequent. Many of the cases ascribed to it are
MENTAL
Mental due rather to ignorance and superstition ; while most of the
Diseases, cases of religious despondency are due to other causes very
' often affecting the bodily health.
Physical ^ ^ai ^le most; common in this country of the causes
causes. a physical kind is intemperance. Next in frequency is
general derangement of the health, particularly of such a
kind as exercises a debilitating effect on the body and
nervous system. The critical period in females, parturi¬
tion, and uterine irregularities; blows on the head and
diseases of the brain, epilepsy and advanced age, fever, in¬
testinal worms, the suppression of an accustomed discharge
or eruption, the metastasis of rheumatism or gout, and
various vicious indulgences, are, nearly in the order enu¬
merated, among the most frequent of the other physical
causes to which insanity has been ascribed.
Treatment. The medical treatment of the insane has undergone a
great revolution during the present century. At one time
large and repeated bleeding was much lauded in the treat¬
ment of mania. It is now almost entirely abandoned, and re¬
garded as dangerous to life, or tending at best to convert
the case into one of dementia. The general use of blisters
and issues, of purgatives and emetics, and of specifics, once
in high favour, has now also given place to the use of
milder remedies and more rational- principles of treatment.
It would be out of place to enter into details in this article
as to matters purely medical; but it may be stated in
general terms that the warm bath, and especially prolonged
warm baths with cold applied to the head, have'been found
of great advantage in allaying the excitement of mania;
that the judicious use of opium in certain cases, for pro¬
curing sleep, has also been esteemed as a valuable remedy ;
and that the restoration of the general health by the use of
appropriate means, and the removal of local diseases, when
they exist, by treating them on the general principles of me¬
dical science, constitute nearly all the canons of medical
treatment now recognised in regard to mental diseases. It is
not now imagined that any particular medicine exerts a
specific effect in the cure of insanity ; and beyond the judi¬
cious and skilful treatment of the patient with a view to the
cure of local bodily disease, and the restoration of the whole
system to the standard of robust health, the great and im¬
portant part of the management of the insane consists in
what has been called the moral treatment.
Moral The great principle upon which the moral treatment of
treat- mental diseases is founded is the distraction of the mind
“ent. from morbid trains of thought or feeling, and its occupation
in new and healthy channels. In carrying out this principle,
the first and most important object is to remove the patient
from the scene of his first attack, and from the presence of
his friends. The objects which surround him suggest and
preserve in activity the subjects of his excitement or delu¬
sion ; the presence of friends exerts the same deleterious
influence, and as they are commonly with the insane the
special objects of dislike and suspicion, their presence irri¬
tates and aggravates the disease ; while they commonly add
to the injury they are thus unconsciously inflicting, the evil
of deepening and strengthening all the morbid fancies of
the sufferer by vain efforts to reason him into a belief of
their absurdity. “ Dr Willis,” says Esquirol, “ who ac¬
quired so great a celebrity by having assisted towards the
happy termination of the first attack of madness experi¬
enced by George III., unfurnished the king’s apartments,
dismissed his courtiers and domestics, and had him attended
by strange servants.”
The complete manner in which this change of scene and
associations is effected by removal to an asylum, is one of
the principal causes which renders early removal to such an
establishment an efficient curative agent.
The patient requires to be surrounded by experienced
attendants, allowed the greatest liberty, and treated with the
VOL. XIV.
DISEASES. 537
utmost amount of kindness compatible with his own safety. Mental
All restraint should be avoided; the free use of his limbs, IMsease8-
and abundant exercise in the open air, tend to carry off the
superfluous energy and excitement of his malady.
A variety of means may be had recourse to, suited to
the peculiarities of each case, for carrying out the first
principle of treatment,—the healthy occupation of the mind.
Of these, useful and rational occupation, particularly in the
open air, holds the first rank. Walking, gardening, open-
air games, travelling, angling, and other such like amuse¬
ments, according to the rank, or taste, or disposition of the
patient, are next to be preferred. In many cases music
exercises a soothing and salutary influence. In others,
drawing, and in-door games of all kinds, combined and
varied w ith reading, sewing, knitting, embroidery, and other
occupations suited to the peculiarities of the individual.
In a large proportion of cases the regulated observance of
religious exercises, and attendance upon divine service, con¬
tributes to the healthy moral influence of other agents.
In fine, everything which can employ and interest a healthy
mind, and which is apart in its character or by association
from the morbid thoughts of the patient, ought to be brought
into exercise for his recovery. These various agents, how¬
ever, must be judiciously adapted to each case, and must
be systematized and directed with prudence and skill, and
a constant attention to the great object of establishing a
healthy current of thought and feeling through the channel
of regulated habits, occupation, and amusement.
I hese appliances for the treatment of mental diseases
are best carried out in a well-managed asylum, where
every thing is organized with a view to their development,
and directed and superintended by a skilful and experienced
physician. The treatment of the insane in private dwell¬
ings, even where the most lavish expenditure of money can
be commanded, cannot in general secure the same advan¬
tages. The patients are exposed to the unkindness or
neglect of mercenary and eye-serving attendants, who soon
weary of duties which are both trying and onerous if not
under the constant supervision of a controlling and direct¬
ing power.
The arrangements and management of some of our best
regulated asylums give at one view the best idea of the
proper treatment of the various forms of insanity. These
institutions, compared with those of former years, stand out
in bold relief as monuments of the progress of the age ; and
to those w hose ideas of insanity are associated w ith ferocity,
danger, and all that is loathsome, they must appear to be
among the wonders of modern times; so much has been
effected in them by well-directed discipline and enlightened
philanthropy in ameliorating the condition of the insane.
Such a house subserves a variety of ends: it is a place
for the isolation and safety of the dangerous; it is a retreat
and home for the hopeless and incurable; it is a great hy¬
gienic hospital for the restoration of the insane to physical
and mental health; a house for moral and physical educa¬
tion ; it is also a school for elementary, artistic, scientific,
literary, and religious education ; and an industrial estab¬
lishment where the busy crafts of artizans and gardeners,
and all the homely occupations which can employ the hands
and heads of men and women, are called into systematic
and daily activity.
The best institutions of this kind are erected on carefully
selected sites commanding a wide prospect of cheerful and
varied scenery. I hey are placed in sheltered positions,
with a southern aspect, and are inclosed within an ample
space of garden and farm. The beneficial influence of
cheerful and picturesque scenery upon the minds of the
insane is unquestionable; and the occupations afforded by a
farm, by flower-gardens, pleasure-grounds, and conserva¬
tories, are of the very highest curative effect.
I he buildings are constructed with taste and with a
3 Y
MENTAL I
strict attention to the means of ventilation and comfort.
Everything is avoided which can give the idea of a prison
or of confinement; while the arrangements are such, at the
same time, as to afford security to the inmates. 1 he gal¬
leries are cheerful, spacious, and well lighted; and all the
rooms and airing-grounds command an agieeable prospect.
Workshops are provided for the industrious, and in these
the carpenters, tailors, shoemakeis, and othei tradesmen,
pursue with happiness their several occupations. The fe¬
males are encouraged in habits of industry, and sew, knit,
and embroider in their workrooms, or assist in the culinary
department or the more laborious duties of the washing-
house and laundry. The rooms and workshops are neatly
furnished, and the walls are hung with drawings or paint¬
ings. Flowers and singing birds everywhere cheer the eye
and the ear. Books, and periodicals, and newspapers, are
liberally supplied, and perused-with avidity. Each day is
commenced with careful ablutions, followed by morning
prayers. To a comfortable breakfast succeed the vaiious
occupations of the day, when each one follows out the
occupation prescribed for him, assisted and encouraged by
the kind acts of his attendant, and stimulated to exertion
by some trifling reward. Dinner is served with all the
comfort and regularity of a private meal; and work is again
resumed. At an early hour tea is followed by amusement
of some kind; in the Summer time by cricket, bowls,
quoits, or some other open-air game ; in the long evenings
by a reading party, a lecture, a concert, or dance, some
dramatic representation, or some in-door games suited to
the taste and capacity of those engaged. Some are encour¬
aged to prosecute a systematic course of reading or the
study of some science, while others are induced to under¬
take some literary labours. All are as far as possible
made to feel themselves happy and contented in the prose¬
cution of some purpose, which carries their mind away from
the subject of their disease, and which is adapted to their
capacities, their natural tastes, or the peculiar phase of then-
malady.
This institution is, or should be, regulated and directed,
throughout all the details of its management and daily
routine, by a physician of the highest natural and profes¬
sional ability. The qualifications for such an office are
indeed of the rarest kind; but they are at the same time
indispensable. He must unite the natural endowments of
benevolence and firmness. He must be good and humane,
and at the same time just and inflexible; courageous and
calm, tempering firmness with serenity, and kindness with
decision and impartiality. He must be possessed of a sound
practical knowledge of human nature in all its phases, and
that innate power or tact which enables one to govern others
with ease, to" acquire their confidence and esteem, and at
the same time to command their ready obedience and re¬
spect. He must be acquainted with the usages of society
among all ranks and among all the varieties of human cha¬
racter. He must be versed in polite literature, and must
have a taste for the lighter accomplishments of civilized
society, so as to be able to direct and give an impulse to
the amenities of asylum life. He must have a general
knowledge of business, of house architecture and engineer-
ing, of farming and gardening, botany and natural history,
and of the various trades and manufactures, so as to qualify
him for the superintendence of a large institution where
operations in all these departments require to be directed
and encouraged. Combined with these general qualifica¬
tions, he must be skilled in his own profession in all its de¬
partments, so as to give the advantage of enlightened pro¬
fessional skill to the medical treatment of his patients.
■ Under the advantages of such an institution as we have
described, and under the care of a physician with such qua¬
lifications as those enumerated, it cannot be doubted that
an asylum affords the best prospect of recovery in curable
) I S E A S E S.
insanity, and the best means of affording happiness and Mental
prolonged life in the incurable forms of this malady. That Diseases,
many of the best asylums of this and other countries pos-
sess all these means and appliances, and are conducted with
consummate skill and benevolence, is not now a matter of
doubt, but one of grateful reflection to every philanthropic
mind.
It is a question of great interest, but of no little difficulty, increase of
at the present moment, to determine whether insanity is on insanity,
the increase in this and other civilized states. The statis¬
tics of insanity, the gradual increase in the number of public
and private asylums, and the rapidity with which they are
filled as soon as erected, all seem to indicate a great increase
in the numbers affected with mental disease. On the other
hand, it is certain that statistical inquiries have in successive
periods been conducted w;ith much greater minuteness;
that cases are now sent to asylums which formerly were
allowed to go at large or were treated at home; that as
the advantages of early seclusion in an asylum are becoming
more widely known, and the prejudices against those insti¬
tutions are dying out, friends more readily resort to them
for the care or cure of their relatives, even under the slighter
forms of insanity; and lastly, the legal enactments for the
provision of pauper lunatics have gradually become more
stringent, and few cases- of kliocy, or epilepsy, or mono¬
mania, are now permitted to wander at large. These causes
have given an apparent increase to the number of those
returned as insane ; and it is impossible at present to deter¬
mine whether there is actually any absolute increase in the
ratio of the insane to the sane portion of the population.
In England and Ireland no one can be sent to an asylum Laws re-
without an order from a relative, and the certificates of twogarding
medical men who have separately examined, the patient, insane,
and who are required to state the grounds upon which they
formed their opinion in their certificate. In the case of
paupers the order of a justice of the peace is required. In
Scotland the sheriff of the county grants a warrant for the
removal of a patient to an asylum upon an application or
petition from a relative or guardian, accompanied by the
certificate of one or two medical men. If these rules are
not attended to, the person sending and the person receiving
a patient into an asylum are liable in heavy penalties.
The restriction of" one’s liberty by his being placed in an
asylum is a means of cure or safety, and does not in itself
deprive the individual of his legal rights. He can only be
deprived of these by a regular form of inquiry, whereby he
is declared insane by a commission, or by the verdict of a
jury.
The existence of insanity does not in itself disqualify for
legal acts, or exonerate from responsibility for acts of vio¬
lence or murder. Wills have been held to be good although
executed by persons who were confessedly insane; but it
was considered that their insanity, or the delusions under
which they laboured, were not of such a kind as to interfere
with their judgment in the disposition of their affairs. In
the same manner persons have been held responsible for
criminal acts about whose insanity there was no doubt, but
it was deemed not to be of such a nature as to prevent
them knowing right from wrong in the act which they com¬
mitted. These subjects involve intricate and difficult
medico-legal questions, and can only be briefly indicate
here.
IY.—IDIOCY,
Or Idiotism, is a natural or congenital weakness of the mental Idiocy,
powers, and varies in degree from slight impairment or im¬
becility, by gradual and insensible shades, down to absolute
idiocy, or total absence of intelligence.
Idiocy depends upon some congenital disease of tne
brain, or the want of the due development of that organ
MENTAL
Mental In the former case the head is often large and misshapen,
Diseases, and in the latter it is generally small, and also irregular in
shape. The form of the head; the low, retreating, and con¬
tracted forehead ; the flattening of the occipital region and
the expression of the thick-lipped face; the figure, which
is generally small and deformed;—are all familiar, and are
strongly indicative of the mental condition.
Idiocy exists to a very great extent in certain districts
where goitre or bronchocele (an enlargement of a structure
in the neck) is found to prevail. These districts are mostly
the valleys at the foot of lofty mountains, where the air is
stagnant and humid. This disease is called cretinism. It
prevails to an enormous extent in some portions of Swit¬
zerland, Sardinia, and Austria. In the Canton du Valais 1 in
every 25 inhabitants is a cretin, in the Canton de Vaud 1
in every 27, and in the Canton d’Uri 1 in every 83 ; in
Judenburg in Austria there is 1 to every 53 of the popu¬
lation, and in Bruck 1 in every 74. In Upper Austria,
along the banks of the Danube, whole families consist of
cretins ; and in some villages of from 4000 to 5000 inhabi¬
tants not one was found capable of bearing arms. In many
other mountainous districts in Europe and other parts of
the globe this endemic disease is found to exist.
The subjects of this affection exhibit idiocy in its most
absolute and loathsome form. They are diminutive crea¬
tures with large bellies and misshapen limbs, heads of un¬
usual form or size, blear and sunken eyes, flat noses, and
large lips, the tongue protruding, the mouth open, and the
saliva running from it. The skin is loose and yellow. The
poor victims of this disease can neither see, hear, nor speak ;
they can scarcely creep from place to place, and are lost to
all sense or intelligence beyond the bare instincts of animal
life. This description refers to the worst class of cases.
Many of them display a certain degree of intelligence ; but
although treated with extreme kindness, they are obstinate,
mutinous, and incapable of gratitude. They seldom live
beyond thirty years of age.
The causes of this disease have been sought for in the
water which is drunk by the inhabitants of the affected dis¬
tricts, in the confined and humid atmosphere which they
breathe, and in their filthy and crowded houses, their inter¬
marriages, and their intemperate and lazy habits.
By Dr Guggenbiihl and some other authorities this con¬
dition is considered to result from a disease analogous to
rickets, and affecting also the cerebro-spinal system, and
that by appropriate treatment adopted at an early age it
may be cured. His treatment, combined with a gymnastic
and educational training, has been successfully pursued for
some years in his establishment at Interlachen.
We have already briefly alluded to the various institutions
in this and other countries which have been recently organ¬
ized foi the care and improvement of idiots. It remains yet
to be seen how far the mental faculties and moral emotions
of this class of unfortunates can be developed and elevated by
proper training and treatment; but the success which has
already attended the philanthropic labours of those who
DISEASES.
have entered upon this path of benevolence is of the most
gratifying and encouraging description.
I he following is a condensed bibliography of the more
important works on insanity, idiocy, and asylums :—
Celsus, lib. iii., c. 18 ; Aretaeus, Cur. Chron., lib. i., c. 5; Paulas
AEgiuetus, lib. iii., c. 14. ; T. Bright, A Treatise of Melancholic,
lo86; A. Laurentius, Discours des Mai. Melancholiques, 1597 ; Bur-
ton, The' Anatomy of Melancholy, 1624; Harvey, Morhus Anylicus,
&c., 1666 ; Battie, Treatise on Madness, 1757 ; Monro, Remarks on
Madness, 1757 ; Tony, De Melancholia, 1765; Perfect, Methods of
Cure in Insanity, 1778 ; Andry, Recherches sur la Melancholic, 1786 ;
^ mold, On Insanity, 1782 ; Crichton, Inquiry into the Nature and
Oriyin of Mental Derangement, 1798 ; Haslam, On Insanity, 1798 •
Ilaslam, On Madness, 1809 ; Haslam, Illustrations of Madness, 1810 *
Haslam, Considerations on the Moral Management of Insane Persons,
1817; Pinel, Traite sur VAlienation Mentale, 1801; Translation of
do. by D. Davis, 1806 ; Hotfbauer, Untersuchungen iiber die Krank-
heiten der Seele, &e., 1803; Cox, Practical Observations on Insanity,
1804 ; Esquirol, Des Passions considered comme Causes, A'c., de
l Alienation^ Mentale, 1805 ; Crowther, Practical Remarks on In¬
sanity, 1807 ; Chiaruggi, Della Pazziain Genere edin Especie, 1808 •
Hallaran s Inquiry, &c., 1810 ; Tuke, Description of the Retreat, near
York, 1813; Hill, On the Prevention and Cure of Insanity, 1814 ;
Fodere, Du Delire, 1814; Heinroth, Storungen des Seelenbebens, 1818 ;
Spurzheim, Observations on Insanity, 1818; Georget, De la Folic,
1820 , Larrow s Inquiry, 1820 ; Barrow, Commentaries on Insanity,
1828; Falret, De VHypochondrie, &c., 1822 ; Prichard, On Nervous
Diseases, 1822; Prichard, On Insanity, 1835; Willis, On Mental
Derangement, 1823; Bayle, Traite des Maladies du Cerveau, 1826-
Calmeil, De la Parahjsie chez les AliSnes, 1826 ; Guislain, Traite sur
l Alien. Mentale, 1826 ; Guislain, Traite sur les Phrenopathies, 1835 ;
Do., 1852; Charlesworth, On the Treatment of the Insane, 1828 ; Hal-
liday, General Vieiv, &c., of Lunatics and Asylums, 1828 ; Freidreich
Path, and Therap. der Phsychischen Krankheiten, 1830 ; Conolly, In¬
dications of Insanity, 1830 ; Conolly, Construction and Government
of Asylums, 1847 ; Conolly, Treatment of Insanity, 1856; Combe,
On Mental Derangement, 1831 ; Seymour, On the Medical Treatment
of Insanity, 1832 ; Uwins, Treatise on Disorders of the Drain, &c.,
1833; Schlegel, Das Heimweh und der Selbstmord, 1835 ; Browne*
Asylums as they were, are, and ought to be, 1837 ; Esquirol, Des Ma'-
ladies Mentales, 1838 ; Ellis, On the Nature, Ac., of Insanity, 1838 ;
Mayo, Elements of the Pathology of the Human Mind, 1838 ; Hill*
Total Abolition of Restraint, &c., 1839 ; Millingen, Aphorisms on the
Treatment of the Insane, &c., 1840; Winslow, The Anatomy of Sui¬
cide, 1840; Leuret, Traitement Moral de la Folic, 1840 ; Voisin, De
Vldiotce chez les Enfans, 1843 ; Twining, Account of Cretinism, &c.,
1843 ; Pinel, Traite de Pathologic Cerebrale, 1844; Wigan, Duality
of the Mind, 1844 ; Thurnam, Statistics of Insanity, 1845; Turck
De la Nature et du Trait, de la Folie, 1845 ; Moreau, Du Hachisch
et de VAlienation Mentale, 1845; Boismont, Du Dttirc Aigu, 1845;
Boismont, De VEmploi des Bains Prolonges, 1848; Boismont, Des
Hallucinations, 1852 ; Boismont, Du Suicide, 1856; Sequin, Traite-
ment Moral, Ac., dcs Idiots, 1846 ; Rodrigues, De la Paralysis Gene-
rale, 1847 ; Morison, .Lectures on Insanity, 1848; Coldstream, The
Abendberg, 1848 ; H. Monro, On Insanity, 1851 ; Williams, On In¬
sanity, 1852; Morel, Trait!*, des Maladies Mentales, 1852; Holland,
Chapters on Mental Physiology, 1852 ; Gumming, Notes on Asylums
in Germany, 1852 ; Parchappe, Construction des Asiles d'AHenes,
1852; J. Falret, Recherches sur la Folie Paralytique,\'ib2, J. Falret,*
Leqons Cliniques de Medicine Mentale, 1854 ; Wharton, On Mental
Unsoundness, 1855 ; Blackie, On Cretinism, 1855 ; Report on In¬
sanity and Idiocy in Massachusetts, 1855 ; Noble, Psychological Me¬
dicine, 1856 ; Ideler, Lehrbuch der Gerichtlichen Psychologic 1857 •
Bertrand, Traite du Suicide 1857 ; Morel, Trait! des D'eqeneres-
censes, 1857. ^
539
Mental
Diseases
540 M E R
Mentschi- MENTSCHIKOFF, or Menzikoff, Alexander, an
eminent Russian general and statesman, was the son ot a
II peasant, and was born near Moscow in 16<4. While ply-
MeppeL h.g trade ag a pastry-cook’s boy in the streets of the
capital, he attracted the notice of Lefort, the favourite of
Peter the Great. Having become the servant of that noble¬
man, he showed so much talent that his master raised him
from the office of a menial, and instructed him in the
affairs of war and government. On the death of Lefort
in 1699 Mentschikoff succeeded to his place in the favour
of the czar. Nor was he an unworthy successor. He
distinguished himself at the siege of Schlusselburg in
1702; and in 1704, so notable had been his services that
he was appointed governor of Ingria, and was honoured
with the rank of a prince and with the title of major-general.
In the war against Charles XII. of Sweden Mentschikoff
bore an important part. In 1706 he routed the Swedes
in a pitched battle; in 1709 he led on the left wing at
Pultowa, and in the flight that followed that decisive vic¬
tory he compelled Lewenhaupt, the Swedish general, to
capitulate. Hitherto his style of living had been simple
and unostentatious. But no sooner had Peter the Great
in 1711 set out on his expedition against the Turks, and
left him in charge of the government at St Petersburg,
than he erected a palace, increased the number of his ser¬
vants, and began to give the most sumptuous banquets.
At the same time, his riches swelled to such a suspicious
extent, that on the czar’s return he would have been pun¬
ished for embezzlement of the public money had not his
former distinguished services palliated the offence. Re¬
stored to favour, Mentschikoff was appointed commander
of the army in the Ukraine in 1719, and ambassador to
Poland in i722. About this time he was anxiously look¬
ing for the death of the czar, and was employing all his
penetration to discover the likely successor to the crown.
On attaining the object of his scrutiny he timed his con¬
duct so ably, that on the death of Peter in 1725 he was
raised to the summit of power under Catherine I. Two
years afterwards that princess died, charging her heir, Peter
II., to espouse the daughter of Mentschikoff. But the
eagerness of the ambitious father to bring about the
espousals disgusted the young prince ; the suggestions of
the Dolgoroukis, the royal favourites, intensified that dis¬
gust ; and in a few days Mentschikoff was sentenced to be
banished to one of his own estates. Obeying the sentence
with a defiant haughtiness, he left the city sitting in his
handsome chariot, wearing all his badges, and attended by
troops of servants. Before he had proceeded far, however,
he was overtaken by the emissaries of the czar, stripped
of all his pomp and magnificence, clothed in the garb of a
peasant, and conducted in a covered waggon, along with his
family, into Siberia. His wife had died by the way ; his
eldest daughter fell a prey to the small-pox soon afterwards ;
but Mentschikoff himself, while shivering in a rude hut,
and digging an inhospitable soil for bread, maintained his
spirit unbroken. He began to seek the consolations of re-
ligion, and died of apoplexy on the 2d November 1729
while engaged in erecting a wooden chapel. Fie was the
first count and the first prince created by a Russian sove¬
reign, and was the founder of a family which cannot boast
ol any very distinguished name till we come to his grand¬
son, the present Prince Mentschikoff, the celebrated general
who defended Sebastopol.
MENTZ. See Mayence.
MENZELEH. See Egypt.
MEPPEL, a town of Holland, province of Drenthe, on
the Reest, near its confluence with the Echtinger and
Havel ter, 26 miles S.W. of Assen and 6 from the Zui¬
der Zee. 1 he town has two churches, a synagogue, schools,
&c.; and establishments for the manufacture of linen and
cotton stuffs, canvas, leather, hats, and tobacco; besides
M E R
breweries, boat-building yards, bleachworks, &c. Pop. Mequinez
6070. ' R.
MEQUINEZ, a town of Morocco, province of Fez, in a Mercia-
fertile valley, 70 miles E. of Sallee and 34 W. S. W. of J
Fez. The houses, which are generally only one storey
high, are neat and well built; but the streets are unpaved.
The town is surrounded by a wall 6 feet high, which serves
as a defence against the attacks of the Berbers. The prin¬
cipal building is the palace erected by Sultan Muley Is¬
mael, who made Mequinez one of the capitals of his domi¬
nions ; and it is still ofccasionally the residence of the sul¬
tan. The palace is extensive, but low, and contains fine
gardens and marble-paved court-yards. It is built of
marble, and adorned with fountains of the same material;
while the walls are inlaid with red and blue tiles. The ma¬
nufacture of leather is carried on in the town ; and in the
vicinity there are large plantations of olives. Pop. about
70,000.
MERCARA, a town and fortress in the south of In¬
dia, is situated within the British district of Coorg, of which
it is the capital. It w’as built by Hyder Ally in the year
1773, after he had conquered the country. Upon the
conclusion of peace with Tippoo Sultan in 1792 it was
given up to the rajah of Coorg; but upon the contuma¬
cious conduct of this prince in 1834, it was occupied by a
British force under Colonel Lindsay, and the rajah being
soon after deposed, the present British establishments were
formed. It is 72 miles E. from Seringapatam. Long. 75.
48. E., Lat. 12. 24. N.
MERCATOR, Gerard (the Latin name generally
given to Gerhard Kauffmann), one of the most cele¬
brated geographers of his time, was born at Rupelmonde in
Flanders on the 5th of March 1512. After completing his
elementary studies at Bois-le-Duc, he went through a course
of philosophy at the university of Louvain, where he took
his degree. Having applied himself with extraordinary
ardour to the study of geography and mathematics, he soon
received the patronage of the Emperor Charles V., and in
1599 was nominated cosmographer to the Due de Juliers at
Doesburg, where he died in 1594, at the advanced age of
eighty-three years. He is principally known from having
given his name to the projection generally employed in nau¬
tical maps, in which the meridians and parallels are repre¬
sented by straight lines which mutually intersect at right
angles. Besides executing tables of chronology and geo¬
graphy, he published many valuable maps, engraved and
coloured by his own hand.
His works are,—Chronologia a Mundi exordia ad
ann. 1568, Koln., fob, 1569; Tabula; Geographicce admen-
tem Ptolemceirestitutes, fob, 1578; Globi Terrestris Sculp-
tura, 1541 ; Globi Ccelestis Sculptura, 1551; Atlases, 1595,
1628, 1633. He also published two theological works,—
Harmania Evangelistarum, 1592; and De Creatione ac
Fabrica Mundi; the latter forming a dissertation prefixed
to his Atlas of 1595, and which was condemned by the
church for setting forth certain heterodox views respecting
the doctrine of original sin.
Mercator, A7co/«s(the Latin name of Nicolas Kauff¬
mann), an eminent mathematician, was born at Holstein
in Denmark in 1640. He visited England in 1660, when
he was chosen a member of the Royal Society, and re¬
turned to Paris previous to his death in 168/. He was
the first to detect the defect of Gerhard Mercator s projec¬
tions, afterwards rectified by Edward Wright. Of all his
works on cosmography and mathematics, by far the most
original and valuable is his Loganthmotechnia, sive Metho-
dus Construendi Logarithmos Nova; cui accedit Vera
Quadratura Hyperboles, et Inventio Summes Logarithmo-
rum, London, 1668-1674, 4to.
MERCIA, one of the ancient kingdoms of the Saxon
heptarchy in England, bounded on the N. by Northumbria,
M E R
Mercier E. by East Anglia and Essex, S. by Wessex, and W.
H _ by Wales; and including the modern counties of Chester,
Mercurms^ Derby, Nottingham, Lincoln, Salop, Stafford, Leicester,
Rutland, Northampton, Huntingdon, Hereford, Worcester,
Warwick, Gloucester, Oxford, and Buckingham, along
with parts of Hertford and Bedford. It is believed to have
been founded by a body of Angles under Cridain 585 a.d.
It was conquered by the Northumbrians in the seventh
century, but soon after regained its independence, subdued
the kingdoms of East Anglia and Kent, and was finally in¬
corporated in his dominions by Egbert, King of Wessex, in
the year 825.
MERCIER, Louis Sebastien, an eccentric French
writer, was born in Paris in June 1740. After publishing
several heroic epistles, and holding for some time the pro¬
fessorship of rhetoric at Bordeaux, he first displayed his
satirical power in L'An 2440; Reve, s’il en fut jamais,
Amsterdam, 1771. In his Essai sar VArt Eramatique he
struck at the fame of Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire, and
proposed, with grave self-conceit, to replace their dramas by
his own productions. 1 he comedians, however, rejected
this proposal, and brought down upon themselves the satiri¬
cal lash of Mercier. A more legitimate subject of satire
was the corrupt social system of the French capital. Ac¬
cordingly, in 1781 Mercier began to attack it in the first two
volumes of his famous Tableau de Paris. While this work
was exciting a great ferment in the nation, the vanity of the
author would not suffer him to remain anonymous and to
see it attributed to others. He therefore discovered him¬
self to the inquisitor Lenoir, but thought it advisable at
the same time to betake himself immediately to Neuchatel,
and to publish the remaining ten volumes there. After
visiting Germany, Mercier returned to France on the eve
of that revolution which he vauntingly attributed to his
Tableau. He assisted Carra for some time in editino-
Les Annales Patriotiques and Chronique du Mois. As a
member of the Convention for the department of Seine-et-
Oise, he voted for the perpetual detention of the kin^.
Having been admitted in 1795 into the Council of the Fi\Te
Hundred, he opposed the motion that Descartes should
receive the honours of the Pantheon. He also signalized
himself by his vehement invectives against education, which
he styled “ the pest of the human race.” On his retire¬
ment from this council he was appointed professor of history
in the central school, and a member of the newly-formed
institute. Mercier died at Paris in April 1814. Amono-
his numerous works are,—Mon Bonnet du Nuit, in 4 vols.
8vo, Neuchatel, 1783; Histoire de France depuis Clovis
jusqiiau Regne de Louis XVI., in 6 vols. 8vo, 1802; and
Neologie, in 2 vols. 8vo, Paris, 1801.
MERCURIUS, a Roman divinity. The connection of
his name with merx, goods, and mercari, to traffic, indicates
that the first idea of his character was that of the patron of
merchandise. As the Latin writers, however, became inti¬
mate with the literature of Greece, they identified his life
and functions with those of the Greek god Hermes. Mer¬
cury, therefore, was said to be the son of Jupiter and Maia,
and to have been born in a cave of the Arcadian mountain
Cyllene. Scarcely had he seen the light when he seized
upon a tortoise, and out of its shell framed the first lyre.
He then proceeded to Pieiria, and drove off part of the flock
of Apollo to a cave in Pylos. The owner detecting the
theft, pursued, and recovered his property; but was so
charmed with the music of the newly-invented lyre, that he
returned the oxen, and presented to the young god a golden
staff called caduceus. At the same time Jupiter installed
him in the office of herald and messenger of the gods. In
this capacity Mercury tied Ixion on the wheel, chained
Prometheus to Mount Caucasus, assisted Perseus to kill
Medusa, conducted Juno, Minerva, and Venus to Paris,
and slew Argos the hundred-eyed. He was also employed
M E R 54i
to lead the ghosts of the dead to the other world, to infuse Mergui
dreams into the brain, and to cause or dispel slumber by I]
the passes of his magic wand. From his character as a I-erian'
herald, Mercury came to be considered an adept in elo-
quence, and therefore the patron of orators, poets, and other
men of genius. Since his office also led him to be the pro¬
moter of intercourse and agreement between parties at a
distance from each other, he was regarded as the god of
commerce and of all the other means that produce peace
and unity among nations. Yet as he was sometimes sent
on hostile missions, and was not scrupulous on these occa¬
sions about the devices he employed, he was supposed to
listen to the prayers of thieves and robbers. His patronage
was likewise extended to shepherds, musicians, travellers,
and athletes. He is said to have invented letters, arith¬
metic, astronomy, music, and the syrinx. The two most
celebrated temples of Mercury were situated, the one upon
Mount Cyllene in Arcadia, and the other near the Circus
Maximus in Rome. His festivals were called hermcea.
His images, styled hermce, were set up at cross roads and
in the porches of temples and mansions. Mercury is gene¬
rally represented as a naked youth, displaying in his limbs
the beauty of the boy mingled with the full vigour of man¬
hood, holding a purse in his right hand and his winged
caduceus in his left, wearing one pair of wdngs on his san¬
dals and another on his hat, and bending forward on tiptoe,
as if speeding over sea and land on some important errand.
MERGUI, a town of Hindustan, and the capital of the
British district of the same name, in the Tenasserim pro¬
vinces, is situated on the principal mouth of the Tenasserim
River. It is about three miles in circuit: the streets are
wide ; and the houses, which are built chiefly of wood, are ‘
raised on piles from the ground. The harbour is spacious,
secure, and easy of access for ships of any size. Pop.
about 12,000. The place was taken by the British during
the first war with the Burmese, and confirmed to the
conquerors, with other territory, by the treaty of Yarid-
Abhoo concluded in February 1826. Lat. 12. 27., Long.
98. 42. Opposite to the coast is a cluster of islands de¬
nominated the Mergui Archipelago, the principal of which
are>—the Great and Little Canister, King’s Island, Cabossa,
Bentinck, Domel, Kisseraing, Sullivan’s, and St Matthew’s.
MERIAN, Jean Bernard, an eminent philosopher, was
born at Leichstall, in the canton of Bale, in 1723. His father,
who was a highly respected pastor in his native town, re- j
moved to Bale, and was placed in 1738 at the head of the j
Protestant churches of the canton. The objects of study
which attracted him most were poetry and philosophy; for
he possessed in an almost equal degree a taste for philo¬
logy and philosophy, for metaphysics and the fine arts.
Having received his doctor’s degree at the age of seventeen,
he soon after entered the church, and distinguished him¬
self as a preacher. After a short residence at Lausanne,
which enabled him to perfect himself in the French lan¬
guage, Merian accepted the place of preceptor to the sons
of a gentleman in Amsterdam, where he spent four years.
In 1748 he received from Maupertuis, president of the
Academy of Berlin, an invitation to attach himself to that
learned body, with the offer of a pension from Frederick II.
Merian did not hesitate to respond to this flattering pro¬
posal, but came immediately to Berlin, where, during more
than half a century, he exerted a most salutary influence
not only over the Academy of Sciences, but over public
instruction in general in Prussia. He enriched the philo¬
sophical literature of the academy by a series of memoirs
on some of the most important problems in morals and
metaphysics, and which are generally regarded as master¬
pieces of clearness and impartiality. On the death of For-
mey, whose eloge he pronounced in 1797, Merian wa^
appointed perpetual secretary to the academy. He died
on the 12th of February 1807, lamented by many of the
542 M E R
Pierian greatest names in Europe, with whom he had been long
I!, associated, such as Euler, Lagrange, Sulzer, Lambert,
Ancillon, &e.
At the request of Frederick II. Merian translated Clau-
dian’s Enlevement de Proserpine ; and afterwards published
the Essais Philosophiques of David Hume, and the Lettres
Ccsmologiqu.es of Lambert. In his philosophical memoirs
his main object is to combat the philosophy of Leibnitz,
These will be found in the Memoirs of the Academy of
Berlin, extending over a period of upwards of forty years, from
] 749 to 1804. (For farther information respecting Merian,
see the Eloge Historique of Fr. Ancillon, published in the
Memoirs of the Berlin Academy for 1810; also Cours
d'11 istoire de la Philosophic Modern of Victor Cousin,
vol. i., first series ; and the Dictionnaire des Sciences Phi¬
losophiques, Paris, 1849.)
Merian, Matthew, an eminent painter, was the son of a
distinguished engraver of the same name, and was horn at
Bale in 1621. After studying under his father and Sand-
rart, he travelled to complete his education in his art, and
became intimate with Vandyck and Rubens in England,
with Vouet and Lesueur in France, with Sacchi and Maratti
in Italy, and with Jordaens in the Netherlands. He settled
first at Nuremberg, and afterwards at Frankfort-on-the-
Main. In the latter city he painted, after the style of his
master Vandyck, the portraits of the Emperor Leopold I.
and several other German princes. These works were
rewarded with both money and honours. Yet at the same
time Merian conducted the trade in books and prints which
his father had left him. He died at Frankfort in 1687.
Merian, Maria Sibylla, a skilful drawer of insects and
other subjects of natural history, was the sister of the pre¬
ceding, and was born at Frankfort-on-the-Main in 1647.
She was instructed in drawing by Morell, her step-father,
and Abraham Mignon, and soon displayed a notable taste
and truthfulness in her sketches of flowers, butterflies, and
caterpillars. In 1665 she was married to John Andrier
Graff, a painter of Nuremberg, but was still known by her
maiden name. Her studies and her scientific excursions
were not interrupted, and the first result of her labours was
published in 1679-83, under the title of The Origin of
Caterpillars, their Nourishment and Changes, in 2 vols. 4to,
Nuremberg. A Latin translation of this work appeared in
Amsterdam in 1717. In 1684 she and her husband were
induced by offers of patronage to settle in Holland. Maria
Sibylla’s enthusiasm for her art increased with her years.
In 1699 she crossed the Atlantic with no attendant but her
daughter, and spent twro years at Surinam in sketching the
insects, shells, and plants of the new world. A part of
these sketches was published in her Ehssertatio de Gene-
ratione et Metamorphosibus Insectorum Surinamehsmm,
Amsterdam, 1705. Maria Sybilla Merian died in 1717.
A new edition of her last work was published soon after
her death, with twelve plates by her two daughters. Her
former work, enlarged by herself and her daughters, was
published in French by John Marret, under the title of
Histoire Generale des Insectes de VEurope, folio, Amster¬
dam, 1730. These two corrected works were published
together under the common title of Histoire des Insectes
de l Europe et de VAmerique, folio, Paris, 1768-71.
MERIDA [Augusta Emerita), a town of Spain, in the
province of Estrernadura, and about 35 miles from the city
of Badajoz, is situated on a small eminence on the right of
the. Guadiana. L is tolerably well built; contains two
parish chui dies, two hospitals, four schools of primary in¬
struction, three ex-convents, and two nunneries. Of the
two churches, that of Sta. IMaria is a clumsy tjuasi-Gothic
edifice, partly built of the innumerable Roman remains;
that of Sta. Qlalla [Eulalia) is said to date from the fourth
century, and is dedicated to one of-the earliest martyrs of
Spam. Her name is also borne by a convent on the
M E R
Madrid road, and by a statue and chapel in the space Merida,
called Campo de San Juan ; the latter, called El Hornito
[Oven) de Sta. Olalla, now in ruins. Merida is remarkable
for its Roman remains, in the number and magnitude of
which it may be almost said to vie with Rome itself. The
Guadiana is crossed by a bridge 2575 feet long, and con¬
sisting of 81 arches wholly of granite, erected by Trajan.
Some of the arches were destroyed in 1812 to impede the
advance of Marmont upon Badajoz. Of the colossal wall
that formerly surrounded the town, there only remains the
part defending the Roman castle called El Conventual. In
the town are still some relics of the temples of Mars, Diana.
Fortune, and others, and of a triumphal arch [De Santiago)
44 feet high, built by Trajan* and now stripped of its marble
casing. Of an ancient aqueduct from Lake Albuera thirty-
seven enormous pillars are still standing, and ten arches, in
three tiers, built of brick and granite. To the east, and
crossing the Madrid road, are three pillars of another aque¬
duct, the materials of which were employed in the construe^
tion of that wdiich at present supplies the town with water.
Farther east is the circus, 1356 feet by 335, wrell preserved,
and capable of containing on its eighteen tiers of seats the
whole present population of Estremadura. East of the
circus is the amphitheatre, called the Siete Sillas, from its
seven rows of seats, still almost entire, as are the vomi¬
tories. Before the French invasion it was used as a Plaza
de Toros. Near it. is the Naumaehia, vulgarly called the
Roman Baths, of which the oval form, 400 feet in length,
is barely traceable. Augusta Emerita was built in 25 b.c.
by the emeriti of the fifth and tenth legions, who had
served in the Cantabrian war under Augustus. It rose to
great splendour and importance as the capital of the pro¬
vince of Lusitania, was taken by Musa in 715, and re¬
conquered by Alonzo in 1228.
The population is mostly agricultural; the surrounding
country producing wheat, oats, legumes, oil, and wine.
Large herds of swine are reared, with sheep, goats, and
horses. There are manufactures of white soap in the
town. Pop. 3780.
Merida, a town of Venezuela, capital of a province of
the same name, is situated on a plain 5518 feet above the
level of the sea. The town is well and regularly built,
with straight streets crossing each other at right angles, and
having a clear stream of running water in the centre of
each. It was formerly one of the largest towns of Vene¬
zuela, but having repeatedly suffered from earthquakes,
especially in 1812, it has greatly declined. The town has
a cathedral, nunnery, a college, several schools, and an
hospital. Woollen and cotton stuffs are manufactured;
and the surrounding country produces coffee of great ex¬
cellence. The province occupies an area of 10,793 square
miles. Pop. of the province (1854), 23,967 ; of the town,
6800.
Merida, a town of Mexico, capital of the state of Yuca¬
tan, is situated in a dry plain, 25 miles from the sea, and
90 N.E. of Campeachy. Lat. 20.50. N., Long. 89. 40. W.
The town, which was founded by the Spaniards in 1542 on
the site of an earlier native city, is built in the Moorish
style. There are eight principal streets, wdde and sloping
towards the centre ; and these are laid out with great re¬
gularity, meeting in a large square in the* centre of the
town, in which stand the cathedral, the bishop’s palace, and
the government house. The cathedral is ancient, and has
a fine appearance, being adorned with domes and pinnacles.
The town has also fourteen churches, and the ruins of an
old Franciscan convent, which are curious and interesting.
The climate is dry and not liable to sudden changes, but
it is not very healthy. Merida has a considerable trade.
Its port is Sizal, which is but an exposed, roadstead with
a fort and a sandbank 12 miles in length. ■ Pop. (1851)
40,000.
M E R I 0 N E T FI S II I R E.
Merioneth¬
shire.
MERIONEI HSHIRE, the most southern county of
North Wales, is situated at the middle of the Welsh coast,
J ant^ is °f a triangular form, the apex terminating between
Corwen and Llangollen ; the base being formed by Cardigan
Bay, with a portion of Carnarvonshire; the perpendicular by
Carnarvonshire and Denbighshire ; and the hypothenuse by
Denbighshire, Montgomeryshire, and Cardiganshire. The
length from north to south is 56 miles, and its greatest
breadth 32 miles. Its area is estimated at 602 square miles,
or 385,291 statute acres.
I he coast is iron-bound and dangerous, from shoals and
banks, as Sarn-Badrig, Sarn-y-Bweh, Dutchman’s Bank,
&c. At Aberdovwy, however, there is a safe harbour,
which might be rendered more so by a little enterprise.
Abermaw is another safe creek, though not so safe as
Aberdovwy. In fine weather large boats can land in
Aberdiswnwy, Mochras, and Traethbach.
I his county, in its physical aspect, is one of the most in¬
teresting in the principality; and while inferior to some others
in stupendous boldness, it equals any in calm sublimity, and
is superior to all in richness, variety, and beauty. Its moun¬
tains, though not very lofty, greatly excel in colouring and
outline ; whilst the greater prevalence of trees, blending
harmoniously with fantastic crags, dark deep dells, frowning-
mountains, smiling vales, a sea-board deeply indented with
lake-like estuaries, completes such a scene as can never fail
to entrance an eye in sympathy with nature.
Ihe Merionethshire mountains may be ranged in five
groups, named after the principal eminence in each :—1st.
Moelwyn group (2566 feet), being a spur of Snowdon. 2d.
Aremg group (2809 feet), extending from Festiniog to Bala.
3d. Rhiniog Vawr range (2863 feet), sometimes called
Harlech group. 4th. Aran Mawddwy range (2955 feet),
extending from Aberdovwy to Corwen. 5th. Cader-Idris
group (2914 feet), being a spur of the Aran Mawddwy
range, having Craig-yr-Aderyn {i.e.. Bird’s Rock), one of the
most remarkable rocks in the kingdom, appended thereto.
^ The Dofwy, the Diswnwy, the Talyllyn, the Mawddach,
I estiniog, and the Madawc vales are the most remarkable,
and add exceedingly to the exquisite effectiveness of the
sceneiy, permitting a fuller view of the mountains from base
to summit than is usually the case in other counties.
The chief rivers are the Dwfrdwy (Dee), which, emerg¬
ing from Bala Lake, enters Denbighshire near Corwen,
then passing through a slip of Cheshire and Flintshire, ex¬
pands into a vast estuary of the Irish Sea, separating the
two counties. The Dofwy, originating in a small lake under
Aran Mawddwy, expands into an estuary of Cardigan Bay
at Aberdovwy, and is navigable for 8 miles. The Di-
swnwy, emerging from Llynmwyngil, expands into a small
shallow estuaiy, which contracts into a narrow, tortuous
channel as it enters the sea near Sarn-y-Bwch. It is only
navigable for boats for 3 or 4 miles.
The Mawddach, issuing from the skirts of Aran Mawd¬
dwy, and forming a junction with Llynau-duon and the
Wnion, expands into a considerable estuary of Cardigan
Bay at Abermaw, and is navigable for 8 miles. The Cyn-
val and others, uniting their streams, form a considerable
estuary, called Traethbach, at the bottom of the vale of
Festiniog, and is navigable for boats only, being fordable at
low water. Glaslyn and Dwyryd (or the Eryri) uniting,
enter the bay at Forth madawc, where the estuary has been
embanked, and a vast district recovered, through the enter¬
prise of the late Mr Madox.
The lakes are small, but numerous, amounting to sixty-
four or more. The largest are Llyn Tegid {i.e., Fairy Lake),
sometimes called Pimble-mere, near Bala, being 4 miles
long and 1 broad, its banks being most picturesque ; and
Llynmwyngil (i.e., the Lake in a Sweet Nook), in the well-
known vale of lalyllyn, which, though only a mile long* is
perhaps more interesting still, and well deserves its Cam-
543
brian name. It is much frequented by anglers, who find
ample sport, though the trout is not over delicate. The
other lakelets are generally very interesting, both in regard
to scenic effect and sport. One of them, Llyncwmbychan,
has a snow-white deposit of kaolin or porcelain clay.
A good many fine waterfall's exist, which add greatly to
the romantic beauty of the prospect. The most considerable
aie Rhaiadr-y-Glyn, near Corwen, and Rhaiadr Mawddach
and a istill Caen, near Dolgelley; the latter being 150 feet
high.
Ihe prevailing geological formations are felspathic trap,
porphyiy, and other unstratified rocks ; whilst the secondary
liilk, aie composed of different kinds of schist, interspersed
with unstiatified elvan. Along the Dee a bluish-gray lime¬
stone is found, and white limestone at Corwen. 1 This for¬
mation is surrounded by primitive argillaceous slate.
Gold, silver, copper, and lead mines abound, but as yet
they have not proved profitable speculations. The extra¬
vagant royalty which is demanded by proprietors is a serious
bar to mining adventure here. Llyn-y-Pair mirie, near
Aberdovwy, is now very promising, and the mining in¬
terest consequently beginning to look upon the county5with
greater favour. I here are extensive deposits of iron, man¬
ganese, and other minerals, but royalty and transit expense
render their working unprofitable.
ihe slate quarries of Festiniog and Corris are exten¬
sive and most remunerative speculations. In the former at
least 3000 persons find constant employment; Mrs Oakley,
Loid 1 ahnerston, and Messrs Greaves and Holland being
the principal proprietors. I he most extensive quarry at
Corris is that ol Aberllefeni, the property of R. D. Jones,
Lsq. 1 his slate is of’ a deep blue, of considerable tenacity'
and hardness, but yet easily worked. It is preferred for
roofing important buildings and the manufacture of articles
enamelled by Magnus’s beautiful process.
Ihe variety of altitude and aspect incident to a moun¬
tainous yet maritime country results in producing a variety
in the climate ; Aberdovwy, for instance, being proverbially
mild, the myrtle standing the winter as well as any com¬
mon shrub ; whilst neighbouring places differently situated
are bleak and cold.
More than half the county is uninclosed, and much even
of that is unproductive. Considerable portions of marsh
land have been reclaimed in the estuaries, and much more
requires only capital and enterprise in order to bring it to
as fertile a condition as any in the county. The proportion
of arable land being small, it is consequently high-rented.
Ihe best is found about Towyn and Dyffryn-Ardwydwy.
1 he farming is generally of an inferior kind, and the farm
buildings and cottages worse still; whilst rents, wages, and
taxes are high. Being essentially a pastoral county, exten¬
sive herds of sheep are kept, which are small in size, but
their flesh is delicate, and their wool of very fine quality.
Large droves of black cattle of a very superior kind are
also bred and annually sold in England, where good feeding
converts them into the most tender of beef.
Manufactures are few, except that of flannel, which is
produced in large quantities and of very fine quality. The
women in some localities are still noted for knitting-
stockings, gloves, and Welsh wigs, which are exported"
but to a much more limited extent than formerly, when h
amounted to some L.25,000 per annum. That of slates
should, be included amongst manufactures, as distinct from
qua1 lying, and this would increase the importance of the
manufacturing interest of Merionethshire considerable.
Brush-handles, clogs, gloves, and leather for the'same, arc
also manufactured to a limited extent.
The chief commercial outlets are Aberdovwv tvnd Aber¬
maw. Ihe trade of the former place is extensive and in-
cieasing. Ihe exportation consists mostly of slates, poles,
baik, and ores Ihe importations are,—shop goods, corn,
Merioneth¬
shire.
544
M E R
Merioneth- limestone, culm, coal, timber, &c. The trade of Barmouth
shire- has rather declined of late years. There is a harbour trust
there who have managed to squander much money to very
little purpose in attempting to build a lighthouse.
Aberdovwv, Towyn, and Abermavv or Barmouth are
much frequented in the bathing season. Towyn frequently
has its population trebled in a week by the influx of the
industrial classes on their annual pilgrimage to the sea-
coast ; a privilege for which express stipulations are made
in hiring engagements in Montgomeryshire, from whence
most of them come.
There are two royal ferries ; and their management does
not reflect much credit upon the Board of Works, by whom
they are leased to parties who do not appear to be particularly
studious of the convenience and interest of the public. The
want of railroads is much felt by strangers ; but it is hoped
that the proposed new railroad to Machynlleth will soon go far
to remedy this serious hinderance to the material progress of
the county. Dolgelley and Bala, where the assizes are alter¬
nately held,are two interesting little county towns ofa purely
Welsh character. The former has been lately lighted with
gas ; but both are very defective in sanitary arrangements.
Corwen is a delightful and progressive place, from its prox¬
imity to a railway ; Aberdovwy is also an improving locality,
and must become a most important seaport, from its fine
harbour, when the Machynlleth Railway is finished. Aber-
maw is a romantic watering-place much frequented. Of
Harlech and Dinas-Mawddvvy very little remains, save a
fine old castle in the one, and a sinecure corporation in the
other. Festiniog is a populous slate-manufacturing town
surrounded with beautiful scenery. The following is the
population of the principal towns :—
Names of Towns.
Aberdovwy and Towyn.
Dolgellau 
Bala and Llanycil 
Festiniog 
Abermaw and Llanaber...
Corwen 
1841.
2907
3695
2461
3138
1709
2129
2769
3479
2431
3460
1672
2069
1322
1578
1198
1878
725
1029
M E R
Mawddach, was bestowed upon Meirion-ab-Tybiawn-ab- Merlin.
Cynedda for his services in expelling the Gwyddelians V—
(Irish) from Gwynedd. Perhaps he may have taken his
name from the district allotted to him, as it is still as often
called Meirion as Merionydd. The Via Occidentalis
passed the whole length of the county, being joined at
lleriri Mons (the Mountain of Eryri, now Tomen-y-Mur,
near Trawsfynydd) by a branch of the Southern \\ atling
Street. During the Saxon and early Norman period we
have not much interesting information respecting it, as it
seems to have been to the Kymro a safe and mysterious
refuge, into which the Saxon had a wholesome hesita¬
tion in following. But in proportion as the Anglo-Norman
power became consolidated these impregnable fastnesses
became the scene of strife. Here Owen Gwynedd defeated
Henry II., and brave Glyndwr rose in arms at the call of
friendship and patriotism to resist the usurper of the throne
of gentle Henry, and the enslaver of his loved Wales.
Tradition and records tell of bloody deeds done here in
those and later days by freebooters daring and cruel; the
Gwylliaid-cochion, the Gwylliaid-duon, and levan ap Robin
Herwr, the sea-rover of Aberdovwy, and his trefrydd
or “ bloody home,” &c. The whole county is rich in
Celtic, Roman, and mediaeval remains. The castles of
Harlech and Bere, the Cadvan, Porus, and Calexus (a
Manx king probably) inscribed stones, the Llanegryn rood
screen (restored by W. W. E. Wynne, Esq., M.P.), crom-
lechau, circles, mounds, cairns, camps, &c., invite the notice
of the antiquary.
Only one county and no borough member is returned.
Real property was returned in 1815 as L.111,436; in
1850 as L. 168,236 ; showing an increase of L.56,800. We
extract the following table of the population from the
census of Great Britain in 1851 :—
The Anglican Episcopal community is the church es¬
tablished by law, but it has few adherents and little influence
among the people. Ihe county is ecclesiastically divided
between Bangor and St Asaph. The deaneries of Ard-
wydwv, Estimaner, and Talybont, are in the former; and
Mawddwy, Penllyn, and Ecleyrnion, in the latter. 1 he
number of parishes is about thirty-four, and, for a poor
country, they are well endowed.
The dominant non-established church is Presbyterian,
in the form called Welsh Calvinistic Methodism. The
Wesleyans, Congregationalists, and Baptists have also
numerous congregations.
Education is carried on oy means of some hundreds of
Sunday schools, and sixty day schools. There are two col¬
leges at Bala for the education of Methodist and Congre¬
gational ministers : the former is being endowed as a fitting
monument to the great and good Thomas Charles, who
was to Welsh Methodism what Wesley was to Wesleyanism,
and who lived and laboured in this town for many years.
In the earliest historical period Merionethshire was in¬
cluded in the territory of the Ordovices, a tribe so called
through a Roman corruption of their Celtic designation,
Ardovwysiaid, or “ dwellers upon the placid stream.” Dur¬
ing the Roman occupation it was included in the province of
Britannia Secunda, being (some say) called Mervinia ; if
so, it would seem to indicate an earlier origin for the word
Merioneth (or Merion’s Land) than the fifth century, when
the Cantrev, or district situated between the Dofwy and the
1801 29,506
1811 30,854
1821 34,382
1831 35,315
1841 39,332
1851 38,843
In 1851 there were in the county 8159 houses inhabited,
372 uninhabited, and 31 in process of erection.
MERLIN, or Merdhin, the name of two ancient
British wizards:—
Ambrose Merlin was the reputed son of a demon
and of the daughter of a British prince, Demetius, and
flourished about the end of the fifth century. He was
brought up at a city called Caer-Merlin (the City of
Merlin), and supposed to be the present Caermarthen.
When a mere boy he recommended himself by his super¬
natural powers to the notice of King Vortigern. He was
afterwards the inseparable counsellor of that monarch, and
of his immediate successors Ambrosius, Uterpendragon,
and Arthur. His alleged miraculous insight is supposed
by Leland to have been merely a knowledge of mathema¬
tics far transcending the comprehension of his contempo¬
raries. Allusion is made to Merlin in the Faery Queen and
in other old poems. A book of Prophecies attributed to
him was printed in French in 1498, in English in 1529, and
in Latin in 1554. The Life of Merlin Ambrosius, his
Prophecies and Predictions Interpreted, and their Truth
made good by our English Annals, by T. Hey wood, w7as
published in 1641, and reprinted in 1813.
Merlin the Wild, Merlinus Caledomus, or Merhnus
Sylvestris, was a native of Caledonia, and lived in the
sixth century. From the Scotichronicon of hoi dun we
learn, that in penance for the death of his nephew, he fle
into the woods of Tweeddale, and there lived like a squalid
savage for the rest of his days. 1 he same authoiity a so
states, that being pursued into his fastnesses by a band ot
rustics, he sprang from a rock into the Tweed, was impaled
on a stake fixed in the bed of tbe river, and thus, in ac
cordance with his own prediction, died by means of eaiti,
Meroe
Merry.
M E R
wood, and water. But Geoffrey of Monmouth, in his me¬
trical history of Merlin, ascribes this fate to a page whose
death Merlin had prophesied in the terms mentioned above.
The grave of Merlin is still shown beneath an aged thorn
at Drummelzier, a village on the Tweed. The book of
prophecies which has been generally ascribed to Ambrose
Merlin is sometimes attributed to Merlin the Caledonian,
and was published at Edinburgh in 1615 under the name
of the latter. (See part ii. of “ Thomas the Rhymer” in
Sir W. Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.)
MEROE, an island, or rather peninsula, of Nubia, formed
by the Nile and its tributaries the Atbara and Bahr-el-
Aziek, and having the mountains of Abyssinia on the E. and
the desert of Bahiouda on the W. It is about 400 miles
in length from N.W. to S.E. by 200 in breadth, and con¬
sists of extensive plains. In ancient times Meroe was very
productive and well cultivated; and although the soil is
still good, the country is now for the most part covered with
trees and herbage, or barren and desert, while very little
cultivation is carried on. The ancient inhabitants of this
district had attained to so great a degree of civilization and
commercial prosperity that it has been by some supposed
that the arts of cultivated life were transmitted from this
country to Egypt. This, however, is not very likely, and
the most probable conjecture that can be formed seems to
be, that in the seventh century b.c. the military caste of
Egypt, having left their country on account of some injus¬
tice received from the king, settled in Meroe, reduced to
subjection the natives of that region, and established there
a system of government somewhat similar to that of Egypt,
but differing from it in the restraints put upon the power of
the kings, and the greater influence of the priestly caste.
The rums of Meroe, the capital, are situated on the rhdit
bank of the Nile, 26 miles N.E. of Shendy, and they con¬
sist of pyramids and temples for the most part in a state of
great dilapidation. The pyramids are in number about
80 ; and they vary in size from 12 to 60 feet square at the
base. The largest is about 160 feet high. They are not
of great antiquity, and bear traces of a declining period of
art, compared with that of the Egyptian monuments. At
various other places in the island of Meroe similar remains
and brick mounds have been discovered, from which it
would appear that in ancient times this district had been
thickly studded with towns and villages.
MERRICK, James, a learned divine and poet, the son
of a doctor of medicine, was born in 1720, and attended
the school at Reading. Enrolled in 1736 as a student of
1 rmity College, Oxford, he became tutor to Francis North,
afterwards the celebrated First Lord of the Treasury
Merrick’s classical scholarship was shown by his edition of
the Greek text of Tryphiodorus in 1741, and led to his
election as probationer fellow in 1744. He entered into
orders, but was prevented by his delicate health from under¬
taking the duties of a pastorate. After a life spent in con¬
genial study he died in 1769. Merrick was characterized
by Bishop Louth as “ one of the best of men, and most
eminent of scholars.” His most important works are, 
Prayers for a Time of Earthquakes and Floods, London,
1756; A Dissertation on Proverbs, Chapter ix., 4to, Ox¬
ford, 1744; The Psalms Translated or Paraphrased in
English Verse, second edition, 12mo, Reading, 1766; and
Annotations on the Psalms, 4to, Reading, 1768. Of his
small poems inserted in Dodsley’s collection, the fable of
“ The Chameleon” is the best known.
MERRlc, Robert, an English dramatic writer, was the
son of a merchant, and was born in London in 1755. After
receiving his education at Harrow and at Christ’s College,
Cambridge, he entered Lincoln’s Inn, but was never called
to the bar. After his father’s death he purchased a com¬
mission in the Horse Guards, where he held the post for
some years of lieutenant to the first troop under Lord
VOL. XIV.
M E R
545
Lothian. Anxious for a change, and desirous of seeing Merseburg
the world, he quitted the service, and visited France, Swit- [|
zerland, Italy, Germany, and Holland. He spent a con- Mersenne.
siderable time in Florence ; and during his residence there ■v*-'''
had the honour of being made a member of the celebrated
Della Cruscan Academy. He became a chief contributor
to the Florence Miscellany, a periodical produced by the
joint efforts of a few English residents. In return for the
honours done him by the Della Cruscans, Merry attached
the name of the academy afterwards as a signature to
many of his poetical effusions which appeared in the journals
and newspapers of this country; and so great was the suc¬
cess of the English Della Cruscan that in a short time
Merry found a race of enthusiastic imitators, who flourished
luxuriantly till Gifford, with the caustic satire of his Baviad
and Mceviad, so ruthlessly blasted their growth. Merry
went to America in 1796, and died at Baltimore two years
afterwards. Llis dramatic pieces are,—Lorenzo ; The Ma¬
gician no Conjuror; Fenelon ; and Ambitious Vengeance.
MERSEBURG, a town of Prussia, capital of a govern¬
ment of the same name, in the province of Saxony,"is situ¬
ated on the left bank of the Saale, 15 miles W. of Leipsic,
and 56 S.S.E. of Magdeburg. The town is old and irre¬
gularly built; it is walled, and has four gates; and there
are two suburbs, one of which stands on the other side of
the river, and is approached by a stone bridge. Merseburg
possesses a fine cathedral, built partly in the twelfth and
partly in the fifteenth century, and containing many ancient
monuments and one of the largest organs in Germany.
The monument of Rudolph of Swabia in this cathedral,
consisting of his figure in relief on a bronze plate, is be¬
lieved to be one of the oldest specimens of mediaeval art.
The choir contains several paintings by Cranach. The
castle of Merseburg, once the residence of the Dukes of
Saxe-Merseburg, is a building of the fifteenth century, and
is now occupied by the government offices. The town also
possesses a monastery, situated in one of the suburbs, seve¬
ral Protestant churches, schools, a military hospital, and other
establishments. The inhabitants are employed in the manu¬
facture of linen and woollen fabrics, leather, paper, tobacco,
vinegar, and beer; for which last Merseburg is famous. The
trade of the town is considerable. The government of
Merseburg has an area of 3994 square miles, and is in
general low and undulating, with no eminences rising above
the height of 1800 feet. The nature of the soil is various,
but for the most part it is of considerable fertility ; and the
country is watered by the Elbe and its tributaries the
Schwarze Elster from the E., and the Saale and Mulde
from the W. Pop. of government (1855), 781,947; of the
town, 11,264.
MERSENNE, Marin, an eminent philosopher and
mathematician, of the religious order of the Minimes, was
born at Oyse in France in 1588, and studied at the college of
La Fleche, where he made the friendship of Descartes, then
a student at the same institution,—an intimacy which was
kept up during their lives. He afterwards studied at the
university of Paris and at the Sorbonne; and in 1613 he
became a priest of the order of the Minimes. In his new
sphere he commenced the study of the Hebrew language
and very soon mastered it. He held the philosophical chair
of Nevers during the three years preceding 1619, when he
became superior of the convent of his order in the neigh¬
bourhood of Paris. He afterwards travelled in Germany
and Italy, and became acquainted during his visit to the
latter country with the recent discoveries of Torricelli re¬
specting a vacuum. Mersenne ultimately settled at Paris,
where he died in 1648, lamented by a large circle of distin¬
guished friends, who admired alike the gentle engaging
losopl^er °f he man and the profound saSacity of the Phj-
Some have ascribed to Mersenne the first discovery of
3 z
546
Mersey
II
Merthyr
Tydvil.
M E R
M E S
the cycloid; an honour, however, to which he does no
seem to be entitled. Some of the wits of his time affecte
to hold him in low esteem, and he was even charged with
plagiarism by the Abbe Le Vayer, who calls him Le bon
Larron •” but it is a sufficient vindication of the Fathei s
talents and character that the celebrated Descartes not only
clun" fast to him as a friend, but, as his conespondence
amply testifies, consulted him on the most important points
of his speculations. Merseone’s most famous work is the
Harmonic Universelle, contenant laTheorie et la Pratique
de la Musique, 2 vols., Paris, 1636-7. This work he aftei -
wards translated into Latin, with important alterations and
additions, rendering it almost an entirely new treatise, and
entitled Harmonicorum libri xii., de Sonorum JSatura,
Causis et Effectibus, Paris, 1648, fob ...
MERSEY, a river of England, is formed by the union
of several small streams which take their rise in the hills
near the borders of Yorkshire, Cheshire, and Derbyshire,
where these three counties meet in a single point, llic
principal of these streams are the Tame and the Oroyt; and
from Stockport, where these two unite, the river thus formed
takes the name of the Mersey, flows to the W., forming all
along its course the boundary between Cheshire and Lan¬
cashire, and after a course from Stockport of 55 miles in
length, falls into the Irish Sea below Liverpool. 1 he prin¬
cipal tributaries of the Mersey are,—the Dwell, which flows
past Manchester, and falls into the Mersey from the JV,
below the junction of which the river becomes navigable ;
and the Weaver, which joins it from the S. just before it
expands into a large estuary. This estuary, which is 17
miles in length and 3 miles across at the broadest part,
contracts at its mouth to a breadth of little more than three-
quarters of a mile, so as to have the appearance, from
several points of view, of a large inland lake. The country
through which the Mersey flows is level ^ but in some parts
the scenery is very picturesque. The principal towns and
villao-es on its banks are,—Stretford, Warrington, Hale,
Garston, and Liverpool, on the right bank ; and Stockport,
Runcorn, Ince, and Birkenhead, on the left.
MERTHYR TYDVIL or Tydfil, a parliamentary
borough and market-town of South Wales, Glamorganshire,
situated on the Taff, 22 miles N. by W. of Cardiff, and 171
W. by N. of London. The town, although it is said to be
named after an ancient British martyr of the name of 1 ydvil,
is entirely of modern origin, and consists chiefly of the cot¬
tages of workmen, meanly and irregularly built. Of late,
however, the town has been much improved, and it now
contains some regular and well-built streets, a court- ouse,
a market-house, several elegant private residences, and a
large number of excellent shops. The town contained in
1851 no fewer than 84 places of worship belonging to the
following denominations :—Independents, 20; Baptists, 19;
Church of England, 10; Wesleyan Methodists, 10 ; Welsh
Calvinist Methodists, 10 ; Unitarians, 2 ; Primitive Metho¬
dists, 2; Wesleyan Reformers, 2; isolated congregation,
1; Roman Catholics, 1; Latter-day Saints, 6; Jews, 1.
There were also at that time 68 Sunday schools, 16 public
and 43 private day schools. The town has a library and
reading-room, as well as several book-clubs;—all which facts
afford evidence of the progress which the inhabitants are
making in education and intelligence. Merthyr 1 ydvil,
situated in a bleak and barren country, was at an early
period known as a place for the smelting of iron ore, but it
was never carried on to any great extent till Mr Anthony
Bacon in 1755 obtained a lease of a district of land, 8 miles
in length by 5 in breadth; and from that time may be dated
the rise of the prosperity and importance of the town. Hav¬
ing erected extensive ironworks, and made a contract with
the government for supplying the arsenals with cannons, he
acquired an immense fortune, and finally disposed of the
land in smaller portions to other individuals. From that
time the works have gone on increasing
^ ^ ^    n  o extent and in
prosperity; and it is not difficult to account for the rapid
rise of a large town in the vicinity, seeing that from 4000
to 5000 hands are employed in one establishment alone,
and that upwards of L.1,000,000 is paid annually as wages
in the four large ironworks in the district. There aie now
nearly fifty blast-furnaces in the vicinity of the town, pro¬
ducing annually from 150,000 to 200,000 tons of iron;
which are for the most part conveyed by railway or canal
to Cardiff, whence they are shipped to their various destina¬
tions. In the vicinity of Merthyr Tydvil there are nume¬
rous country seats, belonging principally to the wealthy
proprietors of the different ironworks. Since the passing of
the Reform Bill Merthyr Tydvil has returned one member
to the House of Commons. The market-day is Saturday ;
and there are three annual fairs. Pop. (1851) of the
borough, including the town of Dowlais, 63,080.
MERY, or Merit, a town of Turkestan, province of
Khiva, situated on the caravan road between Meshed and
Bokhara, about 12 miles E. of the Moorghab, and 300 S.E.
of Khiva. The town was originally founded by Alexander
the Great; but having been destroyed, it was rebuilt by
Antiochus I., and received the name o\‘Antiochia Margiana.
The captive soldiers of Crassus were settled here by Orodes.^
In after times it was one of the four imperial cities of
Khorassan, and many of the Persian monarchs made it
their capital; but in 1786 it was taken and sacked by the
Usbecks,—a blow from the effects of which it has never re¬
covered. The surrounding country, which bears the name
of Maroochak, was formerly celebrated for its fruits; but it is
extremely unhealthy. T he population is estimated at 3000.
MESHED, or Mushed, a town of Persia, capital of the
province of Khorassan, is situated in a broad valley, 455
miles E. by N. of Teheran, and 500 N.E. of Ispahan ; Lat.
36. 18. N.; Long. 59. 35. E. The town is surrounded by
str’ono- walls; but the houses are in general meanly built of
brick, and nearly half of it is in ruins. The principal
street, which passes through the town from E. to W., is
wide and lined with handsome shops, and has a canal pass¬
ing through its centre. The chief building is that which
incloses the tombs of Imam Reza and of the Caliph
Haroun Al-Raschid, on account of which Meshed is
accounted a holy city, and visited by crowds of pilgrims.
'Phis edifice, which stands in the centre of the town, is a
splendid building, with a gilt dome and two gilt minarets;
possessing also splendid gateways and silver gates. Close
to it stands a mosque, considered one of the finest in Persia,
with a lofty blue dome and minarets. Besides this, the
town contains a palace, which is an insignificant building
hardly deserving the name; a large and well-supphe
bazaar; and a caravansary, which is in an unfinished state.
Meshed once had 16 medresses or colleges, but only a
few of these now remain. The manufactures ol the town
consist of velvets, silks, jewellery, hardware, sword-blades,
&c.; and there is a considerable trade carried on with Bok¬
hara, Candahar, Herat, Yezd, &c. The position of the
town on the great roads of Persia, and the numerous cara¬
vans continually passing, render Meshed a place of some
importance as the emporium of the surrounding cou y.
Pop. believed to be between 40,000 and 50,000.
MESJID, or Musjeed, Ali, a town of Asiatic lurkey,
in the pashalic of Baghdad is situated jn a dry ffiamcin fhe
Euphrates, 90 miles S. by W. of Baghdad, and 28 S. o
the ruins of Babylon. The town is well built, and sur
rounded by strong fortifications. 1 he principal buikhn
the mosque of Ali, containing the grave of the caliph of
that name, visited by great numbers of pilgrims, rop.
about 6000. . , , i* nf
Mesjid, or Musjeed, Hossein a town m the pashahc o
Baghdad, is situated about 50 miles S.W. of Baghdad, an
28 N.W. of Babylon. It derives its name from Hossein, tnc
Merv
II
Mesjid.
M E S
M E S 547
Mesmer. son °f Ali, who is buried here in a mosque much vener-
i ^ ated and frequented by Persian pilgrims. Pop. about 8000.
MESMEIl, Friedrich Anton, the author of the doc¬
trine of Mesmerism, was born in 1734 at Marsburg in
Baden. After attending the schools of Dillingen and In-
goldstadt, he studied medicine at Vienna, and subsequently
settled in that city as a physician. It was there in 1766
that he gave the first rude outline of his theory in a trea¬
tise entitled De Planetarum Injiuxu. He founded his spe¬
culation on the supposition that there is an element of ex¬
treme subtlety which pervades the entire universe and per¬
meates every body. He then asserted that this element,
like the sea and the atmosphere, was influenced by the
heavenly bodies, and that it communicated this influence
to the nervous systems of all animals. In this way he ac¬
counted for the periodical affections of certain invalids.
But this theory, in the form in which it was divulged, could
not afford a basis for any art that might minister to the
eager cupidity of its author. Mesmer therefore thought
of making magnets perform the office of the heavenly
bodies, and of using them to cure the diseases of the human
frame. No sooner, however, had he begun the healing art
than it appeared that a Vienna professor, Father Hell, had
already been using magnets for the same purpose. A con¬
troversy ensued between the rival leeches touching their
respective claims to the discovery. Mesmer was worsted;
but effected a safe retreat from the contest by averring that
he was not restricted to one instrument, for he could em¬
ploy animal magnetism with the same effect as he had
employed mineral. The efficacy of this new appliance he
endeavoured by every means to prove to the public. He
solicited the opinions of the Royal Society of London, the
Academy of Sciences at Paris, and the Academy of Berlin.
None of these bodies, except the last, deigned to give him
even an unfavourable reply. As unsuccessful was his al¬
leged cure in 1777 of Mademoiselle Paradis, a popular
vocalist, who was suffering from gutta serena and convul¬
sive affections in the eyes. The young lady was afterwards
discovered to be as blind as ever ; and Mesmer was obliged
to flee from the punishment of his imposture. After prac¬
tising his art for a short time in Germany and Switzerland,
he repaired to Paris in 1778. At this time the French
people, free from all political excitement and from all in¬
terest in foreign affairs, were ever on the alert for novelties
and wonders. Accordingly, they received with eager curio¬
sity the handsome and imposing foreigner who professed
to unveil the secret workings of nature, and to effect a
painless cure of all diseases by a simple process resembling
the passes of a magician. Within a short time Mesmer had
gained a great practice, had converted to his opinions
Deslon, one of the faculty, and had published an account of
his theory. Of this account many refutations by scientific
men appeared. Mesmer condescended on one occasion to
reply, and with cool self-complacency described himself as
a man of genius and a benefactor of the human race. About
the same time he was soliciting from the government a
chateau and its lands as a reward for his services, and was
threatening to leave France if they should attempt to
cheapen the price of his labours. His request was not
granted; but a life-rent of 20,000 francs per annum was
offered to him. A* yearly sum of 10,000 francs was also
guaranteed, on the condition that he should permit three
persons nominated by the ministry to inspect and report
his proceedings. Mesmer was not pleased with the condi¬
tion, and he put his former threat into execution by reject¬
ing the offers of the French government, and by setting out
with some of his patients to Spa. There his enthusiastic
admirers, headed by Bergasse, promised to raise a sub¬
scription for his behoof if he would agree to reveal the
secret of animal magnetism to all the subscribers. Mesmer
grasped at the offer; and having returned forthwith to Paris,
opened a spacious hall, and attracted all classes around
him. In a luxuriously furnished room, pervaded by per¬
fumes and echoing with soft music, he was wont to seat his
patients round a species of magnetic battery called a ba-
quet. WThen this co-operation of exciting causes began to
produce as its necessary effect a nervous agitation through
the entire circle, Mesmer appeared with his magic wand to
regulate the action in each separate individual. So many
cures were alleged to have been effected by this process, that
at length, in 1784, the French government thought it their
duty to examine into this apparent mystery. The proceed¬
ings of Deslon, the pupil of Mesmer, were accordingly scru¬
tinized by a committee of inquiry consisting of the physicians
Majault, Sallin, Darcet, and Guillotin, and the academicians
Franklin, Leroi, Badly, De Bory, and Lavoisier. The re¬
port, drawn up by Badly, thoroughly exposed the falsehood
and imposture of the Mesmeric process. About the same
time the Royal Society of Medicine published another re¬
port equally condemnatory. These two testimonies from
the scientific world were printed by the order of the govern¬
ment, and circulated throughout France. The disciples of
animal magnetism attempted to check the advance of their
enemies by forming themselves into societies. Mesmer,
more politic, escaped amid the general confusion, carrying
with him a subscription of 340,000 francs, and at the
same time the secret for which that sum had been given to
him. After living for some time in England under an as¬
sumed name, he repaired to Germany, and published in
1799 a new exposition of his doctrine. He died in ob¬
scurity in his native city in 1815.
MESOLONGHI, or Missolonghi, a town of Greece,
in the government of iEtolia, is situated on the edge of a
marshy plain on the N. shore of the Gulf of Patras, 22
miles W. of Lepanto. It is separated from the sea by a
lake, 10 miles long and 5 in breadth, from which it pro¬
bably derives its name, through the Italian mezzo and
laguna. This sheet of water is so shallow, that there are
few passages by which any but small boats can approach
the town. Mesolonghi has a school, custom-house, and a
small harbour. It is chiefly remarkable for the siege it sus¬
tained from the Turks in the Greek war. At the outbreak
of the Greek revolution the place was indeed fortified, but
the defences were in such an inefficient state from neglect,
that it was necessary to increase and strengthen them in
order to secure the safety of the town. The Greeks ac¬
cordingly surrounded the city on the land side by a ditch,
and a mound of earth and stones; but the approach of the
Turks prevented any further improvements being made in
the fortifications. In the beginning of 1825, by the arrival
of Greeks from other parts of the country, and of volun¬
teers from various nations of Europe, the garrison was
raised to the number of 5000, who were commanded by
Nothi Bozzaris; and on the 25th April of the same year a
Turkish force of 20,000 -under Reshid Pasha appeared be¬
fore Mesolonghi. Nor was the inequality less, in the num¬
ber and size of their artillery, between the besiegers and
the besieged, than in the amount of their forces. On the
] 1th of May the first bombardment began, and for the
space of two months afterwards the town was exposed to
numerous bombardments and assaults; but the defenders
were not less active in answering the enemy’s fire, and
making sallies from their defences, by which means they
succeeded in repelling their assailants, and inflicting on
them considerable loss. During this time they were sup¬
plied with ammunition and provisions by the fleet, which
was stationed at the entrance of the lake; but on the 10th
of July, a superior Turkish fleet, after compelling the ships
of the Greeks to retire, succeeded in landing a string re¬
inforcement to the besiegers. The assaults on the town
were then renewed with increased fury, and the cannon¬
ade of the Turks carried destruction to its frail ramparts.
Meeo-
longhi.
548 M E S
Mesopo- and death among the ranks of its brave defenders. Yet the
tamia garrison, though reduced to the number of 4000, con-
il tinned to maintain their ground until, in the month of
Messalla. August> the Greek fleet appeared in the offing, and, by de-
feating the Turkish squadron, relieved Mesolonghi for a
time from the blockade. But the sultan was resolved at all
hazards to reduce this stronghold of liberty; and in the
end of November, the Greek ships were again driven off,
and the blockade renewed by the combined Turkish,
Egyptian, and Barbary fleet. In the beginning of 1826
the'besieging army was reinforced by the arrival of 14,000
troops under Ibrahim Pasha, who superseded Reshid Pasha
in the command. On the 25th of January a bombardment
was begun, which lasted for three days, and reduced the
town to ruins, but could not shake the resolute courage of
the Greeks. The repeated assaults of the enemy were still
repulsed with great loss. At last, reduced to the utmost
extremities by famine, and seeing on all sides nothing but
the ships and tents of their enemies, yet never entertaining
any thought of surrender, the Greeks determined to force
their way through the opposing ranks, and thus convey
themselves, with their wives and children, to a place of
safety. Although by treachery the enemy w^as made aware
of their design, and thus prepared to meet them, they were
not able to prevent nearly 2000 of the besieged from making
their way to the mountains. Many prisoners fell into the
hands of the Turks, and the remainder, who were unable
from their wounds or weariness to accompany their fellows,
continued to defend themselves among the ruins until the
explosion of a powder magazine, destroying alike friends
and foes, put an end to the bloody conflict. Such was the
siege of Mesolonghi, which attracted during its continuance
the eyes of all Europe, and in which the Greeks showed
themselves the worthy sons of the heroes of Marathon and
Thermopylae, and
“ Snatched from the ashes of their sires
The embers of their former fires.”
Near one of the gates of the town a mound of earth has
been raised bearing an inscription in honour of those who
fell in this famous siege. Lord Byron died at Mesolonghi
on the 19th April 1824.
MESOPOTAMIA, an ancient country of Western Asia,
was bounded on the N. by Armenia and Mount Masius,
on the E. by the Tigris, on the S. by the Median Wall,
and on the W. by the Euphrates. Its early name, as we
learn from Scripture, was Aram Naharaim (Syria of the
Tw o Waters), and was thus derived, like its after-name, Me¬
sopotamia, from its peculiar position. The same cause has
evidently induced the modern Arabs to call it Al-Jezireh
(the Island). In addition to the Tigris and Euphrates, it
is watered by the Chaboras (Rhabur), the Mygdonius
(Hermas), and the Belas. Its principal towns were Nisi-
bis (Nisibin), Edessa (Orfa), Circesium (Karkesia), and
Carrhae (Harrari), the Haran of the Bible. According to
Xenophon in his Anabasis, this country was a vast plain as
level as the sea, diversified with no woods, abounding in
sweet-scented wild-flowers, and haunted by wild asses,
ostriches, buzzards, antelopes, and other animals; yet later
writers represent it as affording rich pasturage for abundant
herds, and possessing stately forests, especially on the banks
of its two great rivers. Mesopotamia is seldom mentioned
in history before the date at which it became a Persian
province. Under the Romans it was divided into two
parts,— Osrhoene, on the W. of the River Chaboras, and Me¬
sopotamia on the E. It was very impatient under the
yoke of Rome, and continued to waver between revolt and
submission until a.d. 363, when it was surrendered by
Jovian into the hands of the Persians.
MESSALLA, Coryincs Marcus Valerius, a Roman
general and orator, was boin in 59 b.c. After studying at
Athens he returned to Rome shortly after the death of
M E S
Caesar, and became the attached follower of Cassius. His Messana.
name was accordingly inserted by the triumvirs in the list
of those whom they devoted to death, but was afterwards
erased at the petition of his friends. Refusing the proffered
friendship of the triumvirate, Messalla followed the fortunes
of the republican army, and stood next in command to
Brutus and Cassius. On the field of Philippi he turned
the flank of Augustus, stormed his camp, and was once on
the point of taking him prisoner. The death of the two
republican generals left him in charge of the shattered re¬
mains of their army. He effected a safe retreat to the
island of Thapsos, and there he accepted honourable terms
from Antony. Provident and politic, Messalla foresaw
the downfall of Antony, and opportunely transferred his al¬
legiance to Augustus. His military talents were success¬
fully exerted in the service of the latter. He routed the
Alpine tribe of the Salassians in 34 B.c., commanded the
centre of the fleet at Actium in 31 b.c., and reduced the
province of Aquitania in 27 b.c. For the last achieve¬
ment he was honoured with a triumph on his return. Mes¬
salla had been appointed consul in 31 b.c., and was now, in
27 b.c., nominated prefect of the city. Shortly afterwards,
however, he resigned all his public offices except his augur-
ship. After suffering such a total derangement of his in¬
tellect that at times he forgot even his own name, he died
about 11 a.d.
Of Messalla’s many works—oratorical, historical, gram¬
matical, and poetical—some of the titles alone remain. \ et
a vague estimate of his literary merit may be formed from
the testimonies of his contemporaries and successors. His
works are eulogized by Seneca, Quintilian, and the two
Plinies. The author of the dialogue De Oratoribus, at¬
tributes greater elegance and chasteness to his orations than
to those of Cicero. Kind-hearted, and a lover of literature,
Messalla employed his opulence and political power in aid¬
ing and encouraging literary men. He restored Tibullus to
his estate, and loved to gather round his table such men
as Horace, Varius, Pollio, and Maecenas.
MESSANA, or Messene {Messina), an ancient town
of Sicily, was, according to all authorities, of Chalcidic
origin. Its first inhabitants were Chalcidians, according to
Thucydides and Pausanias, from the colony of Cumae in
Italy, but, according to Strabo from Naxos in Sicily. The
original name of the city was Zancle or Dancle, from the
form of the harbour resembling that of a sickle. The
date of its foundation is not known with any precision; but
it was probably in the latter part of the eight century b.c. ;
and within the first 100 years of its existence, it had at¬
tained to such a degree of prosperity as to be able to send
off two colonies on the N. coast of Sicily, Mylae, and Him-
era, the latter of which rose afterwards to considerable im¬
portance. When the lonians in Asia Minor were sub¬
dued by the Persians, and were compelled either to live
in slavery or to leave their country, they were invited by
the Messanians to settle on the coast of Sicily. This in¬
vitation was taken advantage of by the Samians, along with
some other Greeks from Asia; but they having landed in
Italy, were persuaded by Anaxilas, the tyrant of Rhegium,to
make an attack on Messana during the absence of Scythes,
the king of that city. This they accordingly did, and were
successful; but although Scythes was unable to regain
his dominion, the Samians were equally powerless to retain
it; and were soon after deprived of their sovereignty by
Anaxilas, who introduced into the city a large body of set¬
tlers from his own city, and changed the name of their new
abode from Zancle to Messana, in memory of his mother-
country in Greece. These events must have occurred be¬
tween 493 and 476 B.C. After continuing for some time
under the power of the Kings of Rhegium, the Messanians
succeeded in 461 in throwing off the yoke of these mon-
archs, and establishing a republican form of government,
M E S
Messene under which they continued for some time to enjoy freedom
Messenia an i In 396 b.c. a large Carthaginian army
v r _t j un<Ier Himilco landed in Sicily, and advanced along the
northern coast to Messana, which they took and levelled to
the ground. But in the next year the Carthaginians were
defeated and expelled by Dionysius of Syracuse, who then
proceeded to rebuild Messana, and to repeople it with the
old inhabitants and with colonists from Italy and Mes-
scenia. Soon after 289 b.c. Messana was seized by the
Mamertini, or worshippers of Mamers, a band of merce¬
naries who had been brought from Italy by Agathocles,
King of Syracuse, and had been discharged at the death
of that monarch. They endeavoured, without success,
to change the name of the city to Mamertina. The Ma-
mertines were afterwards attacked by Hieron of Syra¬
cuse, and being unable themselves to hold out against
his power, were only saved from destruction by the arri¬
val of a Carthaginian force under Hannibal, the son of
Gisco. But an alliance with Carthage was distasteful to a
party among the Mamertines; who gaining the predomi¬
nance in the state, applied for aid to the Romans against
the Carthaginians. This request was readily acceded to,
and thence arose the first Punic war, during the course of
which Messana was taken by the Romans, and thus became
the earliest dependency of that people out of Italy. The
city was first an ally of Rome, and afterwards a munici-
pium; but its subsequent history in ancient times is not
remarkable for any great events.
MESSENE, the capital of Messenia in Greece, was
founded by Epaminondas in 369 b.c. In the building of
this city, which was situated at the foot of Mount Ithome,
the Thebans, along with the Messenians and their other
allies, took part, and the buildings and fortifications were
finished after eighty-five days. As Messene was erected
in order to enable the Messenians to regain their indepen¬
dence and form a check to the power of Sparta, which then
threatened the liberties of Greece, the place was made one
of great strength, being inferior in that respect to few Greek
cities. The citadel of Messene, which is inclosed within
the city walls, stands on Mount Ithome, an elevation 2631
feet in height, which was celebrated in the first and third
Messenian wars for its defence against the Spartans. The
town of Messene was situated in a hollow to the S.W. of the
citadel, and having Mount Eva on the S.E., between which
and Ithome the walls were carried along a narrow ridge.
The whole circuit of the walls is about 6 English miles ; and
the town was probably made of such an extent in order to
accommodate the inhabitants of the neighbouring country,
who might take refuge here in time of war, as a great part
of the inclosed area must have been quite unfit for build-
ing. A description of the town and its principal edifices is
given by Pausanias; and Strabo mentions the resemblance
between the rock of Ithome and that of the citadel of Co¬
rinth. The town continued to exist until towards the end
of the Roman Empire; but after that time it fell into decay,
and the site is now partly occupied by the modern village
of Mauromati, near which many remains are yet to be
seen of the ancient buildings and walls.
MESSENIA, one of the ancient divisions of the Pe¬
loponnesus in Greece, was bounded on the N. by Elis
and Arcadia, on the E. by Laconia, on the S. by the Mes¬
senian Gulf, and W. by the Ionian Sea. The area of the
country is estimated by Clinton at 1162 square miles. The
principal mountains in Messenia are those in the N., near
the sources of the Neda and Pamisus, from which one
ridge extends to the W. along the Neda, turns to the S.,
and terminates at the promontory of Acritas; and another
chain of mountains stretches E., and joins the ridge of
Taygetus. Its chief rivers are the Pamisus (Pirnazza
and the Neda (Buzi). The cities worthy of notice were
—Messene, Stenyclarus, Ithome, and Ira, all inland; Corone
M E S
(Petahdi), on the Messenian Gulf; and Methone (Modon),
Pylos, and Aulon, all on the Ionian Sea. Messenia is de¬
scribed by ancient writers as having a rich and fertile soil,
and a mild and temperate climate ; and modern travellers
confirm the remark of Pausanias, who calls Messenia the
richest country in the Peleponnese. This country is said
to have been first inhabited by the Leleges under Po-
lycaon, the son of Lelex, who called it Messenia, after his
wife Messene. After more than a century the country
came into the possession of ^Eolians under Perieres, son
of AColus, and the western part was occupied by Neleus,
an /Eolian from Ihessaly. When the Dorians conquered
the Peloponnese, Messenia fell to the lot of Creophontes,
who established his capital at Stenyclarus, and divided his
kingdom into five parts. Soon afterwards, however, the
richness and fertility of Messenia excited the cupidity of
the Spartans, and after numerous disputes and incursions
on both sides an open war at length broke out, which is
known in Greek history as the first Messenian war. This
war lasted for twenty years (743-723 b.c.), and during
its continuance the Messenians under Aristodemus de¬
fended themselves against the Spartans in the fortress of
Ithome ; but this was finally taken by the Spartans, and the
Messenians became helots or slaves of the conquerors.
After remaining for some time in this condition, they made
an effort to regain their independence in 685 b.c. ; and thus
began the second Messenian war, which lasted till 668 b.c.
The leader of the Messenians on this occasion was Aristo-
menes ; and it was in this war that the Spartans received the
assistance of Tyrtaeus from Athens, to animate by his war¬
like songs the courage of their soldiers. When their
country was a second time subdued by the capture of Ira,
a large body of Messenians fled from their country, and
settled, partly at Rhegium in Italy, and partly in various
parts of Greece. Others remained at home, and became
helots. Another attempt was made by them to regain
their freedom in 464 b.c., when Sparta was destroyed by an
earthquake. In this third war the fortress of Ithome was
again occupied by the Messenians; but after a contest of
ten years was surrendered to the Spartans. In 455 B.c. the
Messenians were allowed by the Spartans to retire from
their fortress, and were settled by the Athenians in Nau-
pactus, a town which the latter had recently obtained from
the Locrians. From this place the Messenians were ex¬
pelled in 404 b.c., at the end of the Peloponnesian war; but
they were restored to Messenia by Epaminondas in 389 b.c.,
where they continued independent until the conquest of
Greece by the Romans in 146 b.c..
MESSIAH. See Christ, and Jesus.
MESSIER, Charles, a skilful astronomer, born at Ba-
donviller in Lorraine, on the 26th of June 1730. He
came to Paris at the age of twenty to seek his fortune.
Having learned to write a good hand and to draw, Delisle
employed him as a copyist in the observatory, and Libour,
his secretary, taught him to make use of the common
instruments of astronomy, to observe eclipses, and to
look out for comets, which was the principal business of
his subsequent life, for he was never much of a theo¬
retical or philosophical astronomer. Delisle obtained for
him a clerkship in the hydrographical department of the
navy, previous to his appointment as astronomer to the
admiralty.
After having discovered twelve comets, he obtained a seat
in the academy in 1770. He had afterwards the honour of
being made an academician of Berlin ; and through La-
larpe s interest he obtained the same distinction from St
Petersburg. He was also made a fellow of the Royal Society
o London in 1764. The highest compliment that he ever
receivec was paid him, perhaps without sufficient reason,
by La ande, who inserted in his celestial globe of 1775 a
jonste lation with the name of Messier, or Messium custos,
549
Messiah
II
Messier.
550
M E S
Messina, in the neighbourhood of Cepheus. When Ilerschel had
discovered the Georgian planet, Messier was very diligently
engaged in observing its motions ; but his studies were un¬
fortunately interrupted by an accident, from the effects of
which he was long of recovering. He received a pension
on this occasion from the royal bounty, of which, however,
he was soon after deprived by the Revolution. Messier
was in some measure compensated for his pecuniary losses
by being made a member of the Institute, of the Bureau des
Longitudes, and of the Legion of Honour. He died on
the 11th of April 1817.
A variety of his observations, especially of Comets, are
published in the Memoires des Savans etrangers, v. vi., and
in the Memoirs of the Academy from 1771 to 1790. There
is also a Catalogue of Nebulce in 1771 ; An Account of
Points of Light seen on Saturn's Ring in 1774 ; amidol A n
Apparent Fall of Globules over the Sun's Disc, 17 / /• He
also contributed some articles to the Connaisance des Temps
and to the Astronomical Ephemerides.
MESSINA, a town and seaport of Sicily, capital of a
province of the same name, is situated at the N.E. corner
of the island, on the Straits of Faro or Messina, here about
4 miles in breadth, 8 miles N.W. of Reggio, and 120 E.
by N. of Palermo ; Lat. (of lighthouse) 36. 18. N., Long.
59. 35. E. The appearance of Messina from the sea is very
grand and beautiful. The town is built on the slope of a
hill in the form of an amphitheatre, behind which rise moun¬
tains covered with dark forests, which heighten by contrast
the beauty of the white buildings in the town. The greatest
part of the town is built on the W. side of the harbour;
the streets are broad and well paved with lava, and the
houses are handsome, and in general two storeys high. The
town is defended by walls and bastions, as well as by a cita¬
del and numerous forts ; so that Messina is reckoned a first-
rate fortress. Among the principal buildings in Messina
there are about SO churches, the most remarkable of which
is the cathedral, in the Gothic style, built shortly after the
Norman conquest of Sicily. The nave of this edifice is
supported by ancient granite pillars, which were formerly
a part of a temple of Neptune. The altar and the roof of
the choir are of mosaic work, and the pulpit is adorned with
very beautiful carved work by Gaggini, the Sicilian sculp¬
tor ; but the general appearance of the building is heavy
and tasteless. There are numerous convents and nunneries
in the town. The palace of the viceroy is a very fine build¬
ing, and has a large open space laid out in gardens and
walks. Besiftes these, there are an archbishop’s palace,
senate-house, college, public library, hospital, lazaretto, two
theatres, &c. The harbour of Messina, which is the best^
in Sicily, is formed by a narrow strip of land in the form of
a sickle, which incloses it on all sides but the N., where
there is an entrance about 700 yards in breadth. It is thus
somewhat difficult of access, but when once entered, it is
large and deep. Men-of-war can anchor in the harbour;
while merchant vessels come alongside of the quay. The
position of the town and the excellence of the harbour give
Messina great importance in a commercial point of view.
The exports of the place consistprincipally of oranges, lemons,
currants, raisins, wine, brandy, oil, liquorice, sheep arid goat
skins; and the chief imports are cotton and woollen stuffs,
sugar, coffee, hides, and hardware. The inhabitants are also
employed to a large extent in the tunny, coral, and other fish¬
eries. The principal manufacture is that of silk stuffs, espe¬
cially damasks and satins. Messina was almost entirely de¬
stroyed by an earthquake in 1693 ; and in 1743 was visited
by the plague, supposed to have been conveyed thither by a
vessel from the Levant. Afterwards, in 1780 and 1783, the
town was again exposed to the calamities of earthquakes,
and on the last occasion was more than half destroyed ; since
which time it has been built in a much superior style. In
1848 Messina, along with the other large towns of Sicily,
MET
went with the popular party, and was bombarded by the Mestrino
Neapolitan fleet. After a bombardment of four days, in J.
which a large part of the city was laid in ruins, it was com-
pelled to surrender.
The province of Messina is bounded on the N. by the
Mediterranean, E. by the Straits of Messina, S. by the pro¬
vince of Catania, and W. by that of Palermo ; and is 60
miles in length by 30 in breadth. It is occupied in the
interior by the mountain range which traverses the N. of
Sicily; and though destitute of large plains, it has many
valleys, some of which are very rich and fertile^in wine, oil,
and fruits of various sorts. Pop. of the town (1850), 97,074;
of the province (1854), 380,279.
MESTRINO, Nicolo, a famous violinist and excellent
composer, was born at Milan in 1748, as is proved by his
letter, dated at Brussels 18th August 1786, and addressed
to the then governors of the Netherlands, to whom he ap¬
plied for the" vacant post of their master of music. They
bestowed the place upon Witzthumb, a native of Baden,
who had been long employed as a musician at the court of
Brussels. At that time Mestrino had been in the service
of Prince Esterhazy, and next of Count Ladislas Erdoedy,
as first violin ; and had travelled in Italy, Germany, and
other countries, with a high musical reputation. Disap¬
pointed in his views at Brussels, he proceeded to Paris,
where he played one of his concertos at the Concert Spiri-
tuel on the 17th December 1786. His extraordinary skill
attracted immediate attention, and he was appointed leader
of the orchestra of the chief theatre ; and, in 1789, director
of the excellent orchestra that had been formed by Viotti
for the Italian Opera at Paris. He died in September 1790.
The late celebrated contrabassist Domenico Dragonetti
assured the writer of this article that Mestrino was the best
violinist he had ever heard. One of Mestrino s effects in
playing was the slide performed with the same finger on the
same string in passing from one sound to another, a 3d, 4th,
or 5th, &c., higher or lower. An example of this is given
at page 43 of the second edition of Woldemar’s Grande
Methode pour le Violon. Mestrino trained several good
pupils, and among these. Mademoiselle de la Jonchere, after¬
wards known as Madame Ladurner. When he arrived in Pa¬
ris and attracted public attention, the circumstances of his
previous artistic life were not known ; and thence arose false
and absurd stories, invented against him by persons who
were jealous of his superiority. It was said that he had
long been a street-fiddler, that he had been imprisoned,
and had practised the violin incessantly during his confine¬
ment : stories utterly destitute of foundation. The late
celebrated violinist Paganini was assailed by similar sto¬
ries, and even by atrocious imputations of murder: all
mere fabrications of jealousy. The genuine works of Mes¬
trino, which were published at Paris, consist of twelve
Concertos for a principal violin and orchestra; four sets
of Duets for two violins; Studies and Caprices for a vio¬
lin alone ; Sonatas for a violin and bass. (g. J. »•)
METAPHOR, a species of rhetorical trope founded
on the resemblance which one object bears to another. It
is in reality only comparison or simile expressed in an
abridged form. For example, the sentence,—These men
are lambs in the farhily, but lions in the field, is an exam¬
ple of metaphor; but to say, “ These men are like lambs
in the family, &c.,” is an instance of simile or comparison.
In short, the peculiar distinction between these two figures
is, that in simile we say one object is like another, while
in metaphor we drop the word expressing the similitude,
and say one object is another. And hence the peculiar
boldness which characterizes metaphor; and which is not to
be found in the same degree in any of the figures ol rne-
toric. Those ordinary metaphors which long use has sanc¬
tioned have a tendency, in all languages, to sink to the level
of comoion terms.
551
METAPHYSICS.
Intion.UC" Amoxg tlie various changes which the language of philo-
v [ L, sophy has undergone in the gradual progress of human
knowledge, there is none more remarkable than the dif¬
ferent significations which, in ancient and modern times,
have been assigned to the term Metaphysics—a term at
fust sight almost equally indefinite in its etymological sig¬
nification and in its actual use. As regards the origin of
the name, the most recent discussions appear on the whole
to confirm the commonly received opinion, according to
which, the term Metaphysics, though originally emploved
to designate a treatise of Aristotle, was probably unknown
to that philosopher himself. It is true that the oldest and
best of the extant commentators on Aristotle refers the in¬
scription of the treatise to the Stagirite j1 but in the extant
writings of Aristotle himself) though the work and its sub¬
ject are frequently referred to under the titles of the First
Philosophy, or Theology, or Wisdom,2 no authority is found
for the latter and more popular appellation. On the whole,
the weight of evidence appears to be in favour of the sup¬
position which attributes the inscription to. jucto. to. (favaiKa to
Andronicus Rhodius, the first editor of Aristotle’s collected
works. The title, as given to the writings on the first phi¬
losophy, probably indicates only their place in the collec¬
tion, as coming after the physical treatises of the author.3
In this respect, the term Metaphysics has been aptly com¬
pared to that of Postils; both names signifying nothing
more than the fact of something else having preceded.4 0
The title, thus indefinite in its etymological signification,
does not at first sight appear to admit of more precision
with reference to its actual application. Mr Stewart, to¬
wards the end of his dissertation on the progress of meta¬
physical and ethical philosophy,5 notices “ the extraordinary
change which has gradually and insensibly taken place, since
the publication of Locke’s Essay, in the meaning of the
word Metaphysics ; a word formerly appropriated to the on¬
tology and pneumatology of the schools, but now under¬
stood as equally applicable to all those inquiries which have
for their object to trace the various branches of human
knowledge to their first principles-in the constitution of
our nature.” “ This change,” he continues, “ can be ac¬
counted for only by a change in the philosophical pursuits
of Locke’s successors ; a change from the idle abstractions
and subtleties of the dark ages, to studies subservient to
the culture of the understanding; to the successful exercise
of its faculties and powers ; and to a knowledge of the great
ends and purposes of our being. It may be regarded,
therefore, as a palpable and incontrovertible proof of a
corresponding progress of reason in this part of the world.”
This change in the pursuits, and consequently in the
language, of philosophy had been noticed shortly before by
a philosopher of another country in a very different spirit. Introduo
Hegel, in 1816, introduced his lectures on the history of 6on.
philosophy in the following words:—“ In the other countries
of Europe, in which the sciences and the cultivation of the
understanding have been prosecuted with zeal and credit,
every remembrance and trace of philosophy, the name only
excepted, has perished and disappeared. Among the Ger¬
mans alone, it has maintained itself as a national possession.
\\ e have received from nature the higher mission to be the
preservers of this sacred fire, as the Eumolpidae of Athens
were intrusted with the preservation of the Eleusinian
mysteries.”0 Between these opposite conceptions of meta¬
physics or philosophy (for in the language of Hegel, the two
terms may be regarded as synonymous), it is not easy for
an expositor to select his point of view. A definition of
metaphysics which would include both, would be defective
philosophically from its vagueness: one which would ex¬
clude either, would be defective historically from its incom¬
pleteness. To omit the view indicated by Hegel would
be to neglect the whole of the ancient and a great part of
the modern history of the science. To omit the view in¬
dicated by Stewart would be to overlook almost entirely
the important share which the writers of our own country
have contributed towards the solution of the great problem
of philosophy. \ et the reader who has perused a few
pages of Aristotle’s Metaphysics or the later works of a
cognate character, on the one hand, and of Locke’s Essay
or Stewart’s Elements, on the other, will probably be at a
loss to conjecture what possible common notion can be
found to unite together works so utterly distinct in their aim
and method. A few preliminary observations on this point
may, it is hoped, in some degree assist in throwing light on
this obscure and almost imperceptible link of connection.
Speculative philosophy is divided by Aristotle into three
branches—physics, mathematics, and theology. The first
investigates the special attributes of this or that body as
such ; the second considers the properties'of bodily figures
abstracted from their material accompaniments ; the third
contemplates pure existence, apart from the sensible acci¬
dents of matter or figure.7 This division, however, is one
which could not have been made until after philosophy had
attained to some considerable development. In the earlier
stages of its history, philosophy in general weyjd naturally
be identified with one or other of the above branches only,
according as its first cultivators sought to explain the prin¬
ciples and causes of things by means of this or that fun¬
damental assumption. Hence it is, that while the history
of philosophy in its widest sense opens with inquiries iden¬
tical in their aim with those afterwards pursued by the me¬
taphysician, the history of metaphysics proper can hardly
1 Alexander in Arist. Metaph,., B. (p. 127, ed. Bonitz).
2 Asclepius, apud Brandis, Scholia, p. 519, b. 19. Bonitz in Arist. Metaph., p. 5.
3 “ TitUAr rlgatr. T“ ™ °.°n ab ips,0 es.se Aristotele ^ inscriptum, adeo est verisiraile ut procerto haberi nossit
... Ad ordinem hbrorum hanc inscnptionem referri, ut libri de prima philosopkia excinere sivnificentur libroVnbW^c P •
fere est ac verissima interpretum Grsecorum sententia.” Bonitz ad Arist. Metavh on 3 5 M ros physieos, communis
opinion that the name should be referred to Aristotle himself, or to one o7his immedla^dfs’cMes llaVaiSS°n’ °n the other
! Cardweirs preface to Taverner’s PoSn7, 6 See ^ p. 227.
« Hegel s Werke vol. xux p. 4. English philosophy, name and thing, is especially honoured with the contempt of this critic « The
natural sciences,” he says, are in England denominated Philosophy. An English Philosophical Jau^ni £ , • cntlc- rhe
and manure, of housekeeping and professional knowledge, and communicates discoveries fn thefe departments^ 7h?Eyi-
sical instruments, such as the barometer and thermometer, philosophical instruments. Theories esneriallv in 7 L,ngllsh1ca!1 Phy-
which are derived from the feelings of the human heart or from experience, are called Philosophy as well as^hose w?Sv.aDd f10™18.Cie?CfS’
of political economy. Thus the name at least of Philosophy is honoured in England ” IhicFI'*19. <a0(> s those whilcl1 contain principles
spirit are dictated his criticisms on Bacon, Locke, and Kewton ; the latter of whom he savs hal e'xMbitS°- 7 P-' 13' In ^ Sam6
cimen of the manner in which experiment and reasoning should not be conducted. ’ ^ ’ ted 1111118 Optics a perfect spe-
7 Metaph. v. 1. gee also De Anima, i. 1. The distinction may be illustrated by an examnle Sunn™ ^ * *
be a wooden square : the physical philosopher considers it qu& wooden; the mathematician1 ’ /) PP°Se 7 obJect of contemplation to
cian, qud something which exists. 2 3 mathema^ian, qU& square; the theologian or metaphysi-
552
METAPHYSICS.
Introduc- be said to have commenced until the progress of thought
tion. and the failure of previous speculations led men to attempt
wthe solution of the general problem of philosophy in a par¬
ticular manner. , . „ . ,
Philosophy in general may be defined, as nearly as a
conception so vague admits of definition, as an inquiry into
the principles and causes of things.1 Metaphysics has
been defined by Aristotle (and the definition may be for
the present provisionally accepted), as the science which
contemplates being as being, and the attributes which be¬
long to it as such.2 The latter definition, while verbally
resembling the former, exhibits, in fact, an important modi¬
fication of it; for it implies that the progress of philosophy
had necessitated the division of things in general into
beings, or things as they are, and phenomena, or things as
they appear. The material principles assumed by the
Tonians and the mathematical relations of the Pythago¬
reans were theories of the universe, falling under the
general conception of philosophy ; but the origin of meta¬
physics must rather be dated from the period when the
Eleatics denied the reality of the sensible world, and con¬
fined the region of truth to the supersensible unity which
can be obtained only by contemplation.^
Philosophy becomes synonymous with metaphysics in
the view of those philosophers who regard thought alone
as the channel by which men can attain to reality and
truth—a point of view which predominates in the spe¬
culations and language of ancient Greece and of modern
Germany. Our own countrymen have for the most part
erred in the other extreme, and limited the province ol
philosophy too exclusively to the investigation of the phe¬
nomena of sense. And the result has been that, while in
Britain the name of metaphysics has been rescued fiom
contempt only by an abuse of language which identifies
it with a branch of inductive science, in Germany it is not
unusual to represent the country of Bacon, Newton, and
Locke, as one which has produced no philosophy.
The first step towards a definite conception of metaphy¬
sics was attained by regarding it as the science of real ex¬
istence. But this conception, like the wider one of phi¬
losophy in general, becomes in its subsequent process
developed from different and even contradictory points of
view, till the resulting systems appear to have nothing in
common but the name. The notion of being, as distin¬
guished from phenomenon, corresponds in its original sig¬
nification with that which the mind conceives as Perra^-
nent and unchangeable, in opposition to that which is
regarded as transitory and fluctuating. Such an object or
inquiry may be approached from two opposite sides. It is
the real in itself, and it is contemplated by the mind as
such. The problem has thus a twofold aspect, as related
to the conditions of being and to the conditions of thought,
and its solution may be attempted from the one or the
other starting point. We may commence with abstract
principles of being in general, and endeavour to deduce
& priori the essential characteristics of existence per se;
or we may commence with an examination of the actual
constitution of the human mind, and endeavour to ascer¬
tain empirically how the conception of reality is formed,
and what is its consequent value. And either of these Introdue-
methods of inquiry may be so conducted as in the end tion.
to lose sight of the original relation which binds them to-
gether; and each may thus present an aspect of irrecon¬
cilable antagonism, in place of the mutual pursuit of a com¬
mon object. The <x priori reasoner may pervert his con¬
ception of absolute being into a form which finds no coun¬
terpart in the human consciousness, and, confident in the
infallibility of his own process, may condemn as worthless
the mirror which refuses to reflect back the distoi ted
image. And the investigator of the facts of consciousness,
when his imperfect analysis has failed to discover the
hidden element of reality, may proclaim reality itself to be
a dream and a delusion, and the mind and all that it
contains a mere aggregate of phenomena. Deceived by
the apparent parallelism of the distant rays, the opposing
theorists forget that those rays must converge somewhere
in a common centre: they forget that philosophy itself is
but the articulate development of consciousness ; that from
consciousness all inquiries set out, and to consciousness
they must all return.
And such, history tells us, has been the actual fate of
metaphvsics. The clue to its distant mazes, lost almost at
the outset of the journey, became more and more irrecover¬
able as the paths diverged more and more from their com¬
mon centre; till its latest expositors on both sides were
unconscious of its existence. If Aristotle for a moment
grasped the important truth, that the laws of things and the
laws of thought were alike objects of metaphysical inquiry,4
the conviction produced hardly any result in the details
of his treatment: his psychology allied itself chiefly to
physics ; his metaphysics, after its introductory chap¬
ter, deserted the track of psychology. If Locke laid
the foundation of a better method of metaphysical inquiry
when he declared, that “ before we set ourselves on in¬
quiries of this nature, it was necessary to examine our own
abilities, and see what objects our understandings were or
were not fitted to deal with,”4 he prematurely excluded
the very question which his method was required to solve,
by asserting that we have no ideas of body or spii it as sub¬
stances, but merely suppose an unknown substratum to our
external or internal ideas.6 The barrier thus interposed
between the sister streams of thought was widened as each
flowed on : the ontological philosophers of modern Germany
gloried in being not merely independent of, but even
contradictory to, the testimony of consciousness; while
the psychological teachers of France and Britain confined^
themselves more and more within the chai med circle of
phenomena, till D’Alembert declared that the office of me¬
taphysics was to prove that all our ideas come from sensa¬
tion ;7 and Stewart denounced the inquiries of ontology as
“ the most idle and absurd speculation that ever employed
the human faculties.”8 But the principle on which this con¬
clusion logically rests is, as regards the Scottish philosophy,
an excrescence rather than an integral portion of the system.
We may refuse to admit the unproved dogma which de¬
nies to the human mind any conception of substance, and
yet avail ourselves of the psychological researches otKei
and Stewart, as a valuable, if an incomplete contribution to
See also Hobbes, Ccm-
1 Arist. Metaph. i. 1. Tsjv ovo^u.^op.kvnv ooQlctv wtgi rei •x^ura ctiTict x.ui tx; xpx,^ vxoKxp^xvovai •xxyng.
putatio sive Logica. cbap. 1, sect. 2.
2 JfetapA. iii. 1. Ttg n 6iupu ro ov on x.xi tovtu, vxa.^-)Covrct'^ "'vr°- , „ „ , , • cl V Iml tti
3 Arist. Metaph. v. i. E< ptv ovv pq ttrri ns sr£ga ovatx xxpx tx; Qvau avvitrTYixvIx;, ii (pvauri xv un v^urr, ixiorripy
ovaix xm'vriTo;, xvtyi v^ots^x Kxt <pi-AoiTo<pix xpurm- „ , , , ~ y.Zu anyav
4 Metaph. iii. 3. "Or/ ptv olv rov (pt’Koaotyov kxi tou wegi -xxans 7% ovaix; diu^ovvroi m ■xttpvx.sv, xxi ruv ai/AA / »
iorlv txiax.tyxadxt, ciijAoi/.
6 Essay, Epistle to the Reader. ' 6 Essay, b. ii., ch. 23. onsations.”
1 “ La metaphysique a pour but d’examiner la generation de nos idees, et de prouver qu’elles viennent de nos 8
(Elim. de Philos., p. 143 ; Melanges, vol. iv. (quoted in Sir W. Hamilton’s edition of Stewart’s Works, vol. i., p. 404.;
8 Philosophical Essays, Preliminary Dissertation, ch. i.
METAPHYSICS. 553
Introduc- the philosophy of consciousness, and, through that, to the
tion. solution of those fundamental problems of metaphysics to
which consciousness gives rise.
As the metaphysical writings of Aristotle and his fol¬
lowers are likely to be but little known to the majority of
modern readers, it may be useful to add a brief account of
the ancient method of treating the subject, which will serve
at the same time to exhibit more clearly the chasm which
separates the earlier conception of the science from that of
the modern disciple of Locke or Stewart. “ There is a
certain science,” says Aristotle, “ which contemplates being
in so far as it is being, and the attributes that belong to it
essentially as such. This science is not the same with any
of those which are called particular sciences; for none of
these inquires generally concerning being as being, but each
selects some separate portion of being, and contemplates the
properties of that alone; as, for example, mathematics. But
since we are seeking for the principles and highest causes
of things, it is clear that these must have some nature to
which they properly belong. We must therefore take as the
object of our inquiry the first causes of being as being.”1
A similar conception of the great problem of philosophy
had been previously exhibited by Plato in his sketch of
the office of dialectic—a science which, though differing in
name and method, is in its purpose and aim identical with
the first philosophy or theology of Aristotle. In the sciences
of geometry and arithmetic, he tells us, certain principles
of numbers and figures are assumed by hypothesis as self-
evident, but not investigated by any process of reasoning;
and from these assumptions the proposed questions are de¬
monstrated. But in dialectic the same hypotheses are em¬
ployed, not as first principles, but as stepping-stones to
some higher truth and absolutely first principle, which is
grasped by the intellect without hypothesis, as that on
which all other reasoning ultimately depends.2
The problem of metaphysics, as conceived by both these
philosophers, may be perhaps more clearly stated in modern
language as follows:—“ To determine the relation that
exists between the subjective necessities of thought and
the objective necessities of things.” In mathematical de¬
monstration, for example, we start from certain axiomatic
principles, of which, as mathematicians, we can give no other
account than that they are self-evident; that is to say, that
we are compelled by the constitution of our minds to admit
them. But this opens a further question. What is the
relation of self-evidence to reality? Is the necessity, of
which I am conscious, of thinking in a certain manner any
sure guarantee of a corresponding relation in the objects
about which I think ? In other words, are the laws of
thought also laws of things; or, at least, do they furnish
evidence by which the laws of things can be ascertained ?
Is thought identical with being, so that every mode of the
one is at the same time a mode of the other ? Is thought
an exact copy of being, so that every mode of the one is an
adequate representative of some corresponding mode of the
other ? Or, finally, is thought altogether distinct from being,
so that we cannot issue from the circle of our ideas, to seize
the realities which those ideas are supposed to represent ?
Does anything exist beyond the phenomena of our own con¬
sciousness ? and, if it does exist, what is the path by which
it is to be reached ?
The ancient and mediaeval metaphysicians adopted almost
unanimously the d priori method of reasoning downwards Introduc-
from the assumption of abstract principles of being,—as the tion-
moderns have laid the foundation of the inverse method of
reasoning upwards from the phenomena of thought. A
short analysis of the principal subjects treated of in the
Metaphysics of Aristotle will serve to exhibit the details of
the former method, as far as our present limits will permit.
In the order of the books we shall follow the common ar¬
rangement, which, though far from unexceptionable, is per¬
haps not more liable to objection than others which have
been proposed in its place.
The first book comprises a psychological account of the
nature of science and its origin in the human mind, fol¬
lowed by a history of the researches of previous philoso¬
phers into the principles and causes of things. To this is
subjoined a kind of appendix (the book known as A minor),
containing an argument in favour of the existence of a first
principle of things, and consequently of the possibility of
attaining to a knowledge of it; with a caution concerning
the method to be pursued, and the necessity of accommo¬
dating the mode of reasoning to the nature of the object.
The second book commences with a list of questions,
which are to be answered in the course of the treatise, and
which may be regarded as furnishing a sort of table of con¬
tents to the rest of the work.3 They may be briefly summed
up as follows:—1. Do the principles of being and those of
demonstration belong to the same or to different sciences,
to one science or to many ? 2. Are there other substances
besides objects of sense; and, if so, of how many kinds ?
3. To what science does it belong to take cognisance of
identity and diffei’ence, similarity and dissimilarity, priority
and posteriority, and such like ? 4. Are the principles of
things to be sought in their genera, or in the material ele¬
ments of individuals, or does there exist a cause or causes
other than matter, and separable from it ? 5. Are there the
same principles of things perishable and imperishable, and
are all principles themselves imperishable ? 6. Are being
and unity the essence of all things, or must other elements
be added ? 7. Are the principles of things universal or in¬
dividual, potential or actual, active or passive ? 8. Are
numbers, lines, figures, and points substances or not; and,
if substances, do they exist separate from the objects of
sense ? A further development of the difficulties involved
in these questions occupies the remainder of this book.
The third book is occupied with the sketch of a science
of being as such, which has for its object both the prin¬
ciples of things and the laws of reasoning. In it the phi¬
losopher maintains the truth of the logical principles of
contradiction and excluded middle against the objections of
Heraclitus, Anaxagoras, and others, and establishes the dis¬
tinction between being and appearance, and consequently
between truth and error.
The fourth book is an explanation of the various signifi¬
cations of several philosophical terms. The terms defined
are,—principle, cause, element, nature, necessity, unity, be¬
ing, substance, identity, distinctness and diversity, simi¬
larity and dissimilarity, opposition and contrariety, priority'
and posteriority, power, quantity, quality, relation, perfec¬
tion, limitation, in respect of and in ‘itself {k*& o and
koB avro), disposition, habit, passion, privation, possession,
derivation, part, whole, imperfection, genus, falsehood, ac¬
cident.
1 Metaph. iii. 1. The same view is also exhibited more fully in v. 1, in a passage too long for quotation.
3 Republic, vi., p. 510.
3 correspondence however is by no means exact. Michelet observes,--" En general, il faut remarquer ici que 1’enumeration et le
ftvelonnement des nroblfimfis rnnt.pnns dans p.p. iivtp tip rpnnrdont r\ao ^ i  , 1. f
, ,, . * .v uiviaiuu ui me questions themselves admits of coi
duces thlm to six " Ravaisson enumerate as many as seventeen. Mr Maurice (Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, p. 183)
1 A
VOL. XIV.
554 M E T A P
Introduc- The fifth book continues the sketch of a science of be-
tion. which was commenced in the third. 1 his science
v V ' (called by Aristotle “ Theology,” and afterwards known as
Metaphysics) is distinguished liom physics and mathematics.
Being pev se, the proper object ot metaphysics, is distin¬
guished from other senses of the term,—such as accidental
existence, which is not an object of science, and truth in
judgments, which belongs to thought and not to things.
The sixth book is a continuation of the same subject.
Being, in the highest sense of the term, is identified with
substance, to the exclusion of the other categories. But
substance, again, is used in various senses; sometimes for
the essence of a thing, sometimes for its universal attri¬
butes, sometimes for the genus, sometimes for the subject
of attributes, or the individual. A discussion of these dif¬
ferent senses, and of the philosophical theories connected
with them, occupies the remainder of the book.
The seventh book continues the discussion of substance.
The essence of sensible things may be considered in two
points of view,—as regards the matter or potential es¬
sence, and as regards the form or actual essence, corres¬
ponding to the genus and difference in a definition. I he
unity of such objects must he sought for in the principle
which unites these two. Intelligible objects, which have
no matter, are one by virtue of their form.
In the eighth book the distinction between matter and
form, or potential and actual existence, is further discussed.
The distinction between the potential and the actual is de¬
fended against objections. The actual is prior to the
potential in the order of nature and of reason, and, in one
sense, in that of time also. It is prior in the order of rea¬
son ; for power has no meaning but in relation to perform¬
ance. It is prior, too, in the order of time in the species,
though not in the individual ; for the powers of any
thing are produced by its efficient cause, and the cause, as
such, is in action. Hence it follows, that the distinction
between the potential and the actual exists only in relation
to things perishable; for that which is eternal cannot have
become what it is, and therefore can never be potentially
that which it is not actually. In other words, there is a
cause of change which itself acts unchangeably, and which
is prior to all change. The chief good and highest prin¬
ciple is thus ever active, and there is no eternal principle
of evil; for actual evil is a corruption posterior to the pos-^
sibility of evil. The book concludes with a discussion ot
the nature of truth and falsehood; the latter of which can
have no place in relation to first principles, which must
either be absolutely known or absolutely unknown.
The ninth book is a digression, treating of the opposi¬
tion between the one and the many. I he various senses
of unity enumerated in the fourth book are now reduced to
four,—the continuous, the whole, the individual, and the
universal. Unity is identified with existence, and de¬
clared, in opposition to the Pythagoreans and Platonists, to
be not a substance, but an universal notion predicable ot
every kind of subject in the several categories. The oppo¬
sition between unity and plurality is shown to be not one
of contrariety, but of relation. The book concludes with a
further digression on some points connected with the oppo¬
sition of contraries.
In the tenth book, as well as in the ninth, the connec¬
tion of the argument is somewhat interrupted. This book,
in fact, contains little more than a recapitulation of matters
treated of in some of the earlier books. The concluding
chapters of this book are an abridgment of a portion of
the Physics of Aristotle, and appear altogether out of place
in their present position.
The eleventh book is the most important of all; and
though apparently incomplete in itself and in its connection
[ Y S I C S.
with its predecessors, may be regarded as containing an Introduc-
outline of Aristotle’s views on the profoundest problems of tion.
metaphysical philosophy. In this book, after some preli-
minary remarks on the nature of substance, change, and
causation, the philosopher resumes his inquiry into the
nature of the first cause—the unchanging principle of all
change and motion. Sensible substances, the objects of
physical science, are subject to change; and all change
implies a progress of the same subject from one of two
opposite states to the other; from not being to being, or
the reverse. Hence change implies three elements: the
form, the privation, and the matter potentially susceptible
of both. But change itself must take place in consequence
of some cause ; we must, therefore, add a fourth principle
to the three elements. We are thus led to the notion of
a substance which is the efficient cause of change, and this
substance must be eternal; for even change and time are
conceived as imperishable, and these depend upon a sub¬
stance. The cause of change must therefore be a being
eternally acting, and which, consequently, cannot be con¬
ceived as having a power to act prior to the exercise of
that power. In other words, the first cause (as was said
before in the eighth book) can never be potentially that
which it is not actually. The first cause is thus active
without being passive; it moves all things without being
itself moved. The action of an unmoved cause of motion
may be regarded as analogous to that of an object of desire
on the appetite, or of an object of contemplation on the
intellect; for these excite to action without being them¬
selves acted upon. Thus the principle of change may be
conceived both as first cause and as final cause or chief
good, which all things desire, and by the desire of which
they are moved.1 This first cause is God, who, as the
highest object of intellectual contemplation, must himself
be conceived as Intellect, as ever active, as living (for the
activity of intellect is life), as immaterial, having neither
finite nor infinite extension, and consequently no parts, as
impassive and unchangeable. To this sublime theology
are appended some curious astronomical speculations, ap¬
parently intended to reconcile the unity of the Divine
Mover with the seeming variety in the celestial motions.
To these speculations, which are chiefly derived from pre¬
viously existing astronomical theories, the philosopher him¬
self does not appear to attach much importance. Resum¬
ing the theological argument, he maintains that the Deity,
as an ever active and unchanging Intellect, must have an
unchanging object of contemplation, and as there is no
other such object, he must contemplate himself. The book
concludes with a criticism of previous philosophers, whose
opinions, as he considers, are irreconcilable with the exist¬
ence of one supreme Ruler of the Universe.
The two last books must be considered either as an
introduction to the eleventh, which most modern commen¬
tators regard as the conclusion of the whole treatise, or as
a controversial appendix, intended to fortify the positions
which that book had established. The controversy is
chiefly directed against the Pythagorean and Platonic phi¬
losophies, which sought the eternal principle of the uni¬
verse, the one in the theory of numbers and geometrical
magnitudes, the other in that of ideas. The details of this
controversy, part of which is little more than a repetition ot
the arguments of the first book, are chiefly valuab e in a
historical point of view, as throwing light on the Pythago¬
rean and Platonic doctrines; but they contribute little to
the elucidation of Aristotle’s own conception of metaphysics.
The Aristotelian first philosophy, as exhibited in the
above sketch, has certainly little enough in common with an
inductive science of the human mind; and its speculations
will probably appear to a modern reader sufficien tly vague and
1 Km< Sg Itfiptvov. Mstaph. xi. 7.
METAPHYSICS.
barren. But they have a value, historical and philosophical,
far beyond their apparent significance to a superficial in¬
spector. They have a historical value, as representing the
course of metaphysical inquiry which was pursued, with
scarcely an exception, for nearly twenty centuries, and
which even now exercises a legitimate influence over the
minds of men hardly less extensive than its former abso-
,nte dominion. And they have a philosophical value, of
which their historical position is the index. However wide
may be the gulf that separates the ancient and modern
sj'stems of philosophy, they have this at least in common,
that both are the produce of human minds, thinking under
the same laws, and impelled to speculation by the same
irresistible motive of yearnings unsatisfied, and doubts un¬
solved. Each seeks to comply with the requirements of
the same nature; each sets out from the ground of that
common consciousness which, in intellect no less than in
affection, makes the whole wrorld kin. 11 Homo sum;
humani nihil a me alienum puto,” is a maxim no less appli¬
cable to the most abstruse speculations of philosophy than
to the affairs of our every-day life. Philosophy, in all its
aspects, is a contribution to the history of humanity; an
attempt, successful or unsuccessful, to carry out the great
end and purpose of man’s existence. The study of the
master-minds of the human race is almost equally instruc¬
tive in w'hat they achieved and in what they failed to
achieve; and speculations which are far from solving the
riddle of existence have their use in teaching us w7hy it is
insoluble.
Thus it appears that the term Metaphysics has been
at different times used in two principal senses: 1. As
synonymous with Ontology, to denote that branch of phi¬
losophy which investigates the nature and properties of
Being or Reality, as distinguished from Phenomenon or
Appearance. 2. As synonymous with Psychology, to de¬
note that branch of philosophy which investigates the
faculties, operations, and laws of the human mind. These
two sciences may be regarded, as has been already ob¬
served, as investigations of the same problem from opposite
points of view; but this feature of relation has been prac¬
tically overlooked by the majority of writers on either side ;
and the link which is to connect the actual contents of each
remains still to be pointed out. One, indeed, but hardly
definite enough, has been indicated by Dugald Stewart.
On comparing together,” says that distinguished philoso¬
pher, the multifarious studies now classed together under
the title of Metaphysics, it will be found difficult to trace
any common circumstance but this—that they all require
the same sort of mental exertion for their prosecution ; the
exercise, I mean, of that power (called by Eocke reflection)
by which the mind turns its attention inwards upon its
own operations, and the subject of its own consciousness.”
1 his passage seems to point out a closer connection between
the different sense of the term Metaphysics than that which
it actually expresses. For it refers us not merely to a
common method of inquiry, in the process of reflection,
but also to a common object, in the facts of our own con¬
sciousness. But to exhibit this connection clearlv, the
latter term must be extended to a somewhat wider signifi¬
cation than that sanctioned by Stewart’s use of it.
On this term, Sir William Plamilton remarks,—“Aristotle,
Descartes, Locke, and philosophers in general, have re¬
garded consciousness, not as a particular faculty, but as the
universal condition of intelligence. Reid, on the contrary,
following probably Hutcheson, and followed by Stewart,
Royer-Collard, and others, has classed consciousness as a
co-ordinate faculty with the other intellectual powers, dis¬
tinguished from them, not as the species from the indi¬
vidual, but as the individual from the individual. And as
555
the particular faculties have each their peculiar object, so Introduc-
the peculiar object of consciousness is the operations of the tion.
other faculties themselves,to the exclusion of the objects about
which those operations are conversant.
I his analysis we regard as false. For it is impossible,
in the^/wvtf place, to discriminate consciousness from all the
other cognitive faculties, or to discriminate any one of these
from consciousness; and, in the second, to conceive a faculty
cognisant of the various mental operations, without being
also cognisant of their several objects.
We know ; and we knoiv that we know:—these propo¬
sitions, logically distinct, are really identical; each implies
the other. We know {i.e., feel, perceive, imagine, re¬
member, &c.) only as we know that we thus know ; and we
know that we know, only as we know in some particular
manner (i.e., feel, perceive, &c.). So true is the scholastic
brocard: Non sentimus nisi sentiamus nos sentire; non
sentimusnos sentire nisi sentiamus' The attempt to analyse
the cognition I know, and the cognition 1 know that I know,
into the separate energies of distinct faculties, is therefore
vain.
“ But the vice of Reid’s analysis is further manifested in
his arbitrary limitation of the sphere of consciousness; pro¬
posing to it the various intellectual operations, but exclud¬
ing their objects. . . . The assertion that we can be con¬
scious of an act of knowledge, without being conscious of
its object, is virtually suicidal. A mental operation is only
what it is, by relation to its object; the object at once de¬
termining its existence, and specifying the character of its
existence. But if a relation cannot be comprehended in
one of its terms, so we cannot be conscious of an operation
without being conscious of the object to which it exists
only as correlative. For example, We are conscious of a
perception, says Reid, but are not conscious of its object.
Yet how can we be conscious of a perception, that is, how
can we know that a perception exists,—that it is a percep¬
tion, and not another mental state,—and that it is the per¬
ception of a rose, and of nothing but a rose,—unless this
consciousness involve a knowledge (or consciousness) of the
object, which at once determines the existence of the act,
specifies its kind, and distinguishes its individuality ? An¬
nihilate the object, you annihilate the operation ; annihilate
the consciousness of the object, you annihilate the con¬
sciousness of the operation.” 1
Extending the term facts of consciousness, in accordance
with the principle of the above criticism, to denote all those
phenomena of mind whose existence in a definite form, as
operations of a particular kind, and the knowledge of that
existence, are identical; we may find in these facts an
adequate object foi the investigations of Metaphysics, in the
most general sense of the term; and in this sense, accord-
ingly, we would define the science of which we are treating,
as “ Metaphysics, or the philosophy of the facts of con¬
sciousness, considered subjectively, in relation to the mind
knowing, and objectively, in relation to the things known.”
Metaphysics will thus naturally divide itself into two
branches,—Psychology, or the science of the facts of con¬
sciousness as such; and Ontology, or the science of the
same facts considered in their relation to realities existing
without the mind. 6
Neither of these two branches of metaphysics, thus
treated, can be considered as exhausting the senses in
which their respective names have been used. Psychology
both in its earliest and in some of its latest developments,
has been treated in connection with physiology, and thus
extended to phenomena beyond the range of the facts of
consciousness properly so called. Aristotle, the first syste¬
matic expositor of the science, enumerates, in conjunction
with the thieefold division of the facts of consciousness into
1 Diicussions, p. 47.
556
METAPHYSICS.
Introduc¬
tion.
those of sensation, thought, and volition,1 a fourth function
of nutriment and growth, the existence of which cannot be
identified with the consciousness of it. I perceive, and I
know that 1 perceive; I think, and I know that I think; I
will, and I know that 1 W/.—these propositions are
severally equivalent to each other; but not so Idigest^d
I know that I digest. Modern writers on psychology have
treated it with a similar extension to physiological pheno¬
mena Ontology, in like manner, has, in modern times
especially, sought a foundation for its speculations beyond
the domain of consciousness, and even contradictory to it;
nearly the whole of the systems of German metaphysicians
since Kant being a series of attempts, more or less plau¬
sible, to account for the origin of the facts of consciousness
themselves, by postulating a principle of which we are not
and cannot be conscious. Neither of these extensions of
the field of inquiry will be adopted in the present article.
We shall, indeed, have to borrow largely from physiology in
illustration of the bodily conditions on which menta,! con¬
sciousness depends; but the two sciences will be considered
as distinct branches of inquiry, though the conclusions of
the one may throw some collateral light on the researches
of the other.2 On the other hand, the transcendental
method, which seeks to found a philosophy of being in a
point above consciousness, will be rejected, from a convic¬
tion of its utter inability to furnish any reliable or even in¬
telligible results. All such theories are open to two iun-
damental objections: they cannot be communicated, and
they cannot be verified. 1 hey cannot be communicated;
for the communication must be made by words, and the
meaning of those words must be understood, and the under¬
standing is a form of consciousness and subject to the laws
of consciousness. They cannot be verified; for, to verify,
we must compare the author’s experience with our own;
and such comparison is again an act of consciousness, and
subject to its laws. This consideration must serve as our
apology for the neglect of systems which are indeed entitled
by their celebrity to a prominent place in the history of
metaphysical philosophy, but which cannot, except upon
the ground of their truth, claim admission into a treatise
on the science itself.
There is a wide application of the term consciousness,
in which it is coextensive with the whole cycle of human
knowledge; for w e can know nothing without being con¬
scious that we know it; and we can investigate no objects
but those whose existence, real or apparent, must be made
known to us by consciousness. In this sense, what is out
of consciousness is out of the field of human knowledge
altogether. But this consideration does not affect the de¬
finition which assigns the facts of consciousness as the pro¬
per object of metaphysical science. For in other sciences
those facts are considered, necessarily indeed, but secon¬
darily only, as the means by which the direct objects of such
sciences are made known to us. I he manner in which
consciousness operates as the instrument of the physical
sciences is not taken into account by those sciences, nor is
the nature and veracity of its testimony called in question.
Physical science does not trouble itself with the inquiry,
whether the objects which it investigates are real or appa¬
rent ; qualities of matter or modes of the spectator’s own
mind ; whether they are gained directly or indirectly; by
innate or acquired powers ; by one faculty of the mind alone
or by the union of many. Its researches are not in any
way affected by the adoption of this or that theory of con¬
sciousness itself; though consciousness is the means by Psycho-
which its objects are conveyed to it. In metaphysical logy,
science, on the other hand, consciousness itself is the direct * ■/'*'
object of our inquiries ; and that in two points of view:
1. In its phenomenal character, in relation to the conscious
subject; in which we consider the several affections of the
human mind in which consciousness consists, and the facul¬
ties, operations, and laws, upon which those affections
depend. 2. In its real character, in relation to the objects
of which we are conscious; in which we consider the vera¬
city of its testimony in reference to things without the
mind, and the indications which it is supposed to furnish
of the actual constitution of those things. Of these two
inquiries, the first is preliminary and auxiliary to the second ;
both because it is necessary to know what the facts of
consciousness are in themselves, before inquiring into their
ulterior relations, and because the light which the for¬
mer inquiry is calculated to throw on the laws and limits
of human thought, will be of importance in determining how
far it is possible to obtain a satisfactory answer to the latter.
We commence, then, with the first portion of our inquiry.
I.—PSYCHOLOGY, OR THE PHILOSOPHY OP THE
PHENOMENA OF CONSCIOUSNESS.
Consciousness, in its relation to the subject or person
conscious, is of two kinds ; or rather, is composed of two ele¬
ments—the presentative or intuitive, and the representative
or reflective. The phenomena of the former class may be
distinguished by the general name of intuitions ; those of
the latter by that of thoughts.
Presentative or intuitive consciousness is the conscious¬
ness of an individual object, be it thing, act, or state of mind,
immediately present before me, here or now ; that is to say,
with a definite position in space or in time, or in both.
Representative or reflective consciousness is the conscious¬
ness, primarily and directly, of a general notion or. concept,
indifferently related to any number of possible individuals;
secondarily and indirectly, of one or more actual indivi¬
duals, conceived as exhibiting at the moment, in an unity
of representation, the several attributes which the general
notion involves. For example, I see a triangle drawn on
paper. I need not know that the figure now lying before
me is called a triangle. I may be unable to give any defi¬
nition of it. It is enough that I see a figure, which I did
not construct for myself according to any pi e-existing
notion, but found there already constructed. This is pre¬
sentative consciousness, or intuition. The triangle is before
me, as an object seen in itself, not necessarily representa¬
tive of anything else. But, having seen the triangle, I
gather a general notion of its figure, indifferently applica¬
ble to it or to any other specimen ; and I imagine a parti¬
cular figure, at another time and in another place, as em¬
bodying that notion. This is representative consciousness,
and in a two-fold manner. First, the general notion is re¬
presentative of any number of possible triangles, even
when none is actually present to the consciousness. e
condly,the same notion is now actually exhibited in an image;
which image represents the original figure from which the
notion was derived. The same distinction is applicable to
mental as well as to bodily phenomena. 1 feel an emotion
of anger ; I am conscious of its presence now, as a definite
state of mind distinguishable from others. I his con¬
sciousness is presentative. When the angry fit is over,
1 I have ventured to use the term volition, as nearly equivalent to the motive principle of Aristotle; though the connection o e
with the will is but imperfectly exhibited in his treatise, owing to the want of a strict distinction between the phenomena ot human
sciousness and those of animal life. ^ „„„
2 The limits of psychology and physiology are defined in an excellent essay by M. Jouffroy, Nouveaux Melanges Philosoplnques, p. •
The phenomena of consciousness, which are known only as affections of myself, belong to the former science; those of anima i e, w
can be discerned by observation of foreign bodies, belong to the latter.
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- meditate upon my past state, and recal in imagination the
logy- emotion which I have experienced. This consciousness is
representative. Presentative consciousness contains two
constituent elements—the conscious subject, and the object
of which that subject is conscious. Representative con¬
sciousness contains three elements—the subject, the object
(i.e., the image), and the concept or general notion me¬
diating between them. A fourth element is implied as a
condition, though not actually present in consciousness, viz.,
the original intuition from which the notion was derived,
and which the object or image represents.
The ultimate object of all consciousness is thus an indi¬
vidual ; for all intuitions are directly cognisant of indivi¬
duals, and all concepts, to be realized in consciousness, re¬
quire to be individualized in an image. Without the appli¬
cation of this test, we should not be able to distinguish
between the conceivable and the inconceivable; between
signs indicative of notions and signs indicative of no no¬
tions at all. I may define a triangle as a rectilinear figure of
three sides ; and I may also define a biangle as a rectilinear
figure of two sides ; and nothing but the attempt to con¬
struct the corresponding images can show me that the one
term denotes a conceivable object, and that the other is
an inconceivable piece of nonsense. The individual is
thus the ultimate object of all actual consciousness; in in¬
tuition directly, and in thought indirectly. To complete
our explanation, we must therefore determine what is meant
by an individual.
By the term an individual, is meant, in psychology, no
more than an object occupying a definite position in space
or time. It is indifferent, in this point of view, whether
the several individuals thus distinguished can or cannot
really exist apart from each other; or whether the portion
of space or time which each occupies is distinguished from
other portions naturally or arbitrarily. The leaf which I
see before me is an individual; so is the bough; so is the
tree; so is the forest. Each has its own position in space,
which nothing else can occupy along with it. A chain of
six feet long is an individual; whether it exist separately,
or only as part of a longer chain. Every link, and every
fragment of a link, of the chain is again an individual, in
so far as, with or without physical separation, it may be
made a distinct object of sight or thought. What space is
to material individuals, time is to individual phenomena of
mind. I may feel anger or fear many times in succession;
but each has its own peculiar portion of time; and the
passion which I felt yesterday, however similar in other
respects, is numerically distinct, as an individual state of
mind, from that which I felt the day before yesterday, or
that which I am feeling at this moment. We need not at
present inquire whether each of these distinct individuals
has in reality a separate existence apart from our point of
view or not. They may be independent units : they may
be fractions of larger units : they may be multiples of
smaller units : they may be constituent parts of one only
real unit, the universe. They may be modes of my own
mind, or they may be attributes of something distinct from
myself. These questions belong to ontology, not to psy¬
chology. It is sufficient for our present purpose to state,
that whatever occupies a distinct portion of space, how¬
ever arbitrarily distinguished, is an individual object of
external intuition; and whatever occupies a distinct mo¬
ment of time, without extension in space, is an individual
object of internal intuition.
On the other hand, general notions or concepts, as such,
have no definite position in time or space; though, when
realized in an individual act of thought, they must have a
relation to the former, and may have to the latter. The
557
definition of a triangle, as a rectilinear figure of three sides, Psycho-
is indifferently applicable to a triangle in England or to losy-
one in America; to one drawn on paper or to one engraved
on stone; to one conceived yesterday or to-day. But
when actually employed in conception, it becomes my
present thought about a triangle; and this has its defi¬
nite position in time, and is related to an image con¬
ceived as occupying a definite position in space. The
verbal description of a particular coin is indifferently re¬
presentative of all coins struck from the same die; but two
shillings of the same coinage, though they may be undis-
tinguishable in other respects, are yet separate individuals,
as occupying distinct portions of space. The general no¬
tion is thus potentially representative of many individuals;
that is to say, it may, in different acts of thought, be em¬
ployed in relation to any member of a certain class; but
when actually so employed, in any one single act of thought,
it becomes amalgamated with the individual in which its
attributes are united, and is only conceived along with the
special characteristics of the individual. Thus the notion
of a triangle, as such, does not imply that it is equilateral,
isosceles, or scalene ; but I can never actually conceive a
triangle which is none of these, or all of them at once. I
must conceive it as some one of them only. But, in suc¬
cessive acts of thought, the same general notion may be re¬
presented in the imagination, at one time with three equal
sides, at another with two, at another with all unequal.
The notion is thus not the adequate and actual representa¬
tive of any single object, but an inadequate and potential
representative of many.
We have thus one characteristic of the concept or gene¬
ral representative notion ; namely, that it cannot in itself
be depicted to sense or imagination ; though, in every com¬
plete act of representation, it forms one element of an image
which is so depicted. The mere notion of a triangle, apart
from the consideration of the equality or inequality of its
sides, is not an object of imagination; nor the notion of an
equilateral triangle, without a given length of the sides;
nor, again, the notion of an equilateral triangle whose sides
are each two feet long, without the additional limitation of
its occupying a particular position in space;—under which
limitation, it is no longer general, but individual, and can
be constructed in the imagination as an object of intuition.
A second characteristic of all general notions is, that they
require to be fixed in a representative sign. The general
notion, as such, is not a sensible image, but an intelligible
relation; and such a relation, as far as our experience can
testify, cannot be apprehended without the aid of language,
i.e., of some system of signs, verbal or other. The case of
the deaf and dumb is no exception to this rule; for lan¬
guage, in the above sense, is not synonymous with articu¬
lation. The mental development of the deaf and dumb is
effected by the substitution of a system of signs addressed
to the eye or the hand, in the place of one addressed to
the ear; and this system performs precisely the same office
in relation to them that speech performs in relation to others:
it constitutes, in fact, their language. Language in this
sense appears, as far as experience can inform us, to be
necessary, not merely to the communication, but even to
the formation of thought. The notion, as such, must be
emancipated from all special relation to space or time. The
definition of a triangle must not imply where it exists ; nor
the definition of anger, when it takes place; and this eman¬
cipation is never completely effected,- except by means of
symbols, verbal or other, by which the notion is fixed as a
relation in the understanding.1 We have thus, in the
complete exercise of thought, three successive representa¬
tions. The sign is representative of the notion; the notion
i The distinction between intuition and thought thus corresponds to that noted by Leibnitz between intuitive and symbolical know-
ledge. See his Meditations de Cognitione Veritate et Ideis, where, however, the distinction is hardly marked with sufficient precision.
558
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho* is representative of the image ; and the image is represen-
tative of the object from which the notion was formed.
Presentative and representative consciousness, thus dis¬
tinguished, must be considered, in their actual exercise, as
indicating a logical rather than areal division ; as pointing
out the elements of a perfect act of consciousness, which
are separable in thought, rather than two distinct acts ex¬
isting separately in practice. In every complete act of
consciousness offered to us for analysis, the presentative
and representative elements are combined; and without
such a combination, it would appear as if consciousness,
properly so called, could have no existence. To have a
complete consciousness, for example, of any particular object
of sense, say of an oak tree, two conditions are necessary:
first, that certain impressions should be made upon the
organ of sensation ; and, secondly, that these impressions
should be discerned as constituting an object; i.e., that they
should be separated from all other objects, and considered
by themselves as constituting a whole, which can be com-
pared with and distinguished from other wholes. To the
mere sight the oak is presented along with the surrounding
scenery ; but to recognise it as an oak, the trunk must be
considered separately from the ground from which it springs,
and the branches and the leaves must be discerned as parts
of the tree, and separated from the surrounding objects.
The reception of the whole scene presented to the eye is
an act of mere intuition ; but the knowledge of each impres¬
sion as being what it is, and the combination of a portion
of such impressions into a separate whole, is an act of re¬
flection or thought.1 Neither of these two elements alone
can constitute a complete act of consciousness. Let us
suppose, for instance, the existence of a being furnished
with human organs of sensation, but with no power of
remembering or reflecting upon the objects presented to
them, and no continuance of any impression beyond the
moment of its actual presence. It is probable that, in such
a case, though diverse objects might be successively pre¬
sented to the senses, yet there would be no consciousness
of their diversity ; for such consciousness requires the jux¬
taposition of the objects in the mind, and this can only be
eftected by memory. Animals, trees, and stones, might
be successively placed before his eyes. Pleasure and pain
and fear and anger might possibly take place within him ;
but as each departed, he would have no knowledge that it
had ever existed, and consequently no power of comparison
with anything else. He would thus have no distinct con¬
sciousness of each object as referred to a separate notion :
he could not say, this which I see is a tree or a stone ; this
which I feel is fear or anger. His consciousness, if con¬
sciousness it could be called, would probably be no more
than an indefinite sense of uneasiness, a feeling of momen¬
tary irritation in the organ affected, but without discerning
in what manner it is affected, and without distinguishing
the permanent self from its momentary affection.2 This is
the lowest degree of intelligence, the germ of conscious¬
ness, but not itself entitled to the name ; as being deficient
in the essential conditions of limitation and difference, hav¬
ing not realized the distinction between subject and ob¬
ject, or between one object and another.3 But let us go
one step further, and suppose the same being to be capable,
not merely of receiving, but of retaining and associating
together, various impressions, though still destitute of the
power of reflecting upon them. Let us suppose ; that is to
say, that the impression, once made, may continue for a
time in conjunction with others, and spontaneously recur
upon certain occasions; though the subject of the impression
is unable to set it apart as an object of thought, or to recal
it by an effort of his own will. We have now a second
stage of intelligence—a partial consciousness, embracing a
variety of objects and relations of similarity or dissimilarity
between them; we have the recurrence, moreover, of cer¬
tain feelings upon the repetition of the circumstances under
which they were originally excited. In a word, we have
an association of intuitions. But the conditions of con¬
sciousness are not yet complete ; for memory, at this stage
of its development (the fj.vrnj.r] of Aristotle), though it im¬
plies a repetition of phenomena, does not as yet imply a
knowledge that it is a repetition. An animal at this stage of
intelligence might, for instance, be beaten for a fault, and
the recurrence of the fault might naturally suggest an
imagination of the pain ; but this imagination need not be
consciously regarded as a remembrance of pain felt at a
former time. The reproduction would be spontaneous, not
voluntary, and probably not accompanied by any conscious
reference to past time. Let us now assume another step
in the scale of intelligence, and suppose our imaginary
being to possess, not merely a power of receiving and re¬
taining impressions, but also of recalling them by a vo¬
luntary effort (the avdfivrjcns of Aristotle). This implies
that the leading features of the impression remain fixed in
the mind, independently of the presence of the object at a
particular place or time. This is the distinctive feature of
the concept or general notion, in which, whether by a con¬
scious process or not, the mind abstracts the leading attri¬
butes of an object from the condition of limitation in space
and time, and is able, under the guidance of those attributes,
to recognise the object when presented to it at other times,
and, under the same guidance, to reproduce at will the
image of the object when absent. Here we have the co¬
operation of thought proper, as evidenced by a conscious
recognition of objects as such, and of their several relations
to the one conscious self, whose permanence and personal
identity is necessarily discerned in every act of conscious¬
ness properly so called, as the continuous subject of succes¬
sive modifications. This is the only form of intelligence
which can properly be expressed by the judgment, I know,
or I knoio that I knoiv; and at this stage we have reached
the point of true consciousness, in which the existence of
a phenomenon is identical with the knowledge of its exist¬
ence, and the mind, in the act of being affected in any
manner, is at the same time cognisant of being so affected.
The above stages must not be regarded as corresponding
to a chronological development of the actual phenomena ot
the human mind. Logically, perhaps, the several elements
Psycho-
logy.
Cheselden says of his patient, who had been couched for cataract,—“ He knew not the shape of anything, nor any one thing from
another, however different in shape or magnitude.” The language is ambiguous; it may mean that he was unable at first to separate the
different objects in the field of vision from each other, or it may mean only that he could not distinguish them by their right names.
Condillac goes beyond the warrant of the original in rendering “ II apercevoit tous les objets pele-mele et dans la plus grande confu¬
sion. (Traite des Sensations, p. iii., ch. 5.) But Cheselden’s experiment, besides the want of precision in the report, is not decisive for
other reasons . 1. Because a cataract does not produce total blindness ; 2. Because the other senses had been educated before the operation
was performed.
A state of representation very nearly resembling this is supposed by Leibnitz to exist in his monads. This state he calls percep¬
tion without apperception or consciousness, and considers it as the characteristic state of existence of simple monads, as distinguished
from souls, which are capable of memory and distinct consciousness. (See Monadologie, sect. 14, 19.)
3 If testimony of psychology is to be trusted, the sublime intellectual condition in which subject and object are identified, a con¬
dition longed for by mystics of all ages, and proclaimed as the basis of philosophy by modern German metaphysicians, is a degradation
of man to the level, possibly, of a zoophyte. Yet there have not been wanting philosophers to proclaim this lowest possible manifestation
of animal existence as the exaltation of man to the level of God—as the state of Deity contemplating itself.
METAPHYSICS.
Paycho- by whose co-operation consciousness is produced, may be
l°gy- thus analysed ; but in the actual progress of the mind by
—education, the several elements are so mingled together,
that it is impossible to point out any particular time at
which one exists separately from the rest, or to mark the
period of each new accession. Classifications, which we
are unable to form for ourselves, are, from the earliest dawn
of intelligence, given to us, already formed by others. The
child, in learning to give names to the objects placed be¬
fore him, and to repeat those names at each recurrence of
the objects, learns, unconsciously to himself, to perform the
acts of reminiscence and generalization, along with that of
sensation, and advances by imperceptible degrees to a de¬
finite consciousness. lo point out each successive stage
of the process by which sensibility gives birth to intuition,
and intuition to thought, is as impossible as to determine
the several moments at which the same child receives each
successive increase of his stature, or each successive deve¬
lopment of his bodily powers. 'The mind, like the body,
acquires its functions by insensible degrees, unseen, yet
crescive in its facultyand we find ourselves in the pos¬
session and exercise of nature’s gifts, without being able to
say how we acquired them.
Consciousness proper, as above described, must possess
in some degree the attributes of clearness and distinctness.
Using the same term in a wider and less accurate sense,
we may distinguish between an obscure or an indistinct,
and a clear or a distinct consciousness. An act of con¬
sciousness, whether presentative or representative, is clear
when its object as a whole can be distinguished from any
other ; when this cannot be done, it is obscure. An act of
consciousness is distinct when the several parts constituting
its object can be distinguished from each other; when this
is not the case, it is indistinct} lo form a clear or distinct
consciousness, an act of reflection must accompany the
intuition. An obscure or indistinct consciousness may
in some degree be obtained by[intuition alone. The latter
contains all the materials of the former, though not disposed
in the sa,me relations to each other. In an obscure or in-
1 r we may be dimly aware of the existence
of differences of some kind, but be unable to say what
they are. In order to obtain this latter knowledge, the
first step must be to separate our confused intuition into
distinct portions; and in performing this task, we are, as a
matter of fact, invariably assisted by the distinctions of
anguage; that is to say, by a classification already performed
by the refleetion of others. By learning to recognise
under their names the different portions of a confused in¬
tuition, we take the first step towards a clear and distinct
consciousness of things and thoughts. It is obvious, how-
GVjr’j-r0m W lat ^as keen said before, that the terms clear
woo. distinct are rather relative than absolute, and that a
perfectly obscure consciousness is no consciousness at all
in the proper sense of the term.
What has been said concerning the relation of thought
to language may perhaps suggest two other questions, which
have often been discussed without any satisfactory answer.
It may be asked, in the first place, how we are to account
for the origin of language itself, and how the distinctions
which language now helps us to make could themselves
559
have been made available in the original imposition of Psycho-
names ; and, in the second place, it may be asked how the logy-
different phenomena of consciousness can be distinguished
from each other by the lower animals, who have no no¬
menclature to assist them. Both these questions admit of
many ingenious conjectures, but of no scientific answer.
And the reason is obvious; for both relate to states of con¬
sciousness which we never have experienced and never
can, and which are so utterly unlike our own, that we have
no reliable data for examining them. To conceive an in¬
ventor of language, we must conceive a man existing in
the full maturity of his faculties; those faculties not having
been developed by any of the means that are indispen¬
sable now, and consequently not having assumed the same
form in their development. Such a being is to us as in¬
conceivable as one of a wholly different mental constitu¬
tion. His thoughts are not our thoughts; his conditions of
speech are not ours. Our experience is so unlike what
his must have been, that it will but mislead us if we reason
from it; and if we conjecture without the aid of experience,
we deal in fiction, not in philosophy. Nor is the difficulty
lessened if we suppose language to have been of Divine
origin; for the real problem is, not to determine how the
system of signs came into being, but how man learned to
associate it with his own distinctions of thought; or how,
independently of it, he came to have such distinctions at
all. I he origin of language must ever remain a mystery;
but it is a mystery which has its parallel in every other
phenomenon of the sensible or intelligible world; for of
all, while the existence is undeniable, the generation is in¬
conceivable. That a man living in solitude from his earliest
infancy, supposing him to be preserved to animal maturity, or
any number of such men brought together into a separate
society, apart from other men, could never acquire the men¬
tal power to invent a language, seems as nearly certain as
such a point can be. Beyond this we have no means of
speculating on the origin of language at all. Nor are we
much better off in relation to the second question, as to
the mental condition of the lower animals. To analyse a
dog’s consciousness, it is necessary that we should have a
dog’s consciousness ourselves; and besides this, that we should
retain a distinct recollection of it after we have acquired a
human one. The dog can distinguish his master from a
stranger ; that is clear. He can be educated by associations
of pain or pleasure ; that is clear also. But when conscious
of his master’s presence, does he recognise him as a being
distinct from all other objects—as an object that can be ob¬
served or contemplated alone? When he is uneasy at los¬
ing him, has he a distinct consciousness of what it is that he
wants i When he is educated, does he consciously repre¬
sent to himself the association between tit-bits and sittin<>-
upright ? And if he does so, does he do it by the aid of any
system of representative signs, which, though unintelligible
to us, performs an office analogous to that of human lan¬
guage?2 In a word, does his state of intelligence more
nearly resemble the second or the third stage of our sup¬
posed development of consciousness ? Instinct resembles
reason in many of its results; does it therefore resemble it
in its manner of obtaining them ? We may speak positively
on these points with all the hardihood of ignorance • but in
(See his Meditationes
““ di“iM an‘1 ““‘™‘ °r “saitiona, is due to Leibuitz.
8 Mr Morell states positively the view which we have only ventured to hint intenwativelv “ WhiU ^ .
acts m reference to them only instinctively, either for the satisfaction of its appetites S0r fo/sflAnl! ^ brUte Perc.eives objects, ai
instantly effected by the human faculty between the subject and the obiect In this spnamtir, r~P +tSerJatl’ a COIlscious separation
telligence, an act to which there soon succeeds an apprehension of in the external nV distinctive of human i,
that can take place in the case of the lower animals. The aniLl doef^t think wUMn Sse^T^ ^ dlffereDt fr°m ^ intelligen'
or a corn-field ; it is simply impelled by the force of instinct towards ^ a .d0gU°- & h°rSe’ and that is a har
tinct from the thing presented to it. On the other hand, the child or theJsavage without the l T" u°f Pers°^ty, as di
rates seif from the objective world in the very first distinct act of perception ; and it is exactly here in HY11-8 Whate.Ve^ seP‘
quality of perception is first manifested.” {Elements of Psychology; v. 141.) exactly here, in this very act, that the intellects
560
Psycho¬
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
doing so, we are speculating on tl.e nature of an intelli¬
gence different from our own, and whose conditions cannot
Iven be conjectured, except by the arbitrary assumption
of its partial similarity to our own. . ,. . .
Human consciousness, then, in the only form ,n winch it
can be examined and described, is a compound of various
elements, of whose separate action, if it ever existed, we
retain no remembrance, and therefore no power of repro¬
ducing in thought. It is impossible to have a distinct
conception of an act of pure sensation, of an affection
of the organs of sense only, unaccompanied by reflection
unon it; for such an affection, though possibly the earliest
step in our mental development, could not at that time be
recognised as such, nor leave traces that could be recog¬
nised afterwards. Our personal consciousness, like the air
we breathe, comes to us as a compound; and we can no
more be conscious of the actual presence of its several
elements than we can inhale an atmosphere of pure azote.
Hence it follows, that in distinguishing and describing
the several phenomena of consciousness, we must describe
them according to their predominant characteristics as
compounds, not according to their separate natures as sim¬
ples. The phenomena, for example, ot sensation, are so
called from their prominent feature ; the presence, that is to
n i • «*. o wav the oreraiis ot
shall therefore class under the general denomination of In- Psycho-
tuitions, all those states of consciousness in which the actual ^ logy-
presence of an object, within or without the mind, is the ^
primary fact which leads to its recognition as such by the
subject; and from these will be distinguished, under the
name of Thoughts, all those states of consciousness in which
the presence of the object is the result of a representative
act on the part of the subject. In the former case, the pre¬
sence of the object is involuntary ; in the latter it is volun¬
tary. In both the presentative and representative faculties
act in combination, for this is the condition of all complete
consciousness; but in the former case the object is given
to, in the latter it is given by, the conscious act. r or ex¬
ample, while I am in the company of a friend, I have by
sight an intuitive consciousness of his presence. I do not
cause his presence by any mental effort of my own: it is
given to me ; and so long as my eye is turned towards him,
I cannot help seeing him. But if I am thinking of an ab¬
sent person, and endeavour to recal to mind his features,
I make a voluntary effort, and thereby bring into conscious¬
ness a mental image which becomes internally now present ;
but the presentation is one of my own making, constructed
by means of the reflective or representative faculty. In
adopting the term presentation or intuition, to express the
• _ __  nf thp mind, a
called from t!\eir jnacertain way the organs of cmrSoSsni of a'ny individual affection of the mind
say, of an object affectm^ n a ce y g may be liable to the charge „f innovation, rn wl
sense; though the consciousness of the manner of that
affection in each case, and consequently its existence as a
distinct phenomenon, depend likewise upon the co-opera¬
tion of other faculties, which play a necessary though a
subordinate part. The neglect of this consideration consti¬
tutes the weak point in Condillac’s celebrated hypothesis of
the statue becoming conscious. He starts with the assump¬
tion that the possession of a single organ of sense is s1™-
cient for the discernment of distinct sensations as such, for
remembrance and comparison of various sensations, for the
preference of one to another, for voluntary efforts to recal
them, and for self-consciousness throughout. W hereas, in
truth though the existence of the sensation in a perfect
state * is identical with the consciousness of that existence,
yet we are by no means warranted in assuming that either
can be brought into that state by the operation of an iso¬
lated organ of sense. With this preliminary caution as to
the relation of the several faculties and acts of conscious¬
ness to each other—a caution which must be carefully borne
in mind throughout—we shall now proceed to examine and
writer mav be liable to the charge of innovation, in what
was at leak in the last generation the established language
of English philosophy. But in this case necessity has no
law. We need a term which shall indifferently express
the presence of an individual sight or sound in the eye or
ear and of an individual emotion or volition in the mind ;
and if none such exists in current use, there is no resource
but to coin one. It may be added, that if such a term had
been in use in the days of Locke, his writings need not have
been liable to the perpetual misunderstanding which arises
from his ambiguous use of the term reflection. _ The same
apology must serve for the occasional introduction of other
philosophical terms, which, though gradually coming into
use, are hardly as yet in general circulation.
Presentative consciousness, thus distinguished, appears,
like all consciousness, in the form of a relation between the
subject or person conscious, and the object, or that of which
he is conscious. These two terms are correlative to each
other, and imply each other. The subject is a subject to
the object, and the object is an object to the subject. I he
i . ___ 1— L-nnwino* itSPlt to DG at-
in mind throughout-we shall now proceed to examine a m - c£nscious by knowing itself to be af-
feced in a particular manner by an object i the object car
so far, at least, as separation in this case is possible.
OF PRESENTATTVE OR INTUITIVE CONSCIOUSNESS.
The distinctive feature of presentative consciousness con¬
sists in the fact, that it is caused by the actual presence ot
an individual object, whether thing, act, or state ot mind,
occupying a definite position in time, or in space, or in
both. It is true that this object is not discerned as such,
and the consciousness of it, therefore, is not fully realized
without the co-operation of the representative faculties; and
it is true also that representative consciousness, when com¬
plete, is exhibited in an individual unity of representation t
but as the presence of the individual object is in the one case
the principal, in the other only an accessory feature ; and as
in the one it may be regarded as the cause, in the other as
the effect of the accompanying representation, it furnishes
a sufficient principle of distinction between the two. We
fected in a particular manner by an object; the object can
only be known as affecting the subject in a particular man¬
ner. Thus the two are given in relation as mutually de¬
termining and determined by each other. We are affected
in various manners by various objects presented to us.
But these objects again exist for us as objects, only in so far
as they are discerned by our faculties of consciousness. I he
subject and the object are thus only cognisable as existing
in and affected by their mutual relation. We cannot be
conscious of a pure ego, or subject affected in no particu ar
manner ; nor yet of a pure non ego, or object out ot re a-
tion to our own cognitive powers. Hence arises a distinc¬
tion between phenomena, or things in consciousness, an
things in themselves, or things out of consciousness,
know the object only as it stands in relation to our Acuities,
and is modified by them. We are not sure that, if our
faculties were altered, the same things would appear to us
in the same form as they do now : we are not sure that they
1 A word in passing on the often used and often misused terms lubjeetive and objective. All consciousness has a J f b-ct>
iect; but sometimes the object determines the character of the subject, and sometimes the subject determines the c ara ,
In the former case the product is objective, in the latter it is subjective. Thus, a nervous affection dependent on e con . ^ c0(je 0f
animated organism is subjective ; a quality perceived or conceived as existing in the constitution of the object is objec iv . ^
morality which allows each man to fix his own standard of right and wrong, is subjective; one which requires the 0PinV. _ f tho
conform to a rule independent of themselves, is objective, This explanation, however, applies only to the modern sigm
terms.
Psycho'
logy.
do appear in the same form to all existing intelligent beings;
. ^or we know not how far the faculties of other beings re¬
semble our own. But, on the other hand, we have no right
to dogmatize on the negative side, and to assume, with
equal absence of ground, that things are not in themselves
as they appear to us. This question, however, belongs to
ontology, and will be examined in its proper place. Psy¬
chology is concerned with the phenomena of consciousness
such. It has nothing to do with the ulterior realities
whose existence and nature consciousness perhaps indi¬
cates, but certainly does not ascertain.
Nevertheless, though consciousness exists, and can be
conceived to exist, only in the psychological relation of a
subject to an object, it is possible in some degree to dis¬
tinguish between the elements apparently due to each.
Not that these can be directly discerned apart from each
other; but that in their combination each exhibits certain
matures which appear to indicate a subjective or an objec¬
tive origin. If there are in every act of consciousness cer¬
tain invariable elements, which no change of consciousness
can ever obliterate or alter, which no effort of thought can
get rid of or conceive as absent, and without which con¬
sciousness itself cannot be imagined as possible,—these may
be conjectured to owe their existence to the constitution of
the subject, which remains one and unchanged in succes¬
sive acts ; while the changeable features which distinguish
one mode of consciousness from another, are probably due
to the different constitutions of the several things of which
the subject is successively conscious.^ The former may
therefore be distinguished as constituting the form or sub¬
jective ingredient of consciousness ; the latter as constitut¬
ing the matter or objective ingredient.
METAPHYSICS.
OF THE FORM OF CONSCIOUSNESS IN GENERAL.
The analogy which gives rise to the terms form and
matter, as used to denote the subjective and objective ele¬
ments of consciousness, is obvious. In a work of art, the
forni is that which is given the artist; the matter is’that
which is given to him. The sculptor, for instance, receives
the unshaped block of marble, and imparts to it the form of
the statue. The conscious mind, in like manner, receives
its materials from without, and imparts to them a form by
its own act, according to its own laws. The form of con¬
sciousness in general consists in relation to a subject.
Whatever variety of materials, whether for intuition or
thought, may exist within reach of my mind, I can become
conscious of them only by recognising them as mine. By
this the several materials are in each case set apart or
united, and known as an object, of which I am conscious ;
and without such knowledge no act of consciousness is pos-
sible. .Relation to the conscious self is thus the permanent
and universal feature wdiich every state of consciousness, as
such, must exhibit; while in every other respect the seve¬
ral states may differ from each other, being distinguished as
sensations, volitions, thoughts, &c.; or more particularly, as
states of sight or hearing, as virtuous or vicious acts, as
conceptions or judgments; or more minutely still, as the
sight of a tree or the hearing of music, as an act of bene¬
volence or ingratitude, as the conception of a triangle or the
judgment that the angles of a triangle are equal to two right
angles. But in all alike there is a necessary relation to one
and the same conscious self; the sight is my sight, the act
is my act, the thought is my thought. If we further ex¬
amine the manner in which this universal relation mani¬
fests itself in the particular case of presentative conscious¬
ness, we shall find two special forms or conditions common
to all possible states of external or internal intuition respec¬
tively—namely, Space and Time.
OF THE FORMS OF INTUITIVE CONSCIOUSNESS—SPACE
AND TIME.
Space is the form or mental condition of our perc ption
of exteinal objects. I he phenomena of the material world
may vary in an infinite number of ways; but, under every
variety, they retain the condition of existing in space, either
as being themselves sensibly extended, or as having a local
position in the sensitive organism. Without this condition,
their existence at all as phenomena is inconceivable. We
may suppose the phenomena changed as we will in other
respects, but we cannot suppose them to exist out of space.
We may suppose anygiven phenomenon to be non-existent,
but the non-existence of space is beyond our power of sup¬
position. Hence space is necessarily regarded as infinite
(though not positively conceived as such), for to suppose it
finite is to suppose a point at which it ceases to exist. It
has thus the characteristics of universality and necessity
which appear to mark it out as an a priori law or condition
of the conscious mind, not as the adventitious result of any
special experience. And this conclusion is confirmed by
other considerations. For the consciousness of space,
though accompanying the perceptions of various senses,
cannot be regarded as properly the object of any one of
them. There is a visible extension, or apprehension, of
space as occupied by light and colour; there is a tangible
extension, or consciousness of certain portions of the organ¬
ism as occupied by tactual impressions; and there is pro¬
bably a certain consciousness of locality in the exercise of
the other senses. But pure space is not identical with any
of these; for the blind man may form as positive a notion
of it as the seeing man, and one debarred from the sensa¬
tion accompanying the act of touch would not thereby lose
all consciousness of space ; and the same argument applies
still more clearly to the other senses. Again, the exercise
of the locomotive faculty implies a consciousness of space
as containing our own body; but the idea of space cannot
be said to be derived from locomotion, since the mere voli¬
tion to move implies a prior consciousness of this relation.
Space is thus not by itself an object of sensible intuition,
but forms one element of all such objects, being presented
in the form of a relation between parts out of each other,
and hence being distinctly conceivable only in conjunction
with the things related. Pure space has thus one character
in common with concepts or general notions, namely, that
it cannot by itself be depicted to sense or imagination ; but
in all other respects it is essentially different from them
A concept is logically as well as chronologically posterior to
the individuals which it represents. It implies a prior per¬
ception of them, and it has no objective existence but in
them. Space is logically, and in some degree chronologi¬
cally, prior to the objects of sense. It is the condition of
561
Psycho-
togy-
1 An apparently opposite use of this criterion is made in some of the current theories of nhilnRnnliv Tm. • ±1. j- .
we shall shortly have to notice, between the primary and secondary qualities of body thoseattribJtefnf the dlstlnction> which
to the several senses are usually regarded as existing in the bodies themSelves ihUe tLSfwhl,h rthe COSnition is common
sensation are considered as affections of the sentient subject. But in truth the opposition is rather h pe*“!iar to thls or that act of
dary qualities, as they are commonly distinguished, depend for their cognition Son the Lnst-f^-^""^ than real- For the
per of consciousness, but on that of the nervous organism as animated • gand this litter thourff PUre mind °r SUbjeCt pr0’
garded as pertaining to the subject, yet, in reference to consciousness in general, and to’the p^rsona^elfn ^ °f Se11lSation 14 is re-
garded as belonging to the object, and, as such, is present or absent in different acts of consJSn * proPerly 80 called> must be re¬
tween form and matter, though not thoroughly carried out in reference to the sensibilitv till th» u r ^ndeed’the above distinction be-
been long previously an established canon in logic. reterence to the sensibility till the time of Kant, had, in relation to thought,
VOL. XIV.
4 15
562
Psycho-
iogy*
METAPHYSICS.
their existence as objects, and is itself necessarily conceived
as existing independently of any given contents. A con¬
cept is indifferently representative of many objects. Space
is presented to consciousness as one only (for the division
of space is purely arbitrary), and thus is not conceived as
comprehending individual objects under it, but as contam-
Lm it Space is thus an element of the sensitive
consciousness, presented in itself, not derived from or re-
presentative of anything else; and, though always mani¬
fested on the occasion of some special experience, it cannot
be regarded as the product of experience, nor its notion be
constructed from empirical data. It cannot properly be
described as an innate idea, for no idea is wholly innate;
but it is the innate element of the ideas of sense which
experience calls into actual consciousness. To describe
experience as the cause of the idea of space, would be as
inaccurate as to speak of the soil in which it is planted as
the cause of the oak ; though the planting is the condition
which brings into manifestation the latent powers ot the
acorn. To maintain that the mind contributes nothing to
the formation of consciousness, because experience contri¬
butes something, is as unreasonable as to assert that the
acorn may indifferently become an oak, or an ash, or an
elm, according to the soil in which it is planted. Yet such
reasoning has often been used to prove that the mind is but
the passive recipient of impressions from without.
In the actual development of human consciousness, the
condition of space accompanies every complete exercise o
the bodily senses; for in all there is a local relation to a
particular organ ; and without this relation no kind of sen¬
sation can be fully realized as a mode of consciousness.
And this is all that it is necessary to observe, so long as we
are describing consciousness as it is, not constructing it as
it might be. Whether any single organ of sense—-smelf,
for instance, or hearing, supposing it to exist isolated bom
the rest—would be competent to furnish the empirical con¬
ditions under which the consciousness of space is realized,
is a question which can only be approximately and conjec-
turally answered by a special examination of each sense.
But such an examination would throw but little light on
human consciousness as it actually exists. Consciousness
is the result of a human intellect acting in conjunction with
a human organization ; and if we withdraw or mutilate either
element, we produce, not an actual man, but a hypothetical
monster. A being endowed, according to the hypothesis
of Condillac, with a sense of smell only, and identifying him¬
self with his successive sensations (it would be more cor¬
rect to say, having no notion of self at all), would not, pro¬
perly speaking, be in any sense a conscious being. He would
be deficient in the essential conditions of consciousness, the
distinction of subject from object, and of objects from each
other. To be conscious of a particular sensation, we must
know it as such; and to know it as such implies a conco¬
mitant knowledge of other sensations as different, and thus
of the bodily organism as extended, or as occupying space.
Much of what has been said of space is applicable to time
also. This is the condition, not merely of external percep¬
tion, but of the entire consciousness, external and internal
alike. Consciousness in every form implies a permanent
and a variable element—a continuous self subject to succes¬
sive modifications. It is thus necessarily manifested as a
change, and that change as taking place in time. Pure time,
like pure space, is not in itself an object of consciousness,
but an element which, to be realized in consciousness, must
be combined with the results of experience. We can form
no notion of time per sc with no events taking place in it.
Time is thus manifested in the form of a relation of suc¬
cessive modes of consciousness to the one conscious self.
It might be conjectured with some plausibility that a being
not subject to any change of consciousness, or, on the other
hand, one not cognisant of his personal identity in the midst
of change, would have no idea of time. But then such a
bein0- would have no consciousness at all, in the proper
sense of the term. Time, like space, cannot be annihilated
by any act of thought, and cannot be conceived as subject
to any limitation, as having either beginning or end, or
as absent from any mode ot consciousness. Indeed, these
conditions mutually imply each other; for to conceive a
limit of time would be to conceive a consciousness in which
time is present, preceded or followed by another from which
time is absent. Time has thus, in common with space, the
characteristics of universality and necessity, which appear
to indicate a subjective condition or law of consciousness
itself. Like space, too, it is manifested in conjunction with
and on the occasion of experience, being manifested simul¬
taneously with the empirical element of change, the appre¬
hension of which constitutes the first step of positive con¬
sciousness.2 . ,
We are not at present concerned with the question whe¬
ther space and time have any real existence apart from that
of the mind which gives these forms to the objects of its
consciousness. This question belongs to ontology, not to
psychology. Space and time are known to us as formal con¬
ditions of consciousness; whether they are anything more
than such conditions, is a question which at present we have
no means of answering. The laws ot consciousness must
be primarily manifested as binding upon the conscious mind.
As such, they necessarily accompany every manifestation
of consciousness; and in their utmost objective reality they
could do no more. But we do not deny the real existence
of space and time, though at the present stage of our inquiry
we are not able to affirm it. We shall hereafter have occa¬
sion to consider whether this question can be answered at
all. It is sufficient for the present to say that it cannot be
answered by psychology.
Psycho¬
logy.
OF THE MATTER OF INTUITIVE CONSCIOUSNESS.
The matter of intuitive consciousness cannot be specified
with the same exactness as the form ; for while in all cognate
acts of consciousness the form is one and the same, and
therefore admits of a distinct examination apart from t le
several modes of consciousness into which it enters, the matter
is the variable element by which one act of consciousness
differs from another, and which, therefore, can only be iully
analysed by a separate examination of each individual case.
The various phenomena of the matter of consciousness,
however, admit of being classified and partially described
under certain general heads; and such a classification has
accordingly been attempted in the distinctions, which form
the substance of most psychological treatises, between _ti
various states, operations, and faculties of the hu™aiJ
The matter of intuitive consciousness, in its widest sense,
denotes all that comes to the mind from without, all, in
short, that is due to this or that specal °f
experience there are two princ.pa sources. 1 •
or external intuition, by which we become cogmsant of the
phenomena connected with our matenal organs on. emi
2. Internal intuition (called by Locke reflec^n), Joy
which we become cognisant of the several successive s
1 Space, though not positively conceived as devoid of all contents, is yet necessarily conceived as separable from any g'
and thus as independent of each in succession. . . ,. „ r rn. +iinf consciousness is
e The apparent paradox, on the one hand, that consciousness must have had a beginning m time, , >
only possible under the form of a change of state, will be further explained in the sequel. TvUcmnrWstnndiner Etymologically,
» There is an ambiguity in Locke’s use of the term reflection, which has given rise to C0^S1 existence of a state'of consciousness is
the term should denote a turning back of the mind upon an object previously existing, so that t
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho* of our own minds. To the former we owe the materials of
logy. our knowledge of what takes place without us; from the
latter, in like manner, is derived our knowledge of what
takes place within us. The subdivisions of these two con¬
stitute the several states and operations of the human mind.
OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION.
Sensation, in its most general acceptation, is sometimes
used to signify the whole of that portion of consciousness
which comes to us by means of the bodily organs of sense.
Perception, too, has been used by various writers in a
wider or a narrower sense—sometimes as synonymous with
consciousness in general, sometimes as limited to the appre¬
hensions of sense alone.1 Under the latter limitation it has
been found convenient to make a further restriction, and to
distinguish between sensation proper scad perception proper.
Sensation proper is the consciousness of certain affections
of our body as an animated organism.
Perception proper is the consciousness of the existence of
our body as a material organism, and therefore as extended.
The sensitive organism may be considered in two points
of view -1. As belonging to the ego, or conscious subject,
which, in 'its actual concrete existence, is susceptible of
consciousness only in and by its relation to a bodily or¬
ganism. 2. As belonging to the non ego, or material object
of consciousness, from which the mind, as an abstract im¬
material being, is logically separable ; though, in actual con¬
sciousness, the two are always united. The bodily or¬
ganism is thus the debatable land between self and not-
self. In one sense, my eye is a part of my conscious self;
for sight is an act of consciousness, and sight cannot exist
except by means of the eye. In another sense, my eye is
not a part of myself; for a man whose eyes are put out
continues to be the same person as before. Hence the
organism, as the vehicle of sensation, exhibits in the same
act attributes of mind and attributes of body. In the for¬
mer point of view, the act of sensitive consciousness is re¬
garded as a sensation ; in the latter, as a perception.
Perception is sometimes defined as “ the knowledge we
obtain, by means of our sensations, of the qualities of matter.”2
This definition may be admitted, if matter is understood as
comprehending our own bodily organism, as well as the
extra-organic objects to which it is related. The former
is the only kind of matter that is immediately cognisable
by the senses. The existence of a material world, distinct
from, though related to, our organism, is made known to us,
not by the senses themselves, but, as will be noticed here¬
after, by tine faculty of locomotion. Sensation and percep¬
tion, as above explained, are always correlative to each
other ; every sensation being accompanied by a conscious¬
ness of the extension of the sensitive organism, and this
consciousness being a perception. But, though always co¬
existent, they are not proportionally coexistent. On the
contrary, the sensation, when it rises above a certain low
degree of intensity, interferes with the perception of its
relations, by concentrating the consciousness on its abso¬
lute affection alone. Hence Sir William Hamilton, from
whom the above remark is taken, has enunciated the im¬
portant rule, that, above a certain point, the stronger the
sensation, the weaker the perception ; and the distincter the
perception, the less obtrusive the sensation. In other words,
though perception proper and sensation proper exist only
as they coexist, in the degree or intensity of their existence,
they are always found in an inverse ratio to each other?
OF THE FIVE SENSES.
Sensation and perception, according to the above law,
coexist, though in an inverse ratio to each other, in each of
the five senses. But in addition to the relation which each
bears to the other, when viewed with reference to the same
sense, they are also found to be combined in different pro¬
portions when one sense is compared with another. In some
the sensation so far predominates over the perception, that
the sense manifests itself as a source of feeling rather than
of knowledge, and has often, though erroneously, been re¬
garded as consisting of the former element only. In others
the reverse is the case; the perceptive element, or cogni¬
tion of an object, predominating over the sensitive element,
or consciousness of a personal affection. In this point of
view, the senses of smell and taste may be distinguished as
especially subjective or sensational; those of hearing and
sight as objective or perceptional. Touch, inasmuch as it
has no special organ, but is diffused in various degrees over
the various parts of the body, will require a separate consi¬
deration. In other words, smell and taste are chiefly known
as vehicles of the mental emotions of pleasure and pain;
hearing and sight, as informing us of the nature of the bodily
attributes of sound and colour. Touch may contribute to
the one or the other end, according to the part of the body
in which it resides, and the manner in which it is brought
into exercise.4
Of Smell.
In smell, as in the other senses, it is necessary to dis¬
tinguish between the sensation itself, and its object, which,
in ordinary language, are not unfrequently confounded to¬
gether. Thus we speak of the organ of smell, and of the
smell of a rose, using the same term indifferently to signify
the act of inhaling an odour and the odour inhaled. The
act of smell, apart from the physiological inquiries con¬
nected with it, requires no description, being familiar to
every one from his own experience. It will be sufficient
for our present purpose to distinguish the sensation from the
accompanying perception; and this will be best accom¬
plished by an examination of the object.
The true object of smell is to be found in the odorous
particles in contact with the organ. It is incorrect to say
that we smell a rose, meaning by a rose the flower as seen
or touched. We smell only the effluvia emanating from
the rose and coming in contact with the nervous organism.
What these effluvia or odorous emanations are in them-
distinct from the reflection on that state. In this sense, a sensation, like any other mode of consciousness, may be an obiect of reflec¬
tion ; and those philosophers who understood Locke in this sense were only consistent in reducing his two ources of ideas to the sinSe
one of sensation alone. But in the greater part of Locke’s essay, reflection is treated of in a different sense, namely as the immediSe
" C0”S“O“S““S “istenc, of those state,, aL thi f^iog anTrigS
1 Thus Locke enumerates sensation and reflection as the two sources of our ideas mearnne-r. i. • x, ,
would he sensation and perception together. In this he is followed by Condillac ’ The dfstinction bet^e ^ ^ ^ lanSuaSe of Reid,
ception proper originated with Reid; but its most accurate development is due to'his editor, Sir William Hamilton ^From^h Pe^
the latter, the greater part of the remarks in the text have been taken. Hamilton. 1 rom the notes of
8 Stewart, Outlines of Moral Philosophy, sect. 15.
3 Rad’s Works, p. 880. The same rule had been in substance previously given by Kant, Anthropoloaie sect 20
* This remark of course applies only to the senses as they exist in the human subject A similn! v
good with regard to .the lower animals; but it is differently manifested in the several senses Of the 1 ^ ^ fdfed’ Protabi1y hold3
been observed by Sir W. Hamilton, that “precisely as in animals these latter senses o-iin in’thePf v s.enses of taste and smell it has
ledge, do they lose in their subjective character as sources of pleasurable or painfuf sensations 7 charac.tei;as means °/ kn0+^
sense of smell is so acute, all odours seem in themselves to be indifferent ” (Reid’s Works l 1 r g’ ^ 1D+stance’ in yhom th®
15, whose distinction slightly varies from that given in the text. ^ ’ P‘ Compare Kant, Anthropologie, sect.
563
Psycho¬
logy.
564
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- selves, natural philosophy is unable to determine. Al-
l°gy though it may be surmised,” says Dr Carpenter, that they
v-~v~' consist of particles of extreme minuteness, dissolved as it
were in the air, and although this idea seems to derive con¬
firmation from the fact that most odorous substances are
volatile, and vice versa, yet the most delicate experiments
have failed to discover any diminution in weight, in cer¬
tain substances (as musk) that have been impregnating
with their effluvia a large quantity of air for several years ;
and there are some volatile fluids, such as water, which are
entirely inodorous.”1 But whatever these odorous particles
may be, it is important to remember that they, and not the
bodies from which they proceed, are the proper objects of
smell; and, consequently, that this sensation (and the same
maybe said of all the others) is in fact a modification of
touch. Hence it is incorrect to speak, as Aristotle and many
subsequent writers have spoken, of the object of smed as
perceived through a medium, such as the atmosphere. The
atmosphere is not the medium of communication between
the sensitive organ and its object, but only the vehicle by
which the object is brought into contact with the organ.
Smell conveys to us no knowledge of the existence
of extra-organic matter. The only matter of which
we are directly conscious in this, as in other actions of
sense, is our own organism as extended; and this conscious¬
ness constitutes the 'perception of smell, as the conscious¬
ness of the same organism as affected constitutes the
sensation. In the remarks upon the consciousness of
space as the form of all sensitive intuition, enough has
been said to explain in what sense the consciousness of
locality and extension form part of the energy of smell as
it actually exists, and to show that the lowest degree of
intelligence that is sufficient for sensation proper is suffi¬
cient for perception also. But the object perceived is not
a quality of body as such, but only the proper action, or
rather passion, of our nervous organism ; an action or pas¬
sion of which the external cause is, so far as perception is
concerned, wholly unknown, and which may even be ex¬
cited in a similar manner by totally different causes. This
is not so evident in the case of smell as in some others of
the senses; yet it is a known fact in physiology that the
sensation of smell may be produced in the olfactory nerve
by electrical action without the presence of any odorous
body. This fact is sufficient to show that the operation of
a sense by itself does not afford any legitimate grounds for
determining the qualities, or even the existence, of an ex¬
tra-organic world. On this subject we shall have moie to
say when we come to treat of the distinction between the
primary and secondary qualities of body.
Of Taste.
The principal characteristics of the sense of smell are
common to that of taste also. The two senses resemble
each other in being both powerful as instruments of feel¬
ing, and proportionally weak as sources of information.
Tastes, like smells, admit of hardly any classification, ex¬
cept in respect of their relation to the sensitive organism
as pleasant or painful. Like smell, too, the sensation ap¬
pears to be produced by means of sapid particles emitted
from the body, and brought into contact with the nerves ;
and these particles, which constitute the object of the sense
of taste, are in their own nature as little known as those of
smell, and can as little be regarded as bearing any resem¬
blance to the sensations which they excite. Taste, like Psycho¬
smell, is thus a modification of touch; the object in contact logy-
with the organ being the sapid particles, and not, as might ^
at first be supposed, the body from which those particles
proceed. The body is in contact, not with the nei ves, but
only with their exterior covering; and in order to produce
the distinctive sensation of taste, it appears to be necessary
that the sapid particles should be dissolved in the saliva,
and thus penetrate through the investments of the papillae
into their substance.2 But, not to enter here on questions
more properly belonging to physiology, it will be sufficient for
our present purpose to observe, that taste, like smell, con¬
veys no knowledge of the existence of extra-organic matter,
and that the sensation, properly so called, consists in the
consciousness of the organism as affected in a particular
manner, agreeable or disagreeable ; while the perception is
to be found in the corresponding consciousness of the
locality of the affection in the organism as extended.
Though these two are always to a certain extent co-exist¬
ent, yet the former predominates so far over the latter as
to form the principal characteristics of this class oi sensa¬
tions. For this reason, the organs of taste and smell are
distinguished as being pre- eminently the sources of sensation
in the strict sense of the term.3
Of Hearing.
In hearing, the functions of sensation and perception ate
perhaps more nearly balanced than in any other ot the
senses. The subjective character of various sounds, as
sources of pleasure or pain to the hearer, may be contrasted
with their objective character, as resembling or differing
from each other; and as in the latter relation this sense
affords more accurate distinctions than those of taste and
smell, so in the former the sensation is less capable of being
carried to an extreme degree of pleasure or pain.1 Hear¬
ing, therefore, though contributing in different degrees both
to enjoyment and to information, may be characterized as a
source of the latter rather than of the former; and if, ac¬
cording to the rule already mentioned, the sensation and
the perception are in an inverse ratio to each other, it "ill
follow, that in proportion as our attention is more directed
to the discrimination of various sounds from each other, we
are less immediately conscious ot the pleasure or pain which
they are capable of communicating. In hearing, as in the
senses previously described, we are directly cognisant, not^
of the sonorous body, but of the change in the condition of
the auditory nerve produced by contact with a medium by
which the vibrations are transmitted (the fluid inclosed in
the labyrinth of the ear), and hence hearing, like the other
senses, is a modification of touch, and does not diiectly in¬
form us of the existence of any other material object than
our own nervous organism. Hence it follows, that neither
the distance nor the direction from which a sound proceeds
is immediately perceived by the ear; and this conclusion is
confirmed by the facts connected with the exercise of this
sense in its uneducated condition, as by children, and occa¬
sionally also by adults. The child does not appear to be con¬
scious at first of the direction or distance ot voices that at¬
tract his attention; and a remarkable instance of the same
kind in a grown person is mentioned by Dr Reid. _ 1 re¬
member,” he says, “ that once lying a-bed, and having been
put into a fright, I heard my own heart beat; but 1 took it
to be one knocking at the door, and arose and opened t le
37.
1 Principles of Human Physiology, p. 905.
3 Carpenter’s Principles of Human Physiology, p. 900. 3 Kant, Anthropologic, sect. 15; Tissot, Anthropologic, vol. i., p.
* A lover of music might perhaps demur to the conclusion that the pleasures of hearing are less intense than those tasje or sme1 '
In explanation, it should be remembered that we are speaking only of the pleasure conveyed by the sensation itself. The pleasure e-
rived from music is mainly intellectual, and is chiefly derived, not from the sound heard in any one sensation, but from the cognition o
its relation to others, which are not heard but remembered ; or from associations which may be suggested by, but are not actua y con
tained in, the sound as heard. In short, the natural sensation, which is common to all mankind, must be distinguished from the acquire
sensation which is in a great degree the result of education.
Psyeho-
logy.
door more than once, before I discovered that the sound
was in my own breast.” .... “ It is probable,” he con¬
tinues, “ that, previous to all experience, we should as little
know whether a sound came from the right or left, from
above or below, from a great or a small distance, as we
should know whether it was the sound of a drum, or a bell,
or a cart ? 1 In this respect, the sense of hearing presents a
remarkable analogy to that of sight; and this property of
both will be considered when we come to treat of acquired
perceptions.
Of Sight.
Sight is of all the senses the most communicative as a
vehicle of information, and consequently the one in which
there is the least immediate consciousness of pleasure or
pain in the exercise. Most of the knowledge, however, which
this sense, in its matured state, conveys to us, belongs to
its acquired, not to its original power, and is the result, not
_ ** direct perception, but of an inference from a percep¬
tion. In sight, as in the other senses, the direct perception
is produced by contact; and the proper object of this sense
is not the distant body from which the rays of light are
emitted or reflected, but the affection of the organ of sight
(the retina and the nervous system connected with it) pro¬
duced by the rays impinging' upon it. The essential cha¬
racteristics of this affection are brightness and colour, which,
however, are necessarily accompanied by a consciousness’
of extension ; for a luminous point, however small, must it¬
self occupy some portion of space, and can be perceived
only as in contrast to a surrounding expanse of obscure or
differently coloured surface.2 I he immediate object of sight
being in contact with the extremities of the optic nerve of
the pei son seeing, it is as impossible for two persons simul¬
taneously to see the same object with their eyes, as to
touch the same spot with their fingers; and every move¬
ment of the eye which brings a different portion of rays
mto contact with the organ, produces a different object of
vision. The object of vision being thus neither the rays
alone nor the organ alone, but the organ as affected by the
rays; and the sensation of colour being a purely organic
affection, it follows that sight, like the other senses, gives
us no immediate knowledge of an extra-organic world ;
though it is immediately cognisant of extension, and there¬
fore of matter, as presented in the organism itself. Hence
we have no immediate perception by sight of the figure, the
size, or the distance of bodies; and we cannot in strict ac¬
curacy be said to see a distant body, such as the sun, at all;
though m practice the direct perception becomes so inti¬
mately united with the indirect inference, that it is difficult to
imagine that either can exist apart from the other. Admit¬
ting this view of the true object of sight, which may be re¬
garded as established by physiological as well as psychologi¬
cal testimony,4 we may notice some remarkable contrasts be-
tvveen the presented object, or that which we actually see, and
the represented object, or that which we appear to see. The
piesented object is on the surface of the retina; the repre¬
sented object appears without, and at a greater or less dis¬
tance from the eye. The presented object is of such a size
as can be contained within the spectator’s visual organism ;
the represented object may be many times larger than his
whole body. The presented object is a flat surface; the
METAPHYSICS.
These and other apparent anomalies in the exercise of the
senses will be discussed under the head of acquired per¬
ceptions.
Of Touch and Feeling.
Touch is regarded by many writers as the most objective
and the most trustworthy of all our faculties. It has been
described as the source of our knowledge of the existence
of an external world, and of the real magnitudes, figures,
and distances of objects; as the instructor of the other
senses, and the corrector of their aberrations. It appears
certain, however, that the sense of touch in itself is equally
limited in its sphere with the rest of the senses, and that it
can convey no other proper perception than that of the
existence of its own organism as extended. The sensations
of touch, considered by themselves, present no characteris¬
tics which can distinguish them from those of the other
senses, as regards an immediate cognisance of the external
world. Like smell, or sound, or light, they are affections
of the nervous system, which may be produced by internal
as well as external causes, and which directly indicate no
othei existence than that of the organized sentient being.5
1 he fact is, that in the examination of this faculty, philo¬
sophers have often made a two-fold confusion between
things in themselves distinct. In the first place, the sense
of touch pioper, in which the sentient subject is as passive
as in any other state of sensation, is confounded with the
faculty of locomotion, which originates in a voluntary act of
the same subject. In the second place, the sense of touch
having no special organ, but being common to all parts of
the surface of the body, it has sometimes happened that
perceptions have been assumed to be invariable and abso¬
lute, which, in truth, are relative to one part only of the
organism, and assume a different character in relation to
other parts, lo mention only one eminent instance out of
many, both these confusions occur in Bishop Berkeley’s
Essay towards a New Theory of Vision. That illustrious
philosopher distinguishes between two kinds of magnitude,
the one tangible, which is perceived and measured by
touch; the other visible, by the mediation of which the
formei is brought into view. The tangible magnitude he
considers to be fixed and invariable, while the visible mag¬
nitude changes as we approach to or recede from the object.
Hence he concludes that tangible and not visible figures
are the objects of geometrical reasoning; the latter having
no other use than words have, namely, as signs to suggest
the former. Now, in the first place, it is obvious that mere
touch, without the power of locomotion, can inform us of
no other magnitude than that which corresponds to the
touching organ. In point of fact, it informs us only of the
extension of the organ itself; but under no possible hvpo-
thesis could it inform us of more than the magnitude of "that
part of a body with which we are actually in contact. In
the second place, it has been proved by experiment that
the same object will appear of different magnitudes when in
contact with different parts of the human body, and con¬
sequently that the sense of touch, regarded by itself, is not
°" L“’ but ,even, self-co“tra<lict°ry in its testimony.
Hence it follows that the sense of touch alone has no nre-
“ver thc nther senses as a criterion of truth in
represented object is a solid body. The presented object relationTo amaterW woridteyond 1° o eri°n °f tmth !r
is inverted; the represented object is erect. The presented fact like the mbpr -pnc •*, ur ovvn organism ; ir
object is double, there being a distinct image on rite retina such a world. Touch however8 difesT ^ existen,Ce, f
of each eye; the represented object is generally single, the particulars from the other sense T» S°me reT ble
twotmages betng normal vtston united into one body, organ appropriated to the teSs^sa^sMe; altdthe
* Inquiry into the Human Mind, chap, iv., sec. 1.
2 See Sir W. Hamilton, Reid's Works, p. 860.
(Works, ed. Hamilton, p. 117.)
* See Sir W. Hamilton, Reid’s Works,’p. 160, 301, 304, 814; and Dr Carnenter Pw 3°4'
cy Rlemens d’Ideologic, p. i„ chap. 7 ; or his follower, Brown, Lecture xxif Zth tf1\925’ 928 (4th edit0
diate tactual perception of our own organism, though rin-ht »a th the.se authors, however, are wrong
565
Psycho-
566
Psycho¬
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
various parts of the body by which these may be commu¬
nicated may also be the instruments of other classes of
sensations, ill of which have been confounded under the
general nime of “ touch” or “ feeling.” T he object of touch
proper has no special name, like sound colour, or smell;
but in itself it is familiar to every one who has experienced
the state of consciousness which results from the contact
of his own body with another, when not sufficiently violent
to rise into a positive sense of pleasure or pain. In this
state there is a two-fold consciousness; that part ot the
bodily organism being known at the same time as affected
and as extended. The former constitutes the sensation, the
latter the perception ; and in proportion as the former rises
to a higher consciousness ot pleasure or pain, the latter
grows feebler, though never becoming wholly extinct.
This double state, which has no appropriate name, may
perhaps be distinguished in its twofold character by the
name of Tactual Impression. In addition to this may be
mentioned other modes of feeling communicated, partly at
least, through the same organs, such as those of heat and
cold, which have sometimes been regarded as the proper
objects of the sense of touch, and the various kinds of pain
and pleasure produced by external applications. It will be
sufficient for our present purpose to notice, that all ot them
belong to the class commonly known as secondary qualities
of body; that is to say, affections of the different parts ot
the nervous organism, which, as apprehended, have no re¬
semblance to any property of inorganic matter, though
generally caused by some unknown power by which that
matter is capable of affecting our organs.
General Remarks on the Five Senses.
The psychological characteristics of the five senses in
general, omitting those which properly belong to physiologi¬
cal inquiries, may be summed up as follows : I he proper
function of each and all of them is a sensation, or ailection
of the nervous organism as animated; which affection,
however, does not, and in all probability cannot, exist in
consciousness without an accompanying intellectual cog¬
nition of the same organism as extended or occupying space.
This cognition (the perception proper) is referred to the
intellect rather than to the sense, chiefly for two reasons :
Firstly, because it is not, like the sensation proper, limited
in each case to a single form of sensibility, but appears as
the common condition of consciousness in all. becondly,
because it is not in any case the consciousness of a single
object as such, but of a relation either between the parts ot
the sensible object, viewed as out of each other, or between
that object as a whole and the concomitant conditions
under which it is presented to the sense. Thus, for ex¬
ample, the rays of light in contact with the retina may be
perceived either as forming a visible surface, whose parts
are related to each other, or as a luminous spot related to
the surrounding obscurity ; and even a smell or a sound,
whether themselves perceived as extended or not, are at all
events discerned in and by their relation to different parts
of an extended organism.1 I he sensation and the per¬
ception are thus each the necessary condition of the other;
and the union of the two is requisite to constitute a state
of consciousness. But consciousness is not complete, even
when these two elements are united. The consciousness
of any mental state (whether of sensation or otherwise)
never does, and probably never can take place, without the
accompanying consciousness that something else preceded
it. This something need not be distinctly known as a for¬
mer state of consciousness (which would make a begin¬
ning of consciousness impossible), just as the space to which
the object of perception is related need not be distinctly
discerned as containing other objects; but every act of
consciousness as such is accompanied by the conviction,
indefinite it may be, of something having gone before, just
as a coloured spot in sight is perceived as having something
surrounding it.2 In other words, every act ot conscious¬
ness, as such, is presented as a change in the state of our
existence, not as the beginning of that existence, and thus
implies the continuous existence of a permanent self, pre¬
sented in and through the several modes of consciousness,
but not identified with any. We can have no knowledge
of an abstract self apart from its successive states of con¬
sciousness, nor yet of any one of those states, save as a mode
of the existence of one and the same indivisible self. The
sensitive consciousness is thus revealed to us as composed
of three elements ; a permanent self, having a sensitive
organism extended in space, and with successive affections
of that organism taking place in time. None of these ele¬
ments, apart from the rest, can be presented or represented
in consciousness ; and the distinction between sense and
intelligence is thus verbal only, not real, constituting, like
the concave and convex circumference of a circle, different
sides of the same consciousness, but incapable in any act of
thought of being considered apart from each other. In
the words of Sir William Hamilton,—“ It is manifestly
impossible to discriminate with any rigour sense from intel¬
ligence. Sensitive apprehension is in truth only the recog¬
nition by intelligence of the phenomena presented in or
through its organs.3
The proper sensibles—smell, taste, sound, colour, and
tactual sensation—all belong to the class commonly called
secondary qualities of body, which are in reality affections
Psycho¬
logy.
• N„t»iths..»di»g the general opinion of philosopher, to the contrary, I am inclined to ttink ttat ^““a n hi StotSme
simultaneous with the earliest exercise of sensation Of course I do not mea^* of sensation! I only mean that the
separated by analysis from its concomitants ; but this is equally t e case wi a couia be detected if the sensation in
element of locality is there from the beginning, at least as distinctly as any nng e . ., jn thig respect it differs from the
its original state could be reproduced in a mind sufficiently developed to be capa e y g • . , icaliy as wen as logically
acquired perceptions properly so called, such as externality, distance, magnitude, &c., w ^ , . „laasible ground for the
separated from the original sensation. So long as sensations are spoken of as affections o mi J, ^ , ?ne nor of matter alone,
opposite opinion ; not so, however, when they are viewed in their true character, as affec ions, nei tion of the extension of
but of an animated organism, i.e., of mind and matter together. Professor Muller allow s a ere i P P , Yer that the com-
the organism in sight, touch, taste, and even smell, though slightly, if at all, in hearing. It may e co J , obliterated in
pound action of the two ears in hearing will naturally give rise to some perception of extension, tho g translation of Muller’s
acquired perception, from the attention being withdrawn from it to other sources of information. (See a y
Elements of Physiology, p. 1073, 1075, 1086.) , + ^„„t „1TTiaravant ouoi-
2 Puisque reveille de 1’etourdissement on s’apper5oit de ses perceptions, il faut bien qu’on en ait eu immediate P v’ement
qu’on ne s’en soit point appercju ; car une perception ne sauroit venir naturellement, que d’une autre perception, c°m . . • on
ne peut venir naturellement que d’un mouvement.” (Leibnitz, Monadologie, sect. 23.) This position, which Leibni , ag a
metaphysical and psychological grounds, is confirmed by the researches of physiology, which tend to show that c0” , . tjje
physical as well as an intellectual growth; that impressions may be made on the organism which may leave percepti Human
subsequent development of consciousness, without having been themselves present to consciousness at all. (bee Carpe
Physiology, p. 818.) This may, perhaps, help to explain the apparent paradox, on the one hand, that consciousness must. ave
ginning in time, and, on the other, that an absolutely first act of consciousness is inconceivable. Thus time is the univer
consciousness as such.
3 Reid’s Works, p. 878.
METAPHYSICS.
567
Psycho- of the nervous organism, which have no resemblance to any
logy- attribute of inorganic bodies. It is true that, in their normal
state, they are excited by the presence of such bodies ; but
that in themselves, as apprehended, they are states of the
nervous organism, and not qualities of other bodies, is evi¬
dent from the fact that they may be abnormally called into
existence by any circumstance which produces the appro¬
priate nervous action, even when the ordinary bodily cor¬
relative is not present. In fact, as Professor Muller has ob¬
served, “ external agencies can give rise to no kind of sensa¬
tion which cannot also he produced hy internal causes, excit¬
ing changes in the condition of our nerves”1 Such is the
case in the well-known phenomena of dreams, of spectral
illusions, of ringing in the ears, of bitterness in the mouth,
&c., to which may be added the several artificial means by
which various sensations may be produced—light and colours
by pressure on the optic nerves, ringing by a blow on the
ear, and the sensations of all the senses by electricity.2
Similar though less striking evidence to the same point is
furnished by the familiar instances of the sensation remain¬
ing in the organism when the body is withdrawn, or the
communication intercepted. Thus a luminous body, passing
rapidly backwards and forwards before the eye, appears as
a continuous line of light; a rapid succession of sounds will
produce a continuous tone ; the spectrum of a bright object
may be distinctly seen after the eyes are shut, &c. It is
manifest, therefore, that the senses cannot in any case fur¬
nish direct evidence of the existence or properties of an
extra-organic world; for, even if we are compelled by a
law of our constitution to suppose the existence of an ex¬
ternal cause of our internal states, such a supposition is re¬
presentative, notpresentative,—suggested by, not contained
in, the sensation ; it gives us no knowledge of the nature
of the cause which it suggests, and in some instances, as has
been shown, is deceptive even in suggesting its existence.
What, then, it may be asked, is the nature of our sensa¬
tions as thus described ? Are they affections of mind, or
of body, or of both ? On the one hand, consciousness in
all its modes seems manifestly to be a state of mind. On
the other hand, sensitive consciousness appears with the
concomitant condition of extension, which is an attribute of
body. The general voice of modern philosophers has pro¬
nounced that sensations, as such, belong to mind, and not
to body. This is asserted both by those who admit and
by those who deny the existence of perceptible primary
qualities of body in addition to the mental sensation.3 And
rightly, so long as by body is meant something distinct
from our own organism ; but wrongly, or at least inaccu¬
rately in language, so long as no distinction is made between
body as brute matter and body as part of a sentient being.
A dead body, though its eyes are open, has no sensation of Psycho¬
colour : so far, sight is an affection of mind rather than of logy*
body. But a living man, if his eyes are put out, is equally
deprived of the sensation: so far it appears to belong to
body rather than to mind; for mind in its purest sense,—
the abstract, immaterial, personal ego,—cannot be conceived
as destroyed, or even as in any way diminished, by the
deprivation of a bodily organ. But the above inaccuracy
of language assumes more than a verbal importance, when
it is made, as is sometimes the case, the foundation of
theories of perception, as though the distinction which it
indicates were strictly, not merely approximately, true.
Thus it is argued that we can have no immediate percep¬
tion of extension in space, “ because it is not explained
how the mind, which alone can have sensation or know¬
ledge, and which certainly is not square itself, is to be made
acquainted with the squareness of its own corporeal organ,
or of the foreign body.”4 The whole force of the reason-
ing, and, at the same time, its whole fallacy, lies in the word
alone. Mind is not alone capable of sensation; for it is
sentient only in so far as it animates a bodily organism.
1 hat a disembodied spirit has consciousness we must indeed
believe; at least it is impossible to conceive how spiritual
existence can be otherwise manifested; but, at the same
time, it is impossible to conceive such consciousness as at
all resembling our own, at any rate in the particular phe¬
nomena which are conveyed by means of the senses. Sen¬
sation, then, is not an affection of mind alone, nor of matter
alone, but of an animated organism, i.e., of mind and matter
united.5 How this union is effected; whether the soul as
a substance is one or many; whether it has or has not a
local habitation; whether, in short, we have any knowledge
at all of a pure immaterial being, apart from its modes of
consciousness when embodied ;—these and similar questions
belong to the ontological branch of metaphysics. At pre¬
sent we are concerned only with the phenomena of sensa¬
tion, and with the soul as the subject of those phenomena
in and through its connection with the body. In this re¬
spect the soul cannot be assigned to any peculiar bodilv
organ as its seat, but, as manifesting its existence in sensa¬
tion, must be regarded as present in all the sensitive organs
alike.6 * * *
To the above account of sensation and perception an
obvious objection presents itself, which it is necessary to
consider before proceeding further. “ The perception as
it ought to be,” it may be urged, “ is very different from
the perception as it is. We are told that we only perceive
our own organism; we are conscious of actually perceiving
things external to our organism. We do not see the image
on the retina; we see the object at a distance from the
1 Elements of Physiology, translated by Baly, p. 1059
p gjee Muller’s Elements of Physiology, p. 1064; Carpenter’s Principles of Human Physiology, p. 888; Abercrombie’s Intellectual Powers,
3 See Descartes, Prmcipia, iv. 197; Malebranche, Recherche, 1. i., ch. x. sqq.; Locke, Essay, b. ii., ch. 8 ; Condillac Traite des Sen
sat ions, p. iv., ch. 5 Berkeley, frmciplesof Human Knowledge, i. 3; Reid, Inquiry, ch. vi., sect. 4, 5, 6; Stewart, Essays ii chap
ii., sect. 2 , Brown, Lectures, xxn. Leibnitz speaks more guardedly on this question,—“ II est vrai que la douleur ne ressemble pis
aux mouvemens d une epingle, mais elle peut ressembler fort bien aux mouvemens que cette epingle cause dans notre corps et rem-esenter
ces mouvemens dans Tame, comme je ne doute nullement qu’elle ne fasse.” (Nouveaux Essais, 1. ii. ch. 8 1 1j rePresentei
4 Brown, Lectures, xxii. ;
6 In thi,s Jf Pef th* lang™ge of A“stotle is more accurate than that of the majority of modern philosophers,-’Ewd S’ rnc A™
,iW TO uicOa.MOa.t core rou (oo y«, „ rovrov^l « hi^yucc • Si a>g £vioy£lel>
le") ^ ^ ^ ^ T0 oW oxya Ivuarov uiotewd*,. (De Somno, chip. l“
6 See Muller’s Elements of Physiology, p. 1335. In the above remarks, and throughout this article no notice bn« + i e
ferent functions of the nerves and the sensorium in sensation. This question is confessedly one of the most difficult Tn i°f ^ f
in its proper place in that science, one of the most important. But in reference to the present remarks this Physiolop, and,
quence. The visible image, or other sensible imprelsion, is not itself transmitted to the sensorffim ^nd the ir aSnn nf f • T™'
nervous system can only serve to arouse the attention to the affection localized at the surface. The notion ofalf/w the interior
literal sense of the term, is utterly meaningless to any but a materialist; and all that the minutest anatomv Pn ^ ^
material occasion which acts as the immediate stimulant to consciousness. But the consciousness once aroused ?s o!1’6 t°1<]lsc°ve4'.is ^
one part of the system as in another, and is, in ^a.ct, present wherever it acts. This is expressed with v>vi u’ Si capable of acting in
of St Augustine Ideo simplicior est corpore, quia non mole diffunditur per spatium loci srd ^P p iCal accuracy in the words
est, et in qualibet ejus parte tota est.” (Be Trinitate, vi. 6.) nunaitur Per sPatlum sed in unoquoque corpore, et in toto tota
568
Psycho-
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
eye. Even in hearing and smell, the object of which we
are actually conscious is not presented as an affection of
the nerves, but as situated in and proceeding from a distant
body.” The answer to this objection is to be found in the
fact that in the actual exercise of our senses, in their
matured state, we never perform a pure act of perception,
but one of perception united with something else. It is as
certain as any fact of science can be, that the perception
of distance is not originally conveyed by the eye, but is an
inference of the understanding derived from certain con¬
comitant visible phenomena, principally from the degree of
distinctness of the colour and outline of the object. Yet
of this inference we are never conscious in the exercise of
our matured senses, but appear to see the distance of
objects as immediately as their colour. The most ordinary
judgments apparently derived from sense are instances of
the same kind. When I say, “ I see a horse, in reality I
see nothing of the kind. Even granting for the moment
that the external object is seen, it can be seen only as a
coloured body of a certain figure. That the coloured body
before me is a horse is not a perception of the sight, but a
judgment of the understanding ; a judgment which implies
acts of memory, of comparison, of conception, &c. Yet
we are not conscious of the data from which we make the
inference, but refer the entire result to the act of sight
alone. These instances sufficiently show the necessity of
distinguishing between original and acquired perceptions ;
for which purpose we must first consider the operations of
that faculty to which our intuitions of external objects as
such properly belong.
OF THE LOCOMOTIVE FACULTY.
The locomotive faculty, which we have next to consider,
differs from the senses, both in other respects, and espe¬
cially in the circumstance that in its exercise, and partly
also in its results, it is dependent upon the will of the per¬
son exercising it. By this it is not meant that the will is
in all cases consciously exercised; that all motion is the
result of a knowledge of two alternatives, and a deliberate
preference of one of them. This is not always the case in
the most undeniably voluntary acts performed in the matu¬
rity of our faculties. A man in the midst of a walk, when
engaged in conversation or thought, is not distinctly con¬
scious of each successive movement of his limbs; yet there
can be no doubt that the acts are his own, as much as when
he is attending to and conscious of the exertion, and that,
in either case, it depends on himself to continue or discon¬
tinue the motion. How far the will itself is free or deter¬
mined by antecedent causes, is a question which cannot be
considered here ; but, whatever theory we may adopt upon
this point, as regards the actions of men or of brutes, there
is an obvious difference between saying, “ You may bring
a horse to the water, but you cannot make him drink
and saying, “You may fire a cannon in his ear, but you can¬
not make him bear,” or “ You may lay on the whip, but
you cannot make him feel.” This difference, whatever
amount of liberty it may imply, is all that is insisted upon
in distinguishing between the exercise of the locomotive
faculty and that of the senses.
It is the locomotive faculty which first informs us imme¬
diately of the existence and properties of a material world
exterior to our organism. This exterior world manifests
itself in the form of something resisting our volition; and to
this general head of resistance may be reduced the whole
of those attributes which exterior bodies immediately exhibit
in their relation to our organism ; namely, gravity, cohesion,
repulsion, and inertia. This consciousness of our locomotive
energy being resisted by something external, though in
practice accompanied by the sensation of touch, is so far
distinct from that sensation that either may be conceived as
taking place without the other. The sensation of touch is
a consciousness of an irritation of the nerves spread over
the surface of the skin ; a consciousness which experience
may teach us to connect with a pressure from without, but
which may be, and sometimes is, also communicated from
within, and which has no immediate relation to the will of
the sentient person. The consciousness of resistance, on
the other hand, implies a volition to move the limb, and
this volition may be conceived as impeded externally
without any accompanying organic feeling. The various
qualities of the body, moreover, are manifested in propor¬
tion to the amount of volition exercised. A slight effort
makes known to us the existence of a resisting body: a
stronger or more continued effort is followed by a con¬
sciousness of a more vigorous resistance, or of a yielding
on the part of the opposing body, either wholly or in a cer¬
tain direction. Hence we obtain a knowledge of the attri"
butes of hardness or softness, of mobility or immobility All
these are different manifestations of a relation between self
and not-self; between an organized body acted upon by the
will, and a foreign body in antagonism to it. 1 his conscious¬
ness of resistance to our voluntary motion is something very
different from that of a mere inability to move, such as may
take place when a stroke of paralysis destroys the power of
the will over the bodily motions. W e have in it, not the
mere negative consciousness of will not followed by motion,
but the positive consciousness of will followed by motion,
and that motion resisted from without. In this relation
both elements are equally presented, and one of them is the
external body.
The manner in which the locomotive energy may be
supposed originally to exert itself, and the foundation
which by such exertion would be laid for the education of
the sensitive consciousness, even before the latter is called
into actual existence, has been graphically described by
Professor Muller, in language which I will not attempt to
weaken by alteration ; though I may remark, in quoting
it, that that eminent physiologist has hardly marked with
sufficient accuracy the distinction between the sense oi
resistance and that of touch properly so called; and con¬
sequently has made some confusion between the objective
and subjective, the presentative and the representative con¬
sciousness. “ If we imagine a human being, in which—-as
in the foetus in utero, for example—the sense of vision has
never received any impressions, and in which sensations ot
touch merely have been excited by impressions made upon
its body from without, it is evident that the first obscure
idea excited would be no other than that of a sentient pas¬
sive self, in contradistinction to something acting upon it.
The uterus, which compels the child to assume a cletejr'
mined position, and gives rise to sensations in it is also tne
means of exciting in the sensorium of the child the con¬
sciousness of something thus distinct fiom itse anc ex er
Psycho¬
logy.
l Perhaps it would he more correct to say only, “ a sentient passive self, modified in a certain manner. . So far as ’haps
motion, is concerned, it may he doubted whether there can he any consciousness of a something exterior to /l .
possible to distinguish the one conscious self from its successive modifications ; hut the relation thus manifested can ha y rpiation
as one of interior and exterior. The sentient self is on each occasion of sensation present in the organism, and has no co „ffPf.ted •
to anything beyond. There may, indeed, he a consciousness of a local relation between different parts the body succes > y >
hut these, though exterior to each other, will not thus he recognised as exterior to the conscious self. The relation o 1 double
terior can only exist between two bodies occupying space; and, in this case, can only arise when we become conscious of the doume
non ego, of the bodily organism in relation to some other body. This will be the consequent, not the antecedent, of locom
M E T A P
Psycho* nal to it. But how is the idea of two exteriors,—of that
logy- ^hich the limbs of the child’s body form in relation to its
■' internal self and of the true exterior world,—developed ?
In a twofold manner: In the first place, the child governs
the movement of its limbs, and thus perceives that they
are instruments subject to the use and government of its
internal self; while the resistance which it meets with
around is not subject to its will, and therefore gives it the
idea of an absolute exterior. Secondly, The child will per¬
ceive a difference in the sensations produced according as
the parts of its own body touch each other, or as one part
of the body only meets with resistance from without. In
the first instance, where one arm, for example, touches
the other, the resistance is afforded by a part of the child’s
own body, and the limb thus giving the resistance becomes
the subject of sensation as well as the other. The two
limbs are in this case external objects of perception and
percipient at the same time. In the second instance, the
resisting body will be represented to the mind as some¬
thing external and foreign to the living body, and not sub¬
ject to the internal self 1 hus will arise in the mind of
the child the idea of a resistance which one part of its own
body can offer to another part of its own body, and at the
same time the idea of a resistance offered to its body by
an absolute exterior. In this way is gained the idea of an
external world as the cause of sensations.1 Though the
sensations of the being actually inform him only of the
states of himself, of his nerves, and of his skin, acted upon
by external impressions,2 yet henceforth the idea of the
external cause becomes inseparably associated with the
sensation of touch ;3 and such is the condition of sensation
in the adult. If we lay our hand upon the table, we be¬
come conscious, on a little reflection, that we do not feel
the table, but merely that part of the skin which the table
touches ;4 but, without this reflection, we confound the
sensation of the part of the skin which has received
the impression with the idea of the resistance, and we
maintain boldly that we feel the table itself, which is
not the case. If the hand be now moved over a greater
extent of the table’s surface, the idea of a larger object
than the hand can cover is obtained. If, to encompass the
resisting object, the hand require to be moved in different
directions and planes, the idea of surfaces applied to each
other in different directions is conceived, and thus the
notion of an external solid body occupying space is ob¬
tained.”5
consideration of the locomotive faculty, we
should pass, by a natural transition, to that of the acquired
perceptions, in which the information originally furnished
by this faculty is transferred to other modes of conscious¬
ness. Before taking this step, however, it will be neces-
sary to say a few words on another organ of sensation,
which, in the opinion of some eminent authorities, is en¬
titled to contest with the locomotive faculty the claim of
H Y S I C S. 56&
giving rise to our knowledge of the properties of external Psycho¬
matter. logy.
OF THE MUSCULAR SENSE.
The motion of a limb, whether free or resisted, being
accompanied by certain sensations arising from the con¬
traction or relaxation of the muscles, it has been sometimes
thought that to these sensations, and not to the motion
which they accompany, is owing our earliest apprehension
of the fact of external extension and resistance.6 A few
words on this question will be necessary to complete this
portion of our inquiry.
In the first place, it is unquestionable that these muscu¬
lar sensations exist, and that they are distinct from the
proper impressions due to the five commonly acknowledged
senses. The feeling of fatigue, for example, belongs,
partly at least, to this class; but this feeling is only an in¬
creased degree of one which accompanies every muscular
exertion, and which, in its more moderate forms, is plea¬
sant instead of painful. When we move a limb after a
sufficient rest, the motion is accompanied by a sensation
similar to, though less intense than, that which ensues when
it is moved after long previous exercise. To the same
class belongs the sensation which accompanies the act of
stretching, which is only another degree of the feeling of
muscular tension.7 In the second place, these sensations
may in some cases be the means of indicating to us the
fact of the motion; and such is probably the office which
they perform in the earliest exercises of the locomotive
faculty. As at that stage of our existence our other senses
have not yet come into operation, or, at least, have not
been developed to that degree which suffices for the per¬
ception of foreign bodies, it is clear that the fact of our
limb being in motion must be made known to us by some
feeling connected with the act itself, not by observation of
it from any other centre. We cannot as yet see that our
limb moves: we must therefore, in some manner,/ce/that
it does so ; and this, in point of fact, is effected by means
of the muscular sensations of the limb itself.8
But this is not sufficient to convey a knowledge of ex¬
ternal bodies. The muscular sensations, viewed by them¬
selves, are, like all other sensations, merely the conscious¬
ness of a particular state of our organism, and do not, any
more than other sensations, give us a direct perception of
the cause from which they proceed. The muscular sensa¬
tion that arises when our motion is resisted is not a con¬
sciousness of resistance, but of a state of our organism
caused by resistance; and it is the state, and not the
causation, that we immediately feel; the latter, as in the
case of the other senses, being not presented in the sensi¬
tive act, but represented as a consequence of association.
Hence, while we grant the existence and the importance
of the muscular sensations, we are as far as ever from the
i Rather “as existing and resisting our volitions.” To describe the external world merely as the cause of sensations is tn n
more than a hypothetical object, invented to account for certain states of the subject. * 7 sensations is to make it no
True of the sensations proper, but not of the locomotive volition; and, in the case of the former, the impressions need not be or,* 7
ther^is^relation witl^only^ne^relatedlterm?11 ^Ven W1^0U* association; Le., in itself, and not merely
our.elveB «f„lhbrtordof!ol',’g * l,“ ^ ^ ““ c0Mci0u*““> lb“ *ri“» ”>"» ‘■7 into the „„b.ten« of the table, end find
. * Miller’s Elements of Physiology, p. 1080, Baly’s translation. The notion of a solid body occunvimr snaee n
simpler data than those supposed in the last sentence. This will be considered hereafter, whL we Weat^the ’ h°Wev1e.r’ arl8elfrom
, See Brown, Lecture xxii. In giving the prominent place to the muscular sensation, and taking but slthtJS nfil ry /*
which it is accompanied, Brown departs from the teaching of his master Destntt Tra™ g j 1 ght notlce of the volition by
’ See Brown, Lecture xrii.; .nd^Mill, Ana,.,i. o, Me llnS 1 deSI:ee ^
It does not, however, follow that the muscular sensation is in this case the nnlv nnociKi*. rxv
William Hamilton observes :—“ Supposing all muscular feelinc abolisberl (''the ^ e e.evi^®nce °f the motion. On this point Sir
entire), I hold that the consciousness of the mental motive energy and of the grater or 2228 ^ ?USC}e8 at wil1 remaining, however,
circumstances, to accomplish our intention, would of itself enable us always^o perceive ihe^cV and^ ener^ ,recIui8ite7 in different
amount, of any resistance to our voluntary movements, howbeit the concomitance 0Pf certain feelings wTtJ ILTfLaT? °
tension renders this cognition not only easier, but, in fact, obtrudes it upon our attention.” n of muscular
VOL. XIV. ’ V > P* a0*'l
4 c
570
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- knowledge of an extra-organic world. This knowledge
l0Sy- , depends, not on the relation in which that world stands to
V sensations, but on that in which it stands to our voli¬
tions. We will in the first instance to move a limb; the
sensation may inform us that the limb obeys our volition ;
but it is the motion, and not the sensation, which is resisted
by the external body. The two are unlike m all their
most important features. The sensation is chiefly, if not
entirely, a passive state; the motion is an active energy.
The sensation is in the organism; the motion is derived
from the will. The sensation conveys an immediate know¬
ledge of the ego ; the motion, when resisted, conveys an
immediate knowledge of the non ego. I am conscious at
one time of a voluntary effort to move; I am conscious
also (whether through the muscular sensation or otherwise)
that I have overcome the inertia of the limb, and put it in
motion; and I am conscious of the amount of effort neces¬
sary to effect this purpose. This consciousness contains,
as its condition, a concomitant intellectual apprehension of
space, without which, the effort to move could not be made
or willed ; and this apprehension appears to be original and
inexplicable, as it is implied in the first consciousness of a
power of locomotion, prior to its actual exercise. I next
become conscious that the motion is resisted from without,
and that an additional effort is needed to overcome the re¬
sistance and continue the motion. This is an immediate
perception of a relation between self and not-self, between
the resisted effort and the resisting object. In this the
voluntary energy is the primary source of knowledge ; the
muscular sensation, the secondary, and possibly the contin¬
gent accompaniment. The language of Destutt Tracy,
“ II reste done constant que le mouvement volontaire nous
donne seul un vrai sentiment de resistance,”1 can hardly be
called exaggerated.
OF THE PRIMARY AND SECONDARY QUALITIES OF BODY.
The theory of the action of our senses, and of their rela¬
tion to the material world, would be incomplete without
some notice of a famous distinction which has played an
important part in various systems of philosophy,—the dis¬
tinction between primary and secondary qualities of body.
The history of this distinction, under various names, in
ancient and modern times, has been given at considerable
length in a learned note appended to Sir William Hamil¬
ton’s edition of Reid’s works, to which we must content
ourselves with referring. Our limits will only allow a lew
remarks on the nature of the distinction itself, and its rela¬
tion to the theory of perception which has been adopted in
the preceding pages.
By modern philosophers the distinction betvveen these
two classes of qualities has been based, sometimes on a
psychological, sometimes on a physical principle. In the
former point of view, the primary qualities have been dis¬
tinguished as those which cannot by any act of thought be
separated from the conception of body, being essential to
that conception itself, in whatever relation it may be viewed;
while the secondary qualities are mere modifications of the
primary, by which the bodies are enabled to produce cer¬
tain sensations in us. In the latter point of view, the pri¬
mary qualities are considered to be such as really exist, in
the bodies themselves, in the same manner in which they
are perceived by us; whereas the secondary qualities are
but the occult causes of certain sensations, which, as expe¬
rienced, bear no resemblance to the powers by which they
are produced. Under the former class aie comprehended
extension and solidity, to which have sometimes been added
figure, number, motion and rest,2 hardness and softness,
roughness and smoothness.3 .
Against the first of the above principles of distinction it
has been objected that some secondary qualities, as well as
the primary, are inseparable from the conception of body.
Thus colour, of some kind or other, accompanies every
perception, and even every imagination of extended sub¬
stance ; and of two contradictory qualities, one or other
must be attributed to every object.4 Against the second
principle it may be objected that, even if we admit that in
perception we are immediately conscious of the existence
of a body as presented, still we know not what any of its
qualities may be in themselves, out of relation to our facul¬
ties. Both mind and matter may be immediately present
in an act of perception, yet the object perceived may be,
like a chemical compound, the result of a relation between
the two, and may resemble neither of the elements from
which it is produced. We can never be certain how much
of the perceived phenomena of a body depends on the con¬
stitution of our own faculties, and how much belongs to
the absolute nature of the body irrespectively of its relation
to us. To determine this point, it would be necessary that
we should perceive it without our faculties.
Yet both the above principles of distinction are funda¬
mentally sound, though, to free them from misapprehen¬
sion, they require a somewhat different explanation and
application from that which is usually given. The body
which is directly perceived by the senses is not inanimate
matter, but our own organism; and of this, as extended,
we have an immediate consciousness in every act of per¬
ception. Hence the distinction between primary and se¬
condary qualities as perceived by the senses, if it is tenable
at all, must be tenable only in relation to certain qualities
existing in our own organism. We can therefore no longer
distinguish between attributes existing in bodies, and
powers of affecting our sensitive organism; for the body in
relation to which the distinction has to be made is not that
which affects, but that which is affected. In this point of
view, it is obvious that colour, for example, is a quality ot
body, as well as extension. Our visual organism is pre¬
sented in the act of sight as extended and as coloured. We
cannot say that the extension belongs to the inanimate, the
colour to the animated body ; for of the inanimate body the
senses tell us nothing. Nor yet can we describe the one
as an attribute of body per se, the other of body in rela¬
tion to our senses; for the whole nervous organism, as such,
exists for us only as it is perceived, and is perceived only
as it is affected. Destroy or alter the faculty of sense, and
the whole organism of sight, as it is perceived in sensa¬
tion, exists no more, or exists in a different mannei.
The true ground of distinction between primary and
secondary qualities of body is, we think, to be found in the
fact, that some attributes of body are presented in the
exercise of all the senses alike, while others are_ peculiar to
one sense only. In every act of sensation we are con¬
scious of our own organism as extended or occupying sPace.
In the act of sight we are conscious of it as coloured. I he
two impressions, when once acquired, may be inseparable
from each other; but the first may be acquired without the
second, as in the case of a man totally blind, who would
have a knowledge of extension, but not of colour. Hence
Psycho-
logy.
1 Element d’Ideologie, p. 162. “ As by Locke, Essay, b. ii., chap, viii., sect. 9.
8 As by Reid, Inquiry, chap, v., sect. 4; and by Stewart, Essay, b. ii., chap, ii., sect. 2.
4 Sir W. Hamilton, Reid’s Works, p. 839. . „ , w}len
6 Sir W. Hamilton asserts that “ light and darkness, white and black, are, in this relation, all equally colours; and tms is t ^
the sensation of both has been once given. But if objects are only discerned by difference, a man totally blind could no e ^ ^
have a consciousness of darkness as such, or to associate its idea with the positive impressions derived from the other senses,
blindness, however, is not a total privation of the sense of colour.
Ordinary
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- the former class of attributes are essential to our concep-
logy- tion of body, and indeed form that conception : the latter
—are accidental in so far as the conception of body may exist
without them; though, when the association between the
two has once been formed, it may not be possible to sepa¬
rate them by any subsequent act of thought.
We are thus brought back to the old Aristotelian dis¬
tinction between common and proper sensibles, which has
been pointed out by Sir William Hamilton as in substance
identical with the modern distinction between primary and
secondary qualities. In this point of view, the secondary
qualities of body may be easily indicated. To this class be¬
long all the affections peculiar to certain parts of our sen¬
sitive organism, whether as the proper objects of the respec¬
tive senses, or as the accidental accompaniments of certain
sensations. “ Such are the idiopathic affections of our seve¬
ral organs of sense, as colour, sound, flavour, savour, and
tactual sensation ; such are the feelings from heat, electri¬
city, galvanism, &c.; nor need it be added, such are the
muscular and cutaneous sensations which accompany the
exercise of the locomotive faculty. Such, though less di¬
rectly the result of foreign causes, are titillation, sneezing,
horripilation, shuddering, the feeling of what is called set¬
ting the teeth on edge, &c., &c. Such, in fine, are all the
various sensations of bodily pleasure and pain determined
by the action of external stimuli.”1
The primary qualities require somewhat more consider¬
ation to determine them. They are the universal attributes
of body, common to every mode of its existence as an
object of consciousness. Hence they are not, properly
speaking, known by sense, but by intellect, having no
special organ adapted to their perception, but being equally
present in every exercise of the bodily senses. Hence, too,
they cannot, in their pure form, be depicted to the sense
or the imagination, but require, in every instance, to be
united with one or other of the secondary qualities which
are the proper objects of the several senses. Pure exten¬
sion, for example, is not an object of sight or touch, but
only visible or tangible extension ; i. e., extension combined
with colour or tactual sensation. The perception of the
primary qualities, in its original manifestation, is in fact an
intellectual cognition of the relations between the several
parts of our sensitive organism ; and, as such, both implies a
present consciousness of that organism as affected, and is
implied by it. For, on the one hand, the consciousness of a
relation implies the simultaneous consciousness of the ob¬
jects related; and, on the other hand, the consciousness of
an object as such implies so much of relation to other ob¬
jects as is necessary to its distinct cognition. A coloured
surface, for instance, can only be perceived as composed of
several coloured points exterior to each other; and a co¬
loured point can only be discerned as forming a portion of
a coloured surface. The primary and secondary qualities
are thus necessarily perceived in conjunction with each
other; though the primary constitute the permanent ele¬
ment, implied in the cognition of body in general; the
secondary constitute the variable element, implied in the
cognition of body by this or that sense.
The primary qualities of body may be all included under
the one general head of relation to space. This implies the
twofold condition of,—1. Solidity, or occupation of space
in the three dimensions of length, breadth, and thickness;
2. Being contained in space, or surrounded by space on
every side.2 Though the sensible affection, as confined to
the surface of the organism, may appear at first sight to indi¬
cate two dimensions only, yet it is obvious, on a moment’s
571
reflection, that the intelligible relation of parts to parts Psycho-
which necessarily accompanies the affection, is only pos- l°gy-
sible under the condition of a simultaneous immediate con-
sciousness of solidity. Space, in all its dimensions, is the
form of all our perceptions of sense: a surface, or even a
visible point, can only be perceived as occupying a portion
of space, and as surrounded by space on all sides of it. It
is impossible to conceive a surface as having no space be¬
hind or before it, or as not breaking the continuity of that
space, and thus occupying a part of it. The geometrical
line which has length without breadth, and the geometrical
surface which has length and breadth without thickness,
are, as objects of perception, equally inconceivable with
the geometrical point which has no magnitude ;3 though it
is possible logically to distinguish between these various
elements of body, and to ascertain the special properties of
each. We have in this circumstance a further confirma¬
tion of the character which has throughout these pages
been assigned to space, as an d priori condition of con¬
sciousness, manifested on the occasion of experience, but
in no way to be evolved from it.
From the general attribute of solidity or occupation of
space, in its two constituent features of geometrical solidity
or trinal extension, and physical solidity or ultimate in¬
compressibility, Sir W. Hamilton has deduced the three
necessary relations of number or divisibility, size or mag¬
nitude, and shape or figure ; and from the correlative attri¬
bute of being contained in space, those of mobility and
situation. These may be all regarded as primary qualities
of body, involved in, and deducible by analysis from, the
conception of body in general as presented in every act of
sensitive perception.
Those attributes which are immediately perceived as
existing in extra-organic bodies are distinguished by Sir
W. Hamilton under the name of secundo-primary quali¬
ties. These are not essential constituents of the concep¬
tion of body in general, but attributes contingently observed
to exist in bodies in relation to our organism. They are
all contained under the general head of resistance or pres¬
sure, and are immediately discerned only by means of the
locomotive faculty. To this general head belong the attri¬
butes of weight, cohesion, inertia, and repulsion, all of which
are made known to us as different modes of resistance to
our locomotive energy. It is by the apprehension of the
secundo-primary, not by that of the primary qualities, that
we immediately learn the existence and nature of an extra-
organic world. We are conscious, to use the words of Sir
W. Hamilton, “ that our locomotive energy is resisted, and;
not resisted by aught in our organism itself. In the con¬
sciousness of being thus resisted is involved, as a correla¬
tive, the consciousness of a resisting something external to
our organism. Both are therefore conjunctly apprehended.”4
For a more detailed exposition of this important subject,
which our limits do not permit us to treat at greater length,
the reader is referred to the dissertations of Sir William
Hamilton.5 It only remains for us to sum up briefly the
substance of the above remarks.
By primary qualities of body must not be understood
qualities of body per se, as it exists out of relation to our
faculties; for of body in this sense we have not, and cannot
have, any knowledge. The nearest approximation which
we can make to a conception of body per se is that of body
as it appears in relation to all our faculities ; and, conse¬
quently, the primary qualities can only be directly given as
existing in our own organism, which is the only body of
which we are immediately cognisant in every act of exter
1 Sir W. Hamilton, Reid's Works, p. 854 (slightly altered from the original).
8 Sir W. Hamilton, Reid's Works, p. 847.
8 This is perfectly consistent with the fact, to he noticed hereafter, that the actual perception of solidity by sight is not original, but
acquired. 4 Reid's Works, p. 882. 6 Reid’s Works, notes D and D*.
572
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- nal perception. The secundo-primary and the secondary
logy, qualities are not in this sense qualities of body per se, being
given only in certain special modes of cognition ; the former
as attributes of an extra-organic substance resisting our loco¬
motive energy, the latter as affections of our organism in
this or that particular state of sensation. The former are
thus the essential constituents of our empirical notion of
body, from whatever form of experience it may be derived;
the latter are attributes superadded to that notion, as mani¬
fested by body in certain special relations only.
But though the primary qualities of body as such are
immediately given only as existing in our own organism,
it is obvious that they are apprehended as forming the
essential attributes of all matter alike, organic or otherwise;
for the body which resists our locomotive energy can only
do so as occupying a portion of space into which we attempt
to penetrate, and thus as possessing the same primary qua¬
lities with the organism to which it is related. The secon¬
dary qualities, too, though immediately apprehended only
as affections of our organism, are, in the later development
of consciousness, necessarily associated with exterior ob¬
jects. The nature of this association next claims our atten¬
tion, as that which gives rise to the important phenomena
of acquired perception.
OF THE ACQUIRED PERCEPTIONS.
The examination of the acquired perceptions should, in
strict accuracy, be undertaken in connection with the repre¬
sentative, not with the presentative consciousness. They
are not, properly speaking, given in the sensitive act to
which they are supposed to belong, but inferred by the
understanding, according to a law of association, from the
presence of something else. But inasmuch as the inference
is one which is never consciously performed; as it takes
place by a necessary law of our mental constitution at a
period too early to leave any trace in the memory ; as, con¬
sequently, in the complex acts of our matured conscious¬
ness the inferred elements are not directly distinguishable
from the data which suggest them; and as the explanation
of the former is intimately connected with the preceding
remarks on the latter, it will be better to sacrifice the
strictly logical arrangement, in order to present in a more
connected view the entire series of phenomena usually re¬
ferred to the evidence of the senses.
It has been already observed that, in the exercise of our
faculties in their mature state, no perception occurs pure
and isolated, but is, in all cases, united with an act of judg¬
ment or inference. To ascertain by actual experience the
relative proportions of these ingredients, so as to separate
the independent acts of the senses from the results of their
education, it would be necessary to have an exact recollec¬
tion of our first impressions as they existed before the for¬
mation of habits. Nay, even this, were it possible, would
be hardly sufficient; as it may be questioned whether the
education of the senses does not in some respects precede
even the first occasions of their exercise. From what has
been said in treating of the locomotive faculty, it appears
that the sense of sight, for example, can never be said to
have existed in a wholly uneducated state; inasmuch as
certain obscure notions of an external world already exist,
and have made their influence felt, before the eyes of the
child have come m contact with the light, or its acts been
exposed to the observation of others. When, in the ab¬
sence of expenenc^ of the simple, we attempt to supply its
place by analysis of the compound, it must be borne in mind
that the results at winch we arrive will represent a theo¬
retical rather than an actual process, and that some of the
conclusions elicited by the theory will be only approxi¬
mately true in practice. It must not be supposed, for in¬
stance, that the several stages through which the sense of
sight is represented as passing, actually occur as distinct Psycho¬
phenomena of vision during the unremembered days of in- logy*
fancy. When theory declares that the object which we
really see is in the organ of sight, it does not follow that
the infant has ever actually seen it there. The approxi¬
mate truth, that the perception of distance is of gradual
acquisition, may be ascertained by positive observation;
but no observation can tell us whether the actual exercise
of sight began with the first or with a later member of the
series. The remark which we have before had occasion
to make, that the distinctions of psychology represent the
elements of consciousness rather than separate acts, is equally
applicable here.
Of the acquired perceptions, those of vision are by far
the most important; so much so, that it will be sufficient
to notice a few of the principal of these, leaving the reader
to apply our observations, mutatis mutandis, to the other
senses. The principle which must guide him in making
the application is that which we have more than once had
occasion to repeat; namely, that no sense, in its original
state, informs us of anything more than certain states of
our own organism. In addition to this, it will be neces¬
sary to bear in mind another principle of no less import¬
ance ; namely, that all representation must be founded on
a presentation; in other words, that nothing can be in¬
ferred in connection with one phenomenon of consciousness
which has not been given in connection with another. The
examination of this principle belongs to a later stage of our
inquiry. For the present we must content ourselves with
taking it for granted.
Among the acquired perceptions of the sense of sight, the
most important are the following:—1. The perception of an
external field of vision distinct from the retina, and the
consequent judgments concerning the distance and magni¬
tude of objects in that field. 2. The perception of the
unity of a visible object, which presents a separate image
to each retina. 3. The perception ot the object as solid
or extended in three dimensions of space, and of its figure or
boundary in each direction. 4. The perception of its posi¬
tion, which is the reverse of that of its image on the re¬
tina. A few remarks on each of these will, it is hoped,
furnish sufficient information for the explanation of ac¬
quired perceptions in general.
I. Field of vision.—The true or perceived field of vision
is the surface of the retina itself; and this may, in certain
cases, be actually discerned as such. Thus, the sensation
of darkness is the consciousness of the condition of the re¬
tina in a state of repose ; and in this there is no perception
of any field of vision exterior to the retina itself. I he ap¬
parent or inferred field of vision is a space of greater or less
extent, exterior to the eye, on which the images ot the re¬
tina are projected by an act of the mind. In the majority
of cases, we appear to perceive this field immediately; but
many observations have been adduced to show that this^
apparent perception is not part of the original faculty of
sight. An infant appears at first to have no perception by
sight of the distance of objects, but stretches out its hands
towards distant and near bodies alike. I he youth who
was couched by Cheselden saw at first all objects in one
plane, and apparently touching the eye. It is true that the
patient in this instance saw the objects as on not in the
eye; and this may, perhaps, be the case with the infant
also; but it must be remembered that the ideas of exter¬
nality and distance are already partially acquired by the
locomotive faculty before the sense of sight comes into
exercise. From these approximate facts, joined to what
we know of the theory of vision, we may conclude, with
some probability, that a being destitute of the power of
motion would, on first opening his eyes, discern nothing
but the images existing on the surface of the retina.
But, when the knowledge of an external world has been
METAPHYSICS.
573
Psycho- once given by the locomotive faculty, the education of the
logy- sense of vision follows rapidly and imperceptibly. A cer-
tain image on the retina accompanies the perception of an
object in contact with the hand. The object is pushed
further off, and the size and outline of the image undergo a
corresponding change. The hand is placed over the ob¬
ject, and its image takes the place of the other. It is
placed over the eye, and the images vanish altogether.
Certain sensations of sight are thus at first associated with
certain perceptions of distance; then suggest those percep¬
tions when the latter are not immediately present; and
finally, as the process becomes more familiar, are substi¬
tuted for them. Something similar to this takes place more
perceptibly in some of the associations of ideas which are
formed at a later period. In many cases, where the associ¬
ation is frequent, the antecedent is gradually forgotten, and
the attention wholly fixed on the consequent. There is no
original connection between the meaning of a word and its
sound, or between the sound and the written characters by
which it is represented to the eye; yet the sight of certain
black figures on a white ground suggests to the child, first
the sound, and, through the sound, the meaning. At a later
stage the intermediate links of the chain are forgotten;
the sound vanishes entirely; the form of the letter is
scarcely, if at all, noticed ; and the sight of the printed page
plunges us at once into communion with the thoughts of
the writer. Yet the mere visual perception remains as it
was, one and the same to the man who can read and to the
man who cannot. All beyond this is acquired by habit;
and the process, when most familiar and most imperceptible,
is in its successive steps precisely the same as in those early
days when we painfully combined distinct letters into syl¬
lables, and distinct syllables into words, and distinct words
into sentences. The principal difference which distin¬
guishes this and similar operations from the acquired percep¬
tions of sight is, that the associations are formed in the one
case consciously, after the mind has acquired a power of re¬
flecting on its own operations, and of acting in consequence
of reflection ; in the other, unconsciously, by an instinctive
law of our constitution. Hence the latter may be described
as a natural association common to all men ; the former, as
an artificial association peculiar to the educated. Yet our
natural powers are not, as natural, necessarily born with us.
It is natural for man to see distant objects ; in the same way
as it is natural for him to walk upright and to use his hands.
Yet there was a time when he could not discern distances
by the eye ; just as there was a time when he crawled on all
fours, and employed his hand for no other purpose than that
of sucking its extremities.
The following remarks of Professor Muller are important,
in illustration of the phenomenon in question:—“ Several
physiologists—as Tourtal, Volkmann, and Bartels—suppose
the interpretation of the sensations of the retina, as objects
forming part of the exterior world, to be a faculty of the
sense of vision itself. But what, in the first place, consti¬
tutes the external world ? Since, in the first acts of vision,
the image of the individual’s own body cannot be distin¬
guished from those of other bodies, the referring of the
sensations of vision to something external can be nothing
else than the discrimination between the sensations of vision
and the subject of them,—between the sensations and the
sentient self. It is by the operations of the judgment that
the objects of vision are recognised as exterior to the body
of the individual. ... It is said that the new-born infant
perceives from the first that the objects of vision are ex¬
ternal to its body and to its eye; but the infant perceives
neither its own eye nor its body in the form of sensations
of vision, and only learns by experience which of the images
which it sees is its own body. We can therefore only say,
that the new-born infant distinguishes the sensations from
the sentient self; and in this sense only does it perceive
the sensation as something external. In brutes, the co¬
operation of instinct renders this reaction of the sensorium
under the impression of external objects much less inde¬
finite ; for the young animal soon applies itself to the nipple
of the mother; so that its sensorium must be the seat of
an innate impulse to attain to the image, which it sees,
and which is an object, or something external to the sen¬
tient self, by appropriate movements. Though the new¬
born infant be at first unable to distinguish between the
image of its own body and those of external objects, it will
soon remark that certain images in the field of vision are
constantly reappearing, and that these images move when
its body is voluntarily moved. These are images of parts
of its own body. All the other images in the field of vision
either change quite independently of the body of the in¬
fant, or the changes which they undergo do not correspond
with its voluntary movements. These are images of ob¬
jects appertaining to the external world, which, now recog¬
nised as existing in a space external to the body of the
individual, are henceforth continually presenting themselves
in this space, which, according to the conception of the
mind, is subject to the operations of vision. Of the eye, as
the organ ot vision, the new-born infant knows nothing.”1
1 he field of vision being thus by association perceived as
external to the eye, our judgment of the relative distance
and magnitude of objects within that field is determined by
similar associations. That of distance is an inference chiefly
drawn, in the first instance, from the degrees of distinctness
in the colour and outline of the objects, aided, perhaps, in
the case of near objects, by the muscular sensations ac¬
companying the convergence of the optic axes.2 That of
magnitude may be considered as partly original, partly ac¬
quired. Original, in so far as there is a difference in the
size of the object actually perceived (Y.e., the image on the
retina), dependent upon the visual angle made by the central
rays of two pencils of light from the extreme points of a
luminous body, intersecting after refraction within the eye:
acquired, inasmuch as the inferred magnitude of the ex¬
ternal object is the result of a combination of the size of its
image with other phenomena, chiefly with those which give
rise to our estimate of its distance. This is, in substance,
the theory of distance and magnitude first proposed by
Bishop Berkeley,—a theory which, while it has been
amended and completed in some of its minor details by the
discoveries of modern science, remains in its essential fea¬
tures unshaken.
II. Single vision with two eyes.—The above remarks
are also applicable in a great degree to the phenomenon of
single vision with two eyes ; a phenomenon which many
eminent physiologists have referred to a special provision
in the structure of the visual apparatus,3 but which is suf¬
ficiently proved by the observations and experiments of
Professor W heatstone to be an inference from the mental
combination of the two images actually seen. To this
combination it is necessary that the two images should fall
on portions of the two retinae which have been accustomed
to act in concert; and the principle on which it mainly
depends is doubtless the association of a single perception
of resistance with the double image of the corresponding
visible phenomena.4
III. Solidity and Figure.—■'The perceptions of solidity
Psycho-
iogy.
1 Elements of Physiology, p. 1168.
3 See Muller’s Elements of Physiology, p. 1197.
4 See Dr Baly’s remarks in his translation of Muller’s
p. 917.
Carpenter, Principles of Human Physiology, p. 922.
Elements of Physiology,?. 1205; and Carpenter’s Principles of Human Physiology,
574
Psycho- and figure are results of the same law of association,
logy. former, as Professor Wheatstone’s experiments show, is,
V- _ J like the unity of the object, the effect of the combination of
the two visible images, and depends, as far as sight is con¬
cerned, upon the different perspective exhibited by the
projection of each. The phenomena of the stereoscope
present a now familiar illustration of this; two plane pro¬
jections being, by means of this instrument, made to act
upon the eye in the same manner that solid figures do in
ordinary vision; and the two being, by an act of the mind,
combined into the appearance of one external solid body.1
The perception of resistance, however, has also some share
in the origin of this association. Figure, like magnitude,
is partly an original, partly an acquired perception. Plane
figures, such as a square or a circle, can be depicted on the
surface of the retina, and can thus be distinguished from
each other by the original power of the sense of sight.
Solid figures, such as a sphere or a cube, are discerned in
a great measure by the simultaneous use of both eyes,
though the accuracy of the discrimination is, no doubt,
assisted by associations derived from touch assisted by
motion.2
IV. Erect vision.—The explanation of the erect position
of external objects has been attempted in various ways,
none of which, however, can be considered as quite satis¬
factory.3 It seems to be a law of the mind, in projecting
images beyond the retina, to follow in some degree the
course of the rays, and thus to produce an inverted impres¬
sion when the image is projected beyond the point where
the rays intersect. But to investigate this and similar points
fully, it would be necessary to know the exact relations of
mind and body to each other in the act of sensation. This
is impossible, as we cannot trace the action of the mind
apart from that of the organism. The explanation of many
of the phenomena of sensation probably depend on some
inscrutable condition of consciousness, which no examina¬
tion of the mere nervous organism is able to reveal to us.
“There is,” says Mr Morell, “a perilous distance for the
materialist to travel between the retina and the living soul.
The eye does not see of itself, neither, if the optic nerve
be severed, can any visual perception reach the mind.
How, then, we may ask, can the image on the retina travel
along the nerve, and impress the brain with its own form
and hue? The moment we get beyond the mere me¬
chanism of the case, our power of tracing the image is lost,
and we can only detect at the other, or spiritual end of the
process, a mental phenomenon, differing as widely as pos¬
sible from the mere material substance without.” 4
The acquired perceptions of the other senses may be
explained on the same principles. Such, for instance, are
the judgments which we form of the direction and distance
of an object by the hearing or the smell; these two senses
having, like that of sight, both an original and an acquired
field for their exercise. Cognate to the subject of acquired
perceptions is that of acquired sensations. The feelings of
pleasure and pain, which an object imparts through the Psycho
senses, may be as much the result of practice and associa- logy,
tion as the information which we gain by the same means
concerning its nature. Instances of this may be found in
the artificial tastes which we gain by the constant use of
objects which at first were considered as indifferent or dis¬
agreeable ; and, again, in the strong feelings of dislike with
which we often regard various sensations, solely in conse¬
quence of some early association. And hence it will often
be the case that the different degrees of pleasure which the
several senses are capable of affording to an educated man,
will by no means correspond to those which they materially
impart as vehicles of mere animal enjoyment. Thus the
senses of sight and hearing, which are less intense than the
other senses in the merely nervous affections which they
are calculated to excite, are, notwithstanding, the vehicles
of a mixed enjoyment (partly sensitive, partly intellectual)
of a far higher order. But the pleasure which we enjoy
from the sight of beautiful scenery, or from the hearing of
music, is something very different from the natural sensa¬
tion, or affection of the nervous organism. The natural
sensation is limited to that amount of enjoyment of which
the sense is susceptible at the moment of its exercise.
When our eyes are gratified by a variety of visible objects,
or our ears by a succession of sounds, the memory, and not
the sensation, plays the principal part. We see the various
objects, we hear the various sounds, in succession ; though
by an act of thought we imperceptibly combine them into
a single whole. But the discernment of relations is in no
case a work of sense; and beauty and deformity, harmony
and discord, are almost entirely the result of relations.
To estimate the merely sensual pleasure imparted by sight
and hearing, we must suppose the eye to be limited to a
succession of detached colours, and the ear to a succession
of isolated sounds, with no consciousness of any relation
between them, and no power of comparing the past with
the present. This distinction between original and acquired
sensations has been perhaps too much neglected in the
various attempts that have been made to construct an exact
philosophy of taste.
OF ATTENTION.
That sensation, as before observed, is neither a purely
bodily nor a purely mental affection—that it belongs neither
to the nervous organism alone, nor yet exclusively to the
active self by which that organism is animated, but to that
mysterious union of both, whose elements and laws philo¬
sophy has ever failed, and probably ever will fail, to pene¬
trate—appears conspicuously when we come to examine
two states of consciousness which appear to form the con¬
necting links between the external and the internal affec¬
tions, between the passive and the active elements of our
nature—partaking of both, and identical with neither. These
two are attention and imagination. Attention, in particular,
MET A PHYSIC S.
The
1 This explanation is of course inapplicable to the case of persons who have the sight of one eye only. Here, however, the same per¬
ception of solidity will be produced, partly by the associations suggested by resistance, and partly by the different perspective of the
projection, consequent on changes in the position of the single eye. ... , . ,
* Molyneux proposed to Locke the question, whether a person born blind, who was able by touch to distinguish a cube from a sphere,
would, on suddenly obtaining his sight, be able to distinguish* them by the latter sense. (See Locke, Essay, b. ii., chap, ix.) Professor
Miiller finds it “ difficult to conceive wherefore these two philosophers answered the problem in the negative.” That figures, solid as well
as plane, can be distinguished by sight alone, when the perception of an external field of vision has once been acquired, seems unquestion¬
able j but the real problem is to determine whether each perception of sight can be at once identified with the corresponding perception
of touch. This may in general be doubted, though this particular instance may possibly not be a case in point. (See Sir W. Hamilton,
field’s WorTcs, p. 137.) ° L
8 Sir David Brewster’s theory of the line of visible direction is objected to on physiological grounds by Dr Carpenter, Human Physiology,
p. 916. That proposed by Professor Muller, and adopted by Dr Carpenter, may be briefly stated thus. Up and down, right and left,
are relative terms; therefore the inversion of everything is equivalent to the inversion of nothing. This explanation, however, does not
tell us why the inversion takes place, but only accounts for the fact of our not noticing it. The fact still remains unexplained, that the
external object and the image on the retina are, to the eye of a stranger, in a position the reverse of each other. Query—Are they like¬
wise so in different stages of the vision of the •person himself? This we have as yet no means of determining.
4 Elements of Psychology, p. 131.
METAPHYSICS. 575
Psycho- partakes of this twofold character in a remarkable degree,
iogy* To a hasty inspection it appears as if the operation of this
faculty were at once the antecedent and the consequent of
the sensible impression, as if the mind were at the same
time active and passive in its production. It appears certain,
on the one hand, that, in order to arouse the attention to
any sensible phenomenon, that phenomenon must first be
presented to consciousness; while, on the other hand, it
has been argued, with some plausibility, that unless the
attention be previously aroused, consciousness has no inti¬
mation of the existence of the phenomenon at all. All the
physical conditions of sensation may exist in full perfection,
without any corresponding impression being produced upon
the mind. “ When two persons,” says Reid, “ are en¬
gaged in interesting discourse, the clock strikes within their
hearing, to which they give no attention. What is the
consequence ? The next minute they know not whether
the clock struck or not. Yet their ears were not shut.
The usual impression was made upon the organ of hearing,
and upon the auditory nerve and brain; but, from inatten¬
tion, the sound either was not perceived, or passed in the
twinkling of an eye, without leaving the least vestige in
the memory.”1 Of the two alternatives here offered to
our choice, the latter is adopted by Dr Reid’s successor as
the more accurate explanation of the phenomenon. That
attention is not necessary to the existence of a sensation in
the consciousness seems at first sight manifest, both a priori,
because a phenomenon must exist before the attention can
be aroused to observe it, and a posteriori, from the very
narrow limits within which experience testifies that our
power over our own sensations is confined. When the
mind is unoccupied, the slightest and most familiar sounds
will make themselves heard as a matter of course. It is
not necessary that the attention should be previously directed
towards the object from which the sound proceeds; it is
sufficient that it be not engaged with any other object. A
louder or more unusual sound forces itself on the conscious¬
ness, however much the attention may be engaged else¬
where. The striking of a clock may be unheard during an
interesting discourse ; but the report of a gun, or any un¬
wonted noise, will be heard in spite of it. These and other
considerations may be urged in favour of the hypothesis so
ably maintained by Dugald Stewart,—namely, that we are
in all cases conscious of the sensation, but are not always
able to recollect that we have been conscious. “ The true
state of the fact,” says that distinguished philosopher, “ I
apprehend, is, that the mind may think and will, without
attending to its thoughts and volitions, so as to be able
afterwards to recollect them. Nor is this merely verbal
criticism ; for there is an important difference between con¬
sciousness and attention, which it is very necessary to keep
in view, in order to think upon this subject with any degree
of precision. The one is an involuntary state of the mind ;
the other is a voluntary act: the one has no immediate
connection with the memory; but the other is so essen¬
tially subservient to it, that without some degree of it, the
ideas and perceptions which pass through the mind seem
to leave no trace behind them. When two persons are
speaking to us at once, we can attend to either of them at
pleasure without being much disturbed by the other. If
we attempt to listen to both, we can understand neither.
The fact seems to be, that when we attend constantly to
one of the speakers, the words spoken by the other make
no impression on the memory, in consequence of our not
attending to them, and affect us as little as if they had not
been uttered. This power, however, of the mind to attend
to either speaker at pleasure, supposes that it is, at one and
the same time, conscious of the sensations which both pro¬
duce. Another well-known fact may be of use in illus¬
trating the same distinction. A person who accidentally I’sycho-
loses his sight never fails to improve gradually in the sen- *°£y*
sibility of his touch. Now there are only two ways of ex-
plaining this. The one is, that in consequence of the loss
of the one sense, some change takes place in the physical
constitution of the body, so as to improve a different organ
of perception. The other, that the mind gradually acquires
a power of attending to and remembering those slighter
sensations of which it was formerly conscious, but which,
from our habits of inattention, made no impression whatever
on the memory. No one, surely, can hesitate for a mo¬
ment in pronouncing which of these two suppositions is the
more philosophical.”2
But this ingenious reasoning is not quite so conclusive
as at first sight it appears to be. It proves clearly that the
attention cannot be directed to an object in contact with
an organ of sense unless something intervenes to arouse it;
but it assumes without proof that this something must itself
be a phenomenon of consciousness. The question remains,
Is the phenomenon of which we become fully conscious by
attention the same phenomenon that it was before we
attended to it? or has attention itself added an element
which brings it within the sphere of consciousness? It
seems at first sight a paradox to maintain that our con¬
sciousness can be stimulated by anything of which we are
not conscious. Yet this apparent paradox is a fact which
in some degree takes place at every moment of our lives.
When we look at the smallest visible point of light, this is
obviously compounded of parts so small as to be invisible;
yet each of these contributes its share to the sum total of
consciousness. When we see a distant forest, the indistinct
impression of green is made up of the greenness of every
individual leaf, not one of which could be singly discerned.
The theory of latent modifications of mind, or, as they are
called by Leibnitz, obscure representations, which is well
calculated to explain many of the most curious phenomena
of consciousness, has been almost entirely neglected by the
philosophers of this country; yet it is one which, though
in most of its details belonging to physiology rather than to
psychology, must be assumed by the latter science as the
basis of many of its researches. When the unpublished
lectures of Sir W. Hamilton shall be given to the world,
the English student of philosophy will have the means of
seeing this question treated with the fulness and ability
which its importance deserves.
But whether, in the widest sense of the term conscious¬
ness, it can or cannot be correctly described as prior to and
independent of the act of attention, yet, in the narrower
and more accurate sense, in which alone it can be the ob¬
ject of scientific analysis, attention becomes a necessary
condition of its existence, or rather is identical with con¬
sciousness itself. Every phenomenon of consciousness
proper, as before observed, must possess in some degree
the attributes of clearness and distinctness, without which it
can leave no trace in the memory, and cannot be com¬
pared with other phenomena of the same class. But to a
clear or distinct consciousness it is necessary that an act
of reflection should accompany the intuition; and to the
act of reflection it is necessary that the phenomenon in
question should have been observed with some degree of
attention. T he act of attention is therefore a necessary
condition, possibly of the existence of a sensation in con¬
sciousness, but certainly of its recognition as such; and, in
strict language, it would not be inaccurate to describe at¬
tention as consciousness in operation relatively to a defi¬
nite object. I his intimate union of the active with the
passive functions of the human mind ; this presence in
every complete act of consciousness of a voluntary and
personal factor a permanent self in the midst of transitory
1 Active Powers, Essay ii., chap. 3.
Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, part ii., chap. ii.
576
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- modes,—exhibits man as in some degree the master of his
logy- own consciousness, and the author of the phenomena which
it reveals to him. It is the exaggeration or exclusive con¬
sideration of this element which is the source of most of
the extravagances of idealist metaphysics, as its neglect or
suppression has given rise to most of the opposite extrava¬
gances of sensationalism.
OF IMAGINATION, MEMORY, AND HOPE.
In the act of attention the mind selects certain promi¬
nent features of an object of intuition, which thus become
fixed in the memory, and capable of reproduction when the
object is no longer present. The reproductive imagination
is thus the sequel of attention, forming the second link in the
chain of connection between the intuitive and the reflective
consciousness.1 Hence, in a strictly methodical arrange¬
ment, the treatment of attention and imagination should be
postponed till after the complete examination of the pheno¬
mena of intuition. But the prominence which, in the ma¬
jority of treatises on the subject, has been given to the
sensible relations of these two cognate acts, may furnish
both an excuse for the consideration of them in the pre¬
sent place, and an opportunity of pointing out some of the
chief defects which may be noticed in the ordinary treat¬
ment of them. “ Imagination,” says Dr Reid, “ when it is
distinguished from conception, seems to me to signify one
species of conception—to wit, the conception of visible ob¬
jects.”2 In this he follows the language of Descartes,—
“ Imaginari nihil aliud est quam rei corporeae figuram seu
imaginem contemplari.”3 4 5 Mr Stewart, though differing in
his language, virtually limits the office of the same faculty to
the reproduction of sensible impressions, though he does
not, like the two authors last cited, confine it to the im¬
pressions of sight. Under the name of conception, he defines
it as “ that power of the mind which enables it to form a
notion of an absent object of perception, or of a sensation
which it has formerly felt.”1 Of the proper sense of the
term conception we shall have occasion to speak hereafter.
For the present, it will be sufficient to observe that imagi¬
nation, in the proper psychological sense of the term,
should not be confined to the reproduction of the pheno¬
mena connected with the bodily senses. It should rather
be defined as “ the consciousness of an image in the mind,
resembling and representing an object of possible intui¬
tion. Not the objects of sense alone, but the presenta¬
tions of intuition, external or internal, desires, affections,
volitions, thoughts, as well as sounds, or colours, or figures,
—everything, in short, that can be experienced in con¬
sciousness as an individual thing, act, or state of mind, may
remain as an image in the memory, or be reproduced in
the mind at a future period. Or the detached portions of v
objects once perceived may be combined by the imagina¬
tion in a manner in which they have never been presented
in any actual experience. Thus, when the upper parts of a
man and the lower parts of a horse have been perceived by
the sense in separate objects, the image of a centaur may
be formed as readily as that of a horse or a man. It is to
this last “ power of modifying our conceptions, by combin¬
ing the parts of different ones together, so as to form new
wholes of our own creation,” that Mr Stewart would con¬
fine the term imagination. The distinction really lies not
so much in the image obtained as in the manner of obtain¬
ing it; and, though worthy of notice on many accounts,
should, I think, be expressed in different language.
Imagination is of two kinds, which, following the plan of
classifying the phenomena of mind by the leading character¬
istics of each, may be distinguished as belonging to the in¬
tuitive and the reflective consciousness respectively. The
first, in which the mind is comparatively passive, consists
in the continuance, in a weaker form, of a sensible or
otherwise intuitive impression, when the object which gave
rise to it is no longer present.3 This is the imagination
which is described by Aristotle as a kind of weak sensation,6 *
and as sensitive imagination? When coupled with a con¬
sciousness of the past existence of the impression which it
represents, it forms the memory, as distinguished from the
reminiscence of Aristotle.8 The other kind of imagination
is more properly an act of thought,9 and consists in con¬
structing in the mind an individual image (whether actually
resembling a former impression or not) in accordance with
the attributes contained in a given general notion. In this
instance, imagination coincides with a faculty to be here¬
after described,—conception. It is, in fact, individualizing
the contents of a concept or general notion, so as to depict
them (which in their general form is impossible) to the in¬
tuitive consciousness. This kind of imagination may be
simpler or more complex, according as the image is con¬
structed immediately, from the data furnished by the given
notion, or mediately, from a train of associations which that
notion suggests. It includes under it as a species the deli¬
berative imagination of Aristotle ; and, when coupled with
the conscious effort to recal a past impression, corresponds in
some degree to the reminiscence of the same philosopher.10
Imagination, memory, and hope are psychologically one
and the same faculty.11 In imagination, the presence of the
image is necessarily accompanied by a conviction of the pos¬
sible existence of the corresponding object in an intuition.
Psycho¬
logy.
1 See Morell, Elements of Psychology, p. 169. 8 Intellectual Powers, Essay iv., chap. 1.
* Meditatio Secunda. The office of imagination in relation to two other senses is accurately described in the lines of Shelley—
“ Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory ;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.”
4 Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, part i., chap. iii. , ^ v , , , « . r
5 Arist. Anal. Post. ii. 19. ’Evovang S’ otiuSviaiug ro'tg yev tuv ^uuv lyylvtrou yovvi ulodvifutTOs, rolg 0 ovx. syyivircii., Ooo/; ysv ovv
p.vi iy'/iviTcu, ij o’Ku; vj negi ae iyyiverctt, ovx. ‘ion roinoig yvuaig s%6) rov cuobavwQcti * oig ei , tutmi [/*»}] a.io6ce.voyivoig rfriiv tzi tu
tv The negative inserted by Trendelenburg appears indispensable to the sense.
6 Phet. i. 11.
^ De Anima, iii. 11. H ylv ovv a.iadriTiKVi (focvrua'ict koci iv ro7j ij Bs /3av7^iVTix.ri iv rol; ’hoytoTtx.olg.
Aristotle, I)e Memoria, c. 1. Tivog p.iv ovv tuv Ttjg ipV)cilS iorlv »] /&vqy}]; (pxvegov, on x.etl oviriQ i) Qxvtokjicc ‘ ion pyriyoviVTct
x,uS mvtx y,iv oocc ion (fixvTXorx.
De Memoria, c. 2, 25. Be tov yvriyoviveiv to civU[/.iy.viiox.tadui% ov fcovov xetree tov ffiovov, oti too yw fivnyoviveiv^
xul TUV ecKhUV ^UUV (AtTi^U TO'KKa,, TOV B’ XV Ct/HlfAVyiOKiO &CII O^Bs'l/, US iiltuv, TUV yVUQI^OfiivUV ^010)V T’hYiV ii.V&QU’T.OS. hmov 0 OTI TO
uvxpt/xvviGX.l'rDai ioTtv oiov avKhoyiupb? Tig.
10 By reminiscence, Aristotle means the process of endeavouring to reproduce something formerly in the memory, indirectly, by means
of associated ideas. Memory proper comes in at the conclusion of the process, though it may also exist without it. (See De Memoria,
ii. 4.) In this point of view, it is obvious that memory is the result of a process of thought, and therefore should not have been identine
with that retention or remembrance which in the same chapter is described as common to men and brutes. It would he more accurate
to distinguish between intuitive and reflective remembrance, according as it is performed without or with the intervention of a concept,
and of the latter the Aristotelian ctvecg.vytffig is a special form.
11 See Sir W. Hamilton, Discussions, p. 52.
Psycho
logy-
JIemory the presence of the same image, accompanied
by a conviction of the fact that the object represented has
actually existed in a fast intuition. Hope, in like manner
i* the presence of the same image, together with an antici¬
pation, more or less vivid, of the actual existence of the
object in a future intuition. Imagination, memorv, and
hope are thus (whether formed by a reflective process or
not), in their actual results partly presentative, partly re¬
presentative. They are presentative of the image, which
has its own distinct existence in consciousness, irrespec¬
tively of Its relation to the object which it is supposed to
represent. They are representative of the object, which
that image resembles, and which, either in its present form
or m its several elements, must have been presented in a
past act of intuition. Thus there is combined an imme¬
diate consciousness of the present with a mediate conscious¬
ness of the past. An immediate or presentative conscious¬
ness of the past or the future, as such, is impossible.
. .agnation bei,)g representative of an intuition, is, like
intuition, only possible on the condition that its immediate
object should be an individual. If we try to form in our
minds the image of a triangle, it must be of some indivi-
dual figure, equilateral, isosceles, or scalene. It is impos¬
sible that it should, at the same time, be all of these or
none. It may bear more or less resemblance to the ob¬
ject which it represents ; but it can attain to resemblance
at all only by being, like the object itself, individual. I
may recall to mind, with more or less vividness, the features
of an absent friend, as I may paint his portrait with more
or less accuracy; but the likeness in neither case ceases to
be the individual representation of an individual man. On
e other hand, my notion of a man in general can attain
to universality only by surrendering resemblance; it be¬
comes the indifferent representative of all mankind, only
because it has no special likeness to any one in particular.
I his distinction must be carefully borne in mind in com¬
paring imagination with the cognate process of concep-
OF INTERNAL INTUITION IN GENERAL.
Locke, as is well known, referred the origin of our ideas
to two sources, sensation, by which we acquire our know¬
ledge of external objects; and reflection, by which we be¬
come acquainted with the internal operations of our own
minds. The latter term is unfortunately chosen, as it na¬
turally suggests the notion of a turning back of the mind
upon an object previously existing; and thus represents the
phenomena of consciousness as distinct from the act of re¬
flecting upon them. Understood in this sense, reflection
can have no other objects than the phenomena of sensation
in some one of its modes; for sensation and reflection are
the only recognised sources of knowledge; and if reflec¬
tion implies a previously existing operation of mind, that
operation can be none other than sensation. Interpret¬
ing Locke m this sense, Condillac and his followers were
only carrying out the doctrine to its legitimate consequences
when they maintained that sensation was the only original
source of ideas, and furnished the whole material of our
knowledge. But though the language of Locke is both
unfortunate in its choice of terms and vacillating in the use
of them, the general tenor of his philosophy demands a
different interpretation of the term reflection, as synony¬
mous with internal consciousness; that is to say, as a know¬
ledge of the presence of certain inward phenomena of
mind, which exist only as they are known, and are known
only as they exist. Reflection is thus an original and in¬
dependent source of ideas, not distinct frojp, but identical
with, the acts that are its objects. It is, in fact, the con¬
sciousness of those states of the mind by which it is placed
metaphysics.
577
m relation to itself, as sensation is the consciousness of Psycho-
lose states of the mind by which it is placed in relation to logy«
the material world. Both sensation and reflection thus de-
note original states of consciousness, which exist only in so
ai as we are conscious of them. For example, I see, and
1 am conscious that I see. These two assertions, logi¬
cally distinct, are really one and inseparable. Sight is a
state of consciousness; and I see only in so far as I am
conscious of seeing. Here, then, is one source of ideas,—the
consciousness of certain affections of our bodily senses in
relation to external objects. Whatever comes from this
source is classed by Locke under the general head of ideas
qf sensation. But again : I am angry, and I am conscious
that I am angry; I fear, and I am conscious that I fear; I
wdl, and I am conscious that I will. Here, too, are acts
which exist only in so far as we are conscious of them, and
which point to another and a distinct source of ideas,—the
consciousness, that is to say, of internal phenomena tak¬
ing place in the mind itself. Whatever comes from this
source is classed by Locke under the general head of ideas
of 1 eflection. It is in this sense that he describes reflection
as a source of ideas which every man has wholly in himself,
and which, “ though it be not sense, as having nothing to
do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might
properly enough be called internal sense.”1 And thus, also,
m another passage, he says, “I cannot but confess that ex¬
ternal and internal sensation are the only passages that I
can find of knowledge to the understanding.”2 We may
thus, retaining the substance of Locke’s teaching, though
s ightly altering his language, divide the presentative con¬
sciousness into two kinds:—1. External intuition, which em-
biaces the various phenomena of sensation and perception,
together with that knowledge of the attributes of matter
which is obtained through the locomotive faculty ; and, 2.
Internal intuition, which includes all those modes of con¬
sciousness in which we become immediately cognisant of
the various states of our own mind, as well as the conco¬
mitant consciousness of our own personality as the one per¬
manent subject of these successive states. The phenomena
of external intuition have been described in the preceding
pages. We have next to consider those of internal intui¬
tion ; and here it will be most convenient to begin with the
variabJe element, as exhibited in the several mental states
of which we are successively conscious. The form of this
consciousness, as has been already observed, is time. The
phenomena which we are about to describe constitute the
matter.
1 Estay, b. ii., chap, i, sect. 4.
OF THE CLASSIFICATION OF INTERNAL INTUITIONS.
Internal intuitioq, in the widest sense of the term, in¬
cludes among its modes the whole of the phenomena of
consciousness; for consciousness in general denotes a state
of the mind; and all states of the mind are objects of in¬
ternal intuition. In this extended signification, the pheno-
mena of sensation and those of thought are both included
under this head; for sensation, though in respect of its ob-
ject it is external to the conscious mind, is in itself an
affection of which that mind is intuitively conscious; and
thought, in like manner, though in respect of its ob-
Sll^rM rePrese^tiye’ is ^ itself an in¬
dividual act of which we are immediately and presenta-
si-ht7 iTanTffeet- examPle> colour’ the object of
g.ht, , an affection of the nervous organism, and therefore
the subJect °Iconsciousness;
but sight, as a species of sensation, is a state of the ner-
sonal consciousness, and, as such, internal. So, again, when
nh W „? “Wr °bjec,>such 218 * f stoned the
 IC1 I think is external to the mind, and repre-
4 D
VOL. XIV.
Estay, b. ii., chap, xi., sect. 17.
578
Psycho¬
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
sented by the notion which I form of it; but the act o
thinking about it is an individual affection of the conscious
self, having its own definite position in time, and thereby
numerically distinguished from every other affection, how¬
ever similar. I may think of the same tree on twenty suc¬
cessive occasions; but my several thoughts, however iden¬
tical in their objects, are nevertheless twenty successive,
distinct, and individual states of my own mind, and, as such,
belono- to the class of internal intuitions. But in the prac¬
tical treatment of the subject it is not necessary to take
into consideration either of the above classes of mental
The internal intuitions, as a class, may, in this way, be de-
scribed cis comprehending b!1 those ciffections of mind which
are neither directly caused by conditions of the nervous
organism nor representative of an object distinct fiom
themselves. The first criterion will distinguish them from
the sensitive affections; the second, from the intellectual
powers properly so called. An instance will perhaps ex¬
plain the distinction more clearly than a definition. A man
may be affected with fear at the sight of a lion. 1 he emo¬
tion of fear may in one sense be said to be caused by an
affection of the optic nerve—the sight, and to have an ob-
Psycho-
logy.
ation either of the above classes oi menuu ~i, ~ ~ i- Dhnt is neither the im-
from the act. By no mental abstract,on can e.ther of these * „Sh0„t any sensible intimation of his
correlatives be conceived apart from the other,—thougn tney conceaieu nem , j ultimate obiect of
are conceived together, not as identical, but as related and presence. And though the lion is the ultimate object ot
logically distinguishable. A perception cannot be conceived
except as the perception of some object; an object of per¬
ception cannot be conceived except as in relation to a Per'
ceiving mind. In treating, therefore, of the phenomena of
sensitive perception in relation to their external objects, we
have at the same time sufficiently exhibited their internal
character as acts of mind. A similar remark may be made
with respect to the operations of thought. These will be ex¬
amined hereafter in relation to the objects which they repre¬
sent, and to their manner of representing them; and this
examination will, at the same time, necessarily include their
presentative aspect as individual phenomena of conscious¬
ness. The perceptive and discursive faculties, which are
thus excluded from our present consideration, embrace all
those operations of consciousness which are usually refeiied
to the head of cognitive or intellectual powers. There
will still remain for consideration the various phenomena
which in the same division are classified, not very accu¬
rately, as belonging to the appetitive or active powers;
and which may, perhaps, be more exactly comprised under
the three appellations of,—1. Emotions or passions; 2.
Moral judgments; 3. Volitions? It is difficult to fix upon
any positive mark which shall express the distinctive
characteristic of this group of mental phenomena, viewed
as constituting a single class ; though they may, perhaps, be
sufficiently distinguished from other states of mind by the
negative criterion of attributes which they do not possess.
the mental affection, both when we think of him and when
we are afraid of him, yet he is not represented in the mind
by our fear as he is by our thought. An emotion, or other
internal intuition, may accompany an act either of percep¬
tion or of thought, though it is perfectly distinguishable
from the one and the other. The pleasure which we ex¬
perience at the sight of a beautiful prospect, and the desire
which we have to see it, are both distinct from the sight it¬
self—]Ust as the liking for mathematical studies, and the
gratification arising from the solution of a problem, are dis¬
tinct from the demonstrative process itself.
OF THE PASSIONS OR EMOTIONS.
Perhaps the nearest approach to a positive definition of
the passions or emotions may be found in the language ot
Aristotle, who describes them as those states of mind which
are accompanied by pleasure or pain ;3 but the definition
requires some explanation before it can be accepted as sa¬
tisfactory. A toothache is accompanied by pain; but a
toothache is not an emotion. The pursuit and acquisition
of knowledge is a source of pleasure ; but neither the pur¬
suit nor the acquisition can be classed among the emotions.
But it is necessary to distinguish between the bodily sen¬
sation or the mental energy, considered m itself, and the
feelino- of liking or disliking by which it is accompanied.
The bodily sensation is not pleasant or painful per se, but
i Of this classification Sir W. Hamilton observes divisio P ^ or cognitiw, and orectic or appetent; but the
will is very objectionable. It is taken from the peripatetm distinctio o 1 ^t usually and properly denotes only a
original division is far preferable to the borrowed; for, in the first p , , imaRination, memory, &c., which it is now intended to
part—the higher part—of the cognitive faculties, and is thus exclusi e * > ^ er (Lcies, or rational determinations,
include. In the second place, the term will is also usually a.n.d Pf^ Wever it is here employed to comprehend. In the third place,
as opposed to our lower appetencies, or irrational desires, which last, , 0rl * improperly include a third great class of
both the original and borrowed divisions are improper masmuch ^ y Live is also very objectionable,
mental phenomena-the phenomena of feeling. “ The distribution of Jd“nd the powers of the will-that the feel-
Independently of the objection common to it with that into the power ,. Tn the first place snecMZcm'on or theory is a certain
ings are excluded or improperly included-it is liable to objections peculiar to L^lL bv whTch to d^ote the cognitive operations in
kind or certain application of knowledge; therefore speculation is not a proper te"m by which to denote ^ ^ ^ in
general. In the second place, speculation and knowledge are not oppose o ac ion, ^ . jn ^ third place, the distinction of
German, das Handeln. Speculative powers ought not, therefore, to have been opAc'tive ig opposed to inactive-, but it is not
active powers is in itself vicious, because it does not distinguish, or distinguis i f D0Wers of appetency is different in
here intended to be said that the cognitive powers are inactive, but merely t a e a meant, or rather does express
kind from the action of the powers of knowledge. The term active does not, therefore, ^fX^ifterms requisite to denote the dis-
what was not meant. It is to be observed, however, that the English language is very t Lecturqe xvi who uses the term
tinction in question.” (Reid's Works, p. 511.) A somewhat similar criticism has been made y ’ton himselfj see the next note.
emotions to denote the internal intuitions in general. For the classification approved by fe • mental to the exclu-
* Sir W. Hamilton, in the advertisement to the second volume of SeW. observe that .f»e take MluraUy
sion of material phenomena, that is, the phenomena manifested through the medium of self-consc 0 phenomena of feeling, or of
divide themselves into three categories or primary genera;—the phenomena of knowledge or cogni ’ T ^ o-iven by Ivant in
pleasure and pain,-and the phenomena of conation, or of will and desire.” This division, which had P^^/^Lin tL text. The
his Kritik der Urthetlskraft, though made on a somewhat different principle, coincides to a great extent wi ^ , .. onerations of
phenomena of knowledge will include the external intuitions already treated of, together with the mora j1^ S volitions. But
thought proper. The phenomena of feeling answer to the class of emotions, and those of conation in some egiee
in the present article the desires are classed with the feelings, and not, as in the above-mentioned arrangemen, wi - «
* Eth. Nic. ii. 5. Eiyu Be p.iV k'Tcidvg.iav, o^/iiv, (piftov, fyoioos, <p66vov, (pihietv, pho;, kwov, ^'Kov, O
tihovVI % ftWTTVl'
i'hecj’j, oha; oJ; sVstsm
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- may be the one or the other, according to the degree in
logy- which it exists. The sensation of heat, for example, up to
a certain point, is the pleasant feeling of warmth ; beyond
that point, it is the painful feeling of burning. The sensa¬
tion of touch may be pleasant or painful or indifferent, ac¬
cording to the nature of the body with which we are in
contact, or the degree of resistance which it offers. Light,
within certain limits, is pleasant to the eye; increased be¬
yond those limits, it is dazzling and painful. The sensation
itself is in no case an emotion : the feeling of liking or dis¬
liking, which accompanies it, is so. The essence of the
bodily sensation consists in its being a nervous affection of
a particular kind. The accident, or emotion which in cer¬
tain cases accompanies it, is, that that particular affection is
agreeable or disagreeable. The same may be said of the
mental energies likewise. The desire of knowledge and
the pleasure which it imparts are emotions: the act of pur¬
suit and the state of possession are not so. Jt is perfectly
conceivable that men might be so constituted as to seek
after knowledge, from a rational conviction that it is their
duty to do so, without deriving the slightest gratification
from the pursuit or the acquisition ; just as they might take
food, from a conviction of the duty of preserving life, with¬
out being actuated either directly by, the appetite of hunger,
or indirectly by the love of life. Under this explanation,
we may, with tolerable accuracy, define the emotions or
passions as those states of mind which consist in the con¬
sciousness of being affected agreeably or disagreeably ; and
consistently with this point of view, an eminent modern
philosopher has observed that there are, strictly speaking,
but two passions,—the one arising from the consciousness
of pleasure, manifesting itself in the successive stages of
joy, love, and desire ; the other arising from the conscious¬
ness of pain, and exhibiting the successive forms of grief,
hate, and aversion.1 The various subdivisions of these two
classes are, properly, not so much distinctions in the nature
of the emotion itself, as in that of the objects upon which it
is exercised.
Hitherto we have used the words passion and emotion as
synonymous. The above remarks will suggest, in stricter
language, a distinction between them, which, though by no
means accurately observed either in philosophical writings
or in popular use, is yet in many cases imperfectly inti¬
mated by both. To distinguish, indeed, between these
terms, in strict accordance either with philosophical or ge¬
neral usage, is out of the question; for scarcely any two
writers or speakers are in all respects consistent with each
other. Sometimes emotion is a species of passion ; some¬
times passion is a species of emotion ; sometimes the two
terms are used as exactly synonymous ; and at others the
word passion is used to designate a violent degree of emo¬
tion. A more serviceable, and therefore a better, distinc¬
tion than any of these may, we think, be furnished by the
characteristics of the phenomena themselves,—a distinction
which, though not warranted by the etymology of the two
words, yet appears to express with tolerable accuracy the
difference imperfectly intimated in their popular use. Our
internal as well as our external intuitions have both a sub¬
jective and an objective phase, inseparable from each other,
but logically distinguishable. This distinction, which in
. the case of our external intuitions is expressed by the
terms sensation and perception, may be marked in its in¬
ternal aspect by the corresponding usage of emotion and
passion. The mental phenomena of this class are com¬
posed of two principal ingredients,—a consciousness of being
affected agreeably or disagreeably by a certain object, and
a desire to obtain or avoid, to advance or impede, the ob¬
ject thus affecting us. This is equally the case, whether
the object affecting us be a physical good, as in the feeling
of hunger; a mental enjoyment, as in the desire of honour
or knowledge; or the welfare of another, as in the benevo¬
lent affections. In all alike we may trace the fundamental
distinction of consciousness, the distinction between myself
affected and the object affecting me, whether that object be
regarded as a reality separate from myself or not. The sub¬
jective feeling of pleasure or pain may, we think, be appro¬
priately expressed by the term emotion ; while the objective
tendency to the thing by which that emotion is caused may
be indicated, not improperly, by the term passion, which,
in its ordinary signification, appears to denote those parti¬
cular propensities of our nature which, in the language
of Bishop Butler, have for their objects “ external things
themselves, distinct from the pleasure arising from them.”2
The passions, as thus described, may be excited by an ob¬
ject either perceived as present, or imagined as absent; the
object being in the one case presented, in the other repre¬
sented. When this representation is accompanied by a
conviction of the possibility or impossibility of obtaining
the object, the passion assumes the form of hope or despair,
—terms which, in their widest sense, do not denote special
passions, but general relations in which any particular pas¬
sion may stand towards its own object. But the passion, as
actually existing, whether directed towards a present or an
absent object, is in every case an individual state of mind,
intuitively discerned as now present in consciousness.3
The further subdivisions of the passions may be made on
various principles, and from various points of view. The
general features which have been above described as cha¬
racteristic of this class of mental phenomena will, in their
special manifestations, be subject to various modifications,
according to the nature of the object upon which they are
exercised, or the constitution and training of the subject in
whom they exist. To attempt a complete enumeration of
the complex modes of consciousness thus arising would be
impossible : we must content ourselves with selecting some
one principle of division, and pointing out a few of the
most important and universal of the feelings comprehended
under it. Perhaps, on the whole, the least objectionable
principle of classification is that derived from the various
classes of objects in relation to which the emotions of plea¬
sure and pain, and the corresponding feelings of attraction
or repulsion which constitute passion, may take place. In
this point of view the passions may be divided, generally,
into the two classes of desires and affections, according as
the object to which they are related is a thing or a person,—
regarded as a possession to be sought for or avoided, or as
a moral agent, capable of mutual relations of sympathy
or antipathy. Under the general head of desires may be
specified the appetites, which take their rise from bodily
conditions, and are common to men and brutes,—comprising
the feelings of hunger, thirst, and sexual instinct; and the
desires, as they are sometimes called in a special sense,
such as the desire of knowledge, of society, of esteem, of
power, and of superiority, together with the counter fe’el-
ings of repugnance to the opposite class of objects.4 The
affections embiace our social, domestic, and religious feel¬
ings in general; the love of friends, of kindred, of God,
and the special modifications of feeling arising from our
particular relations with individuals among our iellow-men ;
such as respect, gratitude, compassion, anger, contempt, and
579
Psycho-
logy.
3 Jouffroy, Melanges Philosophiques, p. 269. Cf. Damiron, Psychologic, vol. i., p. 247.
a Sermon xi., “ On the love of our neighbour.”
' ' * ffva-yx-V r« ifika. tw ctioOuveoSoci uucti tccipovtci, ij i» ru y.ty.Mrfi&ai ycyiVYiyiva,, sj cu ib.nitjiw
pilffovr* xiaexvomcti yxg rx ttx^i/tx, yt/xvrunxt h rx yeyevnpevx, fomZovot rx uetoovrx. r ®
4 For the details of this classification, see Stewart’s Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers.'
580
Psycho¬
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
so forth. The principles of self-love and benevolence,
which are sometimes included in this enumeration, should
be considered, not as original intuitions, but rather as de¬
rived conceptions, in which the several personal or social
passions and their respective objects, together with their
moral relations and observed consequences, are generalized
into the comprehensive notions of a regard for the welfare
of ourselves or of others.
The complete treatment of the emotions and passions
belongs to the province of moral philosophy. To the me¬
taphysician they are important, chiefly in two points of view,
psychologically, as individual phenomena of consciousness,
perceived intuitively, and therefore capable of being con¬
ceived reflectively; and ontologically, as regards the light
which they may be able to throw on the problem of the
real existence of the subject or object to which they are
related. In this latter point of view they will come again
under our notice hereafter.
OF THE MORAL FACULTY.
Every passion, as we have seen, is ultimately related to
an object regarded as the cause of agreeable or disagree¬
able emotions. But between the passion and its object
there is always an intervening medium of communication,—
the action by which the object is to be obtained or avoided.
Pleasure and pain, so far as they are the objects of desire
and aversion, do not properly lie in the things by which they
are caused, but in the actions by which those things are
brought into contact with the person affected. But the
actions, and in some degree also the feelings which prompt
them, may be exhibited in another point of view, not merely
as pleasant or painful, but as right or ivrong. The ex¬
istence of these terms, or their equivalents, in every
language, indicates a corresponding phenomenon in the
universal consciousness of mankind, which no effort of in¬
genuity can explain away. Indeed, the very ingenuity of
the various attempts that have been made to identify the
conception of right with that of expedient, or agreeable, or
any other quality, is itself a witness against them ; for no
such elaborate reasoning would be required, were it not
necessary to silence or pervert the instinctive testimony of
a too stubborn consciousness. That the terms right and
wrong indicate a special class of mental phenomena, dis¬
cernible in the contemplation of actions in themselves, and
not merely inferred from observation of their consequences,
is a truth guaranteed by the universal language of man¬
kind, by the testimony of every man’s own consciousness,
and by the inconsistencies and mutual contradictions of
its several antagonists. But what are these phenomena,
and by what means are they discerned ? Are they qua¬
lities of actions in themselves, or states of the mind which
contemplates actions ? Are they simple qualities, or com¬
plex ; perceived intuitively, or conceived reflectively ? Are
they the objects of a special mental faculty, or are they dis¬
cerned by the same faculty which perceives truth and false¬
hood in other cases ? These doubts may be summed up,
in the language of Stewart, in the two following questions,
which, as he says, seem to exhaust the whole theory of
morals: ‘‘ First, by what principle of our constitution are
we led to form the notion of moral distinctions,—whether
by that faculty which perceives the distinction between
truth and falsehood in the other branches of human know¬
ledge, or by a peculiar power of perception (called by some
the moral sense) which is pleased with one set of qualities
and displeased with another ? Secondly, what is the proper
object of moral approbation ; or, in other words, what is the
common quality or qualities belonging to all the different
modes of virtue ? Is it benevolence, or a rational self-love,
or a disposition (resulting from the ascendant of reason over
passion) to act suitably to the different relations in which ^
we are placed ?’n
The two alternatives proposed in the first of the above
questions represent the antagonist views of the two schools
of philosophy which made common cause with each other
in protesting against the denial of all natural right and
wrong, which characterized the philosophy of Hobbes.
The first represents the opinion of Cudworth and his fol¬
lowers, who refer our knowledge of right and wrong to a
decision of the reason or understanding. The second is the
opinion of Hutcheson and those who with him maintain
the existence of a faculty of moral perception or sense. The
language in which the two theories are worded, though his¬
torically accurate, as representing the views of their re¬
spective authors, is in some degree defective in philosophi¬
cal precision. On the one hand, there is no single faculty
of mind which distinguishes between truth and falsehood in
the various branches of knowledge. The understanding
or reason, taken in its widest sense, to denote the reflective
faculty in general, contributes only one element to the de¬
cision. Truth and falsehood depend upon the agreement
or disagreement between the representations which we
make of an object in thought, and the qualities presented
by that object in intuition; and this agreement or disagree¬
ment can only be ascertained by the co-operation of the
two faculties. How, for instance, do we know that it is
true to conceive snow as white, and false to conceive it as
black ? The understanding furnishes the conception ; but
has the sight, therefore, nothing to do with the decision ?
Could we answer the question by the mere act of thought,
without reference to the perception of a present, or the
recollection of a past fact of intuition ? If there were no
moral intuition, truth and falsehood could have no place in
moral thought; for the conception of right or wrong, even
supposing that it could exist, would be related to no facts
with which it could agree or disagree. Moral truth and
falsehood, like all other truth and falsehood, must consist in
the agreement or disagreement of thoughts with facts;
and this may take place in two different ways, as regards
the mental phenomenon or the extra-mental reality. For
example : I may, owing to an inaptitude for mental ana¬
lysis, have an inaccurate conception of the characteristics
of a moral judgment which I have myself exercised.
Hence will result a false representation of the phenomenon
of moral approbation. Or I may have conceptions of right
and wrong, perfectly in accordance with the facts of my own
consciousness, but at variance with some higher standard of
right and wrong per se. The latter is an ontological false¬
hood, the criterion of which we are not yet in a position to
determine. The former is a psychological falsehood, which
can only be corrected by comparing the thought with the
intuition to which it is related. But in neither case can the
act of thought guarantee its own accuracy; else would
every conception be equally true, for the sole reason that it
is conceived. On the other hand, Hutcheson and his fol¬
lowers, as Stewart has observed, while rightly admitting the
existence of a moral intuitive faculty (whether it be called
sense or not is unimportant), unfortunately, in their descrip¬
tion of its operation, were too much misled by a false
analogy derived from the perception by the bodily senses of
the secondary qualities of matter. It is no necessary part
of the theory of a moral sense that it should be repre¬
sented as perceiving qualities only in so far as they are
pleasing or displeasing. It is true that the exercise ot our
bodily senses produces pleasure as well as information ; but
the perception of a fact is logically distinguishable from
Psycho¬
logy.
1 Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers, b. ii., chap. v.
Psycho-
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
the sensation of an affection ; and, however much in prac-
tice they may be united, either may be conceived to exist
independently of the other. If, in like manner, we distin¬
guish between the moral •perception of an act as right or
wrong, and the accompanying moral sensation of the pleas¬
ing or displeasing manner in which we are affected by those
qualities, the hypothesis of a moral sense may be freed from
most of the excrescences which have hitherto disfigured it
in the systems of its advocates, and have afforded the chief
handle to the criticisms of its antagonists.
An illustrious critic of this hypothesis1 has remarked
with truth, that in our perception of the moral character of
an act, whether done by ourselves or by others, we may trace
the united action of a moral judgment and a moral senti-
ment. Our feeling of indignation at an act of treachery
may be more or less vivid, according to our proximity to the
time and place at which the act was committed, or to our
relation to the doer or the sufferer. Our condemnatory
judgment is independent of the accidents of time, place, or
circumstance ; we pronounce the action to be evil with the
same assurance, whether it was done yesterday, or ten years,
or a thousand years ago; whether the victim was our dearest
friend or a complete stranger. Of these two elements of
moral consciousness, the judgment is the superior, the per¬
manent, the essential factor; the sentiment is the inferior,
the fluctuating, the accidental one. The sentiment, he
adds, may be due to a moral sense; but the judgment,
which is derived from the universal and necessary ideas
of good and evil, can belong to no other faculty than the
reason.
The above analysis, though true so far as it goes, is, like
that which it criticises, incomplete. The moral judgment
itself may be further divided into two constituent parts ;
the one, an individual fact, present now and here; the other,
a general law, valid always and everywhere. That this
particular act of my own, at the moment of being com¬
mitted, is wrong, is a fact presented immediately by the
judgment of conscience. That all acts of the same kind,
whensoever or by whomsoever committed, are necessarily
wrong, is a judgment formed by the reason through the
medium of the general notions of acts of a certain class,
and of right and wrong. The latter, as an universal and
necessary truth, may be referred to the same faculty, and
formed under the same conditions, as other truths of the
same kind. The former, as the presentative condition of
moral thought, must be allowed to possess that chronological
priority which in other cases is admitted to exist in indivi¬
dual facts, as compared with universal notions.
• more accurate theory of the nature and origin of moral
judgment than is contained either in the moral reason of
Cudworth,^ or in the moral sense of Hutcheson, or even in
M. Cousin s union of the two, may, we think, be proposed
in accordance with what has been said in the preceding
pages of the complex nature of consciousness in general.
It has been before observed, that every mode of conscious¬
ness, to be known as such, must possess a certain degree of
clearness and distinctness, and that this is the product of
the combined action of the presentative and represen¬
tative faculties. The distinctions of language are doing
their work ; the task of education is going on ; the pheno¬
mena of consciousness are assuming shape and consistency,
before we are capable of discerning the various transitory
conditions of our minds, or of distinguishing them one
from another. A conscious act of pure moral sense, like
a conscious act of pure physical sense, if it ever takes place
at all, takes place at a period of which we have no re¬
membrance, and of which we can give no account. To
have a clear notion of moral obligation as such, we must
have reflected upon it; and to reflect upon it, we must
have obscurely experienced various acts in relation to it,
and others distinct from it. At what time the notions of
good, bad, and indifferent, first clearly presented them¬
selves to the mind, it is as impossible to say, as it is to de¬
termine when we first distinctly recognised as such, and
severed from each other, the visible phenomena of white,
black, and grey. All that we can hope to do is, by subse¬
quent analysis of the compound phenomenon, to detect in
its composition an intuitive and a reflective element, grow-
ing by side from the first dawn of intelligence, and contri¬
buting their respective shares to the gradual development of
their mutual product. Our mental, no less than our bodily
constitution, testifies that we are the work of One whose
judgments are unsearchable and his ways past finding out.
The results alone we know; the creative process we can
but darkly conjecture. “ As thou knowest not what is the
way of the spirit, nor how the bones do grow in the womb
of her that is with child ; even so, thou knowest not the
works of God who maketh all.”
The preceding remarks have in some degree furnished
by anticipation the answer to an objection which a dis¬
tinguished author has recently urged against the theory of
a moral sense as usually understood. “ The judgment of
man,” it has been said, “ concerning actions as good or bad
cannot be expressed or formed without reference to lan¬
guage, to social relations, to acknowledged rights; and the
apprehension of these implies the agency of the understand¬
ing in a manner quite different from the perceptions of the
bodily senses. 2 If there is any truth in the view which
has been taken, in the preceding pages, of the operations of
the bodily senses, it appears that the perceptions of these
also are not so independent of the agency of the under¬
standing as is usually supposed; and that there is at least
sufficient analogy between our physical and moral intui¬
tions to justify the metaphorical use of the term sense, to
denote the mode of action of the latter. But there still
remains a point in which the ordinary theory needs cor¬
rection. It is commonly said, that by the operation of the
moral sense we perceive immediately the character of acts,
whether done by ourselves or by others. The assertion
that we are immediately conscious of the morality of another
person s actions, appears to be an error of the same kind in
relation to our moral perceptions, as the assertion that we
are immediately conscious of the past in memory is in re¬
lation to our bodily senses. To be directly conscious that
this act, now being committed, or about to be committed,
is right or wrong, I must be directly conscious of two things:
of a law of obligation, commanding a certain person to act
in a certain way, and of the course now before that person,
as agreeing or disagreeing with such law. But I cannot
be directly conscious of a law of obligation as it exists in
another person’s mind: I can only infer its existence by
representing his mind as similarly constituted to my own.
If man were not a free agent, his acts, whether beneficial
or hurtful in their physical results, could have no moral
character as right or wrong. But I cannot be immediately
conscious of the free agency of any other person than my-
seli; and, were it not for the direct testimony of my own
consciousness to my own freedom, I could regard human
actions only as necessary links in the endless chain of phe¬
nomenal cause and effect. It is obvious, therefore, that
the intuitive perception of moral qualities cannot extend
beyond our own actions, in which alone we are directly
conscious of a law of obligation and of a voluntary obe¬
dience or disobedience to it. The actions of other men
may be known presentatively in their material aspect as
beneficial or hurtful; for this is a relation external to the
581
Psycho-
losy-
' M' C0“Si“- See hiS reTi0W 0f G>„r, * 1819, Le$on 14. * Whewell, Preface to BoUert Three Sermon.,
582
Psycho¬
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
They cannot be presentatively known in the usual language of philosophy, ate denominated vo- Psycho-
iu'the^r morafaspect as'good or evilVfor this is an"internal
relation, existing in the hidden depths of another s con-
SCTheesubstance of. the above remarks may be briefly
summed up as followsMoral consciousness, in the only
form in which it can be distinctly recognised in the mind,
consists like all other consciousness, ot a presentative and
a representative element; the one being necessary to .ts
first formation, the other to its completeness and recog-
nition as what it is. Neither reason alone, nor sense alone,
can account for the existence of the moral judgment as a
fact of consciousness, whether we regard it in its subjective
aspect, as an emotion, pleasant or painful, analogous to
sensation proper, or in its objective aspect, analogous to
perception proper, as exhibiting a voluntary act in relation
to a law. The presentative element must be referred to a
special faculty of moral intuition or sense,—in one word,
to avoid more objectionable phrases, to conscience,--whose
obiect, like that of all intuitions, is an individual pheno¬
menon now presenta special faculty, we say, in the
only point of view in which the mind can be said to have
distinct faculties at all, namely, on the ground of a ddter-
ence of which we are conscious in the corresponding objects.
The representative element, on the other hand, in common
with all other general notions, may be referred to the single
faculty of the understanding.
Up to this point the moral problem is properly psycholo¬
gical ; its purpose being only to determine what are the
characteristic features and origin of the moral judgment,
regarded as a fact of consciousness. The 8^ question - -•- ^ must be further distinguished, both from the
which Stewart proposes as completing the theoryot morals, which precedes, and from the external act which
“ What is the proper object of moral approbation . or ;f 3 For Pxamnle. a man determines to take a walk
is the common quality or qualities belonging to the ditterent
modes of virtue ?”—is one which belongs not to psychology,
but to moral philosophy, which, in this point ot view, may
be considered as a branch of ontology; its office being to
inquire into the nature of virtue, regarded, not as a mental
perception, but as an extra-mental reality. 1 he moral
decisions of conscience cannot by themselves be the ulti¬
mate criterion of right and wrong; for if so, whose con¬
science is to be taken as the standard ? If the individual
conscience is ever mistaken in its judgments ; it crimes
can ever be committed which seem no crimes to the per¬
petrator, there must be a standard of right and wrong per
litions.
That volition is not identical with desire, and cannot s
properly be classed with the phenomena of emotion, was
one of the earliest results ot psychological analysis, and is,
indeed, obvious to the consciousness of every man who has
experienced the two, however much they may have been
confounded together by the perversity of a tew unscrupu¬
lous system-makers. A man may be thirsty, and yet retuse
to drink; his desire drawing him one way, and his will
determining him in the other.1 Desires are not under our
own control; they arise naturally and necessarily on the
occasion of the presence of objects which affect us agreeably
or disagreeably. We cannot help being so constituted as
to derive pleasure from certain objects; we cannot help
feeling attracted to pleasant objects, for the pleasure con¬
stitutes the attraction. But we can help yielding to the
attraction of desire when felt; and we can help putting our¬
selves in the way of feeling it. Desire may be vicious as
well as action; hut only in so far as either is combined
with volition. I may place myself in the way of desirable
objects, and, in so doing, my act is voluntary. I may give
my attention to thoughts calculated to excite desire, and
the attention is a voluntary act; but in the mere tact that
an object, when present, no matter how its presence is
procured, raises a corresponding emotion in the mind^there
is no volition, and consequently no moral character. Hence
it has long been established as a canon in morals by the
soundest writers on the question, that virtue and vice de¬
pend, not in the existence of desires, but on their relation
t0 But volition must be further distinguished, both from the
logy.
follows it.3 For example, a man determines to take a walk
for the benefit of his health. The feeling that health is
desirable is not voluntary: the conviction that walking is
beneficial to health is not voluntary. The one is an emo¬
tion, which by his constitution he cannot help having: the
other is a relation between natural cause and effect, which
he cannot make other than it is, and cannot judge to be
other than he knows it to be. But, while conscious that
health is desirable, and while conscious that walking pro¬
motes health, he is also (and this forms a distinct pheno¬
menon) conscious that it is in his own power to take or not
ist be a standard of right and vvrong per toteke consciousness of power answers
by which our moral intuitions and our moral concep- corlesp0nding reality in the nature of things. We
t. r-Sti-iT-ViA- Sf-
    —~™*
to analyse^ and exhibit the characteristic features ot the
mental phenomenon of moral approbation.
OF VOLITION.
The correlative terms, will and volition, are usually dis¬
tinguished, in the language of philosophy, as applying, the
one to the general faculty, the other to the special acts in
which it manifests itself. A volition is an act of the will;
and our several volitions are classified as proceeding from
one and the same faculty. Will, then, like sense and
reason, does not indicate a special phenomenon of con¬
sciousness ; but is a general name for the power from which
special phenomena proceed, and which itself exists in con¬
sciousness only as it is manifested in operation. The exa-
We are concerned
only with the mental phenomenon that a man does, m
certain states of consciousness, feel possessed ot a power o
choosing between two alternatives, which in certain other
states he does not feel. But again: Suppose that the man
determines to walk, but finds himself, by a sudden stroke of
paralysis, deprived of the use of his limbs: here again we must
distinguish between the fact of determination which is
always in our own power, and the fact o 1 ^ ^
which may or may not be in our own power according to
circumstances. The power of locomotion (I do not now
speak of that of muscular effort) is not, proper y spea mg,
a fact of consciousness at al ; that is to say it is not a
whose existence is identical with oui now & limbs
istence. We may suppose the case of a man whose limbs
have become paralysed without his being aware ot it. Die
sciousness only as it is manifested in operation. Die exa- nave oecome paraiystu 0
mination, therefore, of this portion of our consciousness conscious portion ot the effort o mov
must be attempted in relation to the internal acts, which, fore, but the physical sequence is in errup • ^ 
l Plato, Republic, b. iv., p. 439. Of. Aristotle, Rth. Me., B. iii., c. 2. U^oxi^ei ptv Widv^icc imvTioirca, tvdvplx § vki vpi* ov.
a gee especially Bishop Butler, Sermons i., ii., v,, xi.; Analogy, chaps, iv., v.
3 Cousin, Cours de 1819, Le^on xxiii. Cours de 1829, Le^on xxv. v .
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- suppose the act of motion to take place as a consequence
J of volition, without the person being conscious of the rela-
v tion between the volition and the act. The latter suppo¬
sition, indeed, is actually true in all cases ; for motion is the
remote, not the immediate, consequence of volition; and
between the one and the other there is an intervening
nervous and muscular action, of which we not only are not
conscious in the act of moving, but which we may pass a
whole lifetime without discovering.
Some philosophers of no small eminence, especially in
this country, have maintained that we are not directly con¬
scious of mind or self, but only of its several modifications.1
It is in relation to the phenomena of volition that the error
of this theory is most manifest. If, in the mental state
which corresponds to the judgment, Ixvill, there is no con¬
sciousness of /, but only of will, it is impossible to place
the essential feature of volition, as has been done above, in
the consciousness of myself having power over my own de¬
terminations. Will, and not I, being the primary fact of
consciousness, the causative power of volition must be sought
in the relation between will and some subsequent phenome¬
non ; and so sought, it will assuredly never be found.2 It
cannot be found where Locke sought it,—in the relation
between the determination of the will and the consequent
motion of the limb ; for the determination is not the imme¬
diate antecedent of the motion, but only of the intervening
nervous and muscular action. I cannot, therefore, be imme¬
diately conscious of my power to move a limb, when I am not
immediately conscious of my power to produce the antece¬
dent phenomena. Pvor yet can the causative power be found
where Maine de Biran sought it,—in the relation of the will
to the action of the nerves and muscles; for this relation
may at any time be interrupted by purely physical causes,
such as a stroke of paralysis; and in that case no exertion
of the will can produce the desired effect. We can escape
from this difficulty the stronghold of scepticism and neces¬
sitarianism by one path only, and that is by a more accu¬
rate analysis of the purely mental state, which will discover
an immediate consciousness of power in myself determining
my own volitions.
The essential characteristic of volition, as presented
to the mind, consists in the consciousness of a power of
choosing between two alternative determinations. But, by
a natural association, as in the case of the acquired percep¬
tions, we are led to connect the volition with its most strik¬
ing, not with its most immediate consequence, and thus to
believe that we have an immediate consciousness of our
power to move the limbs of the body. The latter act is
indeed voluntary, as being the foreseen, though remote,
consequence of a volition; the remoteness of the consequence
not affecting the moral responsibility; just as a man who
shoots another is guilty of murder, though his immediate
act is not to inflict the wound, but to pull the trigger. But
the connection between volition and its remote conse-
quences is not presented in consciousness, but inferred.
I he importance of the will as an element of consciousness,
and its influence upon the other phenomena, may be in
some degiee estimated by comparing the characteristics of
583
consciousness in its ordinary state with those which it pre- Psycho-
sents during a dream. In the latter state the functions of losy*
volition, properly so called, are altogether suspended.3 We
may seem to ourselves to act as well as to suffer; but the
action is not accompanied by a consciousness, at the mo¬
ment of its performance, of a power to act otherwise. In
other words, our actions during a dream are spontaneous,
but not voluntary, being never presented to the conscious¬
ness in the form of a choice between two alternatives.
Hence our inability during sleep to break off or change the
direction of the train of ideas which is passing through the
mind. Hence, too, the absence of all power of reflecting
upon those ideas ; and the natural consequence, that fancies
the most absurd, and events the most improbable, are never
at the time discerned as being so. It is impossible to com¬
pare the events of a dream with the natural course of things;
for to do so we must make a voluntary effort to recal the
latter to mind;—we must will to withdraw our attention from
the phenomenon before us, and to fix it upon the remem¬
brance of our past experience. It may be conjectured,
with all the probability of which conjectures on such points
are susceptible, that if man were, as so many philosophers
have maintained, a necessary agent, determined even in his
volitions by antecedent phenomena, his waking state would
resemble that of a dream : he would be astonished at no¬
thing. Astonishment, as Plato and Aristotle have said, is
the commencement of philosophy.4 When we examine,
compare, judge, and pronounce sentence upon the pheno¬
mena of our own consciousness, we assert our right to a
place distinct from, and superior to, that of a mere link in
the chain of phenomena; we exercise the privilege of our
conscious existence as beings above phenomena; though the
being and the phenomenon are manifested together as
parts of one and the same complex act of consciousness.
We may notice, in conclusion, the light that is thrown,
by the phenomena of dreaming, on some of those remark¬
able cases of passive subjection to another person, which,
under the names of Mesmerism, Hypnotism, or Electro-
Biology, have of late yeai's excited so much public atten¬
tion, and given rise to such strange and unfounded theories
of physical or hyperphysical agency. These states exhibit,
in their ordinary features, little more than the mental phe¬
nomena of sleep without the accompanying bodily condi¬
tions. The mental phenomena of sleep exhibit two prin¬
cipal characteristics :—1. They show the power of the mind
to produce, by its internal agency, sensible phenomena,
having all the vividness and apparent reality of those com¬
municated by impressions from without. 2. They show
that the mind, under certain circumstances, may be so com¬
pletely under the influence of a leading idea as to follow
passively the train of associations suggested, without the
slightest power of judging of their truth or falsehood, pro¬
bability or absurdity. The principal difference between
these phenomena and those of the above-mentioned states
consists in tbe circumstance that the leading suggestion is, in
the latter case, conveyed from without, by the operator, in¬
stead of from within, by the patient’s own mind. Is there
any necessary law of connection between the mental state of
Cousin, fragments 1 htlosophtques, Preface de la premiere edition J
inre °f *he “ost.intef stinS chaPters of his Mements 'of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, argues that the oower of vnli
ion Uselfis not suspended dunng sleep, but oniy the influence of the will over the thoughts and actions But he has
distinguished between merely spontaneous acts and those which may properly be called voluntary We e h ° sufficiently
making an effort; hut we are not conscious at the moment that it is in our powern^rto mike it ^ °l
the mind is retained, the essential feature of volition has disappeared. This^emark however annUes JnliSh ^ fUDCtl.(>n
volition in determining our own mental states. It is probable that spontaneity itself is but a iJtfLmlf^onLT^ndlZntion In
which some amount of volition is always imnlied sppttiq fn ho o n uv^tiI Iorm 01 volition, and attention, in
rate, it is necess.rj to reo„l,ocUon ^
not take place at all, or be to the waking man as though they had never been co-operation of the voluntary energy, either
* Thecetetus, p. 155. Metaph. i. 2, 9.
584
Psycho¬
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
suspended volition and the bodily state of suspended suscep¬
tibility to external impressions ? If, by any artificial means,
the former of these states can be produced without the latter
(and this is partially the case, even without artifice, in reverie
and absence of mind), we have a link to connect these psy¬
chological marvels with the most familiar facts of our every¬
day experience.1
OF THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF PERSONALITY.
The universal language of mankind has established a dis¬
tinction between the capacities of mind and matter, which
philosophy has often, but in vain, attempted to explain
away. We speak of the properties of material agents, of
the faculties of the human mind.2 3 4 It is a property of fire
to burn, of metals to conduct electricity, of a tree to bear
fruit after its kind. Sensibility, memory, reason, oxe faculties
of the mind. Yet the attributes of mind, as well as those of
body, are known only by their effects. I know that I have
a power of thinking, only because I actually think, -as I
know that fire is capable of burning, only because it actually
burns. What, then, is the distinction between the nature
of intelligent and unintelligent beings, to the existence of
which our language instinctively bears witness ? The foun¬
dation of the distinction is to be found in the consciousness
of self. Whatever variety of phenomena may succeed one
another within the field of consciousness, in all alike I am
directly conscious of the existence of one and the same in¬
divisible self, the centre and the possessor of each and all.
Let system-makers say what they will, the unsophisticated
sense of mankind refuses to acknowledge that mind is but
a bundle of states of consciousness, as matter is (possibly) a
bundle of sensible qualities. There may be no material
substratum distinct from the attributes of extension, figure,
colour, hardness, &c. Matter may be merely a name for
the aggregate of these, for we have no immediate con¬
sciousness of anything beyond them; but, unless our whole
consciousness is a delusion and a lie, self is something more
than the aggregate of sensations, thoughts, volitions, &c.
Our whole consciousness is manifested as a relation be¬
tween a permanent and a changeable element,—a conscious
self, affected in various manners. The notion of a state of
consciousness, with no one to be conscious of it, is as absurd
as the opposite fiction of a conscious self with nothing to be
conscious of. If the latter has given rise to the extrava¬
gances of rational psychology, the former is the basis of a
not less extravagant reaction, which in its logical conse¬
quences leads to the consistent denial of peisonality, of
freedom, of responsibility; nay, of the very conceptions of
substance and cause, the foundations of all philosophy.
Consciousness is given to us as a relation; and no effort
of analysis can separate the two correlatives ; for analysis is
itself an act of consciousness, and contains the same rela¬
tion. We cannot conceive either factor of consciousness
apart from the other; but, on the other hand, we cannot
annihilate either in conceiving their product. We cannot
analyse the judgment I will, and set an abstract I on the
one side, and an abstract will on the other; but neither can
we conceive the entire judgment, save as the product of
two constituent elements. Whatever may be the variety of
phenomena of consciousness,—sensations, volitions, thoughts,
imaginations,—of all we are immediately conscious as affec¬
tions of one and the same self. It is not by any subsequent
effort of reflection that I combine together sight and hear¬
ing, thought and volition, into a factitious unity or com¬
pounded whole : in each case I am immediately conscious
of seeing and hearing, thinking and willing. This Psycho¬
personality, like all other simple and immediate presenta- logy,
tions, is indefinable; but it is so because it is superior to v'—V1*''
definition. It can be analysed into no simpler elements;
for it is itself one element of a product which defies ana¬
lysis. It can be made no clearer by description or com¬
parison ; for it is revealed to us in all the clearness of an
original intuition, of which description and comparison can
furnish only faint and partial resemblances.
Relation is the law of consciousness, and relation is the
end of philosophy; for philosophy is only the articulate ex¬
pression of consciousness. Cogito, ergo sum, may indicate
a legitimate passage from thought to being, from psycho¬
logy to ontology; but the thought and the being alike are
manifested only in the form of relation. Whether that
dualism, which in another country has become a byeword
for unphilosophical thinking, may be made the basis of a
sounder philosophy than the mutilated and shapeless frag¬
ment which aspires to the name of unity, is a question
which is probably reserved for a future generation to answer.
This much, however, appears to be proved by experience
as well as testified by reason, that it is hopeless to attempt
to found philosophy on the annihilation of consciousness.
We have now described the principal phenomena of the
intuitive consciousness, in which are presented to us indi¬
vidual states of the mind in relation either to itself or to the
material world. We have next to describe the phenomena
of the reflective consciousness, in which the several intui¬
tions, external or internal, are represented under general
notions, and thus become objects of thought.
OF REPRESENTATIVE OR REFLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS.
The term representation has been used by philosophers
in various senses. In the Leibnitzian and subsequent phi¬
losophies of Germany, this word, or its German equivalent
Vorstellung? is employed to denote any cognitive act, in¬
cluding even those obscure cognitions, as they are termed
by Leibnitz, which do not amount to a conscious appre¬
hension of an object as such. Thus Kant includes under
the common genus of representation the successive sub¬
classes of representation with consciousness, or perception ;
which is divided into subjective perception, or sensation, and
objective perception, or cognition; the latter containing
under it immediate cognition, or intuition, and mediate cog¬
nition, or conception^ On the other hand, Sir William
Hamilton, distinguishing between presentative and repre¬
sentative knowledge, and rightly referring the perceptions
of the senses to the former class, uses the term represen¬
tation to denote exclusively the cognition of individual
objects by means of images resembling them.5 Represen¬
tation, thus distinguished, is synonymous with imagination,
and does not include the operations of thought properly so
called, which have for their immediate object general no¬
tions or concepts. In the present article it has been found
convenient to adopt an intermediate course. Kant’s ex¬
tension of the term representation, to include the intuitions
of sense, involves, even on his own theory of sensitive per¬
ception, at least an unnecessary ambiguity of language.
The intuition, on that theory, is representative of nothing
that can possibly come within the sphere of consciousness,
but of an unknown and unknowable thing in itself, or ab¬
solute reality out of all relation to human faculties. Con¬
cepts, on the contrary, are representative of intuitions, from
which they are originally derived, and whose place they
1 See Sir Henry Holland’s Chapters on Mental Physiology, chap, ii., v.; Carpenter’s Principles of Human Physiology, p. 859.; Quarterly
Review, No. 186. * Jouffroy, Melanges Philosophiques, p, 312.
3 Etymologically, the term Vorstellung means presentation rather than representation; hut in its actual use in philosophy it is gene
rally equivalent to the latter.
4 Kritik der reinen Vernunft, Transc. Dial., B. i., Abschn. 1. 6 Reid's Works, p. 805, 809. Discussions, p. 13.
Psycho-
logy-
occupy in the processes of thought. But it is obvious that,
^ in the analysis of consciousness, the thing in itself, beino-
ex hypothesi unknown and unknowable, may be dropped
out ot our reckoning altogether. The intuition, or con¬
sciousness of an individual object, being the commencement
of our knowledge and the point beyond which it cannot
penetrate, may be more accurately described as a state of
presentative consciousness, of which thought, or represen¬
tative consciousness, is the reflective sequel. On the other
hand, Sir W. Hamilton, by confining the term representa¬
tion to those modes of consciousness in which there is an
actual and adequate imagination of an object, has perhaps
narrowed the term too much from its original meanino-,
and restricted it to a sense which, however convenient in
the controversy concerning perception, is, out of that con¬
troversy, unnecessary and likely to mislead. The general
notion of man is representative of many individuals in their
common qualities, and of any one individual, so far as those
qualities are concerned, as much as the image which the
mind forms of James or John is representative of the proper
characteristics of that person. The notion is generalized
from the individuals, and must be ultimately verified by
icference to them ; and, though not resembling the indivi¬
duals, and therefore incapable by itself of being depicted
m the imagination, it becomes their substitute in the act1"
of thought, just as the written word, which likewise bears
no resemblance to the sound of speech, becomes the sub¬
stitute and representative of the word spoken. In one
respect, indeed, the thought proper may be called repre¬
sentative in a stricter sense than the imagination; for the
imaginative consciousness, though representative, is pre-
sentative also, and, so far, has more affinity to sense than to
thought. It is presentative of the image, which is itself an
intuition, as well as representative of the object of sense.
But the concept, so far as its object is concerned, is purely
representative. It presents nothing on which the mind can
rest as an adequate object of consciousness,—nothing which
is not in its nature obviously incomplete and relative 
nothing, in short, but the fact of thinking at a particular
tune, and the sign in which the thought is exhibited.
Representative consciousness, like presentative, cannot be
considered as forming a complete act by itself. The pheno¬
mena of intuition by themselves present nothing but a con¬
fused impression of diversity, until they are classified and dis¬
tinguished from each other under separate general notions :
and the notion, on the other hand, though in the ordinary
exercise of thought it may be employed apart from the con¬
sciousness of the object which it represents, can only be so
separated by being associated with a further representation of
itself, such as is furnished by the symbols of language. Pure
METAPHYSICS.
thought, if by that expression is meant the consciousness of
general notions and of nothing else, is an operation which
may perhaps be possible to higher intelligences, but which
never takes place in the human mind. Our only choice lies
between notions as exemplified in individual objects, and
notions as represented in signs spoken or unspoken ; for the
sign, the clothing of our thought, accompanies our silent
meditations as well as our audible utterances: ev^pov ord/xa
(ppovribos1 is not a mere poetical metaphor, but the literal
statement of a philosophical fact. Thinking, as Plato has ob¬
served, is but the conversation of the soul with herself; and
the instrument employed is the echo of that which forms the
medium of communication with others. To this it may be
added, that the notion, as represented in language, is but
the substitute for the notion embodied in intuition, and
derives all the conditions of its validity from the possibility
o t le latter; for language, though indispensable as an in¬
strument of thought, lends itself with equal facility to every
combination, and thus furnishes no criterion by which we can
judge between sense and nonsense—between the conceiv¬
able and the inconceivable. A round square, or a bilinear
Jigure, is, as a form of speech, quite as possible as a straight
line or an equilateral triangle. The mere juxtaposition of
wie words does not indicate the possibility or impossibility of
the corresponding conception, until we attempt to construct,
by intuition, an individual object in accordance with it. Lan-
guage, like algebra, furnishes a system of signs, which we are
able to employ in various relations without at the moment
being conscious of the original signification assigned to each.
But what our thoughts thus gain in flexibility they lose in
distinctness, and the logical and algebraical perfections are
t ms in an inverse ratio to each other. It therefore becomes
necessary, at the end of the process, and even occasionally
during the intermediate stages, to submit the result to the
test to which each step has been tacitly assumed to conform ;
namely, the possible co-existence of the several groups of
attributes in corresponding objects of intuition.3
Fiom this use of language in thought arises the distinc¬
tion, originally pointed out by Leibnitz, between intuitive
and symbolical cognition. In the former we deal with the
notions themselves, as exemplified in an individual object
of intuition, real or imaginary. In the latter we deal with
the same notions as represented by their symbols in lan¬
guage. I he latter, however, is rather a substitute for con¬
sciousness than an act of consciousness itself. It implies a
consciousness, indeed, of the act of thinking, but not im¬
mediately of the object about which we think.4 Like the
bank-note, it is the representative of value without having
an inti insic value of its own; and, like the bank-note, its
real worth depends on the possibility of its being at any time
585
Psycho-
logy.
1 Sophocles, (Ed. Col. 132.   
P' 19°' ’EW‘" ' *«i ** ^** ^Tl.:
tionem in prasentfaliqua cogitatiolf ,7''“"' ,0C° signis uti,,"ur. quorum ezplica-
chiliogonum, sec polygonum mille mqualium laterum cogito, non semper natuVamTaterf^Pr ^m ?-°S ^ •habere in Potestate : ita cum
considero, sed vocabulis istis (quorum sensus obscure saltern atque imperfecte m^nd obversam^ n •’ mflile?arii (seu cubi a denario)
habeo, quomam memini me significationem istorum vocabulorum habJre exulioaHonP^, } l0C° ldearunb quas de iis
soleo’qua et in ^et in
habemus, nobil sumus conscii. E. gr. Dum arWm p^sentemTutueor ^’ihTque'consdls C°gn°SCere dicimur> quatenus idem ejus, quam
intuitivam arboris habeo cognitionem. Si triangui mihi vTimagS eadem ob^u comprehend™
representem, atque hujus figurm mihi conscius sim; triangulum intuitive cognosco Qnnm, vel asserem triangularem
tantum enunciamus qum in ideis continentur, vel aliis signis eadem reprmsentamus idS vPrn T terminatur actu quo verbis
tuemur,.cognitio symbohca est. Ita cognitionem symbolicam habeo^trianguli si’coeito ipsum p?' autsignisindigitatasnonin-
tnanguli vero ideam nullam, multo minus linearum quibus terminatur, ac numeri ternarii eCi ni tribus lineis terminatam,
nem chihogom symbolicam habeo, si verbis tacite quasi loquens mihi ipsi indigo cffiConum p! 8 lntUe°r- Similiter C0Sniti°-
laterum vero singulorum, ac numeri millenarii, ipsiusque chiliogoni ideam nu km intueor a mille ^ibus terminatam,
res nobis reprmsentandas, prmter verba, vel sola arithmetica loquitur ubi s“n “ularSuS ^ etlam Signis aliis uti Possimus ad
repraesentandos. Habes igitur hie signa numerorum qum sunt a verbis1 oulbus3Ur ^tlS numeric!s a(1 numeros quoscumque
recentiorum quam algebram vulgo dicimus suppeditat, ubi formulis ex literis ataue s^nTs 1" erSa- Luculentiora exempla analysis
(Wolf, Psychologia Empirica, sect. 286, 289. 1 gnis allls compositis notiones rerum exhibemus.'’
VOL. XIV.
4 E
586
Tsycho-
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
changed for the current coin of the realm. But, as in
practice the note is treated as if it were the money winch
it represents, so it will be convenient, in the following re¬
marks to treat symbolical knowledge as if it were itself the
complete consciousness to which, if valid it may be at any
time reduced. We shall therefore treat both of intuitive
and symbolical reflection under the general name of Repre¬
sentative Consciousness or Thought.
OF THE FORM AND MATTER OF THOUGHT.
The form of consciousness in general has been explained
as consisting in relation to a conscious subject. T he form
of representative consciousness in particular must be as¬
certained by observing in what manner the subject, as a
thinker, moulds into thought the raw materials furnished by
intuition. The conditions under which this is done con¬
stitute the laws of thought; and the feature by which these
laws are manifested in the product wall be the form of
thought. The former of these terms is strictly used with
reference to an act of thought; the latter, with reference to
its product. Conceiving, judging, and reasoning are car¬
ried on under certain laws. Concepts, judgments, and
reasonings exhibit certain forms. T-O ascertain what these
are, we must endeavour to analyse the complex act of con¬
sciousness, and to separate those elements which appear
to be contributed by the reflective act of the conscious
subject. . c a
The office of thought consists in arranging the contused
materials presented to it in such a manner as to constitute
an object. This is done by limitation and difference. The
object, as such, must contain a definite portion of the ma¬
terials, and a portion only. Without the first of these con¬
ditions, there would be no contents out of which the object
could be constructed : without the second, there would be
no distinct representation of an actual object, but a con
intuition and thought; and the portion which is due to the
act of thought as such, conducted under the above laws,
will be the form of the representative consciousness. Now,
by the act of thought, the confused materials presented to
the intuitive faculties are contemplated in three points of
view: as a single object, as distinguished from other objects,
and as forming, in conjunction with those others, a complete
class or universe of all that is conceivable. We have thus
the three forms (or, as they are called by Kant, categories )
of unity, plurality, and totality ; conditions essential to the
possibility of thought in general, and which may therefore
be regarded as d priori elements of reflective consciousness,
derived from the constitution of the understanding itself,
and manifested in relation to all its products. They are
thus distinguished from the matter, or empirical contents, by
which one object of thought is distinguished from another.
The matter of thought is derived from the intuitive facul¬
ties, and consists in the several presented phenomena which
form the special characteristics of each object, as a man, a
house, a tree, &c. In order to exhibit this distinction more
completely, it will be necessary to notice in detail the dif¬
ferent operations into which thought is ordinarily divided.
OF THE SEVERAL OPERATIONS OF THOUGHT.
The ordinary division of the representative faculties into
conception, or simple apprehension, judgment, and reason-
ino-, is properly a logical rather than a psychological divi¬
sion, and relates to the products of thought rather than to
the powers or operations by which those products aie gene¬
rated. Viewed as products of thought, projected, as it
were, out of the thinking mind, and embodied in language,
the concept, the judgment, and the syllogism are expressed
in different forms of speech, are susceptible of different rela¬
tions one with another, and are subject to different logical
rules and tests of validity. For logical purposes, therefore,
Psycho¬
logy.
possible objects. An oak, for example, to be discerned as
an oak, and as nothing else, must have certain constitutive
features of its own ; and these must in thought be sepa¬
rated from those of the surrounding objects. These two
conditions of all thought, expressed in the most general
terms, are the well-known logical laws of identity and con¬
tradiction, A is A, and A is not not-A; that is to say, every
object, to be conceived as such, must be conceived as
having a contents of its own, and as distinct from all otlieis.
But these two conditions necessarily involve a third. I he
object which I distinguish and that from which I distin¬
guish it must constitute between them the universe of all
that is conceivable ; for the distinction is not between two
definite objects of thought, but between the object of which
I think and all those of which I do not think. Not-A implies
the exclusion of A only, and of nothing else, and thus de¬
notes the universe of all conceivable objects with that one
exception. This relation, in its most general expression,
constitutes a third law of thought,—that of excluded middle:
every possible object is either A or not-A. {Principium
exclusi medii inter duo contradictorial) These three prin¬
ciples of identity, contradiction, and excluded middle, con¬
stitute the laws of thought as thought, and are the foun
dation of pure or formal logic.
susceptible of treatment upon common principles; just as tne
different works of the same artist, though the result of the
same productive power, may be arranged in different classes
and criticised from different points of view. But the logical
division of products does not necessarily imply a corre¬
sponding psychological division of faculties. 1 he same
faculty, operating by the same laws, may produce different
results according to the nature of the objects submitted to
it; just as the same artist may produce different works out
of different materials. It is necessary, therefore, before we
transplant our logical divisions into the field of psychology,
to inquire upon what principles the latter science is justified
in distinguishing at all between various powers of the hu¬
man mind. . . ,
The only natural and necessary principle of distinction
between objects is the numerical diversity of individuals.
All other divisions are, to a certain extent, arbitrary and
artificial, and subservient to the special purposes of tins or
that branch of study. The naturalist may class the man
and the ape together, on account of certain points oi simi¬
larity in their physical structure ; the moralist will place
them as widely as the poles asunder, as rational and irra¬
tional, responsible and irresponsible agents. But no pos¬
sible system of arrangement can make Socrates the same
,tion ot pure or tormal logic. sible system or ariaugemcui. ^ r orl tn.dav rs
Every complete act of consciousness is a compound of individual as Plato, or regard an act per orm
1 Besides these three, -which are classified as categories of quantity, Kant enumerates nine others, viz., three of quality,—i ’
and limitation ; three of relation,—inherence and subsistence, causality and dependence, and community or reciproca ac ' ’ .
of modality,—possibility or impossibility, existence or non-existence, and necessity or contingence. But the Kantian ca g . , .
deduced from an analysis of the act of thought, hut generalized from the forms of the proposition, which latter are assum thpm_
examination, as they are given in the ordinary logic. A psychological deduction, or a preliminary criticism of the logica orn  
selves, might have considerably reduced the number. Thus the categories of quality are fundamentally identical with those o <lua .
reality, or rather affirmation and negation, being implied in identity and diversity, and limitation in their mutual exclusion,
maining categories are, to say the least, founded on a very questionable theory in logic ; and the two most important—those o s
and cause present features which distinguish them from mere forms of thought. But these will have to be examined herea ei.
METAPHYSICS.
587
Psycho- numerically one with a similar act performed three days
logy. ago. Numerically, not only intellectual operations of va-
rious kinds, but every single act of each kind, is distinct
from every other. An act of reasoning which I perform to¬
day is numerically distinct from any similar act performed
yesterday; though both may be governed by the same laws,
and applied to the same objects. But in the classification
of acts as specifically the same or different, much must
depend on the purpose which we have in view, and on the
utility of certain relations for certain ends. A distinction
which is useful for the purposes of logic may be worthless
or injurious as regards psychology.
The distinction between various faculties of the internal
consciousness, if made at all, must be made on a principle
exactly the reverse of that by which a similar distinction is
made with respect to the external senses. The bodily or¬
gans of sensation are given as locally and numerically dis¬
tinct from each other, and thus furnish a pre-existing basis
for the classification of their several operations. Seeing
and hearing are not only distinct phenomena of conscious¬
ness, but are performed by means of distinct organs; and
the faculty of seeing is at any rate so far distinct from that
of hearing, that a man may be blind without being deaf,
and deaf without being blind. But as regards the internal
consciousness, we have no other ground for discriminating
between different faculties than that which is furnished by
the mental characteristics of the corresponding acts. We
do not classify the acts from an acknowledged diversity of
the faculties; but we attempt to classify the faculties from
some admitted or supposed diversity in the acts. The acts,
therefore, must, on independent grounds, be determined to
be identical or distinct in species, before we can unite or
separate them as related to the same or different mental
powers.
The distinction between the various reflective faculties
is therefore not so much to be considered with regard to
its truth or falsehood as with regard to its convenience or
inconvenience. The theory of distinct mental organs cor¬
responding to distinct acts of thought is untenable on any
hypothesis but that of the crudest materialism. No sober-
minded pyschologist ever intends to represent the mental
faculties as substantially and numerically distinct portions
of the mind; but, as entia rationis, they may furnish more
or less convenient heads of classification, to connect or
distinguish the similar or dissimilar mental acts or states of
which we are successively conscious. In this point of view,
the phenomena of conception, judgment, and reasoning,
viewed merely as acts of thought, without reference to the
diversity of the data from which the act commences and
with which it deals, appear to furnish far more prominent
features of similarity than of difference. They are effected
by the same means; they are governed by the same laws;
they are confined within the same limits; they admit of
the same distinctions of material and formal validity. The
pyschological analysis of any one may be applied, almost in
the same words, to the others; and, so far as tlioughtalone
is concerned, the same mental qualities are manifested in
the right performance of each. In a psychological point of
view, to enumerate separate mental faculties and opera¬
tions, as giving rise to the various products of thought, is, to
say the least, to encumber the science with unnecessary
and perplexing distinctions. It will be sufficient to refer
them to the single faculty of thought or reflection, the ope¬
ration of which is, in all cases, comparison. The unit of
thought is always a judgment, based on a comparison of ob¬
jects ; and the several operations of thought are, in ulti¬
mate analysis, nothing more than judgments derived from
different data. In order to exhibit this in special instances,
it will be convenient to adopt provisionally the logical
classification, and to examine the phenomena of thought
under the several heads of conception, judgment, and
reasoning.
Psycho-
logy-
OF CONCEPTION.
The ultimate object of all complete consciousness, intui¬
tive or reflective, is, as has been already stated, an indivi¬
dual; that is to say, an object occupying a definite position
in time, or space, or both. It is not, however, necessary that
the individual so presented to consciousness should be dis¬
cerned as such by any distinctive features. We must dis¬
tinguish between an individual act of consciousness and an
individual object viewed out of relation to that act. The
conditions of time and space are sufficient to distin¬
guish the act from every other act, and the object at the
moment of perception from every other object; but they
are* not parts of the object itself; and they furnish no marks
by which that object may be permanently distinguished
from others. The same object may occupy different places
at different times ; or different objects may successively oc¬
cupy the same place. Hence, in addition to these condi¬
tions, which serve only for the intuitive cognition of a single
individual at a particular moment, it is necessary to select
others, which may serve as marks for the reflective cogni¬
tion of an individual, as such, when different objects are
compared together. In any given intuition we may or
may not be conscious of marks sufficient for this purpose.
I may see, for example, at a distance, three men standing
together. They are unquestionably three individual men,
each occupying his own position in space; and this at the
moment is sufficient to distinguish them from each other.
But I may be unable, on account of the distance, to dis¬
cern any distinctive features belonging to the objects them¬
selves. I discern them as three men, and that is all. I can¬
not say whether they are fair or dark, tall or short, ac¬
quaintances or strangers. I can distinguish them by
nothing but their relative positions ; and these may at any
moment be changed without my being able to discover it.
In other words, I perceive in the individuals only such
qualities as are characteristic of a class.
The above example may serve to illustrate the process of
imperfect or intuitive generalization, which consists in di¬
recting the attention, voluntarily or involuntarily, to the
common features of several objects presented to us, ne¬
glecting or not perceiving those qualities which are pecu¬
liar to each.1 It is not a distinct cognition of the class as
1 “ Si in cognitione intuitiva acquiescimus, prima intellectus operatic absolvitur, dum in ideis duorum vel plurium individuorum simul nobis
occurrentibus ad ea successive attentionem dirigimus quce in iisdem eadem sunt. Dum enim attentionem nostram successive dirigimus ad ea
quas in ideis duorum vel plurium individuorum simul nobis occurrentibus eadem sunt; magis nobis conscii sumus quod jam in pluribus
eadem percipiamus, quam quod percipiamus alia, atque adeo operatione intellectus ea a subjectis, quibus insunt, quasi separamus. Dis-
tincte igitur percipimus quae ad genus vel speciem illarum rerum pertinent, consequenter genera et species nobis distincte reprsesen-
tamus. Quare cum generum et specierum repraesentatio sit notio, distincta autem notio intellectus operatic sit eaque prima ; si in cog¬
nitione intuitiva acquiescimus, prima mentis operatio absolvitur, dum in ideis duorum vel plurium individuorum simul nobis’ occurenti-
bus ad ea successive attentionem dirigimus, quae in iisdem eadem sunt. Hoc modo patet, quomodo nobis genera et species rerum in uni-
versali repraesentare debeamus. Quod alius non detur modus in cognitione intuitiva genera et species rerum repraesentandi ex eo in-
telligitur, quod universalia, seu genera et species non existant nisi in singularibus, et ad notionem entis in universal! non pertineant
nisi determinationes intrinsicae pluribus singularibus seu individuis communes. Ponamus e. gr. duas arbores, cerasum atque prunum,
oculis nostris una objici, ita ut utramque uno intuitu comprehendere valeamus. Quodsi jam attentionem nostram ad folia utriusque ar-
boris simul dirigimus, nobis conscii sumus nos in utraque percipere folia, et magis quidem conscii sumus, quam quod alia vel in iisdem
588 METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- a class, nor of the individuals as individuals; but a con-
logy- fused perception of both together. To form a complete
cognition of the individual, I must, by the aid of imagina¬
tion, supply those distinctive features which I am unable
clearly to perceive. To form a complete cognition of the
class, I must separate the common attributes from their con¬
nection with a definite time and place. But how are attri¬
butes, apart from their juxtaposition in space, to be so
connected together as to constitute a single object ? The
head and trunk and limbs of an individual man are con¬
nected together by continuity in space, and by that conti¬
nuity constitute a whole of intuition, whether distinctly re¬
cognised in that relation or not. How are the attributes of
mankind in general to be separated from their position in
space, and yet so united together as to constitute a whole
of thought? To effect this, we must call in the aid of
language. The word is to thought what space is to per¬
ception. It constitutes the connecting link between various
attributes,—the frame, as it were, in which they are set,—
and thus furnishes the means by which the features cha¬
racteristic of a class may be viewed apart from the indivi¬
duals in which they are intuitively perceived, and com¬
bined into a complex notion or concept. Conception is
thus, in the operations of thought, the counterpart of per¬
ception in those of sense. In the latter we are conscious
of objects as extended ; i.e., as possessing parts related to
each other by juxtaposition in space. In the former we
are conscious of notions as embodied in words, and as com¬
posed of subordinate notions, which are themselves also ex¬
pressed by similar symbols.
Conception, apart from intuition, is only possible under
the form of symbolical cognition, in which the notions are
contemplated in their signs. In this form it consists in
the enumeration, by means of verbal or other symbols, of
the different parts constituting a given notion.1 Concep¬
tion, intuitive as well as symbolical, is thus in all cases a
judgment. In intuitive conception we judge that an ob¬
ject now present to the mind exemplifies a given notion:
we pronounce, for example, that this is a man. In sym¬
bolical conception we pronounce that the notion compre¬
hends such and such subordinate notions as its constituent
parts. But symbolical cognition supposes intuitive cogni¬
tion, actual or possible, as its condition. The existence of
a class is possible if the existence of individual members is
possible; for the universal has no existence apart from the
individual. A class really exists, if individuals exist pos¬
sessing the attributes of that class : a class may imaginably Psycho-
exist, if we can imagine the existence of individuals pos- logy*
sessing the corresponding attributes. But where neither
perception nor imagination is possible—where the attri¬
butes are such that we cannot, either by observation or by
construction, manual or mental, combine them into an in¬
dividual unity of representation—the class is inconceivable,
and the words by which it is represented, however sepa¬
rately intelligible, are, in their combination, utterly un¬
meaning.
Hence, as a general rule : Conception is only possible
within the limits of possible intuition,—that is to say, those
notions only are conceivable whose objects as individuals
can be presented to intuition in themselves or represented
in their images. It is not necessary that the intuition should
in all cases actually take place; it is sufficient if, from our
intuitive knowledge of the several attributes, we know
that there is no incompatibility between them which ren¬
ders their union in one representation impossible. I con¬
ceive a chiliogon when I define it as a regular figure of a
thousand sides; but I cannot distinctly represent in the
imagination a thousand sides at once ; nor do I think it ne¬
cessary to draw the figure in order to convince myself by
actual experience of the possibility of the intuition. But I
know that the property of inclosing space cofttains nothing
incompatible with the number of a thousand sides ; and
that therefore the corresponding figure could Be constructed,
if necessary. Under this conviction, the syrpbolical takes
the place of the intuitive cognition ; and we^are enabled,
by the aid of language, to think of the figure in certain re¬
lations without actually constructing it.2 In speaking of
possible intuition as the test of conceivability, we do not
mean merely the intuition of the bodily senses. Fear, or
anger, or volition, or moral approbation, or any individual
state of the internal consciousness, is as much an object of
intuition as a sound, or a colour, or an odour ; and is equally
capable of being represented in an image or conceived un¬
der a general notion. Neither do we make any difference
between the real and the imaginary, between the mentally
and the physically possible. A centaur is as conceivable
as a horse or a man, whether the actual existence of such a
creature is physically possible or not. I may imagine or
conceive a stone remaining suspended in air or water, or
mounting upwards instead of falling downwards, though
consistently with the natural law of gravitation it can do
nothing but sink to the ground.
arboribus vel extra eas una percipiamus. Quodsi jam porro attentionem nostram promovemus ad surculos in utraque arbore simul, eo-
rundem eodem prorsus modo conscii nobis sumus. Et idem tenendum est de ramis atque truncis. Hac ratione absque omni vocabulorum
vel aliorum signorum usu, ea nobis distincte reprsesentamus, quae arboribus communia sunt, atque adeo notionem hujus generis ingre-
diuntur, quod arboris nomine indigitamus. Atque ita simul intelligimus, quid sit mente separare ea, quae individuis communia sunt.
Neque vero utilitate sua caret nosse, quomodo in cognitione intuitiva prima intellectus operatio sese exerat, quoniam notionibus generum
atque specierum claritas affunditur, si cognitio intuitiva cum symbolica conjungatur.” (Wolf, Psychologia Empirica, sect. 326.)
1 “ In cognitione symbolica prima mentis operatio absolvitur recensione vocabulorum, vel aliorum signorum, quibus ea indigitantur, qua; no¬
tionem rei distinctam ingrediuntur. Etenim in cognitione symbolica tantummodo verbis enunciamus quae in ideis continentur, vel aliis signis
eadem repraesentamus, ideas vero ipsas verbis aut signis aliis indigitatas non intuemur. Quare cum in cognitione intuitiva prima mentis
operatio absolvatur, si attentionem successive in idea rei ad ea dirigimus quae notionem distinctam generis vel specie! ingrediuntur, singula
autem haec enunciabilia sint, adeoque vocabulis vel signis aliis indigitari possint; in cognitione symbolica prima mentis operatio absolvi
debet recensione vocabulorum, vel repraesentatione aliorum signorum, quibus ea denotantur quae notionem rei distinctam ingrediuntur.
Ita prima mentis operatio in cognitione symbolica arboris absolvitur, si dicimus vegetabile, quod ex trunco, ramis, surculis et foliis constat;
etenim sigillatim recensemus verba quibus ea indigitantur quae in arboribus tanquam communia distinguimus, consequenter quae notionem
arboris in genere, quatenus distincta est, ingrediuntur. Non autem jam nobis quaestio est, utrum notio distincta sit completa atque de-
terminata, atque oratione ista tails notio significetur, ut haec definitionis loco inservire possit. Sufficit enim hie ea sigillatim enunciari
quae mente ab idea rei separantur, dum distincte nobis genus vel speciem repraesentare conamur. Pendet enim cognitio symbolica ab intui-
.suPPonit et ad quam refertur. Quicquid igitur huic deest, idem etiam illi deesse debet.” (Wolf, Psychologia Empirica, sect. 328.)
tiuomam vocabula sunt signa nostrarum perceptionum, vel rerum per eas repraesentatarum, dum verba recensemus quibus ea indi-
gitan ui quae notionem rei distinctam ingrediuntur, ea singula ad perceptiones rerum in cognitione intuitiva locum habentes referre
tenemur, e si a notionem eidem respondentem non attendamus, quod eadem ex crebro usu satis intelligere arbitremur. Quamobrem
operatio rate ectus prima in cognitione symbolica preesupponit operationem ejusdem primam in intuitiva. Haec probe notanda sunt, ne demus
sum men e sonos, no isque persuadeamus nos notionem rei habere, dum vocabula recensere valemus, etsi cognitionem symbolicam ad in-
tuitivam re ucere minune valeamus : quae reductio in eo consistit, ut ideam alicujus individui in nobis excitemus, sive sensuum, sive ima-
gmationis ope, ac a entio nostra successive ad ea dirigatur quae in re percepta insunt, atque deinde vocabula ad eadem referantur, prout
singulis, vi sigm ca us quern obtinent alias, subinde etiam vi etymologise ac compositionis, denotandis apta deprehenduntur, quatenus
scilicet in etymologia vel compositione ratio denominandi latet, ad rem vocabulo denotatam manducens, nisi ipsimet vocabula ad ea
significanda in cognitione intuitiva transtulerimus, atque hujus facti meminerimus.” (Wolf, Psychologia Empirica, sect. 329.)
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- Conception without an accompanying intuition is only
logy* possible, as we have already observed, by means of sym-
bols ; but the thought which accompanies every complete
intuition, and by which various presented attributes are re¬
garded as constituting a whole, is an act of precisely the
same kind, and may therefore properly be called by the same
name. Conception may thus be distinguished as of two
kinds :—Symbolical Conception, in which a general notion,
represented in language, is regarded as composed of other
subordinate notions similarly represented; and Intuitive
Conception, in which an individual object, present to sense
or imagination, is regarded as a whole composed of certain
presented parts. By this the object is thought under a con¬
cept ; being thereby separated from the surrounding objects
of intuition, and regarded as a whole by itself.1 The for¬
mer kind of conception is based on the latter, and derives
its validity from it. It is in the latter, therefore, that the
form and laws of conception will be most clearly exhibited.
We must therefore analyse the complex act of intuitive
conception, in order m detect, in the whole so conceived,
the part contributed’‘by the reflective faculty, and the laws
under which it operates.
It has been already observed that intuition and thought,
the presentative and the representative consciousness, can
be distinguished from each other, as actual states of mind,
only logically, not really. To the recognition of either, as
a fact of consciousness, the presence of both is indispen¬
sable. To discern the element contributed by conception
to the cognition of an object of consciousness as such, we
may revert, for the moment, to the supposition of a being
susceptible of a diversity of intuitions, but with no power
of discerning wherein that diversity consists. In other words,
we must suppose him divested of the faculty of comparison.
In the exercise of sight, for example, he might at any mo¬
ment be dimly conscious that he saw something; he might
also be dimly conscious that he had seen something before ;
but he would not be conscious whether the two objects were
the same or different in species; for this implies a reflec¬
tive cognition of each under a separate notion. By the act
of conception I discern a particular object as such ; and
this implies at the same time a consciousness of its differ¬
ence from something else. The act of reflection has thus
added a new element to the phenomena of intuition, namely,
a consciousness of their relation to each other. The mere
presence of an object affecting the organ of sight does not
in itself imply that any other object accompanies or has
preceded it; but the recognition of it as this object rather
than that, does so. Conception, whether intuitive or sym¬
bolical (for the latter is but the substitute for the former),
thus implies the cognition of objects under separate notions,
and this cognition constitutes the common or formal feature
of the act of conceiving, being unaffected by any diversity
in the nature of the objects conceived. To ascertain the
laws of conception, we must therefore ask what this cogni¬
tion of objects in all cases supposes : in other words, what
are the relations implied in the knowledge of an object as
such. In the first place, the object is discerned, or sepa¬
rated from all others; and this separation implies two rela¬
tions,—identity and diversity. The consciousness of iden-
589
tity is at the same time the consciousness of difference ; I Psycho-
discern a thing by knowing it as what it is, and by distin- l°gy*
guishing it from what it is not. In the second place, the
cognisance of this relation between objects implies also their
mutual relation to a common consciousness. I am conscious
of the distinction of one thing from another, by including
both as modes of one continuous conscious existence. W ith-
out this, memory would be impossible, and without memory
there could be no comparison. We have thus the three forms
of unity, plurality, and totality, manifested as the necessary
relations with which the mind, in the act of conception, in¬
vests the materials furnished by intuition. To conceive
any object A as such, I must distinguish it from all that is
not A, and I must regard A and not-A. as constituting be¬
tween them the universe of my consciousness. These re¬
quirements are expressed by the three laws of identity,
contradiction, and excluded middle, which may thus be re¬
garded as the universal or formal conditions of every act of
conception as such, in contradistinction from the special or
material conditions which are necessary to the conception of
this or that particular class of objects only.
From the above exhibition of the laws and forms of
thought in general, as manifested in the act of conception,
it will be easy to deduce, in a somewhat amended enume¬
ration, those special forms which have been treated by logi¬
cal writers as distinctive of the concept proper.2 The con¬
cept is necessarily conceived as one, as one of many, and as
constituting with the many an universe of the conceivable.
From the last of these three conditions it follows, that the
concept must possess a generic or universal feature, by which
it is characterized as a concept in general, or a member of
the conceivable universe. From the second it follows, that
it must also possess a differential or peculiar feature, by
which it is distinguished from all others. And from the
first it follows, that these two features must be united into
a single whole. Hence every concept, as such, must pos¬
sess in some degree the attributes of distinctness, as having
complex contents, capable of analysis into genus and dif¬
ference : of clearness, as being by one portion of its con¬
tents distinguishable from other notions; and of relation to
a possible object of intuition, inasmuch as the unity of a
complex notion depends, not on a mere juxtaposition of
terms, but upon its being the representative of one object.3
These three forms may be otherwise denominated (for the
difference is merely verbal) comprehension, limitation, and
extension. As having complex contents, every concept
comprehends certain attributes; as distinguishable from
others, it is limited by its specific difference ; and, as repre¬
sentative of a class of possible objects, it has a certain field
over which it is extended. The forms of the concept pro¬
per may thus be indifferently enumerated, as distinctness,
clearness, and relation to an object; or as comprehension,
limitation, and extension.
We have thus exhibited the general laws of thought in
their relation to those objects with reference to which
the thinking act is usually distinguished as conception.
But though no conception is possible, except in conformity
with these laws, it must not, therefore, be concluded that
conception is possible in all cases in which they are not
l “ The understanding, thought proper, notion, concept, &c., may coincide or not with imagination, representation proper ima^e &c
The two faculties do not coincide in a general notion ; for we cannot represent man or horse in an actual ima^e without indi’vidualizimr’
the universal; and thus contradiction emerges. But in the individual, say Socrates or Bucephalus, they do coincide - for I see no valid
ground why we should not think, in the strict sense of the word, or conceive the individuals which we represent ” (Sir w’ Hamilton Discus
sions p. 13.) We may go even beyond this and regard conception as coinciding, not merely with the imagination, hut with one element
of the perception of individual object. For the combination of individual parts into a whole is a cognition of relations, and, as such,
is properly an act of the understanding, operating by means of concepts. ; ’ ’
* See Kant, Logik, sect 2 Fries, System der Logik, sect. 20. The former places the form of a concept in its universality: the latter
adopts the same view, subdividing universality into extension and comprehension. J
3 Arist. Metaph. vL 12. ’Eji yiu rov Kv>cSv fch iartu, o'rxv ^ terete*, tv Ss, Srxv
kui Trad* r, to vvox.eip.evov o kv^utto; • tots ev yiyvercu xul iariv 6 ■kevv.ls &v6m;. Ibid. vii. 6. '() Zotiwoc Acyoc earlvetc
ov ovvoetrpu KotteKs^ jj I?u«f, Tt? evoy eivctt. 5 r
590
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- transgressed. An object may be inconceivable in two
logy- ways,—essentially or formally, because the attempt to
conceive it involves a violation of the laws of thought; and
accidentally or materially, because of the absence of cer¬
tain preliminary conditions, whose existence must be pre¬
supposed before thought comes into operation. By the
laws of thought, a concept must have distinctive contents;
it must not comprehend two contradictory elements; and
it must be contained under one or the other of the. contra¬
dictory notions which constitute the universe of thought.
Where these conditions are not observed, the object is for¬
mally or essentially inconceivable. Thus pure Nothing
which has no contents, and also the indefinite notions in¬
dicated by the terms Being, Thing, Existence in general,
which have no definite contents, are formally inconceivable,
as violating the law of identity: they are not an A as dis¬
tinguished from a not-A. So, again, we are formally un¬
able to conceive the same surface as both black and not-
black, which involves a violation of the law of contradic¬
tion ; nor yet can we conceive it as neither one nor the
other; for this is prohibited by the law of excluded middle.
But the accidental or material inconceivability of objects
depends on other conditions. The materials of thought
are furnished by the phenomena of the senses or of some
other intuitive faculty; and hence, when the intuition is
wanting, conception is impossible, as having no data upon
which to operate. Thus, a blind man can form no con¬
ception of colours, and a deaf man can form no concep¬
tion of sounds,—not because sounds and colours are in
themselves inconceivable, but because the preliminary in¬
tuition, which should furnish the materials of the con¬
ception, is deficient. And so likewise any man, though
in the full possession of his senses, is unable to form a
conception of a colour which he has never seen, or of
a sound which he has never heard, or of a savour which
he has never tasted; or, at least, he can form only such
an imperfect conception as may be furnished by its sup¬
posed likeness to some object of his actual experience,
—a conception necessarily defective, as not containing
the specific difference which characterizes the object as
such, and which actual experience alone can furnish. Ob¬
jects accidentally inconceivable may be divided into two
classes :—those which are deficient in the matter of the in¬
tuition, and those which are deficient in the form; for
it must be remembered that the form of intuition be¬
comes part of the matter of thought; and that both these
classes are therefore, so far as conception is concerned, in¬
conceivable materially or accidentally. The form of intui¬
tion is to be found in the general conditions of space and
time, which are common to all external or internal intui¬
tions respectively, as such: the matter is to be found in
the special affections of this or that mode of external or
internal sense, by which one object is distinguished from
another. Upon the necessary relations of space and time
are founded the two sciences of geometry and arithmetic;
and a notion which violates the principles of either of these
may be classified as inconceivable from a defect in the
form of intuition. Thus it is impossible to conceive a figure
bounded by two straight lines, or an odd number which is
the sum of two even ones; because the two straight lines
cannot be perceived or imagined as occupying such a posi¬
tion in space as is necessary before we can include them
under the general concept of a figure; and the two even
numbeis cannot occupy such a succession in time as is
necessary to the formation of the concept of an odd num-
ber. k|iese notions are not, as some writers have sup¬
posed, logica ly self-contradictory, and therefore formally
inconceivable; they are not inadmissible in their general
character as thoughts, but in their special character as
thoughts about figures or numbers. In one respect they
differ considerably from the other class of materially in¬
conceivable objects, in which the impossibility arises only
from a deficiency in actual experience of the matter of in¬
tuition, such as has been supposed in the case of an un¬
known colour or sound. The latter may become conceiv¬
able by a mere extension of experience, without, any change
in our bodily or mental constitution. The former, being
dependent on the subjective conditions of intuition, could
not become conceivable without a change in the constitu¬
tion of our intuitive faculties. This difference will be more
fully examined when we come to treat of the distinction
between necessary and contingent truths.
Before concluding this part of our subject, it will be
necessary to say a few words on the controverted question
of the processes usually regarded as subsidiary to concep¬
tion, namely, abstraction and generalization. The account
usually given of these processes by writers on logic can¬
not be regarded as accurately exhibiting the psychological
phenomena connected with the passage from intuition to
thought; and the question derives additional interest from
the controversy which has been raised by philosophers of
eminence concerning the reality of the processes them¬
selves.
The ordinary logical account is to the following effect:—
We examine, it is said, a number of individual objects,
agreeing in some features and differing in others: we ab¬
stract or separate the points in which they agree from those
in which they differ; and we generalize, or construct a com¬
mon notion, represented by a common name, out of the
features of similarity so separated from the rest; which
common notion becomes thus indifferently applicable to all
the individuals from which it was derived. The process, as
thus described, appears to presuppose the very act of con¬
ception to which it is represented as giving rise. If, for
example, I am to form a general notion of man by examin¬
ing the individuals Peter, James, and John, and by separat¬
ing the accidents of complexion, stature, expression of
countenance, &c., from the human form which is common
to all, it is obvious that I must previously have formed
general notions of the parts so separated from each other.
Before I can say, this man has blue eyes and that man has
black; and the colour of the eyes may therefore be set aside
as accidental; I must have discerned, by means of con¬
cepts, the eyes as such from other features, and the colours
blue and black from other visible qualities. If these con¬
cepts, according to the above theory, are formed by means
of a previous abstraction, the same difficulty is repeated.
Conception supposes abstraction, and abstraction again sup¬
poses conception, and the explanation thus runs in a con¬
stantly recurring circle.
The error of the theory consists in supposing that the
individual is discerned as such before the universal. In
the confused consciousness, if it can be called consciousness
at all, which alone would be possible in an act of sensation
unaccompanied by thought, we could not be said to discern
either likenesses or differences. We should not be able to
distinguish one individual from another, or to compare them
together as like or unlike. As soon as thought is awakened,
the general notion is perceived in and along with the indi¬
vidual which is discerned under it; and it is impossible to
distinguish an individual as such from others, without at
the same time being conscious of the notion which that in¬
dividual exemplifies. Indeed, properly speaking, every
collection of individual attributes is potentially the repre¬
sentative of a class; for there is nothing in the attributes
themselves to prevent their being exhibited by more than
Psycho-
logy.
l Among others may be mentioned Leibnitz, Theodicee. sect, ii.,
Logic, appendix on Ambiguous Terms, v. Impossibility,
p. 480, ed. Erdmann; Stewart, Elements, part ii., ch. i.; and Whately>
M E T AP
Psycho- one object In one sense, indeed, it might be said that our
logy- cognition of the class is prior to that of the individual. For,
in the development of consciousness by the aid of language,
resemblances are noticed earlier than differences ; and even
the names distinctive of individuals are at first associated
only with their generic features. Children, says Aristotle,
at first call all men father, and all women mother, but after¬
wards they distinguish one person from another.1 By the
aid of language, our first abstractions are in fact given to us
already made, as we learn to give the same name to vari¬
ous individuals presented to us under slight and at first
unnoticed circumstances of distinction. The name is thus
applied to different objects long before we learn to ana¬
lyse the growing powers of speech and thought, to ask what
we mean by each several instance of its application, and to
correct and fix the signification of words at first used vaguely
and obscurely.
The nature of the general notion or concept itself has
been no less a point of controversy among philosophers than
the process by which it is formed. According to Locke,2
the general idea of a triangle is an imperfect idea, “ where¬
in some parts of several different and inconsistent ideas are
put together.” As limited to no particular kind of triangle,
but including all, it must be “ neither oblique nor rectan¬
gular, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon; but all and
none of these at once.” The general idea, as thus described,
Berkeley easily perceived to be self-contradictory, and the
doctrine suicidal. “ I have a faculty,” he says, “ of ima¬
gining or representing to myself the ideas of those parti¬
cular things I have perceived, and of variously compound¬
ing and dividing them. I can imagine a man with two
heads, or the upper parts of a man joined to the body of a
horse. T can consider the hand, the eye, the nose, each
by itself, abstracted or separated from the rest of the body.
But then, whatever hand or eye I imagine, it must have
some particular shape and colour. Likewise, the idea of
man that I frame to myself must be either of a white, or a
black, or a tawny, a straight, or a crooked, a tall, or a low, or
a middle-sized man. To be plain, I own myself able to
abstract in one sense, as when I consider some particular
parts or qualities separated from others, with which, though
they are united in some object, yet it is possible they may
really exist without them. But I deny that I can abstract
one from another, or conceive separately, those qualities
which it is impossible should exist so separated; or that I
can frame a general notion by abstracting from particulars
in the manner aforesaid.”3 On these grounds, the bishop
maintains that things, names, and notions, are in their own
nature particular, and are only rendered universal by the
relation which they bear to the particulars represented by
The remarks which have been made above, on the dis¬
tinction between intuitive and symbolical knowledge, and
on the office of language in promoting distinctness of intui¬
tion as well as of conception, may assist in placing this con¬
troversy on a more satisfactory footing. The error of Locke,
as Berkeley clearly perceived, consisted in regarding abstrac¬
tion as a positive act of thought, instead of the mere negation
of thought. Abstraction is nothing more than non-attention
to certain parts of an object: we do not positively think of the
triangle as neither equilateral, nor isosceles, nor scalene;
but we think of the figure as composed of three sides, with¬
out asking the question whether those sides are equal or
unequal. On the other hand, Berkeley, in maintaining that
all notions are in their own nature particular, has overlooked
the fact, that thought, and, through thought, language, is
necessary to distinguish the particular as particular, no less
than the universal as universal; and that we are thus en-
H Y s I c s.
abled, both in intuitive and in symbolical cognition, to dis¬
cern generic attributes, and to constitute them an object of
conception, without being conscious of the particulars by
which they are accompanied. I see a man at a distance,
and I know him to be a man ; here is intuition and concep¬
tion combined. But I am not near enough to discern either
his stature or his complexion ; and though, if my attention
is called to the point, I cannot help admitting that he must
be of a certain size and a certain colour; yet the visible
object presents neither the one nor the other ; and it is not
necessary that my attention should be called to them at all.
It is true that the visible object, as a surface, is coloured ;
but this colour does not enter into my notion of the thing
represented. The faint blue tint that marks a distant ob¬
ject is not included in my conception of the object as a
man, and my sight is too feeble to enable me to supply any
other. Here, then, is a distinct cognition of generic attri¬
butes as such,—attributes which are indeed perceived as
existing in an individual, but which contain no distinctive
feature by which the individual can be recognised as such.
The abstraction becomes still greater when the conception
is purely symbolical; as we are thus enabled to think of the
attributes without being at the moment conscious of their
coexistence in any individual whatever. Berkeley mistakes
the test of conception for the act of conception itself. Con¬
ception is not identical with imagination ; though the latter
process is so far the test of the former, that nothing can be
conceived as constituting a class, which is absolutely and
in its own nature incapable of being imagined as existing
in an individual.
The length to which our remarks have run on the sub¬
ject of conception will enable us to be more brief in our
treatment of the remaining operations of thought, which are
nothing more than the same faculty of comparison applied
to different objects.
OF JUDGMENT.
Judgment, in the limited sense in which it is distinguish¬
able from consciousness in general, is an act of comparison
between two given concepts, as regards their relation to a
common object. Omitting those judgments which involve
merely the enumeration of the attributes comprehended in
a concept (the analytical or explicative judgments of Kant),
which may be more properly classified as acts of concep¬
tion ; and confining ourselves to those in which the con¬
tents of the given concepts are distinct from each other
(the synthetical ox ampliative judgme?tts of Kant), we may
distinguish the form from the matter of judgments,—the
part contributed by the act of judging itself, from the pre¬
existing materials on which it operates,—as follows. The
concepts being distinct from each other in contents, their
relation to a common object cannot be ascertained by any
mere examination of those contents: this relation, there¬
fore, as well as the concepts themselves, must be given
prior to and out of the act of comparison. In other words,
the relation between the two concepts must be given in an
act of intuition, pure or empirical, imaginary or real, before
we can decide by an act of judgment that such a relation
does or does not exist. For example: in order to form
the judgment “ two straight lines cannot inclose a space,”
I must not only know the meaning of the terms employed,
but I must also, by the aid of imagination, construct a re¬
presentation in my mind of two actual straight lines and
their actual positions in space. I must perceive that these
two straight lines are incapable of inclosing a space, before
I pronounce the universal judgment concerning straight
lines in general. Here the relation between the two
591
Psycho-
logy.
1 Phys, Ausc. i. 1.
2 Essay, b. iv., chap, vii., sect. 9.
Principles of Human Knowledge, Introduction, sect. 10.
592 M E T A P
concepts is presented in a pure or a priori intuition, t.e-,
in an intuition containing no adventitious element external
to the mind itself. Again, in order to form the judgment
“ gold is heavy,” supposing that my conception of gold does
not in itself include the attribute of weight, I cannot, by
merely thinking of gold as a hard, yellow, shining body,
determine what effect it will produce when laid upon the
hand. I must actually place an individual piece of gold
upon my hand, and ascertain by experience the fact of its
pressure. Here the relation between the two concepts is
presented in a mixed or empirical intuition ; i.e., in an intui¬
tion caused by the presence of a body external to the mind
itself. The examination of these constituent elements will
enable us to distinguish between the matter and the form
of thought as exhibited in the act of judgment.
If I poise a piece of gold in my hand, in order to ascer¬
tain whether it is heavy, the presented phenomena belong
to distinct acts of sensation. The evidence of sight attests
the presence of a round, yellow, shining body; the evi¬
dence of touch, or rather of muscular pressure, attests its
weight. To unite these attributes, as belonging to one and
the same thing, is an act, not of sensation, but of thought.
The mere sensation, aided by the concepts, presents us
with three things—the body which is seen, the pressure
which is felt, and a certain temporal and local juxtaposition
of the two. To combine the presented attributes as be¬
longing to one thing; to pronounce that it is the gold
which is heavy, is an act of thought, constituting a judg¬
ment. Here, then, we have one form of judgment, ex¬
pressed in the copula “ gold is heavythis indicates the
identification of two concepts as related to a common ob¬
ject ; an identification usually known as the quality of the
judgment.
The same is the case with the quantity of judgments. I
see a number of balls lying on a table, and pronounce at
once that they are all white; I see another collection, and
assert in like manner that some are white and some black.
Here the senses, even when aided by the concepts in dis¬
tinguishing the balls as such, yet present to us only indivi¬
dual objects. This, this, and this are within their province ;
but they know nothing of all or some. It is by an act of
thought that the several individuals are regarded as con¬
stituting a whole, and a judgment pronounced concerning
that whole or a portion of it.
A third form of the judgment, as indeed of all thinking,
is limitation. In predicating one notion of another, I at the
same time necessarily exclude everything to which that pre¬
dicate is opposed, and thereby limit the subject to one
alone of those contradictory determinations which make
up the universe of thought. In asserting, for example,
that gold is heavy, I as much exclude it from the class ot
imponderables as I include it within that of bodies possessing
weight. The canon that predication is limitation is now,
indeed, universally admitted as an axiom in philosophy ;x
and the various metaphysical systems of modern Germany,
since the days of Kant, may be briefly described as so many
H Y S I C S.
attempts to evade the consequences of this principle by Psycho¬
constructing a philosophy of the unlimited on a basis inde- !ogy.
pendent of logical predication.
These three forms of the judgment,1 2 like those of the
concept, may be regarded as special manifestations of the
three conditions of thought in general—unity, plurality, and
totality. As one, the judgment possesses quality, exhibited
in its copula, by which, as a connecting link, it is consti¬
tuted a single act of thought. As one out of many possible
judgments, it is limited by its predicate; and as a whole
composed of parts, it represents an object of thought,
which, whether it be one individual or many, contains in
itself the several attributes indicated by the terms. This
relation to an object is expressed by the quantity of the
judgment, whereby one, some, or all of the members of a
class are pointed out as an object possessing various attri¬
butes and combining them into a whole.
The three highest laws of thought are likewise operative
in the act of judging, as in that of conceiving. This may
be shown by ascertaining what are the universal conditions
under which the judgment, as a thought, is possible. Of
course we have nothing to do with the material conditions
under which this or that judgment is possible as a fact.
The latter conditions are special, not general, and apply to
this or that particular judgment in its relation to its objects ;
not to all possible judgments in their relation to the think¬
ing subject. As far as the laws of thought are concerned,
it is indifferent whether we assert that the earth goes round
the sun, or the sun round the earth ; the latter proposition
being logically as valid as the former, however incom¬
patible with the facts of astronomy. The universal condi¬
tions of the possibility of any judgment as a thought may
be ascertained by the following question :—Given any con¬
cept A, under what conditions may another concept B be
predicable of it? The particular objects signified by A
and B are supposed to be unknown ; the question of the
logical validity of the thought being thus kept free from
all admixture of material elements. In the first place, the
concept B must have definite contents: it is to be a pre¬
dicate limiting A. It is therefore a portion, and a portion
only, of the universe of possible concepts distinct from A.
This is expressed by the law of excluded middle. Every
concept distinct from A is either B or wo/-B. In the
second place, the concept B must contain no attribute lo¬
gically incompatible with A. This is expressed by the
law of contradiction. In the third place, the concepts A
and B, when united in a judgment, must be regarded as
representing one and the same object; that which is A is
also B. This is expressed by the law of identity. A in
becoming B remains identical with itself. This apparent
paradox of identity in diversity constituted one of the
earliest puzzles in metaphysics, and gave rise to a scepti¬
cism which, refusing to admit without explanation the
laws of thought themselves, consistently denied the possi¬
bility of uniting two notions in a judgment.3 Whether the
doubt thus suggested can be satisfied by ontology, is a
1 See, for example, among others, Fichte, Ueber den Grund unseres Glaubens an eine gottliche Weltregierung, p. 16 (Werke, v., p. 187) :
Gerichtliche Verantwortung, p. 47 (Werke, v., p. 265); Bestimmung des Menschen (Werke, ii., p. 304). Hegel, Logik, p. i., h. ii., c ap.
2.; p. ii. chap. 2 (Werke, iv., p. 26; v., p. 70). _ . ......
2 Kant (Kritik der r. V. Transc. Anal., B. i., Abschn. 2 ; Logik, sect. 20) admits four forms of the judgment,—quantity, quality, relation,
and modality. The two first have been admitted above. That of relation, under which head Kant classes the division of judgments into
categorical, hypothetical, and disjunctive, is based on a very questionable position of the ordinary logic. If, as appears to be the case,
hypothetical and disjunctive judgments, so far as they are judgments at all, are reducible to categoricals, relation, instead of being a
special form of judgment, becomes a term equivalent to judgment in general. As regards modality, it may perhaps be more accurately
referred to. the matter than to the form of the judgment. The only judgments necessary as thoughts are those in which the subject logi¬
cally contains the predicate: the only judgments impossible as thoughts are those in which the one term contradicts the other. These, as
analytical judgments, have been above classed under the head of conception. All other judgments, as thoughts, are contingent, and be¬
come necessary or impossible only as thoughts about this or that particular object. It is not logic nor metaphysics, but geometry, which
tells us that the angles of a^ triangle must be equal to two right angles.
3 Plato, Theast., p. 201. Eyo) ya.^ ctv ’ihoHovv oLkovuv tivuv ot/ rae ftei/ TTparx o/oi/Trege/ oro/xe/tt, oiv re (rvyx.i/ue0et xui rccKhct,
f,6yov ovx- iy,o/' umo yu(> x.cid uvro SKctorov ovofoaou/ feovov sin, 'Tr^oaenreiv o£ ouSsV ccKho T/vvoltov, ov9 sotiv ovd ug ovx. eoT/v. , Sophist.
p. 251. yu(> a.VT/hcc^>ia6ctt •xu.iirl 7rpd;i££/goi/ o>g othvvoiTOv tos ts Tro'Khd, su r.ccl to sv TCoKhoi slvoti, Kctl fii] wot/ •fccuQOVOiu ovx- sai/re.
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho-
logy.
question which cannot be considered at present. In a psy¬
chological point of view, it is sufficient to say that such is
the form which thought necessarily assumes. The office
of psychology is to exhibit the laws of thought as they ac¬
tually exist; it cannot undertake to vindicate them, or to
explain why the human mind is constituted as it is.
OF REASONING.
The third operation of thought, reasoning, is likewise an
act of comparison between two concepts; and only differs
from judgment in that the two concepts are not compared
together directly in themselves, but indirectly by means of
their mutual relation to a third. As the concept furnishes
the materials for the act of judging, so the judgment furnishes
the materials for the act of reasoning. The matter of the
syllogism thus appears in the several propositions of which
it is composed, and which vary in every different instance;
its form appears in the manner in which those propositions
are, in the act of reasoning, connected together as premises
and conclusion. This connection consists in the recogni¬
tion of a relation of identity or contradiction between the
terms given in the antecedent and those connected by the
reasoning act itself in the consequent. The forms and laws
of reasoning may thus be ascertained by the following ques¬
tion :—“Given two judgments (no matter what may be their
material signification), what relations must exist between
them, to warrant us in inferring a third judgment as their
consequent ?”
In the first place, the premises and the conclusion must
stand to each other in the relation of condition and condi¬
tioned. As the predicate of a judgment limits and deter¬
mines the subject, so the premises of a syllogism must limit
and determine the conclusion. Limitation is thus a form
of reasoning, as of all thinking, and exhibits, as has been
shown in the case of judgment, the operation of the law of
excluded middle. The conclusion, to be determined, must
be one of two contradictory possibilities. In other words,
the premises must be so related to each other as to necessi¬
tate some conclusion. If the connection between A and B,
as exhibited in the premises, be such that, as far as those
premises are concerned, we are not necessitated to infer that
A is either B or wo£-B, there is no determination of a con¬
clusion, and consequently no reasoning.
In the second place, since the concepts A and B are not
compared together directly, but through the medium of a
third, it is necessary that this third concept should be suc¬
cessively compared with each of the others. This compari¬
son results in a relation either of identity or contradic¬
tion ; the subjects of the two concepts being pronounced
identical whenever the premise is affirmative, and contradic¬
tory whenever it is negative; and a similar relation being
consequently inferred to exist between the conpepts com¬
pared together in the conclusion. Hence the reasoning in
all affirmative syllogisms is governed by the law of identity,
and in all negative syllogisms by that of contradiction.
Thus, when we reason “ All C is (some) B ; all A is (some)
C: therefore all A is (some) B ; the law which determines
the conclusion is, that whatever is identical with a portion of
C is identical with a portion of that which is identical with
all C. Here is the principle of identity: “ Every portion
of a concept is identical with itself.” Again, when we rea¬
son “No C is (any) B ; all A is (some) C: therefore no A
is (any) B,”1 the law which determines the conclusion is,
that whatever is identical with a portion of C cannot be
identical with that which is contradictory to all C. Here
is the principle of contradiction : “ No portion of a concept
can contradict itself.” The forms which the syllogism ex¬
hibits, as exemplifying the above laws, are those of mood
and figure, affirmative or negative, which determine what
relations of identity or contradiction in the premises of a
syllogism may legitimately determine a similar relation in
the conclusion. Here, again, we see a special exemplifica¬
tion of the three general forms of unity, plurality, and total¬
ity ; the middle term, in its twofold capacity of self-identity
and double comparison, constituting the syllogism both a
single thought and a whole composed of parts; wdiile the
determination of a definite conclusion and the exclusion of
others indicates its limited character as one thought out of
many.2
The further examination of the syllogistic forms belongs
to the province of logic. Before dismissing this portion of
our subject, however, it may be necessary to say a few
words in defence of the character which throughout the
preceding pages has been assigned to the general laws of
thought;—that of identical judgments, in which the predi¬
cate expresses the same notion that is already given in the
subject. The reader who remembers the contemptuous
chapter of Locke on Trifling Propositions,3 or the equally
contemptuous observations of Stewart on the Aristotelian
Logic,4 maybe astonished to find these despised propositions
elevated to the character of laws of mind, and placed at the
head of all thought. In truth, however, the position thus
assigned to them is not only justified by the analysis of the
act of thought, but is a necessary consequence even of the
doctrines of Locke himself. Supposing that the act of
thinking is governed by general laws at all (and that it is
so, is manifest from the inability to conceive absurdities),
such laws can clearly impart nothing in the way of in¬
struction or the discovery of new truths. A new truth is
in its very nature partial: it is new only because it is par¬
tial, because it is the discovery of the particular attributes
of some particular thing or class of things. In a psycholo¬
gical point of view, the determination of the laws of thought
(be their character as judgments what it may) is as much a
new truth as any other, being the discovery of a parti¬
cular fact in the constitution of the human mind. But
when vve consider the same laws logically, in their applica¬
tion to the products of thought, how is it possible for any
new truth to be determined by them ? As general laws,
they have no special relation to this object of thought rather
than that; and it is upon such special relations that the
593
Psycho-
ffigy-
3  3   - - ’ ^ J J ~
1 In expressing the quantity of the predicate in our propositions, we have adopted the rule laid down by Sir W Hamilton as th h •
of a new analytic of logical forms, viz., to state explicitly what is thought implicitly. The particular instances selected hn V®
express the rules of the ordinary logic, which tell us that the predicate is distributed always in negative nronositions y
mative ; i.e., that it is actually thought as universal in the one case and particular in the other. * ^ > d never in afhr-
2 In the Kantian logic, which adopts the ordinary classification of syllogisms, the categorical syllogisms are referred tn * ^ c
of the laws of identity and contradiction, which Kant treats as one law ; while hypothetical syllogisms are regarded as den d fTn™
principle of sufficient reason, and disjunctives on that of excluded middle. But Kant too hastily TcceldThe ordtLr Pl T ^
fication. If, as I believe to he the case, all hypothetical and disjunctive reasonings, so far as they^re reasonings at T d d
to the categorical form, it follows that all syllogisms will depend on the laws of identity and contradiction anSd tn T* fduCed
ner, on that of excluded middle. The principle of sufficient reason, in its logical form, is, properly speakin’tr not a W
only a statement that all thought must be governed by some law or other. I P J P &> °t a law of thought, but
3 Essay, b. iv., chap. viii. 4 Elements, part ii., chap. Hi.
VOL. XIV. ,
4 F
594
metaphysics.
Psycho- discovery of every new truth must fej^^he esseT-
logy. iprlo-e arises from the observation of ditte ences , tne essen
g7 led e a s 0f thought must be abstraction from all
differed” ' A nece^y law of all thinking, which shall
afthe same time ascertain the definite properties of a defi-
lic' nf things is a contradiction in terms; for it is
optional, and therefore contingent, whether we shall apply
our thoughts to that particular class of things or not. B
if all men have been thinking, some on this thing, some on
that but all under one code of laws, what marvel if, when
ter attention is called to those laws, they should recognise
Ihem as what they have all along virtually acknowledged.
Herein lies at once the explanation and the justification o
the so-called frivolity of principles of this kind. They can
determine only the general attributes common to all objects
of thought as such ; and, as every object of thought is such
from the moment we are able to think of it at all, these attu-
"u” constitute the very identical judgments wh.ch
logic has been so much decried for offering. To thia t
may be added, that Locke, who denies the existence ot
innate ideas, and maintains that man cannot by any Rower
of thought invent or frame a new simple idea s the very
last philosopher who should have condemned the laws of
thought as conveying no instruction. For it the principles
of pure thought are competent to add anything to the matter
. P , . ♦Er.urrVit mn in so far invent or
element suggesting the second far more strongly than the
second suggests the first. In the second place, to speak of
Ae“ sociated objects as ideas naturally tends to limit the
relation to modes of cognition, to the «c usl°" °f d““s_
and feelings.4 On this account it would be better to de
scribe the phenomena in question, in more general lan-
o-uao-e, as those of related modes of consciousness, a phrase
which is indifferently applicable to equal and unequal cor¬
relatives, and to all riii states of mind which are capable of
connection among themselves and with each other.
Z one sense, indeed, our whole consciousness may be
said to be dependent, not indeed on the w ic
term implies a previous separate existence of the object
associated but on the coexistence or relation of ideas or
assouaieu, u other. For consciousness
modes of consciousness to eacn ouiei. j
is only possible as an apprehension of differences, and tins
apprehension is only possible by the simultaneous cognition
of'Pthe objects distinguished from each other. I can per-
ceivef for example, a particular colour only by its contrast
to some other colour or to a surrounding darkness. I can
be conscious of a state of pleasure or pam only by its con¬
trast to some other mental state preceding it; and this con
Irast implies a juxtaposition of the two states at the mo¬
ment of the transition from one to the other. Lonsciou
ness is only realized under the condition o space or time,
“ _ ■   i.. rUonompd bv means of the
Psycho¬
logy.
thought as conveying no \ np=a is only realized unuer me
of pure thought are competent to add any thing to the matter Y can onl be discerned by means of the
already give^n, the act of thought can in so far invent or ^dat:P^etween objects contiguous in the one or succes-
frame a new idea; and this brings us back of necessity to .  -two o-pneral relations, as the condi-
trame a new ® ntbpr band. the re-
' [ve in the other. These general relations, as the condi¬
tions of all consciousness, have been already noticed in t e
preceding pages, and need not be again examined here
P Nor yf t is it Necessary to dwell on those special relations
which are necessary to the existence of any particular mo e
JcLSnS ays such, and do not merely regulate ds
subsequent reproduction. Our complex ideas, as they are
called^(and all ideas are in some degree complex), are i -
stances^ of this class of relations. My perception of a horse,
necessary conuiuons uimci ^ fn -xamnle is compounded of a certain colour, shape, an
another, as involved in it a priori, and in its own nature, ’ of 4,—all which are simultaneously pre-
irrespectively of the particular experience of individual arrang P and form the condlti0ns of my cognition
thinkers. These conditions may be reduced to the two sentea > ’ch> This> again, is not a case of sugges-
the "theory of innate ideas. If, on the other hand the re¬
flective faculty can only modify the materials alrea y given
to it, it follows that identical judgments are not mere verbal
frivolities, but fundamental laws of the human mm .
OP THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.3
The laws of thought, properly so called, indicate the
necessary conditions under which one thought sugges, s
another, as involved in it a priori, and in its own nature
, rvf Hip nartieular experience of individual
now to consider anotner conueeuuu,
thought accidentally suggests another, as associated with
in the past experience of this or that individual thinker
The conditions under which this suggestion most frequen y
takes place may be exhibited as the general conditions of
the phenomenon usually known as the association of ideas,
and the laws in which these conditions are expressed may
be called contingent or empirical laws of thought m its
accidental relations. The phrase association of ideas
seems to be now so completely established m P^^oph'ca
language, that it is hardly possible to put it aside in favour
of a more accurate expression ; but in retaining it, we must,
to avoid misapprehension, point out that it is in many re
spects defective. In the first place, the term associa ion
expresses only a very limited portion of the phenomena,
those, namely, in which the elements associated together
are consciously distinguished from each other, and equally
correlative; whereas in many of the most important pheno¬
mena of this class the combined elements are so completely
fused together that the constituent ingredients can with
difficulty, if at all, be detected in the compound; and in
others the relation is almost entirely on one side,—the first
Nor,°again, should we include under the head of associa¬
tion the logical consequence of one notion from anotl er,-
a consequence intrinsic and essential to the thoughts them¬
selves and not dependent on the experience of a particular
thinker These consequences are all reducible to the re
tions of identity and contradiction, and imply, not the sug¬
gestion of one notion by another, but the analysis of a
notion already given into the parts
tains, and which are virtually given along with t. Un e
this class will come those relations which Sir William
tnougni, _ imniicitlv contain a second; which
lension, point out that it is in many re- thought -in ^™^^n a second, wh ch
In the first place, the term association and separate expre ^ jjng exyplicates, but does not de-
t  Hio rthpnnmp.na.— second the process o s . E, _ „„„„ ...nv, all terms
and separate expression, unpu^j - —" , - d
second1 the process of thinking -P jeate , but doe^not^
term cause means cause of an ettec ’  
1 See Kant, Logik, Einleitung, vii. * Essay, b. i., chaps, n., ui-, [ • > " ’ ^.er reader is referred once for
3 For the history of the doctrine of mental association, on which our limits will no. a friumnhantly vindicated the claims
all to the admirable note of Sir William Hamilton, Reid's Works, p. 889. The illustrious wrl p-^ositor of the whole theory, and has
of Aristotle to be regarded as the earliest, and, even to this day, the most accurate an comp P
supplied some interesting facts in its later history from authors almost unknown to or inary ^ jfssertation (ante, vol. i., P- 381); and
* See the criticisms of Reid, Intellectual Powers, Essay iv., chap. iv.; of Sir James Mac , 6 p. 911.
of Sir William Hamilton, Reid's Works, p. 907.
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- Hamilton observes, it is improper to say of such terms that
logy- they are associated or mutually suggestive, since the thought
of both is already given in the thought of each.
These being discarded, there remain to be considered
those relations of thought which, in the language of Sir
W. Hamilton, are distinguished as indicating a psychologi¬
cal or subjective consecution,—a connection, that is to say,
established between two phenomena of consciousness, owing
to some accidental juxtaposition in the mind of the person
connecting them. Phenomena of this class belong entirely
to the reproductive or representative consciousness; for,
though the suggesting antecedent may be an intuition pre¬
sented from without, the suggested consequent, not being
given with it, is called up by the action of the mind itself;
and thus the connection between the two is an act of re¬
presentation or thought. The phenomena of association,
in this limited sense, may be comprehended under two
principal classes:—1. Those of direct remembrance or me-
mory, in which the occurrence of any mode of conscious¬
ness at a certain time suggests the fact of the same mode
having been experienced at a previous time. 2. Those of
indirect remembrance or reminiscence, in which the occur¬
rence of any mode of consciousness at a particular time
suggests the recollection of a different mode of conscious¬
ness, which at some previous time was experienced along
with it. Hence arise the two general laws, distinguished by
Sir W. Hamilton1 as those of repetition and redintegration ;
namely, Thoughts coidentical in modification, but differing
in time, tend to suggest each other : and, Thoughts once co-
identical in time, are, however different as mental modes,
again suggestive of each other, and that in the mutual order
which they originally held. The first of these laws must
be extended to include not merely total identity of the
mental modification, but also that partial identity which is
the basis of resemblance or analogy. Thus, for example, I
may see a man, and recognise him as the same person whom
I met a few days ago. Here there is a complete identity of
two mental modifications, differing only in point of time, as
earlier and later. But again, I may see, not the man him¬
self, but his portrait; and this may remind me of the ori¬
ginal. Here there is a partial identity of the mental modi¬
fications ; the man and the picture being in certain fea¬
tures the same, however different in other respects. Or
again, the metaphorical use of the term man, as applied to
the figures on a chess-board, or to the cairn on the top of
a mountain, may suggest the object from which the me¬
taphor was derived. Here, however little there may be of
visible resemblance between the objects, there is still one
point in which they are identical, namely, that both are de¬
noted by the same word.2 The second law is of still wider
application. Not only homogeneous modes of consciousness,
two cognitions, two feelings, two desires,—but hetero¬
geneous modes,—a cognition and a feeling, or a feeling and
a desire, which have at any past time been associated to¬
gether,—may on future occasions mutually suggest each
other. The sight of a place may recal to mind an event
which has taken place there, and the feeling of joy or sor¬
row which that event occasioned to ourselves.3 The sight
of the surgeon who has performed a painful operation upon
us may recal vividly an image of the agony which we suf¬
fered at his hands, and create a feeling of dislike at his
presence.4 The food which we have tasted during illness,
or the syrup in which a bitter medicine was administered,
may ever afterwards convey to the mind an impression, in
some cases almost amounting to an actual repetition, of the
suffering which we felt, or the bitterness which we tasted.5
But the above laws, being the most universal principles
of association in general, are not sufficient to account for
the special instances included under each. They explain
why certain associations of ideas may take place; but they
do not tell us why this particular association actually takes
place in preference to others of the same kind. Any two
modes of consciousness which have once been coexistent
in experience have a tendency to suggest one another; but
this does not explain why the tendency is realized in cer¬
tain instances and not in others. To account for these
special phenomena, we must have recourse to a third law,—
that of preference. Thoughts are suggested, not merely by
force of the general subjective relation subsisting between
themselves ; they are also suggested in proportion to the
relation of interest (from whatever source) in which these
stand to the individual mind.6 The grounds of this pre¬
dominant interest may be of various kinds. Sometimes
the frequent occurrence of certain experiences may impress
the association which they convey indelibly on the mind,
and serve to recal it on the slightest occasion. At other
times the intensity of the feeling connected with the occur¬
ence may atone for its comparative rarity, and an event
which has occurred but once in a lifetime may haunt the
memory incessantly during the remainder of our existence.
In some instances, in which the repetition is frequent and
the suggested consequent of greater practical importance
than the antecedent which suggested it, the latter disap¬
pears entirely from the consciousness, and the result of
association becomes transformed apparently into that of
immediate apprehension. A striking instance is furnished
by those phenomena of the senses which have been already
described under the name of Acquired Perceptions ; such as
the apprehension of the distance and unity of objects by the
eye, in which the immediate and proper objects of sight, the
rays in contact with the two retinae, have been dropped out
of consciousness, and the distant luminous body is to all ap¬
pearance directly visible. Something similar to this may be
observed in less familiar instances, in which we are conscious
of the existence of a train of suggested thoughts remotely
connected with each other, but overlook the intermediate and
595
Psycho-
logy-
eZIL The f°rmer 'aW mV P"h,pS h"e bee" hi“ted >* * »« distinct recognition1 and
ander the Great may suggest Alexande/the ”,HolT '"ri'
Sid’wartJas1^thenase^of ideas^in ^o^ry^6agg^ttl^bfe,Uifert^iont^‘ ^
This is beautifully described by Shelley in a passage from which we can only quote a smaU portion •-
“ You are not here the auaint witch Mcmcmr V
“ You are not here ! the quaint witch Memory°sees
In vacant chairs your absent images,
And points where once you sat, and now should be,
But are not.—I demand if ever we
Shall meet as then we met;—and she replies,
Veiling in awe her second-sighted eyes,—
‘ I know the past alone—but summon home
4 See the anecdote narrated by Locke, Essay, b. ii., chap, xxxiii sect 14
6 f60 w6 irnStTe meJltio,ned by Vives, quoted by Sir W. Hamilton. Heidis Works, p 893
0 Sir W. Hamilton, Eeid s Works, p. 913. 4
My sister Hope, she speaks of all to come.’
But I, an old diviner, who know well
Every false verse of that sweet oracle.
Turned to the sad enchantress once again,
And sought a respite from my gentle pain,
In acting every passage o’er and o’er
Of our communion.”
596
Psycho-
logy.
METAPHYSICS.
which gravitation is to matter.’ Condillac, a few years be¬
fore Hartley, had testified to the same effect, asserting that ^
all the operations of the mind are engendered fiom percep¬
tion alone, and that the investigation of this process was of
more value than all the rules of the logicians. Accordingly,
in Hartley’s theory, as well as in that of Condillac, not
only our desires and affections, and the phenomena of me¬
mory and imagination, but even the universal laws of thought,
and the necessary principles of mathematical reasoning,
and the immutable judgments of the moral faculty, and
the self-determinations of the will, are derived with equal
readiness from this prolific law acting on the material fur¬
nished by the senses. Association in psychology becomes,
like the adverb in grammar, entitled to the appellation of
the universal recipient, in which is swallowed up every
mode of consciousness, and every faculty of the mind.
That the foundation is not always able to bear the weight
of superstructure placed upon it, may be suspected at tne
outset from the amount of transformation which, in the
less important links. Such for example, is the often-quoted
instance mentioned by Hobbes. In a discourse o
present civil war, what could seem more impertinent than
to ask, as one did, what was the value of a Roman penny
Yet the coherence to me was manifest enough. For the
thought of the war introduced the thought of the delivering
un the king to his enemies ; the thought of that brought m
the thought of the delivering up of Christ; and that again
the thought of the thirty pence which was the price of
that treason.” It is probable, as Stewart has remarked
upon this passage,2 that had the speaker himself been intei-
rogated about the connection of his ideas, he would have
found himself at first at a loss for an answer.
The three above-mentioned laws, of repetition, redinte¬
gration, and preference, will, in many cases, act in combina¬
tion with each other; ideas, once associated by similarity,
being afterwards farther connected by the fact of that
juxtaposition, and acquiring a preferential claim by the
frequency oftl.e recurrence. Thus *e sight o the P-ture Materials
Psycho¬
logy.
as having been seen at a former time in connection with
it. Here the elements of similarity and diversity are com¬
bined together in the same association, as identical modi¬
fications of thought at diverse times, and again as diverse
modifications of thought at the same time/ lo the two
first laws may also be reduced the four heads of associa¬
tion enumerated by Aristotle; viz., Proximity m lime,
Similarity, Contrast, and Coadjacence.4
The phenomena of mental association, if in modern times
they have been too much neglected by some philosophers,
have unquestionably been exalted to an extravagant de¬
gree of importance by others. If Locke, on the one hand,
appeals to this principle chiefly to explain some extrava¬
gances and prejudices of individual minds, later writers
have, on the other hand, made far more than sufficient
amends, by attributing to the power of association results
which it is utterly incapable of producing or explaining.
According to Hartley and his follower Priestley, “ Not only
all our intellectual pleasures and pains, but all the pheno¬
mena of memory, imagination, volition, reasoning, and every
other mental affection and operation, are only different
modes or cases of the association of ideas; so that nothing
is requisite to make any man whatever he is, but a sentient
principle, with this single property.”" In a like spirit, Sir
James Mackintosh, in language in which some allowance
must perhaps be made for the rhetoric of a public lecture,
affirmed that the law of association was the basis of all true
psychology; and that Hartley, by his exposition of this
principle, stood in the same relation to Hobbes as Newton
to Kepler; the law of association being that to the mind
association only. Like “compound medicines,” to use
the simile of Hartley himself, “ the several tastes and
flavours of the separate ingredients are lost and overpowered
by the complex one of the whole mass; so that this has a
taste and flavour of its own, which appears to be simple
and original, and like that of a natural body. Ihus the
sensation of bodily pain becomes by association the emotion
of fear; the pleasure of sucking, and ocher sensible enjoy¬
ments bestowed by the same person, become the affection
of the child for its mother; and the restraint imposed upon
actions by prohibition and punishment is gradually meta¬
morphosed into the ideas of right, wrong, and obligation.
The advocates of this kind of mental chemistry appear to
have overlooked the fact that ideas have not, like chemica
substances, a distinct existence and properties of their own,
but exist and operate only as modes of the conscious
Consequently, the changes effected, even granting in all
cases the assumed affiliation of consequent on antecedent,
must be due to a transforming power or natural faculty of
the mind itself, not to a mere working of sensible impres¬
sions in combination with each other. But this admission
amounts to a confession that sensation is not the souice of
the derived ideas, but only furnishes the occasion on which
the mind exercises a power of its own, thereby flaming
additional ideas, or elements of ideas, which sensation does
not contain and cannot supply. To this it must be added,
that the power of associating ideas at all implies a con¬
sciousness of their difference from, and mutual i elation to,
each other; and that thus association presupposes thought,
instead of thought being the offspring of association. But
conscious that their coexistence in time was the circumstance uiau e nr,,i pAWt • so too with order.”
latter was recalled to me by the joint operation of likeness and contra.st. So i ls/7 . mine(j and compared with those of Hume
4 See Sir W. Hamilton’s note, lleid's Works, p. 899, where the classification of Aristotle is examined ana compare
and others.
6 See Priestley, HartZej/’s TAeorj/, Introductory Essays, p. xxiv. . . Tn his Preliminary Dissertation, ante,
6 Lecture delivered at Lincoln’s Inn ; quoted by Coleridge, Biographia Liter ana, chap. . J
vol. i., p. 378, Sir James’s judgment of Hartley is more discriminating. „ rr„„nQ,r>£. nhotMmtirms on Man.
7 Origine des Connoissances Humaines, section seconds. This work was published about three years e ore , ^ . ao reQ-ards associa-
The theory of the latter, however, seems to have been formed independently, and is far more comple e an e a
tion, than that of the former. Some remarks in comparison of the two will be found in Sir James Mackin os s > i »
8 << Adverbium Stoici wavSA'rjjv vocant; nam omnia in se capit, quasi collata per satyram concessa sibi rerum varia potestate.
risii Ars Grammatica, lib. ii., De Adverbio.
9 Hartley, Observations on Man, prop, xii., cor. 1. . , mpMianical
10 In the above remarks we have considered Hartley’s system only with reference to the doctrine of association, omitting e
hypothesis of vibrations, on which that doctrine is founded. A valuable criticism of the whole theory will be found in Co eri g
graphia Literaria chaps, vi. and vii.
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- the failure of Hartley’s theory is most conspicuous in
logy* reference to the phenomenon which wre have next to consi-
—der,—the existence3 namely, in consciousness of necessary
truths.
OF NECESSARY TRUTHS.
It is a fact of consciousness to which all experience bears
witness, and which it is the duty of the philosopher to ad¬
mit and account for, instead of disguising or mutilating it
to suit the demands of a system, that there are certain
truths which, when once acquired, no matter how, it is im¬
possible, by any effort of thought, to conceive as reversed
or reversible. Such, to take the simplest instances, are the
truths of arithmetic and geometry. By no possible effort
of thought can we conceive that twice two can make any
other number than four, or that two straight lines can in¬
close a space, or that the angles of a triangle can be greater
or less than two right angles; nor yet can we conceive it pos¬
sible that, by any future change in the constitution of things,
even by an exertion of Omnipotence, these facts can here¬
after become other than they are, or that they are otherwise
in any remote part of the universe. It is this characteristic
of a certain class of judgments, which the theory of associa¬
tion altogether fails to explain; for it does not appear in
those instances in which, according to that theory, we ought
to expect it. Probably no man, even of those acquainted
with geometry, reads Euclid every day; and many pass se¬
veral days together without thinking of mathematical rela¬
tions at all. Consequently, the conviction that day and
night must succeed one another once in every twenty-four
hours, ought, as far as it depends on association, to be more
fixed and certain than that the angles of a triangle are equal
to two right angles, or that seventeen and eight make
twenty-five. Whereas, in point of fact, while the two latter
propositions are conceived as possessing an eternal and
absolute necessity, which no exertion of power can change,1
the former is regarded as one out of many possible arrange¬
ments, which has no other necessity than the will of the
Creator, which might be changed at any moment by an ex¬
ertion of the same will that produced it, which does not
hold good in other parts of the universe, nor even in cer¬
tain regions of our own globe. Again, on the theory of as¬
sociation, our conviction of the truth of mathematical pro¬
positions should be more certain in proportion to the num¬
ber of instances in which we have seen them verified. That
two and two make four, or that two straight lines do not
inclose a space, should be admitted at first with doubt and
hesitation, and asserted with more confidence as our expe¬
rience ot its truth increases. Here, again, the fact is at
variance with the theory. A single enunciation of an axiom,
or a single demonstration of a theorem, in mathematics, is as
valid as a thousand; and the conviction once gained is gained
with an absolute certainty which no subsequent evidence
can increase.
The judgments which appear to possess this character of
absolute necessity in thought, which no theory of mere as¬
sociation can explain, may be classified under the following
four heads.—1. Logical judgments, in which the predicate
is identical with the whole or a part of the attributes com¬
prehended in the subject; as that every triangle must have
three angles, that the sums of equal things must themselves
be equal, or that all men must be animals. 2. Mathema¬
tical judgments, which express a necessary relation between
two distinct notions concerning quantity, continuous or dis-
597
Crete; as that two straight lines cannot inclose a space, Psycho-
that the angles of every triangle must be equal to two right logy,
angles, or that seven and five must make twelve. 3. Moral
judgments, which state the immutable obligation of certain
laws of conduct, whether actually observed in practice or
not; as that ingratitude or treachery must at all times and
in all persons be worthy of condemnation. 4. Metaphysical
judgments, expressing an apparently necessary relation be¬
tween the known and the unknown, between the sensible
phenomenon and the supersensible reality; as that every
attribute belongs to some substance, and that every change
is brought about by some cause. The necessity in all these
four classes of judgments is essentially different from that
manifestation of the laws of nature which is sometimes dis¬
tinguished by the name of physical necessity. The laws
of nature, if by nature is meant unconscious agents only,
express nothing more than an observed fact in its highest
generalization ; and of that fact we can only say that it is
so, and that it might have been otherwise. This is the case
even with those phenomena whose relations may be exhi¬
bited by mathematical formulae; for though the mathema¬
tical portion of the reasoning may have an a priori neces¬
sity, its application to the facts in question is empirical, and,
as far as thought is concerned, contingent. Thus, that a
body in motion, attracted by a force varying inversely as
the square of the distance, will describe a conic section, is
a matter of demonstration; but that the earth is such a
body, acted upon by forces of this description, is a matter
of fact, which might have been otherwise, had the Creator
been pleased so to appoint. Necessity is the result of law;
and law implies an agent whose working is regulated there¬
by.2 But it is a law only to that which works under it; to
an observer, who sees the results of the law without being
subject to its influence, it is no more than a fact of expe¬
rience. The laws of nature may be a sufficient reason why
certain phenomena must take place in a certain way; but
they furnish no reason at all why I must think so. As it
is optional with me to study the phenomena in question, it
is optional with me to become acquainted with their laws;
and I can become acquainted with them as facts only. To
know a law as such, I must know it as an obligation bind-
ing upon myself as a thinker; and this alone can give rise to
a necessity of thought. When I speak of the alternations
of day and night as consequent on a laic of nature, I mean
no more than that the alternations have invariably been
observed to take place; and when I resolve such alterna¬
tions into the laiv of the earth’s rotation, I mean only that
the earth does revolve on her axis once in twenty-four hours.
My belief in the continuance of the observed order of na¬
tural phenomena may perhaps be explained by some law of
my mental constitution ; but, as thus explained, it is a law
of mind and not of matter.
Of the four classes of judgments above distinguished as
necessary in thought, the first, or logical judgments, do not
icquire much explanation. Any notion, however, empirical
in its origin, must, when once acquired, be analysed in ac¬
cordance with the general laws of thought; and the result
will exhibit that formal necessity which implies no more
than the harmony of a thought with itself. Judgments of
this character, affirmative and negative, are only particular
instances of the two great laws of identity and contradiction
and have been already sufficiently explained in our previous
remarks on the operations and laws of thought. Thus the
axiom, that the sums of equal things are equal, may be ex¬
pressed, representing the first pair of equals by A, and the
1 Le Clerc (Logica, p. ii., cap. iii.) enters into a defence of the canons of logic against certain thpni™;,,™ v * , , . ,
Divine power could make two contradictory judgments simultaneously true But even thi« int •. . s "" h° maintaine(l that the
not amount to maintaining that ws can conceive Lh an exertion of powerand this is all with whi^^101^ ai?parent absurdity doe9
9 “ All things that are have some operation not violent or casual P That w^?ch doth assS untn ’ concerned,
moderate the force and power, that which doth appoint the form and measure, of working, the same r^erSaw!’’ P 12.)
598
Psycho¬
logy-
METAPHYSICS.
second by B, in the form of the identical judgment, A+ B
-A + B. The analysis of a complex notion into its con-
sTituent parts, as in the assertion that all men are animals,
or that every triangle has three .ls ?" J “ 'K“
plication of the identical judgment A is A , or, any pa
ticular specimen of a class has the general attributes of the
class to which it belongs. ., , . i • j
Mathematical judgments may be divided into two kinds,
—indemonstrable or axiomatic judgments, whose necessity
is self-evident; and demonstrable judgments, whose neces¬
sity depends on some previous assumption. The necessity
of the latter is derived from that of the former, so that the
indemonstrable judgments alone require a special examina¬
tion Under this class are comprehended the axioms ot
geometry, properly so called j1 viz., the original assumptions
concerning magnitudes in space as such, and the propor¬
tions belonging to the fundamental operations of arithme¬
tic—addition, and subtraction.2 The necessity of these
judgments results from the existence in the mind of the a
priori forms of intuition,—space and time. 1 he axioms of
geometry are self-evident statements concerning magnitudes
in space; such as that two straight lines cannot inclose a
space. Their self-evidence or necessity is to be explained by
the circumstance that the presented intuition, as well as the
representative thought, is derived from within, not from with¬
out For geometrical propositions are primarily necessary,
not as truths relating to objects without the mind, but as
thoughts relating to objects within; their necessity, as re¬
gards real objects, is only secondary and hypothetical, if
there exist anywhere in the world two perfect straight lines,
those lines cannot inclose a space; but if such hnes exist
nowhere but in my imagination, it is equally true that
cannot think of them as invested with the contrary attribute.
This necessity of thought is dependent on a corresponding
necessity of intuition. The object of which pure geometry
treats is not dependent on sensation, but sensation on it. it
is a condition under which alone sensible experience is pos¬
sible ; and therefore its characteristics must accompany all
our thoughts concerning any possible object of such expe¬
rience ; for, however much we may abstract from the attn-
butesof this or that particular phenomenon of experience, we
are clearly incompetent to deprive it of those conditions un¬
der which alone, from the constitution of our minds, experience
itself is possible. We can perceive only as we are permitted
by the laws of our perceptive faculties, as we can think only
in accordance with the laws of the understanding. If, then
by a law of my perceptive faculty, I am compe led to regard
are first made known to consciousness on the occasion of an rsjcW-
actual phenomenon of sense. Hence the twofold charac- logy,
ter of geometrical principles: empirical, as suggested in and
through an act of experience; necessary, as relating to the
conditions under which alone such experience is possible to
human faculties. A
Arithmetic is related to time as geometry to space, and
the necessity of its propositions may be explained upon
similar principles. The two sciences, however, present
some important features of distinction. Most of the pro¬
positions of geometry are deductive: it contains very few
axioms, properly so called, and its processes consist in the
demonstration of a multitude of dependent propositions
from the combination of these axioms with certain logical
principles of thought in general. On the other hand, the
fundamental operations of arithmetic,—addition and . -
traction,—present to us a vast number of independent judg¬
ments, every one of which is derived immediately from
intuition, and cannot, by any reasoning process, be deduced
from any of the preceding ones.3 Pure geometry cannot
advance a step without demonstration, and its processes are
therefore all reducible to the syllogistic form. Pure arith¬
metic contains no demonstration; and it is only when its
calculus is applied to the solution of particular problems
that reasoning takes place, and the laws of the syllogism
become applicable. It is not reasoning which tells us that
two and two make four; nor, when we have gamed this
proposition, can we in any way deduce from it that two a
four make six. We must have recourse, in each separate
case, to the senses or the imagination, and by counting up
an individual succession corresponding to each term, intui¬
tively perceive the resulting sum. The intuition thus serves
nearly the same purpose as the figure in a geometrical de¬
monstration ; with the exception that, in the latter case, the
construction is adopted to furnish premises to a proposed
conclusion; while in the former, it gives us a;udSment
which we have no immediate intention of applying to any
fU The intuition in the case of arithmetic is furnished by
the consciousness of successive states of our own min .
Setting aside all other characteristics of those states, save
that of their succession in time, we have the nnmediate
consciousness of owe, two, three, four, &c. A purely natural
arithmetic would consist in carrying on this senes, «dh no
other relation between its members but that of succession,
until the memory became unable to continue the proces .
The artificial methods by which calculation is facilitated
J.11C - . . . r - in which
by a law of my perceptive faculty, I am compe led to i egai e£xtended such as that of a scale of notation, in which
ah objects as existing in space, the attributes which are once rec;mmences after a certain number of members,
presented to me as the properties of a given p Vastlv increase the utility of the calculus, but do not affect
space, such as the pair of straight lines now present to y J , j • i basiSt To construct the science of anth-
sight or imagination, must necessarily be thought as exist- its psycholo^cal^s.
ing in all space and at all times. For to imagine a pm ion
of space in which such properties are not found, w7ou c no
be to imagine merely a different combination of sensible p e-
nomena, such as continually takes place without any change
in the laws of sensibility :—it would be to imagine myself as
perceiving under other conditions than those to which, by
a law of my being, I am subjected. But a condition, though
TAZ-vf i r*. iv-k z-vvm nl cf 1 f 11 f 1 t‘1'1 P TTl 1 H Cl •
metitfin all its essential featutes, it is only -cessar, that
we should be conscious of a succession in time, and shou
be able to give names to the several members of the series,
and since in every act of consciousness we arejubje^ to
the condition of succession, it is impossible m any- [ora
consciousness to represent to ourselves the facts of arithmet
a law of my being, I am subjected. But a condition, though as other than • : geometry and arithmetic
potentially existing in the original constitution of the mind, The necessi y { P relation to the universal forms of
is actually manifested only in conjunction with that of is thus derived from
which it is the condition. Space, therefore, and its laws intuition, space, and time. We can suppose t ^
1 Under this head are included the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth axioms, as they are called in ™0g^^ons" though not distinctly ex-
is Euclid’s own term), with several other geometrical assumptions employed m the subsequeif wical not geometrical principles,
pressed. The remaining axioms of the modern editions (the common notions of Euclid himse ) g j
and depend solely on the laws of thought. nnerations as multiplying and dividing, yet
* “ Though in some things, as in numbers, besides adding and subtracting, men name oth p ’ f thing as often as we
are they the same; for multiplication is hut adding together of things equal; and division but subtracting of one thing
addition, if all the results of th, ...ter .re supposed to be no
simpler to regard subtraction as an independent process of denumeration, as is done by Condillac, Langue des Calculs, cnap.
result of either can be derived from a preceding result of the same operation.
M E T A P
Psycho- of beings existing, whose consciousness has no relation to
lo£y* space or time at all. This is no more than to admit the
possible existence of intelligent beings otherwise consti¬
tuted than ourselves, and consequently incomprehensible
by us. But to suppose the existence of geometrical figures
or arithmetical numbers such as those with which we are
now acquainted, is to suppose the existence of space and
time as we are now conscious of them, and therefore rela¬
tively to beings whose mental constitution is so far similar
to our own. Such a supposition necessarily carries with it
all the mathematical relations in which space and time, as
given to us, are necessarily thought. For mathematical
judgments strictly relate only to objects of thought as
existing in my mind, not to distinct* realities existing in
relation to my mind. They therefore imply no other exist¬
ence than that of a thinking subject, modified in a certain
manner. Destroy this subject, or change its modification,
and we cannot say, as in other cases, that the object may
possibly exist still without the subject, or may exist in a
new relation to a new subject; for the object exists only in
and through that particular modification of the subject,
and, on any other supposition, is annihilated altogether.
Thus it is impossible to suppose that a triangle can, in re¬
lation to any intelligence whatever, have more or less than
two right angles, or that two and two should not be equal
to four; though it is quite possible to suppose the existence
of intelligent beings destitute of the idea of a triangle or
of the number two. This is necessary matter in the strict
sense of the term; a relation which our minds are incapable
of reversing, not merely positively, in our own acts of thought,
but also negatively, by supposing others who can do so.
A somewhat similar consideration will explain the neces¬
sity of moral judgments also. The fact of duty, whether
in conformity or not with an absolute standard of morality,
is in each case intuitively presented to me as an act in re¬
lation to a law of whose obligation on myself I am imme¬
diately conscious. It thus essentially differs from the phe¬
nomena of external nature, whose laws I do not intuitively
perceive, but only infer them from the observed recurrence
of certain facts. The moral sense, like the intuitions of
space and time, is thus an & priori condition of my mind,
not determined by experience as it is, but determining
beforehand what experience ought to be ; and, though ma¬
nifested in consciousness on the occasion of experience,
does not arise from experience as a fact, but is given by
nature as a law, which, like other natural gifts, grows with
our growth, and develops itself in a certain way, whatever
may be the experience to which it is subjected. Its nature,
like that of the tree, cannot be changed by the soil in which
it is planted, though its growth may be advanced or stunted
by this or other accidental circumstances.1 But the imme¬
diate consciousness of law carries with it a consciousness of
necessity and immutability in relation to the agent who is
subject to it. For to suppose the law reversed in relation
to myself, to suppose that it can ever become my duty to
do what it is now my duty to forbear, is to suppose my
whole mental constitution to be reversed, my personality
still icmaining unchanged;—a supposition which destroys
itself; since my present mental constitution is included in
the idea of my personality. Hence I cannot conceive
myself as subjected to a different law of moral obligation
from that of which I am conscious ; nor yet can I conceive
other beings so subjected; for I can only conceive their
obligations at all by regarding their mental constitution in
this respect as identical with my own. But I have no dif¬
ficulty in supposing the existence of creatures who have
no conception of duty at all (though even in this case I
II Y S I C S.
cannot distinctly conceive the nature of their consciousness);
just as I can suppose the existence of creatures who have
no conception of mathematical relations; and such a sup¬
position is indeed actually made with regard to the lower
animals. This explanation is sufficient to account for the
necessary character of morality, regarded as a subjective
obligation of the personal conscience. Its objective cha¬
racter, as indicating a standard above conscience, belongs
to another branch of metaphysical inquiry.
The principles of substance and causality likewise depend,
for their necessity as thoughts, on a previous necessity of
intuition ; but, in relation to both, it is requisite to distinguish
between the necessary thought itself and the accidental
associations by which it is accompanied. As regards ma¬
terial substances, for example, what do we mean when we
say that extension, figure, colour, hardness, &c., are the
attributes of something extended, figured, coloured, hard,
&c. ? Are we compelled to think that, besides the sensible
qualities, there exists a distinct imperceptible thing to which
those qualities belong; or can the language which apparently
conveys this meaning be explained in any other sense?
We are not now inquiring into the real existence of this
supposed substratum ; which is a question of ontology, not
of psychology: we are only asking, Do we, as a mental fact,
really suppose it to exist; and, if so, how can that suppo¬
sition be accounted for ? Are we, as a matter of fact, com¬
pelled to think that, besides the properties which we per¬
ceive by the senses, there exists also an insensible substra¬
tum, in which they inhere, to use the simile of Coleridge,2
like pins sticking in a pin-cushion and hiding it ? Con¬
sciousness surely tells us nothing of the kind; but what it
does tell us is sufficient to explain how its testimony has
been thus perverted. In the first place, it tells us that no
sensible quality can be perceived or conceived by itself;
but that each is necessarily accompanied by an intellectual
apprehension of its relations to space, as occupying it and
contained in it. Colour cannot be perceived without ex¬
tension ; nor extension without solidity; and solidity is not a
single attribute, but includes in its comprehension the three
spacial dimensions of length, breadth, and thickness. In
the second place, it tells us that all sensitive perception is
a relation between self and not-self; that all sensible objects
are apprehended as occupying space, and thus as distinct
from the apprehending mind, whether distinct or not from
the bodily organism. Every attribute is thus intuitively
perceived, and consequently is also reflectively conceived,
as accompanied by other attributes, and as constituting, in
conjunction with those attributes, a non-ego or sensible
thing: but of an insensible substratum consciousness tells
us, and can tell us, nothing; nor do we feel any necessity
of believing in its existence, when the question is distinctly
put before us, disentangled from its usual associations.
But does not the use of language, it may be asked, im¬
ply a real, though perhaps a confused consciousness of
something more than this ? Does not the name of each
attribute separately denote relation, not merely to other
attributes, but to a substance ? Does not extension imply
a thing extended, and colour a thing coloured, not merely a
coloured extension or an extended colour ? What, in short
is the difference denoted by the use of abstract and con¬
crete terms, except that qualities are universally appre¬
hended as really inhering in a subject, though logically dis¬
tinguishable from it ? An explanation of this may, we
think, be furnished, partly by a fact of the sensitive con-
sciousness, and partly by an association derived from an
other source. The fact is to be found in the distinction
w UCl11138 been pointed out in the preceding pages between
599
Psycho
iogy.
600 M E T A P
Psycho- sensation and perception. Any material phenomenon may
v *0gy- t be regarded in two points of view : First, by itself, as a par-
ticular affection of the nervous organism, distinguishable as
such from any other, and present to consciousness as a mode
of the sentient subject. Secondly, in conjunction with the
apprehension of space, as extended, consisting of parts out
of each other, and constituting one element of the complex
phenomenon which is conceived as an object. The former
point of view is indicated by the abstract, the latter by the
concrete term. In the former we contemplate the sensible
affection alone, as a state of the ego, without attending to
the necessary accompaniment of its relation to space. In
the latter we contemplate it in the opposite relation, as
forming one element of the material non-ego, or sensible
object existing in space. The association which has con¬
tributed to a different interpretation of these terms is fur¬
nished by the opposite class of intuitions, those, namely,
of internal perception or self-consciousness. Modes of
mind differ from modes of body, in being immediately given
in relation to a common subject. While colour, and figure,
and hardness, and other sensible qualities, are united toge¬
ther only by their coexistence in space, sensations, emo¬
tions, volitions, and other affections of mind are manifested
in consciousness as modes of existence of one and the same
indivisible self,—the subject of all, and yet identical with
none. The personal self is neither a mode of consciousness
nor the aggregate of many modes, but a substance, distinct
from all its affections, though discerned in consciousness
in conjunction with them. This one presented substance,
myself, is the basis of the other notions of substance which
are thought representatively in relation to other pheno¬
mena.1 When I look at another man, I do not imme¬
diately perceive his consciousness; but I can mediately
and reflectively transfer to another that of which I am di¬
rectly cognisant only in myself. Beyond the class of con¬
scious beings, I have only a negative idea of substantiality,
except in so far as it is synonymous with the occupation of
space.2 Some imperceptible bond of union between the
phenomena of matter may exist, or it may not; but if it
does exist, it exists in a manner of which I can form no
conception; and if it does not exist, my faculties do not
enable me to detect its absence. But the immediate
knowledge, which consciousness gives me, of my own pre¬
sented unity, is sufficient to explain the association which
has led to its representation in other objects.
The principle of causality, as well as that of substance,
has been disguised by associations which do not properly
belong to it. In the first place, we must separate the
special judgment from the general;—the assertion that this
particular event is dependent on this particular cause, from
the assertion that every event is dependent on some cause.
The belief in the uniformity of nature is not a necessary
truth, however constantly guaranteed by our actual expe¬
rience. We are not compelled to believe that, because A
is ascertained to be the cause of B at a particular time,
whatever may be meant by that relation, A must therefore
inevitably be the cause of B on all future occasions. This
H Y S I C S.
conviction may amount to a moral certainty; we may act Psycho-
upon it without hesitation in the affairs of life ; but it has logy*
no such necessity that we are unable to conceive the con-
tradictory.3 But to conceive it possible that B may at one
time be caused by A and at another by C, and that A may
at one time produce the effect B and at another D, the
other circumstances being in all the cases exactly alike, is
very different from conceiving it possible that B may exist
without being produced by any cause, and that A may exist
without producing any effect. In the second place, therefore,
we must ask what‘is the exact meaning of the assertion, that
every event must be produced by some cause. In one sense,
this judgment is unquestionably necessary. If cause be in¬
terpreted to mean no more than temporal antecedent, the
assertion that every event must have a cause implies only
that no event can be conceived as the beginning of all ex¬
istence, but that in every case we are compelled to think
that it has been preceded by some other. This is the ne¬
cessary consequence of the subjection of our intuitions to
the law of time. I can be conscious of an event only as
taking place in time, and I can be conscious of time only
in conjunction with a succession of events taking place in
it. It is therefore impossible to conceive an absolutely first
occurrence. The principle of causality is thus derived
from the intuition of time, as that of substance is from
space. To this necessary notion of some antecedent is
afterwards united by association the empirical notion of the
uniformity of nature; and the conception of cause thus
assumes the form in which Hume and Brown, from differ¬
ent points of view, both regard it; namely, that of the in¬
variable antecedent of a particular change. The law of
time compels us to believe that there must be some ante¬
cedent phenomenon or aggregate of phenomena; experience,
and the anticipations to which experience gives rise, tell us
that this antecedent is invariable ; and the complex judg¬
ment is apparently invested with the absolute necessity
which of right belongs to one of its ingredients only.
But the causal judgment, as usually understood, appears
to contain something more than the idea of antecedence.
The cause is supposed, not merely to precede the effect,
but to have poiver to produce it. Whether the notion of
invariable recurrence is included or not, it seems at least to
be regarded as certain that, upon any one occasion, the
effect is so far completely dependent upon the cause, that,
the latter being given, the former cannot but take place.
The explanation of this impression may, we think, be found
in another association, derived from the personal causality
manifested in volition. In the exercise of an act of will,
I am intuitively conscious of two things :—First, that I am
acted upon, though not necessitated by, motives : secondly,
that I act upon my own determinations as their producing
cause. In the first relation I am conscious of a choice
between two alternatives ; that is to say, that from certain
given antecedent motives, a particular consequent may or
may not follow, as I choose to determine. In the second
relation I am conscious of an exercise of power ;4 the final
determination being called into existence by an act of my
1 “Ex iis vero quae in ideis rerum corporalium clara et distincta sunt, quasdam ab idea mei ipsius videor mutuari potuisse; nempe
substantiam, durationem, numerum, et si quas alia sint ejusmodi.” (Descartes, Meditatio Tertia.) From this was probably borrowed
the similar remark of M. Royer-Collard (see Jouffroy’s translation of Reid, vol. iv., p. 350):—“Le moi est las eule unite qui nous soit
donnee immediatement par la nature ; nous ne la rencontrons dans aucune des choses que nos facultes observent. Mais 1’entendement,
qui la trouve en lui, la met hors de lui par induction, et d’un certain nombre de choses coexistantes il cree des unites artificielles.”
Una est cujusque substantiae praecipua proprietas, quae ipsius naturam essentiamque constituit, et ad quam alias omnes referuntur.
Ifempe extensxo in longum, latum et profundum substantiae corporeae naturam constituit; et cogitatio constituit naturam substantiae co-
gitantis. i am omne aliud quod corpori tribui potest, extensionem praesupponit, estque tantum modus quidam rei extensas; ut et omnia,
quae in mente lepenmus, sunt tantum diversi modi cogitandi.” (Descartes, Principia, i. 53.)
a.Into the controversies concerning the origin of this belief it is unnecessary to enter. Whether it be derived from association, or from
an intuitive law oi the mind, or from any other source,—whether it be conceived as absolutely certain, so long as the present constitution
of the world lasts or not,—is immaterial. At any rate, it is not conceived as a law which in no imaginable world, and by no possible exer¬
tion of power, could be otherwise than it is: and this is sufficient to exclude it from the class of necessary truths which we are now
considering.
4 Those philosophers who derive the idea of causation exclusively from the succession of phenomena, are bound in consistency to re-
M E T A P
Psycho- own will. ^ To this intuition maybe traced the origin of
logyv the idea of power and of causation, in a sense distinct from
v that of mere temporal antecedence. The power of which I
am presentatively conscious in myself, I transfer representa¬
tively to other agents whom I suppose to be similarly con¬
stituted to myself; and thus I regard other men as being,
like myself, the efficient causes of their own determinations,
and, through their determinations, of their actions. But
beyond the range of conscious beings, this representation
of cause, like the corresponding one of substance, is inad¬
missible. The connection between the antecedent motive
and the consequent determination is regarded as contingent,
so long as a voluntary exercise of power is interposed be¬
tween the two. But where consciousness, and consequently
volition, is excluded, I can no longer regard the relation
between the antecedent and consequent phenomenon as con¬
tingent. Contingence in a single succession1 is only con¬
ceivable under the form of choice, by the interposition of
the ego, the only given substance, between two successive
phenomena. When this is excluded, the phenomena be¬
come co-adjacent; there is no choice, and consequently no
conceivable contingence in the succession. The apparent
necessity of the causal relation in every single instance is
thus explicable as a negative idea. It is not so much a
positive conception of necessity, as an inability to conceive
the opposite. But this inability does not depend on a law of
thought. It is not an essential, but an accidental incon¬
ceivability, dependent, according to the classification made
in a previous page,3 on a defect in the matter of intuition.
The contingency is in this case inconceivable, because con¬
tingency can only be conceived at all in the form in which
alone it is presented to intuition, namely, as a conscious
choice between two alternatives.3 If this explanation of the
apparent necessity of the causal judgment be admissible, it
will lead to some important consequences as regards the
question of free will and determinism. But this contro¬
versy belongs rather to ontology than to psychology.
The above inquiry into the nature and origin of neces¬
sary truths will enable us to throw some light on the con¬
troverted question concerning the existence of innate ideas,
a question which should be discussed, not where Locke
II Y 8 I C S. 601
placed it, at the beginning of mental philosophy, but at the Psycho¬
end ; for its answer depends on an examination of the ac- losy-
tual features of the phenomena of consciousness, and thus
presupposes the facts of psychology, instead of being pre¬
supposed by them. Setting aside, as irrelevant, those argu¬
ments which are little better than quibbles on the word
innate, such as Locke’s appeal to the consciousness of new¬
born children, the real point to be determined is this :—Are
there any modes of human consciousness which are derived,
not from the accidental experience of the individual man,
but from the essential constitution of the human mind in
general, and which thus naturally and necessarily grow up
in all men, whatever may be the varieties of their several
experiences ?4 The previous analysis of consciousness will
furnish an answer to this question. Every phenomenon of
consciousness consists of two elements,—a matter, derived
from experience; and a form, dependent on the original
constitution of the mind. But the matter and the form are
given in conjunction, and require an effort of analysis, aided
by language, to separate them. This analysis may or may
not be performed by this or that man, according to the cir¬
cumstances in which he is placed. The forms of con¬
sciousness in general, and of its several modes,—person¬
ality, space, time, unity, plurality, totality,—may or may not
be represented by the mind in their abstract character, as
ideas or notions embodied in language ; and the necessary
truths based upon them may or may not be consciously
discerned in the same character. A savage may never have
contemplated the notions, one, two, three, four, &c., in the
abstract: he may not know as an universal truth that two
and two make four. But he knows the difference between
a man and a tree, and he knows the difference between
one man and many; and this knowledge contains the same
ideas in the concrete. He embraces various sensible phe¬
nomena under the single notion of a man, though he has
never asked himself the abstract question, How can the one
be many, and the many one ? Locke is, therefore, in one
sense, right in denying the existence of innate ideas; for
no idea can be formed independently of experience, and
no idea need consciously be separated from the empirical
accompaniments with which it is first manifested in con-
gard the idea of power, as distinct from that of succession, as a pure delusion. And this is directly asserted by Hume, Inquiry concernina
Human Understanding, sect 7; Human Nature, part iii., sect. 14; by Brown, Inquiry into Cause and Effect*?. 18; an/by James Milf
”4' .'l', P-.256' ‘U. theory doe. not inform „s how, eonsi.tfntly with the 1.7. ofTe taL-
gination, such a delusion could have originated. > j °
fnrJlYS/etCfS-ary t0 SpeC.ify *” sinfe swccession i as, in another sense, those phenomena may be called contingent, which do not uni-
secment at 111 Bu/Tn thr\^ antecedent- in this case the anteceden/is not regarded as the cause of the con¬
it Is denendeiit fnd wEiS W °f. aDy !!ngle occurrence> we are compelled to conceive that there is some antecedent or other on which
tion w?th tw dtl h hemgg^en, the occurrence could not but take place, unless it is the result of an act of free will. This convic¬
tion, with the exception, is the phenomenon to be explained. J JJ -imsconvic-
s See ante, p.
In this reduction of the apparent necessity of the causal judgment to an impotence caused by the absence of the data for thmin-bt i
^ ^ °bllgatl0nS t0 ‘he corresponding portion of the theory of Sir W. Hamilton! Discussions??. 609. This actnowlei
ment is the “ore necessary inasmuch as, except in so far as regards the condition of relativity in time, I am compelled to dissent frnl"
the views of that eminent philosopher. His statement of the clusal judgment, as an inability to think tkat the comp emelt of t JJ.Z
has been either increased or diminished, is open to various objections. In the first place, I am not conscious of afyTuch inabU t T
have no difficulty in conceiving that the amount of existence in the universe may at one time be represented by A and at another b
A + B. It is true that I cannot conceive nothing becoming something; for I cannot conceive nothing per se; bit neither on the of/7
hand, can I conceive A, or any part of A becoming B, while A remains at the same time undiminfihed. But the WMs nerfloU
conceivable, though the process is not so, and cannot on any hypothesis become so. In the second place, whetherwer/prlelt
appearance as a change or as a creation, we are equally compelled to suppose a cause of its taking place To sav that BT/ • ,
isted under the form of A is not to explain the causal judgment; for we have still to ask wIi/a became B ^thethtr/Il
theory fails to account for the origin of the idea of power, which, whether rightly or wrongly, all men instincfi vcl v f ’ the
posed cause. To represent it as a delusion is not sufficient; unless it can be shown how,^Insistently with the l^its of fto^6 ^
a delusion could have originated. I regret, however, that Mr Calderwood, with some of whose criticisms I mm.,i i u SUCh
the above theory with pantheism. If ever there was a philosopher whose writings from first to last are 1 ’ Sbould.have charged
form of pantheism, it is Sir William Hamilton. Pantheistic his theory certainly is not; for it represents ^ eVery
the result of a mere impotence of thought, exalting its own inability to think into the measure of 111 noJfihS P "th lc hyPothesis as
^ “ Innate,” says Lord Shaftesbury, “ is a word he (Locke) poorly plays upon: the r“/ht word tloH l exl®te“Ce-
what has birth, or progress of the foetus out of the womb, to do in this case.1 The questfon is not abS/ 1B,e°nnatural- For
whether the constitution of man be such, that, being adult or grown up at such o/such a b 1 th tbe ldeas entered, but
ideas of order, administration, and a God, will not Fnfallibly, i^vilabT/ neclssadly g^ S, ^ ^ matt,er when)> the
is not decisive; for Locke cites the adult savage to show that these ideas do not nelefsarilvLow un’ rrw 1 ter part the criticism
ence itself is partly innate. y grow up. The true answer is, that experi-
VOL. XIV.
4 G
602
METAPHYSICS.
Psycho- sciousness. But, precisely in the same sense, we may deny
logy. the existence of ideas of sensation j for sense alone could
distinguish no two ideas from each other, without the co¬
operation of the understanding, which invests the materials
furnished by sensation with certain universal and necessary
forms. Instead of attempting to classify the actual pheno¬
mena of consciousness under one or the other head,—instead
of saying that certain ideas are wholly empirical, and cer¬
tain others wholly innate,—we should rather say that every
phenomenon of consciousness contains an adventitious and
a native element; and that, without the union of these two,
no consciousness is possible. The criterion of universality
and necessity marks the native or a priori element; but this
criterion cannot be applied to the complex phenomena of
any complete act of consciousness, but only to the element,
when separated by an act of analysis, and embodied in that
symbolical form which is not consciousness itself, but a sub¬
stitute for it.
Cognate to this is another question of far greater impor¬
tance :—What are the limits of thought ? Is the mind ca¬
pable of transcending the boundaries of all possible expe¬
rience : and is such a power manifested by its possession of
necessary truths ? for necessity is not the result of expe¬
rience. Experience tells us what is, but not what must
be. Here, again, we must distinguish between the complete
facts of consciousness and the several elements which are
logically distinguishable from each other. If by expterience
is meant all that is presented in any mode of intuition,
matter and form included; and if the question is under¬
stood to mean, Can we contemplate in thought any object
which has never been presented as an element in any mode
of intuition ? the answer must undoubtedly be given in
the negative. But experience in this sense contains a
necessary as well as a contingent—a formal as well as a
material element. Either of these may be contemplated
in thought, apart from the other ; and either may be con¬
templated in relations in which experience has never pre¬
sented it. We have never seen a straight line, except
as part of a surface ; nor a surface, except as composed of
some material, such as wood, or slate, or paper. But when
thought, assisted by language, has enabled us to distinguish
these concomitant phenomena from each other, we may re¬
produce in imagination the straight line as a modification of
pure space, and contemplate its necessary relations in that
character. Thought is so far dependent on experience,
that where experience is impossible, thought is impossible
likewise : it is so far independent of experience, that it can
contemplate apart from each other the native form and the
adventitious matter, which experience always presents in
conjunction.
“ The dominion of man,” says Locke, “ in this little world
of his own understanding, is much-what the same as it is in
the great world of visible things ; wherein his power, how¬
ever managed by art and skill, reaches no farther than to
compound and divide the materials that are made to his
hand ; but can do nothing towards the making the least par¬
ticle of new matter, or destroying one atom of what is
already in being. The same inability will every one find
in himself, who shall go about to fashion in his understand-
mg any simple idea, not received in by his senses from ex¬
ternal objects, or by reflection from the operations of his
own mind about them.” i The preceding remarks will show
wit what modifications this statement should be received.
It is tiue, in so far as it asserts that nothing can be repre¬
sented in thought which has not, separately or in conjunc¬
tion wit a other phenomena, been presented in intuition ; but
it is incorrect, in so far as it overlooks the fact that intuition
has a necessary element, derived from the constitution of
Psycho¬
logy-
ceivable, is a term which expresses only the negation of
human thought:—nay, the two terms are in fact synonymous,
for conception is limitation. But the limits of possible
thought are not the limits of possible existence. The in¬
finite may, nay, must exist, though we cannot conceive it
as existing; for the denial of its existence involves a contra¬
diction, as well as the assertion of its conceivability. Hence
we learn the important lesson, that the provinces of reason
and faith are not coextensive ; that it is a duty, enjoined by
reason itself, to believe in that which we cannot comprehend.
From the above examination of necessary truths, it may
be shown that no matter of fact can be a matter of demon¬
stration in the highest sense of the term. For it is essen¬
tial to demonstration that its object should be such as we
can construct from within, out of the forms inherent in our
own mental constitution ; and it is essential to the existence
of a fact, as such, that it should be presented to us from
without. A fact, as such, must exist independently of my
thinking about it: an object of demonstration, as such,
exists only in and by the act of conceiving it. This con¬
sideration is sufficient to explain the failure of all attempts
to demonstrate, & priori, the being and attributes of God,—
a failure which should rather be a matter of rejoicing than
of regret to the believer. If we can demonstrate the attri¬
butes of those objects only which we have constructed for
ourselves, it follows that a demonstrated God is a creature of
the human imagination. Such a demonstration is not, indeed,
incompatible with the real existence of the Deity ; as the
demonstrations of geometry are not incompatible with the
existence in nature of perfect geometrical bodies ; but it adds
not one tittle to the evidence of his existence; and it encum¬
bers theology with arguments too pretentious not to provoke
criticism, and too feeble to endure it. “ Mischief,” says
Waterland, “ is often done by pretending to strict and
rigorous demonstrations, where we have no occasion
for them, and where the subject is too sublime to go
far in, with clear and distinct ideas. Such attempts serve
only to make that become a matter of question, which
before was unquestionable, while standing only on reason¬
able presumption or moral proof.”3 The triumph over
a weak defence of a truth is too often regarded as a triumph
over the truth itself; and we may therefore rejoice that
theology, in the hands of its best exponents, has wisely ab¬
stained from resting its claims to belief on the evidence of
rigid demonstration.
Lastly, we may observe that the distinction which vari-
the mind, as well as a contingent element, derived from the
phenomena of sensation and reflection.
But whether we regard the objects of consciousness
as presented in intuition, or as represented in thought;
whether we look to the necessary or to the contingent
elements of which they are composed; there is one limita¬
tion which the very conception of consciousness, as a re¬
lation between a subject and an object, necessarily implies,
and to which in all its modes it must inevitably submit.
Nothing can be presented in intuition, or represented in
thought, except as finite. So long as the relation be¬
tween subject and object exists in consciousness, so long
each must limit the other. The subject is distinct from
the object, and the object from the subject, and neither can
be the universe. Nay, the object itself can only exist, as
such, under the conditions of limitation and difference :
it can be discerned only as one out of many; as implying
the existence of other things besides itself; and hence,
again, as a finite portion of the universe. The infinite can¬
not be an object of human consciousness at all; and it ap¬
pears to be so only by mistaking the negation of conscious¬
ness for consciousness itself.l 2 The infinite, like the incon-
l Essay, E ii., chap, ii., sect. 2. a gee on p0;nt the admirable remarks of Sir W. Hamilton, Discussions, p. 12.
Dissertation on the Argument a priori/or proving the Existence of a First Cause. ( Works, vol. iii., p. 371.)
METAPHYSICS. 603
Ontology, ous schools of philosophy, under various names, have
attempted to establish, between the understanding and the
reason, a separate faculties of thought, is, on the above
principles, unnecessary, and therefore untenable. Whether,
with the ancients, we distinguish between vovs and Stavota,
the intuitive and the discursive thought, the faculty of
principles and the faculty of deduction from principles; or,
with the moderns, especially in Germany, between under¬
standing, as the faculty of generalization from the intuitions
of consciousness, and reason, as the faculty which endea¬
vours, intuitively or discursively, to apprehend the supreme
conditions on which consciousness itself depends ; we alike
divide that which is one and indivisible, and attribute to
the faculty of thought an operation which it never per¬
forms. The function of thought is in all cases the same,
namely, to represent reflectively what is presented intui¬
tively ; and the existence of necessary as well as contingent
principles in thought, is to be explained, not by a double
operation of the thinking faculty, but by the existence of a
corresponding distinction between necessary and contingent
facts in intuition. The hypothesis of a faculty of reason
distinct from understanding may indeed be necessary, as an
assumption, to support the systems of those philosophers
who aim at constructing a philosophy of the absolute and
the infinite; for intuition, and therefore thought, as de¬
scribed in the preceding pages, takes cognisance only of
the relative and the finite. But this assumption, consis¬
tently carried out, involves the annihilation of consciousness
itself. But the mention of the absolute and the infinite
reminds us that we are entering on the domain of the
second portion of Metaphysics,—Ontology, or the Philoso¬
phy of Being.
II. ONTOLOGY; OR, THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE
REALITIES OF CONSCIOUSNESS.
The term Ontology, or the Philosophy of Being, has be¬
come, in the estimation of no inconsiderable class of critics,
a mere synonym for barren and useless logomachy. And
it must be confessed, that the manner in which this field of
inquiry has been frequently cultivated has gone far to ex¬
plain, if not to justify, the contempt into which it has fallen.
The philosophy which attempts to deduce a science of
realities from the most abstract and general conception of
existence must, from the necessity of the case, deal with
words, and not with things. It has been already observed,
in the preceding pages, that the human mind possesses no
positive notion answering to the term existence or being in
general; and it follows that there can be no law of the
human reason which can indicate any necessary results in¬
volved in such a notion, and no fact of human experience
which can give rise to a corresponding intuition. Every
existence which we can perceive, is definite and particular,
limited and related; and every existence of which we can
think, is definite and particular, limited and related likewise.
It must therefore needs be that a science which starts
from the assumption of being in the abstract (which is not
a conception, but an equivocal term, capable of relation to
many distinct conceptions), and attempts, by pure deduction
and division, to reason down to the concrete existences
which alone are objects of positive thought, must end by
delivering, not differences of things, but distinctions of
words. And this must be admitted to be the case with Ontology,
the speculations of ontology in much of their ancient and
mediseval, and in some stages also of their modern, deve¬
lopment. The science was divorced from psychology; and
was therefore destitute of facts, and compelled to supply
their place by the signs of facts. Reversing the law of all
reasoning, that of proceeding from the known to the un¬
known, it endeavoured to arrive at the truths which are
immediately known in consciousness, by commencing with
the unknown and unknowable beyond it. But, profitless as
such attempts ever have been, and ever must be, there were
not wanting circumstances in the history of philosophy, cal¬
culated to invest them with an apparent importance, and
to engage acute and subtle intellects in the hopeless inves¬
tigation. The science of mathematics was almost com¬
pleted, in the essential features of its pure and abstract
character, as the science of the relations of number and
magnitude, at a time when its most important applications
to the explanation of the phenomena of the material world
were but dimly conceived, and not at all executed. With
the triumphs of this science—the earliest, the clearest, the
most rigorous in its reasonings, the most unassailable in its
conclusions—before their eyes, the patriarchs of philosophy
might be justified in believing that, in the law of intellec¬
tual progress, the abstract and rational must precede the
concrete and empirical,—that the necessary relations of
things in general must be determined prior to the investi¬
gation of the actual attributes of things in particular. But
though the relation of mathematical to physical science pre¬
sents, in some respects, an analogy to that between the
rational and empirical philosophy of mind, the analogy un¬
fortunately fails in the very feature that is most essential
to scientific progress.
OF DOGMATIC OR DEMONSTRATIVE METAPHYSICS.
The demonstrations of geometry are due to the posses¬
sion by that science of concrete as well as abstract axioms;
of d priori intuitions of objects, as well as analyses of no¬
tions. Had the geometer been confined to such general
and abstract principles as, that the whole is greater than its
part, or that the sums of equal things are equal,—principles
which indicate merely the logical analysis of thoughts, not
the geometrical intuition of magnitudes ;—had he been de¬
barred, as some theorists have wished to debar him, from
the use of the axiom of parallel lines, and the assumption
that two straight lines cannot inclose a space, and other
similar principles, many of which are implied, though not
expressed, in all geometrical reasonings,1—his science would
have remained to the end of time a science of words only.
Yet it is upon the model of the merely logical principles
that the majority of deductive metaphysicians have framed
their fundamental assumptions.2 Definitions of being in
various senses of the term, and of the attributes coextensive
with being; divisions and subdivisions, with explanations
of each, and analyses of the contents of the several notions;
have constituted, for the most part, the entire apparatus of
ontological reasoning,—a reasoning which, being based
entirely upon the logical conditions of thought, can attain
to no other truth than that which is implied in the formal
harmony of one thought with another, and the consequent
consistent use of the language in which thoughts are
expressed. And, accordingly, ontology, thus treated, ob-
. ^ 1S reference to these axioms that Kant proposes, as preliminary to all metanhvsics the mipoiinn « it ii, a- i
judgments a ■priori possible ?” For the general axioms are merely analytical [udgments in which the nrerw’ ^ • are synthetical
than is already implied in the conception of the subject. The special ax oms arHhe only onestn whi?^ £ wS •m°re
serted of the subject; and, consequently, the only oL that can £ considered as ^ 18 aS'
Etemm Euchdes demonstrationes suas in pnncipia ontologica resolvit, qum instar axiomatum absque probatione sumit • veluti
quod totum sit majus qua ibe sua parte, quod mqualia eidem terdo sint mqualia inter se.” (Wolf, Out aloha secf 9 In th” samlna
sage, these axioms are called “ pnncipia qua; mathesis pura ex ontologia mutuatur.” ^ vnmogia, sect. 9.j In the same pas
METAPHYSICS.
604
Ontology, tained the name, more suited to its performances than to
its pretensions, of a lexicon of philosophical terms} It is
manifest, however, that such a method involves, however
little its professors may be aware of the fact, a virtual
abandonment of the problem which ontology undertakes to
solve. That problem, as has been before observed, is to
determine the relation which exists between the necessities
of thought and the constitution of things. But a science
which starts with a definition of being in general, commences
with one member only of this relation, the notion of being
as conceived by us. To verify this conception, by showing
that being as it is corresponds to being as we conceive and
define it, it is necessary that the conception should be com¬
pared with something distinct from itself; and the data for
this comparison cannot be supplied by a merely logical
development of one notion from another.
In point of fact, the speculations of demonstrative onto¬
logy accomplished far less than this. The analysis of a
thought may be complete as a logical process, whether
answering to reality or not, provided that its fundamental
assumption represents at starting a positive and intelligible
conception. But the fundamental assumption of ontology,
that of ens, or being in general, represents nothing of the
kind. What is being in general, apart from the special
modes of being which are manifested in consciousness?
When, in the crucible of abstraction, self and not-self, the
factors of consciousness, and every special modification of
either, have evaporated, what remains as the residuum ?
Absolute zero; a mere word with no thought answering to
it; a being which is neither my being nor that of anything
else, and which is therefore removed from all the conditions
under which being is, or can be, made known to us. I
have no conception of being in general which is not some
being in particular; and to assume that the various modes
of being which consciousness reveals to us are but subordi¬
nate species of one and the same genus, is to assume a fact
which consciousness does not testify, and which, if it can be
proved at all, must be the conclusion, and not the premise,
of the science that deals with it. Deductive ontology, by
assuming being as its starting-point, necessarily abandons
thought to juggle with words.1 2
OF THE SUBDIVISIONS OF DOGMATIC METAPHYSICS.
A metaphysic of being in general, even if successful in
its aim, can only be regarded as a preparation for a more
special philosophy. Even if it could solve its own problem,
it would answer none of the important questions which con- Ontology,
nect metaphysical inquiries with the interests and destinies
of man ; it would satisfy none of the yearnings which com¬
pel men to undertake the study of them. The ideas of
God, of freedom, and of immortality, are too special to be
elicited by the processes of general ontology, except in the
form of pantheism, which disposes of them by annihilating
them altogether. The idea of God becomes merged in
that of the sum total of existence; that of freedom is de¬
stroyed by representing this quasi-deity as the sole real
agent; that of immortality is exchanged for an absorption
of the phenomenal self into the real universe. To preserve
the heirlooms of human reason intact, it was necessary for
philosophy to descend from the region of pure abstraction
into one in which the conception of being could assume a
more definite form. And here, at least, the investigations
of the metaphysician had the advantage of starting from
the testimony of consciousness. Every act of consciousness
is given to us as a relation between self and not-self. '1 hese
two elements, as mutually related, are necessarily viewed as
modifying and limiting each other. But the consciousness
of the relative and the limited suggests, by inevitable asso¬
ciation, the notion of the absolute and the unlimited as its
contrast. Hence arise the three fundamental ideas which
underlie the whole fabric of ontological speculation,—con¬
ditioned existence, manifested in the two relative and finite
forms of the ego and the non-ego; and unconditioned ex¬
istence, implied in the suggestion of the absolute and the
infinite. The investigation of these ideas has given rise
to three branches of metaphysical philosophy,—rational
psychology, rational cosmology, and rational theology :—the
ego being identified with the human soul, regarded as a
substance distinct from its phenomenal modifications ;3 the
non-ego with the reality which manifests itself in the sen¬
sible world ; and the absolute or unconditioned with the
Deity.4 But, in the prosecution of these inquiries, meta¬
physicians committed the same error which has been al¬
ready noticed as vitiating the theories of being in general.
They deserted the facts of consciousness, to take refuge in
abstractions, of which we are not, and cannot be, conscious.
Let it be granted that every phenomenon implies a corre¬
sponding reality ; that the phenomena of the ego indicate
the existence of the human soul; and the phenomena of the
non-ego, that of a substantial universe; and the relation
between the two, that of a being who is beyond relation ;—
still, in no fact of consciousness is the reality given apart
from the phenomena which are related to it. The notions
1 Wolf, Ontologia, sect. 25.
2 The following summaries, extracted from the works of two eminent metaphysicians of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, may
enable the reader to form some notion of the treatment of ontology, in systems prior to the criticism of Kant. The contents of Bur-
gersdyk’s Institutiones Metaphysics are enumerated as follows “ De natura metaphysics—De commum entis notione—De eo quod est
medium inter ens et nihil in genere—De privatione et denominatione externa—De ente rationis—De relatione—De modis entmm—De
principiis incomplexis sive essentia et existentia—De principiis metaphysics complexis—De entis aifectionibus in genere—De unitate
et multitudine in genere—De unitate numerica et formali, de que principio individuationis—De unitate universal! De speciebus et gra-
dibus unitatis—De diversitate sive distinctione et convenientia—De oppositione—De ordine De veritate et falsitate De adjunctis
veritatis—De bono et malo—De localitate, temporalitate et duratione—De toto et parte—De causa et causato in genere De causa ma¬
terial!— De causa formali—De causa efficiente—De fine—De subjecto et adjuncto—De eo quod est necessarium, impossible, contingens et
possibile—De potentia et actu—De perfecto et imperfecto, sive perfectibili et perfectione.” The contents of W olf s Ontologia are of a
similar character:—De notione entis in genere ET PROPRIETATIBUS QUiE INDE CONSEQUUNTUR—De principiis philosophies prims
—De principio contradictionis—De principio rationis sufficientis—De essentia et existentia entis, agnatisque nonnullis notionibus De. pos-
sibili et impossibili—De determinato et indeterminate—De notione entis—De generalibus entis affectionibus—De identitate et similitu-
dine—De ente singular! et universali—De necessario et contingente—De qualitate et agnatis notionibus De ordine, veritate, et per¬
fectione—De speciebus entium et eorum ad se invicem respectu—De ente composite—De essentia entis compositi De extensione,
continuitate, spatio et tempore—De qualitatibus et magnitudine entis compositi—De motu—De ente simplici—De differentia entis sim-
plicis et compositi—De modificatione rerum praesertim simplicium—-De finito et infinite—De respectu entium ad se invicem De depen-
dentia rerum earumque relatione—De causis—De signo.
3 The character of rational psychology, as distinguished from empirical, is thus stated by Wolf,—“ Definio psychologiam empiricam
quod sit scientia stabiliendi principia per experientiam, unde ratio redditur eorum quae in anima humana fiunt .... In psychologia
rational! ex unico animae humanae conceptu derivamus a priori omnia quae eidem competere a posteriori observantur et ex quibusdam
observatis deducuntur.” (Philosophia Rationalis, Disc. Proelim., sect. Ill, 112.) Compare Herbart, Allgemeine Metaphysik, sect. 29.
4 These three objects of metaphysical inquiry,—God, the world, the soul,—answer to Kant’s three ideas of pure reason ; but he arrives
at them in a different way; namely, by regarding them as all alike intimations of the unconditioned, suggested by the three kinds of
logical syllogism, a derivation fanciful and extravagant, and which nothing but the profound genius of its author could have rescued
from utter absurdity.
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, of an abstract self, modified in no particular manner ; of an
abstract world, isolated from the special phenomena of
sense ; and of an abstract Deity, apart from those finite at¬
tributes by which he is manifested in relation to the finite
consciousness of mankind, can be given in no phase of con¬
sciousness ; for if they were, the relation and succession
wdiich constitute consciousness would be annihilated.
Whether these three metaphysical ideas all stand on the
same footing w ithin the domain of consciousness itself, is a
question which we shall have to ask hereafter ; but, assum¬
ing for the moment that they do, and assuming that in each
there is a legitimate passage from the phenomena presented
in consciousness to the ultimate realities beyond, it is
clearly begging the whole question, and anticipating the
inquiry w'hich philosophy has not yet commenced, to start
with the abstract notions of such realities, as if the problem
had been already solved, and the passage found. Hence,
like ontology in general, the three branches of ontology, if
deductively treated, will deal with words and not with
things. Unable to verify their fundamental assumptions
by an appeal to the facts of consciousness,—unable even to
determine whether those assumptions represent thought or
the negation of thought, — they can but torture words
under the name of analysing notions, and arrive at conclu¬
sions which indicate no more than a consistent use of lan¬
guage. Thought itself, in its bare and unmixed form, can¬
not be handled in any mental process. It must be con¬
templated either in the words which represent it, or in the
things which it represents, or in the union of the two; and
the whole difference between reasoning and logomachy
depends upon a single criterion :—Can the relations of lan¬
guage, which our process exhibits as representing thought,
be verified by an appeal to the facts of consciousness, of
which thought itself is the representative ? Such an appeal
is manifestly impossible to those who commence their
inquiries by assuming an abstraction of which conscious¬
ness does not and cannot take cognisance.
Thus, to illustrate our remarks by special instances, the
aim of rational psychology is to frame definitions exhibit¬
ing the essential nature of the soul and its properties, as
realities conceived by the intellect, underlying and implied
by the phenomena presented in consciousness; and to
prove by a demonstrative process that the notions thus
defined necessarily flow one from another. Psychology
is thus raised from a science of observation to one of de¬
monstration ; and its objects are transformed from pheno¬
mena presented in experience to realities contemplated by
the intellect. The soul, by virtue of its essential nature
as a simple substance, is shown to possess, of necessity,
certain attributes as rationally conceived and defined—
such as sense, imagination, intelligence, will, spirituality, in¬
destructibility, and so forth; and the same conclusions are
even demonstrated of other spiritual natures which partake
of the generic attributes of the human soul.1 The weak-
605
ness of the whole process is, that it tacitly postulates as its Ontology,
starting-point a principle which is neither evident in itself,
nor such as can be made evident by any process of thought.
It assumes, that is to say, a transcendental definition of the
real nature of the soul, beyond and above those facts and
relations which are manifested in consciousness. But how
is the truth of such a definition to be guaranteed ? Of the
soul as a simple substance, apart from its particular modifi¬
cations, consciousness tells us nothing. Its permanent ex¬
istence is known only in conjunction with and by means of
its successive modifications. How, then, is this abstract
conception of the nature of the soul to be verified ? It
cannot be self-evident; for self-evidence is nothing more
than the instantaneous assent of consciousness; and the
assumption in question cannot be submitted to the judg¬
ment of consciousness at all. It cannot be demonstrable ;
for it could only be demonstrated by the assumption of a
higher notion of the same kind, concerning which the same
question would then have to be raised. It cannot be ge¬
neralized from experience; for experience deals with the
facts of consciousness only, and tells us not of what must be,
but only of what is or seems to be. Unable to verify his
fundamental definition by any reference to the reality which
it is supposed to represent, the metaphysician is compelled
to confine himself to the relations of the language by which
it is represented.
The case is still stronger as regards the other two
branches of deductive metaphysics. Cosmology, as ex¬
hibited by Wolf, professes to deduce, from ontological prin¬
ciples, a demonstration of the nature of the world and the
manner in which it is produced from simple substances.2
The world, according to this method, is represented as an
absolute whole, or entire system of causes and effects,
which cannot be conceived as itself a part of any greater
whole ;3 and the office of cosmology is to deduce, from the
abstract principles of being in general, the necessary rela¬
tions w'hich the world, as a compound being, must exhibit.
It is thus based, not on an examination of the mundane
phenomena as they actually exist in the present system of
nature, but on the general conception of the world, as a
possible system, under w hich the actual system is included,
as an individual under a species.4 Cosmology, as thus ex¬
hibited, can contain nothing more than an analysis of gene¬
ral notions, and can lead to no conclusions but such as the
philosopher has himself virtually assumed in his premises.
The abstract notion of the world contains implicitly what¬
ever attributes wTe choose to assume as its constituents;
and the metaphysical or logical analysis of that notion can
contain no more. For the world, as a possible system of
realities, and not as an actual system of phenomena, is not
an object of intuition, pure or empirical; and, without in¬
tuition, it is impossible to connect the concepts of the
understanding with a single attribute, beyond those which
they contain in their original comprehension.5
1 The following table of the contents of Wolf’s Psychologia Rationalis will exhibit a brief summary of this method,—“ I)e ammo, in
genere et facilitate cognoscendi in specie—De natura et essentia animae—De facultate sentiendi, sive sensu—De imaginatione et memoria—
De attentione et intellectu—De facultate appetendi—De appetitu sensitive et aversatione sensitiva atque affectibus—Deappetitu et aver-
satione rational!, seu de voluntate etnoluntate—De commercio inter mentem et corpus—-De systematis explicandi commercium inter mentem
et corpus in genere—De systemate influxus physici—-De systemate causarum occasionalium—De harmonia praestabilita—De variis animee
attributis, spiritu in genere, et animabus brutorum—De spiritu in genere et spiritualitate animae in specie—De animae ortu, unione cum
corpore, et immortalitate—De animabus brutorum.” Compare Kant, Kr. der r. v. Transc Dial, B. ii., H. 1. Hegel, Encykl. sect. Si.
2 Wolf, Cosmologia Generalis, sects. 2, 7. The following are the questions discussed by Wolf in this work, as constituting a metaphysical
theory of the material world—De notione mundi seu universi—De rerum nexu et quomodo inde universum resultet—De essentia mundi
et ejus attributis—De notione corporum ex quibus mundus componitur—De essentia et natura corporum—De dementis corporum—De
ortucorporum ex elementis—Delegibus motus—De natura universa et perfections mundi—De natura universa in genere, itemque natural!
et supernatural!—De perfectione mundi—-De ordine mundi atque naturae.
8 Kant, Leqons de Metaphysique traduites par Tissot, p. 144. 4 Wolf, Cosmologia, sect. 49.
® “ Cosmology,” says Hegel (Encyklopaedie, sect. 35), “ treated of questions concerning the contingency or necessity of the world, its
eternity or limitation in space and time, and the formal law of its changes; together with those concerning human freedom, and the
origin of evil. It contemplated its object, however, not as a concrete whole, but only according to abstract definitions. Thus, for
example, it discussed such questions as, whether the world is subject to chance or necessity; whether it is eternal or created.” A por¬
tion of the questions here mentioned were sometimes transferred to other branches of metaphysics ; but the method in all cases was the
same, and the results equally barren.
606
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology. This criticism is still more applicable to the system of
rational theology. In this science, we are supposed to start
from a nominal definition of the Deity, as the most perfect
being, containing in his nature the sum of all possible re¬
alities in an absolutely perfect degree.1 But here again
the question arises,—How do we. know that our conception
at all corresponds to the nature of the being whom it pro¬
fesses to represent ? The object, which the conception re¬
presents, is either given in some fact of consciousness, or
it is not. If it is not given, I cannot compare the concep¬
tion with its object; for comparison is itself an act of con¬
sciousness, and cannot be applied to anything of which I
am not conscious. If it is given, it must be given, like all
other facts of consciousness, in the form of an object re¬
lated to myself. By what right, again, do I venture to
transcend that relation, and assume that what is given in
relation to me is identical with that which exists out of all
relation. We are not, be it remembered, discussing the
sufficiency of the religious consciousness for the spiritual
wants of man : we are only examining the claim of the me¬
taphysician to found thereon a system of absolute and ne¬
cessary truths. Such a system claims, in its very concep¬
tion, a right to transcend consciousness. The form of con¬
sciousness is myself, and the facts of consciousness postulate
my existence as their condition. By what warrant am I
justified in reasoning from the relative to the absolute,—in
identifying that which depends on me with that on which
I depend. A conception of the Deity, in his absolute ex¬
istence, appears to involve a self-contradiction; for concep¬
tion itself is a limitation, and a conception of the absolute
Deity is a limitation of the illimitable.
OF THE CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY OF KANT.
The above method of dogmatic metaphysics, of which
the most complete specimen is furnished by the writings of
the celebrated Leibnitzian philosopher, Wolf, received its
death-blow from the criticism of Kant. The fundamental
position of the Wolfian dogmatism consisted in the as¬
sumption that the realities of the intelligible world consti¬
tute a system of immutable truths, which furnish the reason
and the explanation of the phenomena of the world of
sense. The counter-theory of Kant consisted in showing
that the conceptions of the understanding and the ideas of
the reason are equally phenomenal and relative with the
intuitions of sense. The whole field of consciousness, re¬
flective as well as sensitive, he argued, is the product of an
objective and a subjective element, and can in no case be
regarded as the exact representation of an extra-mental
reality. We can perceive only as the laws of our intuitive
consciousness, exhibited in the forms of space and time,
permit: we can think only as the laws of our reflective
consciousness, manifested in the categories of the under¬
standing, permit. The product, in both cases alike, is not
a thing in itself, but a phenomenon, or thing such as the
laws of our mental constitution determine it to appear to
us. I he object, in one mode of consciousness as much as
in another, is coloured by the medium through which it
passes to reach the mind; and, in bringing the phenomena
o sense before the tribunal of intellectual conceptions, we
are not comparing the phenomenal with the real, the repre¬
sentation with the thing represented; we are only compar¬
ing one c ass o pienomena with another, and judging the
re presen a ions o the human senses by the representations
of the human understanding. Even the ideas of the rea¬
son, which correspond to the three great objects of meta-
physical inquiry,-God, the world, and the human soul,
are not representations of objects actually discerned in their Ontology,
own nature, but regulative principles of. thought, falla- ^
ciously invested with an objective existence. A necessity
of thought manifestly indicates a law under which we must
think; but it does not therefore guarantee the existence of
a corresponding reality out of thought. The true thing in
itself, the being, as distinguished from the phenomenon, is
not the object such as we are compelled to conceive it, but
the object out of all relation to our faculties ; and, as such,
it is manifestly unknown and unknowable. To perceive a
thing in itself would be to perceive it neither in space nor
in time; for these are forms furnished by the constitution
of our perceptive faculties, and form an element of the
phenomenal object of intuition only. To think of a thing
in itself would be to think of it neither as one, nor as
many, nor under any other category ;2 for these, again, de¬
pend upon the constitution of our understanding, and form
an element of the phenomenal object of thought. The
phenomenal is the product of the inherent laws of our own
mental constitution, and, as such, is the sum and the limit
of all the knowledge to which we can attain.
The logical result of Kant’s speculative philosophy (of
his practical philosophy we can say nothing at present), was
to prove that real being cannot be an object of human
thought; and, consequently, that a system of ontology, in
the highest sense of that term, is unattainable by human
reasoning. But, partly in consequence of the inconsistencies
of Kant himself, and partly because of the sweeping scep¬
ticism to which his method at least appeared to lead, it was
almost inevitable that his successors should attempt to re¬
construct on a surer basis the dogmatic metaphysics which
his criticism had overthrown. The Kantian philosophy had
confined itself too much to negative results: it had demon¬
strated the inconclusiveness of the earlier systems of meta¬
physics : it had exhibited in the clearest light those ap¬
parent self-contradictions of the human reason which make
metaphysics, in some form or other, an intellectual neces¬
sity to man ; but it had not attempted to solve the contra¬
dictions it exhibited: it had neither pointed out the way to
a surer metaphysical system, nor placed the reason in a
position to dispense with metaphysics altogether. Kant
had only succeeded in showing that the household of human
consciousness was divided against itself: he had neither
been able to merge the contradiction in a higher principle
of unity, nor to show that contradiction itself is an evidence
of truth and reality. The want which a philosophy of the
real attempts to satisfy still remained; and to meet that
want it was necessary to reconstruct metaphysics by another
method. Kant had proved that the real, in its highest
sense, could not be an object of consciousness: his suc¬
cessors accepted the conclusion, and consistently attempted
to construct a philosophy of the real which should be above
consciousness. Kant had proved it to be impossible to
bring the object in itself within the grasp of the subject:
there remained the yet wilder attempt to expand the sub¬
ject to the immensity of the object,—an attempt which
necessarily ended in the identification and consequent anni¬
hilation of both.
OF THE SYSTEMS OF FICHTE, SCHELLING, AND HEGEL.
The philosophy of Fichte furnished the transition from a
destructive criticism to a new form of constructive dog¬
matism. The primitive fact of consciousness is that of a
relation between the ego and the non-ego, between myself,
the conscious subject, and an object of which I am con¬
scious. But, thus manifested, self and not-self are correla-
     OWIAlj L* XJ Li L J LH110 lllcHlIICJJLClAj Dt/IL cmvt. XlVJ L Ot.lL CL1 U t.v/11 t/lC%
1 The following are the matters trpatpa rvf . . '
tisimi et ejus existentia—De intellectu Dei—H^ “ P^0n P0rtl0n of Wolf 9 Theologia Naturalis“ De notione entis perfec-
deismo, et naturalismo—De anthropomornhismr, Providentia> et P°tentia Dei—De atheismo^De fatalismo,
* For a list of the Kantian categories see ™nte p 586 ^ ldeallsmo—De PaSanism^ manichasismo, spinozismo, et epicurseismo.
metaphysics.
Ontology, tive terms, existing for each other only under the condi-
turns of human consciousness; that is to say, as phenomena,
in Kant’s sense of the term. To attain to a philosophy of
the real, it was necessary to merge this primitive relation
between the subject and object of consciousness in a higher
relation between the entire world of phenomena revealed by
consciousness, and the ultimate reality beyond it. And this
was partly accomplished by the theory of Fichte. Conscious¬
ness, in this system, is manifested solely as a modification
of the ego ; and the ego itself must be supposed to exist
prior to, and independently of, any special modification of
its existence. Hence the first postulate of philosophy is
that of the existence of an absolute ego or unconscious sub¬
ject, susceptible potentially of all modes of consciousness,
but actually modified by none. The first formula of Fichte’s
system, “ A = A,” or the ego posits itself,1 may thus be in¬
terpreted to mean, “ the fact of a necessary thought im¬
plies the existence, not only of an actual thinker, but of a
real subject, capable of becoming a thinker.” But this real
subject, though existing independently of consciousness,
becomes aware of its own existence only in and by con¬
sciousness. And consciousness, as a particular phenomenon,
depends upon something by which the impulse is given to
the subject, whereby it determines itself to become conscious.
Hence the ego, in becoming conscious of its own existence
supposes at the same time, though it is not conscious of, the
existence of a non-ego. And this is expressed by the
second formula “ - A ^ A; or, the ego implies a non-ego?
-But this implied non-ego is merely supposed by an act of
thought, in order to account for the fact of the eqo becom-
conscious of itself. Hence arises the third formula
of richtes system, “The ego and the non-ego are both
posited by the ego itself,”—in other words, the relative and
conscious ego, and its counterpart, the non-ego implied by
consciousness, both owe their existence to the fact that the
absolute ego becomes conscious of itself. Hence these are
posited in and by the absolute ego.
The absolute ego is thus the one primitive existence
and, as such, must be absolutely free. Hence, in becom¬
ing conscious, the ego, by a free act, creates the whole
contents of its consciousness—the modified ego and the norc-
together. The non-ego of Fichte thus assumes the
position which in the Kantian philosophy was occupied by
the thing m itself, being not the object of consciousness,
but the supposed reality beyond; and this supposed reality
is itself shown to possess only a secondary and derivative
existence, being postulated to account for the fact of con¬
sciousness; which fact itself is the result of the self-deter¬
mination of the absolute ego.
The error of this system (an error shared by most of the
u sequent developments of German metaphysics) is, that
it attempts to explain and account for the primitive dualism
o consciousness, instead of accepting this fact as the prin¬
ciple from which the explanations of philosophy must take
their start. Hence we have the contradictory ideas of an
ego absolutely free, and yet compelled to posit the exist¬
ence of a non-ego. The ego, we are told, strives to realize
its own freedom. How came that freedom ever to be im¬
paired or to need realization ? Does anything ever freely
operate to its own deterioration ? Or rather, we may ask
does not freedom itself imply consciousness ? Is it not a
self-contradiction to suppose a free agent unconscious of its
own freedom ? The philosophy which starts from the sino-le
being of God is presumptuous enough, and deals sufficiently
with the incomprehensible. But Fichte’s system, in mak¬
ing the ego the first principle of all things, leaves no room
607
for the distinct existence of a Deity; and hence Fichte is Ontology,
compelled to confess that he knows no other God than the '-n-v-».7
moral order of things.2 In this unsatisfactory position, the
absolute ego is compelled to give way to a higher idea;
and thus Fichte’s later philosophy, while retaining its ori¬
ginal terminology, virtually passes over to a new position, in
which he had been already anticipated by Schelling.
1 he rival theories of Schelling and Hegel present the
most perfect specimens, from two opposite points of view,
of a system of metaphysics constructed, not merely inde¬
pendently of, but in direct opposition to, the laws of con-
sciousness. The ego and non-ego of Fichte, in their ori¬
ginal form, were entities beyond consciousness, but not
necessarily antagonistic to it:—on the contrary, they were
rathei represented as harmonizing with and explaining con¬
sciousness itself. But as thus implied by, and yet not
given in, consciousness, they necessarily remained unknown
and unknowable. Consciousness might, perhaps, justify the
inference that they are; but it could not possibly inform us
what they are. The entities of Fichte were thus, though
arrived at by a different process, virtually the same as those of
the older metaphysicians,—the unknown subjects or causes
of sensible or intellectual phenomena. To make the real
an object of science, it was necessary that it should be
directly given or revealed to intelligence :—there must be
an absolute knowing to answer to the absolute beino-. Phi¬
losophy must postulate, not merely an object of knowledge
beyond consciousness, but a manner of knowledge above it;
and this was attempted in two ways,—by Schelling, from
the side of the presentative faculties; and by Hegel, from
that of the representative. The former based his philo-
sophy on the fiction of an intellectual intuition emanci-
pated from the conditions of space and time; the latter,
on that of a logical reason emancipated from the laws of
thought.
In the philosophy of Schelling, the ego is stripped of
even the small remnant of personality which it retained in
the original scheme of Fichte. That which in Fichte’s
system appears as an abstract self, modified in no particular
manner, but susceptible of modification in any, becomes,
rom Schelling s point of view, abstract intelligence in ge¬
neral, having no personality, but capable of becoming per¬
sonal. In Fichte s system, the absolute ego creates the
seveial modes and objects of its own consciousness. In
Schelling s, the absolute intelligence, by a free act, creates
its own personality with its modes on the one side, and the
material world, or system of nature on the other.5 Thus
the object, which in Fichte’s system is posited by the sub¬
ject, becomes in Schelling’s identified with it; subject and
object being merged in the absolute, which in its own na-
ture is the indifference of the two, and which creates the
distinction by becoming conscious of itself.1 The system is
thus at the same time realism and idealism: the world of
things and the world of thought are but two opposite
aspects of one and the same being, manifesting itself with-
out or with consciousness.5 The human reason is identical
with the divine; and philosophy is the reproduction of crea¬
tion or rather is creation itself; for the philosophy of the
absolute ,s above the condition of time: it is not an imita-
ho^h?itrpeKlt10? i*-16 dIvine th0USht’ but the divine
thought itself developed into consciousness.
t is obvious to ask how such a system, admitting it to
LP CanTJTCan be k,Wm be possible or
ue. Can the individual man, supposing him to be a pheno-
~» ,r « T^ly, become conscious of his ow^ non-
entity? The first testimony of consciousness is to the
I Grundlage der gesammten WissenschaftsMre, sect 1
4 Idem, p. 67, sqq. System des tramcendentalen Idealismus, p. iS™’ P‘ ^
; 1 Iaeen> P- System des tr. Idealismus, p. 17.
M E T A P H Y S I C iS.
existence of the conscious subject: the idea of reality and
existence arises in and by that testimony. Can I then,
existing in consciousness, be at the same time conscious
that I do not exist ? Can I be conscious and not conscious,
substance and accident, reality and phenomenon, personally
existing and merged in the absolute, at one and the same
instantfin one and the same act ? This Schelling’s theory
virtually declares to be possible, and the means by which
it is accomplished is intellectual intuition. This intuition
is the instrument and the method of philosophy: it is the
process by which the absolute becomes conscious of itself,
by which the philosopher becomes conscious of his identity
with the absolute.1 It is an act out of time, and by which
time is constituted ; an act which is distinct from and above
ordinary consciousness, which cannot be described in lan¬
guage or apprehended in conception, whose results cannot
be communicated to ordinary consciousness, and, of course,
cannot be verified by it.2
Let us grant for an instant such an abnormal state to be
possible. Let us grant even that the state being above
conception it is no argument against it that its conception
is self-contradictory and annihilates itself. What even
then would be proved, save that one portion of our know¬
ledge is at variance with another, and that there is no arbi¬
ter to decide between them? Cogito, ergo sum.; the act
of knowledge is an act of personal existence -.—this is the
testimony of the normal consciousness. Cogito, ergo non
sum; the act of knowledge is an act in which personal
existence disappears in the absolute : this is the testimony
of the abnormal intuition. Neither of these can judge t ie
other ; for neither testimony can be translated into the
language or represented in the thought of the other. It is
mere idle boasting for the would-be philosopher to assert
the superiority of his instrument over that employed by the
rest of mankind; for superiority implies comparison, and
comparison is an act of relation, and relation annihilates the
absolute as such.3 The controversy must remain undecided
until a third faculty shall be discovered, which, being, in
one and the same act, normal and abnormal, conscious and
not conscious, existent and non-existent, may embody in
one process the results of intellectual intuition and ordinary
consciousness, and examine them on common principles
before a common tribunal.
Something like this union of all contradictories is pro¬
claimed in the logical idea of Hegel, the supreme principle
of all truth and of all reality.4 The method of Hegel com¬
menced by attempting to justify the assumption of Schel-
ling, and ended by superseding it. While admitting, as
substantially true, the fundamental principle of Schellmg s
philosophy, the unity of subject and object in the absolute,
Hegel protests decidedly against the method by which, ac¬
cording to Schelling’s theory, this principle is apprehended.
The intellectual intuition, which is demanded as the condi¬
tion of all philosophy, is a faculty which any individual may
or may not possess. The philosophy of Schelling thus ap¬
pears to demand, as its condition, a special artistic talent
or genius, an accidental gift of good luck. But philosophy Ontology,
must, from its nature, be capable of becoming common to
all men ; for it is based upon thought, and thought is the
characteristic of man as man.'5 But the logical process
which Hegel announces as common to all men is at least
as far removed from the conditions of noimal intelligence
as the extraordinary endowment demanded by Schelling.
The postulate upon which the entire system rests—the
identity of thought and being—is constantly asserted, but
never proved ; and this assumed identity necessitates a con¬
ception of thought not only distinct from, but at variance
with, the evidence of consciousness. Thought in conscious¬
ness is manifested in the form of successive modifications
of the personal self, relative, determinate, special states of
my individual existence. Thought in the system of Hege
is represented as an impersonal, absolute, indeterminate, uni¬
versal, unconscious substance, determining itself in opposed
and yet identical modifications, becoming all things, con¬
stituting the essence of all things, and attaining to con¬
sciousness only in man. Consciousness is thus the accident,
not the essence, of thought; and the unconscious process
of the idea in nature is regarded as fundamentally one with
the conscious development of human intelligence. Hegel s
famous theory of the identity of contradictions derives its
whole plausibility from a twofold confusion,—of thought with
being, and of identity with coexistence. In consciousness,
two identical thoughts are undistinguishable from each
other ; and as consciousness is only possible as a cognition
of differences, it follows that a system of identical deter¬
minations of consciousness is tantamount to the annihila¬
tion of all consciousness. The possibility of consciousness,
therefore, implies the coexistence of opposites; but, for
the very reason that there is coexistence, there is not
identity. Any special modification of consciousness is dis¬
cerned to be that which it is by being distinguished from
that which it is not; and in this manner consciousness is
only possible on the condition of a relation, not meielj be¬
tween subject and object, but between a plurality of objects
opposed to each other. But, in order that these opposite
objects should be regarded as identical, or rather as consti¬
tuent elements of one and the same reality, it is necessary
that the notion or thing in should be represented, not as
a single object of consciousness, but as an unperceived sub¬
stratum which underlies the relation between the two op¬
posed objects, and out of which they mutually spring as
distinct sides of one and the same reality. Being is thus no
longer identical with thoughtor rather the term thought
is used in an equivocal sense, to denote consciousness and
unconsciousness at the same time. But it is nowhere ex¬
plained how this abstract thought can exist independently
of a thinking mind; nor how, supposing it to exist, and sup¬
posing the philosopher to become conscious of its existence,
his consciousness is thereby identified with the object of
which he is conscious. , ,
The method of Hegel is sometimes described as an at¬
tempt to re-think the great thought of creation; the philo-
1 System des tr. Idealismus, p. 50, sqq. . * ’’ ■l’i. -ko nmUtpd in this place. “We cannot
* The acute and decisive criticism of Schelling’s theory by Sir W . Hami on, is oo v thprefore he able to connect them by an act
at the same moment be in the intellectual intuition and in common consciousness , we ... ? Ag ou^. 0f time, and space, and
of memory—of recollection. But how can there he a remembrance of the absolu e an i s i • remembrance is only possible
relation, and difference, it is admitted that the absolute cannot be construed to the un ers an i &• ^ moment when we awaken
under the conditions of the understanding, it is consequently impossible to remember any ing an :s:s as if it had never been.”
into consciousness ; and the clairvoyance of the absolute, even granting its reality, is tnus, a er >
(Discussions, p. 23.) T/i„«n0n mid Reellen. des Endlichen und
4 In the words of Hegel himself, “ Die Idee kann als Suhjekt-Ohjekt, als die Einheit des dessen Natur nur als existi-
t ~: t .i- Ttv _i- ai~ Wir»lr liable Pit. an ihr selbst nat, as aas, ucbdcu  
Identitat in sich enthalten sind. (Encyklopddie, sect. 214.) In the words ot ms aiscipi Andern • Wesen und Erscheinung, Form
Werden, die Einheit von Sein und Nichts, als Unendliches, die Einheit des Etwas und seines An , ebenso darin ZUr Identitat
nnd Materie, Inneres und Aeusseres, Mbglichkeit und Wirklichkeit, Allgemeines und Besonderes, u. . .
gekommen” (Geschichte der letzten Systeme der Philosophic, vol. ii., p. 745.
6 Geschichte der Philosophic. IFcrfce, vol. xv., p. 592. „ „ , ^ A tt v. Michelet is the true business of
8 “ Den grossen Gedanken der Schbpfung noch einmal zu denken.’ Such, according to Hegel s editor, M >
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, sopher being supposed to place himself at the point at
V—which the Divine mind developed itself into finite exist¬
ences, and to repeat that development in the process of his
own system. This supposition is sufficiently presumptuous ;
but, as usually understood, it by no means expresses the
full pretensions of Hegel’s theory. Creation, in the Hege¬
lian point of view, does not imply a creator, nor thought a
thinker. Instead of commencing with God, as the begin¬
ning of all existence, this philosophy commences with zero.
I he notion, whose development constitutes the process
alike of existence and of thought, is pure being, which is
identical with pure nothing.1 'I he union of being and no¬
thing constitutes becoming;2 and from becoming proceeds
all determinate existence. The Hegelian process may thus
be described as a creation of the Deity no less than of the
world; for it recognises the existence of no Deity distinct
fiom the world. But the philosopher, though aspiring to
construct the universe, is virtually compelled to assume a
prior universe as his foundation. Though he will not pos¬
tulate a mover, he is compelled to postulate motion. The
pure being, which is also pure nothing, has a power of self¬
development.3 How this process takes place ; or how pure
nonentity can contain a principle of self-development; or
how, if being and nothing are absolutely one and the same,
they can at the same time be two elements united together;
or how the union of the identical with the identical can
form a compound distinct from its factor or factors,—these
points Hegel has omitted to explain.
There is a germ of truth in Hegel’s opening paradox,
“ Pure being is pure nothing,” if it be understood as applied,
where alone we have any data for applying it, to the necessary
limitations of human thought. The conceptions of man
are limited to the finite and determinate: we can conceive
existence only under the conditions of relation and differ¬
ence, as this particular kind of existence, distinguished
from others. The conception of being in general which
is no being in particular, is thus, to human intelligence, no
conception at all; it indicates only the absence of any de¬
finite object of thought, and consequently of any power of
thinking. But to convert this negation of the relative into
an affirmation of the absolute, is to go beyond the ancient
sophist, to make man’s ignorance, instead of his know¬
ledge, the measure of all things, and thus to dogmatize
on no other grounds than the absence of all materials for
dogmatism. And even this apotheosis of human impotence
does not guarantee the fundamental assumption of the sys¬
tem ; for it being is the same as non-being, and if being and
thought are one, thought is also identical with the negation
of thought; and the absolute thinking, which is absolute
existence, is, by the same argument, no thinking at all.
OF THE SYSTEM OF HERBAET.
The idealist systems of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel,
while differing considerably in their details, were charac¬
terized by one common principle. They all sought to
escape from the phenomenal and relative characterOof the
609
products of consciousness, by placing real being in an Ontology,
unity above consciousness. In antagonism to these, an- ''‘•■'v''"—'
other offshoot of the Kantian criticism, the realism of Her-
bart, sought to attain the same end by means of a plurality
below consciousness. The one attempted to generalize be¬
yond the limits of thought; the other, to individualize
beyond the limits of sense. According to Herbart, all the
original notions which we form of the objects presented
to us by experience, whether as regards external or inter¬
nal phenomena, are, upon examination, found to involve
contradictions, and thus to condemn themselves as incon¬
ceivable. The office of metaphysics is so to modify these
notions as to remove the contradictions, and thus to recon¬
cile the testimony of experience with the requirements of
thought.4 I o attain this end, Herbart has recourse to a
modified form of Leibnitz’s theory of monads.5 The phe¬
nomena of experience are regarded as dependent on the
mutual relations of a number of real or absolute beings,
simple, unextended in space, and subject to no succession
in time, and thus without parts and without change. We
aie thus, he thinks, enabled to avoid the fundamental con¬
tradiction of experience, with which all philosophy has to
struggle,—the antagonism between the one and the many;
we escape from the paradox of maintaining that the same
thing can consist simultaneously of various elements, or
exist successively in various states. Every real being is
simple in itself, though different one from another: the
world of sensible experience is but an aggregate of pheno¬
mena, resulting from the mutual attraction and repulsion of
insensible units; and the principle which pervades the whole
is the effort of each unit for self-conservation.
Among many merits of detail, it is impossible to over¬
look the weakness of Herbart’s fundamental assumption.
His system, by deriving the known world of relations from
an unknown world of absolute beings, postulates ignorance
as its starting-point,<and makes philosophy dependent on an
assumption whose only guarantee is, that we have no means
of verifying it. The existence of the supposed world of
realities is unknown ; for it confessedly lies beyond the limits
of experience; and mere thought does not prove the reality
of its object. Its relation to the world of phenomena is
unknown ; for the knowledge of a relation implies the know¬
ledge of both correlatives. Its existence is assumed in
order to solve certain supposed contradictions; and the
assumption itself introduces other contradictions; for the
conceptions of extension composed of unextended elements,
and of attraction and repulsion out of time and space, are in
appearance no less contradictory than those which they pre¬
tend to explain, and labour under the additional difficulty
that they are not even apparently warranted by experience.
The real world of Herbart is thus reduced to the condi¬
tion of an occult cause,—an ens rationis,—which might per¬
haps be shown to exist had we the faculties requisite for
discerning it; but which, upon the same supposition, might
equally be shown not to exist; and which, to our present
faculties, is encumbered with apparent contradictions which
render the latter conclusion the more probable of the two.
philosophy. “ In der That,” he continues, “ was konnen wir Anderes wollen, wenn wir iiber die Natur philosonhiren als in+oir -n-i
““S *“ dem I"ner" UnSereS G<,“teS de“te"<1 - reproduciren f* (HegSVrXSvH.!
1 Das Seyn, das unbestimmte Unmittelbare ist in der That Nichts, und nicht mehr noch weniger als Nichts
Bestimmung, oder vielmehr Bestiramungslosigkeit, und damit iiberhaupt dasselbe, was das reine Sevn ist ” Mil ' V r u ^
Cf. Encyklopadie, sect. 87). ^ ’ °eyn lst- (1IeSeh Logik, b. i., chap. i.
2 Das Nichts ist als dieses unmittelbare, sich selbstgleiche, ebenso umgekehrt dasselbe was das Savn tv u u • , d,
wie des Nichts, ist daher die Einheit beider; diese Einheit ist dio Werden” Encykl, sect. 88 d Of Loaikh F™ Tahrheit des Seyns> 80
8 See the criticism of Trendelenburg, Logische Untersuchungen, vol. i., c. ii. * ’ 3 ’ C' U
4 “ Die Metaphysik hat keine andre Bestimmung, als die niimlichen Begriffe, welche die Erfahrnn<T in,. ^ ,
Lehrbuch zur Einleitung in die Philosophic, sec. 149. 111 aufdringt, denkbar zu machen.
,5 HerbarV‘’ says Trendelenburg, “ has recourse, on the one side, to the Eleatics, and, on the other to T,ei W* ^ xu x-
acknowledges the pure conception of existence, but denies that existence is one. From the latter he nf * i F^°m the f0rrner he
but refuses to endow the monads with a plurality of attributes.” (Ueber Ilerbaris Metaphysik, y. 5 ) PtS ^ plurahty of existence9>
4 H
610
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology. The theory solves none of the difficulties which give rise
v—V—' to it, but only conjectures that, under certain possible
conditions of superhuman knowledge, they might be solu¬
ble ; a very legitimate position, if it were proposed as
resting, not on reason, but on faith—not as explaining
difficulties, but as bidding us rest content without explana¬
tion—not as the basis of a theory, but as a reason why
theories are inadmissible. Let us grant, for the moment,
Herbart’s assertion that our intuition of objects in space
and time is at variance with the laws of thought. It is no
solution of the contradiction to reply that there may pos¬
sibly be a superhuman intuition of objects out of space and
time, and that, if we had such an intuition, there might
perhaps be no variance. For we do not know that such an
intuition is possible; and we do not know that, if it were
possible, it might not present still greater variance. And
so long as there is variance, what right has one of the
adverse faculties of our nature to demand the submission
of the other? Why should experience give way to thought,
rather than thought to experience ? “ Which is the wiser
here—justice or iniquity ? ” Which element of our nature
testifies to the real, and which to the phenomenal ?
OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE ABSOLUTE IN GENERAL.
This brief survey of the principal ontological systems of
modern Germany, the only country in which the study of
ontology proper has been zealously pursued in recent times,
may, it is hoped, be of some use in clearing the field of
discussion, and in bringing the great problem of philosophy
under certain definite conditions, under which alone its
solution can be attempted with a reasonable hope of success.
In abstruse speculations of this character, we learn almost
as much from the chart which tells us of rocks and shoals
to be avoided, as from the compass which points out the
direction in which we ought to steer; and the study of the
philosophy of the absolute is at least serviceable in eliminat¬
ing elements foreign to the investigation of the truth,
and in teaching us, as Hegel himself said of the Newtonian
optics, the manner in which metaphysical inquiries ought
not to be pursued. Various and conflicting as are the
theories of modern German philosophy, one common error
may be detected as pervading all of them,—that of identify¬
ing reality with the absolute or unconditioned. Instead
of^ examining the conception of the real as it is formed
under the necessary conditions of human thought, and
inquiring what is the object which corresponds to the con¬
ception so conditioned, they assume at the outset that real
existence means existence dependent upon nothing but
itself, and that the conception of real existence is a concep¬
tion determined by no antecedent. Ontology is thus the
absolute knowledge of absolute being; and, from this point
of view, being and knowledge are necessarily one and the
same thing ; for if the object known is distinct from the act
of knowing, the latter, to be valid, must conform itself to
the nature of the former, and thus becomes relative and
subject to conditions. Absolute knowledge is thus possible
only on the condition that the mind, in the act of thought,
creates the objects about which it thinks;—or rather, that
the act of thought itself creates its own object and subject;
for we clearly renounce in limine all pretension to absolute
knowledge, if we admit that the act of knowing is in any
degree dependent on the prior constitution either of a mind
which thinks or of a thing about which it thinks. The
philosophy of the absolute thus admits of a twofold refuta¬
tion >—in the consequences to which it leads, and in the
premises from which it starts. In its consequences it ad¬
mits of no alternatives but atheism or pantheism ;—atheism,
if the absolute reality or creative thought is identified with
myself; pantheism, if it is identified with anything beyond
myself. Subjective absolutism, or egoism, postulates self
as the primitive reality on which all things depend, and Ontology,
acknowledges no God distinct from self and its modi-
fications. Objective absolutism regards personality itself
as a phenomenal manifestation of some higher reality, which
alone is truly existent, and to which it gives the name,
but not the nature, of God. Religion is equally annihi¬
lated under both suppositions ; for if there is no God, whom
are we to worship; and if all things are God, who is to
worship him ? Morality is equally annihilated under both
suppositions; for if I am the absolute, I create my own
moral duties, and cannot be required to conform to any
standard independent of myself; and if I am a mode of the
Divine Being, my actions flow from the self-determinations
of the Deity, and are all equally necessary and equally
divine. The premises from which these consequences issue
are equally untenable with the consequences themselves.
The primary testimony of consciousness affirms the distinct
existence of an ego and a non-ego, related to and limiting
each other. I know myself as existing in the midst of
certain phenomena, which I did not create, .and can only
partially control. Pantheism contradicts the first element
of consciousness, by denying the real existence of myself.
Egoism contradicts the second element, by denying the
real existence of anything distinct from myself. But if
the testimony of consciousness on this point is false, how
can I assume that it is true in any secondary and derived
modification ? How do I know that the very language of
the philosopher of the absolute means what it appears to
mean, or that my conviction of the truth of his system is
not itself an evidence of its falsehood? Nay, how do I
know that there is any philosophy of the absolute at all,
or that the book in which, seeming to be myself, I seem to
read it, has any contents, or communicates any knowledge,
or is addressed to any reader ?
OF THE CONDITIONS NECESSARY TO THE EXISTENCE OF
ONTOLOGY.
Philosophy commences with doubt; and doubt is a state
of consciousness. It is necessary, therefore, that the object
of ontology, as a branch of philosophy, should be one to
whose existence, at least in idea, consciousness bears posi¬
tive testimony. This is not the case with the uncondi¬
tioned, to the existence of which consciousness only nega¬
tively testifies, in so far as contradictory notions naturally
suggest each other. The conceivable suggests the incon¬
ceivable ; the real, the unreal; the possible, the impossible ;
and the conditioned, the unconditioned. To assume, frorn
this suggestion alone, that we have a distinct conception ot
the unconditioned, or that there is a distinct reality answer¬
ing to, or identical with, that conception, is as unwarrant¬
able as to assume, on the same grounds, the reality of the
unreal or the conceivability of the inconceivable. 1 bought
is positive in so far as it represents an actual intuition; and
two opposite objects, which can be both presented intui¬
tively, may be both conceived reflectively, whether the
terms by which the conceptions are denoted are positive
or negative, contrary or contradictory. But, without a cor¬
responding intuition, positive thought is impossible; and
the intellectual intuition of Schelling is thus a necessary
condition of the existence of any philosophy of the absolute.
Unfortunately for the absolute, the intellectual intuition is
a state of mind to whose existence consciousness does not
and cannot testify ;—nay, which it distinctly and positively
declares to be impossible.
It is thus indispensable for the metaphysician, before
commencing an inquiry into the nature ot the real, to as v
what is the actual conception ot the real which conscious¬
ness furnishes ; and what is the evidence on which we assert
the existence of a corresponding object. It may be that
the facts of consciousness present nothing but phenomena
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, and that the real is merely suggested by language as the
negation of the phenomenal; or it may be that some of the
facts of consciousness exhibit certain characteristics, which
indicate a higher amount of reality than can be assigned to
others. Is the notion of the real positive or negative ? and
if it is positive, in what acts of consciousness do we find the
corresponding intuition ? When we have answered these
questions, we shall have succeeded at least in confining
the problem of ontology within definite limits: we shall
have indicated the field of search, if we do not go so far as
to discern the object. But the testimony of consciousness
is clearer on the negative side than on the positive. It will
assist our inquiry considerably if we can first ascertain, from
the decisive evidence of consciousness, what the real of
which we are in pursuit is not.
OF THEORIES OF THE REAL NOT FOUNDED ON CONSCIOUSNESS.
^ In the first place, the real of consciousness is not the
Kantian ding an sich, or thing as it exists in its own nature,
out of all relation to the human mode of perceiving it. Con¬
sciousness is given to us as the product of two factors, on
both of which it is equally dependent,—the constitution of
the person apprehending, and that of the thing apprehended.
If either of these were changed, the result might be some¬
thing totally different from its present appearance. In
mathematical language, the result of consciousness is a
function of the subject and the object together, and must
be regarded as variable with the variation of either. To
attain to a knowledge of a thing in itself out of relation to
our faculties, it would be necessary to apprehend the thing
with a new set of faculties, retaining at the same time a
perfect recollection of our former mental constitution and its
results, in order to separate what is relative and dependent
on the existing constitution of the human mind from what
is absolute and common to other orders of intelligent beings.
It is manifest, therefore, that the real, in this sense of the
term, represents nothing which can by any possibility be
presented in consciousness.
In the second place, the real of consciousness is not the
absolute which has reigned supreme in German philosophy
since the time of Kant;—that is to say, an unconditioned
first being, which exists in and by itself; and does not imply
the prior or simultaneous existence of anything else. This
has been already shown in our previous remarks on this
theory, which exhibit its antagonism to the primitive dualism
of consciousness, in which self and not-self mutually imply
each other, and, consequently, in which neither of them is the
absolute. It is also sufficiently shown by the admission of
the absolutist philosophers themselves, who, by basing their
systems on a supposed form of knowledge beyond, and even
contradictory to, consciousness, virtually confess that the
absolute has no existence in consciousness. The contempt
with which the majority of German critics almost invari¬
ably mention the name of dualism, is a proof, among many
others, of the necessity which they feel of lifting the stan,
dard of philosophy in opposition to the authority of con¬
sciousness.
In the third place, the real of consciousness is not the
substance or matter of an earlier school of metaphysicians;
that is to say, the insensible substratum of sensible qualities,
viewed by itself, apart from those attributes by which it is
made known to experience. We may not commence our
inquiries with the assumption that the shape, the colour, the
smell, and other sensible qualities of a rose are one thing,
and that the rose itself, the thing possessing the qualities, is
another. “ The idea,” says Locke, “ to which we give the
general name substance, being nothing but the supposed,
611
but unknown support of those qualities we find existing, Ontology,
which we imagine cannot subsist sine re substante, without v
something to support them we call that support substantia;
which, according to the true import of the word, is, in plain
English, standing under or upholding.”1 “ I perceive,” says
lleid, “ in a billiard ball, figure, colour, and motion; but
the ball is not figure, nor is it colour, nor motion, nor all
these taken together; it is something that has figure, and
colour, and motion. This is a dictate of nature, and the
belief of all mankind.” 2 Without attempting at present to
anticipate the necessary inquiry into the validity of that law
of belief which apparently compels us to refer a plurality of
attributes to a single subject, we may safely assert that the
notion of such a subject, as a being distinct from its attri¬
butes, is utterly empty and meaningless; and that no such
being can be the object of metaphysical research. Con¬
sciousness does not testify that such a being exists or is
conceivable;—nay, such a testimony would be impossible
without the annihilation of consciousness itself. For con¬
sciousness is possible only under the condition of difference.
I can be conscious of an object, as such, only by being con¬
scious of it as distinguished from other objects; and this
distinction is only possible by means of the special attributes
which the object possesses. Deprive the billiard ball of
its figure and colour, and all other sensible qualities, and do
the same to the table on which it stands; and how is the
ball to be distinguished from the table? The residuum, if
there is any, is neither the ball as a ball, nor the table as a
table, nor any one thing as distinguishable from any other
thing, nor an object of consciousness as distinguished from
the subject. It is the vague and empty notion of being in
general which is no being in particular,—pure existence,
which is identical, so far as human thought is concerned,
with pure nothing. Things can be distinguished from each
other only by their attributes; and to be conscious of a thing
apart from its attributes, is to be conscious of a difference
with no difference to be conscious of. “ The knowledge of
pure substance distinct from its qualities,” says M. Cousin,
“is impossible, for the simple reason that no such substance
exists. Every real being is of such or such a kind; it is
either this or that. If it is real, it is determinate ; and to
be determinate is to possess certain manners of being, tran¬
sitory and accidental, or constant and essential. The
knowledge of being in itself is therefore not only forbidden
to the human mind, but is contrary to the nature of things.3
Whether the existence of a thing distinct from any and all
of its attributes be, as Reid says, a dictate of nature or not;
at any rate, in the instance which he adduces, it is not pre¬
sented as a fact of consciousness, but inferred from the
presence of the attributes ; and, in maintaining the veracity
of the facts of consciousness themselves, we do not there¬
fore maintain the validity of all the inferences to which
those facts appear to lead. What is the exact fact upon
which this inference is grounded, the principle on which it
is made, and the amount of credit due to it, we shall endea¬
vour to show hereafter by an examination of consciousness
itself. For the present, it is sufficient to say, that the fact,
whatever it may be, is not a direct cognition of the exist¬
ence of a substratum of material attributes.
It thus appears that the celebrated hypothesis of Bishop
Berkeley, so far as it merely denies the existence of matter,
is not in any way contrary to common sense (if by common
sense is meant the direct evidence of consciousness) ; inas¬
much as it only denies that concerning which consciousness
offers no evidence at all. For matter, in Berkeley^ sense
does not mean anything which can be perceived by the
senses; but only, as Locke defines it, “ the supposed, but
unknown support of those qualities we find existing.” “ I
2 Intellectual Powers, Essay ii., chap. xix.
1 Essay, b. ii., chap, xxiii., sect. 2.
n Histoire de la Philosophic Morale au dix-huitieme siecle, Lejon xii.
612 METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, do not argue/' says the bishop, “ against the existence of
any one thing that we can apprehend either by sense or
reflection. That the things I see with mine eyes and touch
with my hands do exist, really exist, I make not the least
question. . . . If the word substance be taken, in the vulgar
sense, for a combination of sensible qualities, such as exten¬
sion, solidity, weight, and the like, this we cannot be
accused of taking away. But if it be taken in a philosophic
sense, for the support of accidents or qualities without the
mind, then, indeed, I acknowledge that we take it away,
if one can be said to take away that which never had any
existence, not even in the imagination.”1 And had Ber¬
keley confined himself to the sceptical side of the question,—
had he contented himself with maintaining that we have no
evidence for asserting that matter, in this sense of the term,
has any existence,—he would have said no more than the
testimony of consciousness fully warrants. But when he
went a step beyond this, and not only doubted the existence
of matter, but asserted its non-existence, he transcended
the evidence of consciousness on the negative side, as much
as his opponents did on the positive. If consciousness says
nothing about the existence of matter at all, we are equally
incompetent to affirm or to deny. The sceptic, so long as
he remains a mere sceptic, is unassailable: the dogmatist,
whether in affirmation or in negation, equally dogmatizes on
the ground of his own ignorance. But, in admitting one
portion of Berkeley’s theory as perfectly tenable, we do not
therefore accept his entire system of idealism. It is quite
possible to take an intermediate course;—to admit, with
Berkeley, that we have no right to assert the existence of
any other kind of matter than that which is presented in
consciousness; but to deny his other main position, that we
are conscious only of our own ideas. If, in any mode of con¬
sciousness whatever, an external object is directly presented
as existing in relation to me, that object, though composed
of sensible qualities only, is given as a material substance,
existing as a distinct reality, and not merely as a mode of
my own mind. And, to this extent, the arguments of Reid
and his followers, however inaccurate their analysis of con¬
sciousness may be in some of its details, are valid against
idealism.
The antagonism of the Scottish philosophers to the theory
of Berkeley, arose more on account of its supposed remote
consequences, than of its immediate conclusions. It was
supposed to furnish a legitimate foundation for the scepti¬
cism of Hume, who argued against the existence of mind
on the same grounds on which Berkeley had denied the
existence of matter. Within myself, he urged, I am
conscious only of impressions and ideas, as in external
sensation I am conscious only of extension, figure, and so
forth. The substance called mind may therefore be a
mere fiction, imagined for the support of the internal states
of which I am conscious, just as the substance called matter
is imagined for the support of sensible qualities.2 But, in
order that this conclusion may legitimately follow from
Berkeley’s principles, we must concede an additional pre¬
mise, which Berkeley by no means admits,3 namely, that
the evidence of consciousness in relation to matter and to
mind is of precisely the same character. If, as Locke
maintained, and as the antagonists of Hume allowed, we
have no immediate consciousness of self, but only of its
several modes, the sceptical conclusion necessarily follows ;
and Hume, as a professed sceptic, had nothing to do with
correcting the received dogmas of philosophy, but only with
exhibiting their ultimate consequences. Those conse¬
quences can only be refuted if, by a more exact analysis of Ontology,
the facts of consciousness, it can be shown that the personal '
self, as the one permanent subject of various successive
modes, is directly presented in intuition along with its
several affections. But this analysis neither Reid nor
Stewart attempted; and the consequence was, that in their
hands the sceptical argument remained, in jj:s main posi¬
tions, unrefuted.
In the fourth place, it may be shown, by the same con¬
siderations, that the real of consciousness is not the first
matter of the peripatetic philosophy; that is to say, an
universal substratum, common to all objects of sense, and
subject to the changes of form which constitute this or that
definite object.4 This first matter is, indeed, nothing more
than the matter of the last hypothesis, stripped of some of
its more glaring incongruities, but not thereby made more
accessible to consciousness. The theory of a first matter
avoids, indeed, the absurdity of saying that any one particular
thing, such as a billiard-ball, is something distinct from its
own sensible qualities ; but the supposition which it assumes
instead,—that of a subject which is all things in capacity,
and nothing actually,—is only a more logical negation of all
difference, and therefore of all consciousness ; for conscious¬
ness is possible only through difference. The psychological
value of the axiom on which this theory apparently rests,—
namely, that all things are changed, and nothing created or
destroyed; so that the quantity of real matter in the world can
never be conceived as increased or diminished,—has been
examined in a previous passage; but even if a greater
amount of truth be assigned to this principle than our pre¬
vious remarks have accorded to it,—whether it be regarded
as a law, or merely as an impotence of mind,—it is at any
rate a phenomenon of mind and not of matter; it can be
explained on psychological grounds only; and it presents^
no fact in the constitution of things, but only a mode of
our conceiving them. Unless the truth of that conception
can be guaranteed by a positive intuition of its object,
which in this case is impossible, we are not warranted in
elevating a mere consciousness of the limit of our own
powers of thought into a measure of the conditions of all
possible existence.
In the fifth place, the real of consciousness, so far as the
material world is concerned, is not to be found in the che¬
mical elements into which bodies may be ultimately re¬
solved. It does not express any metaphysical distinction
to say that what appears to be air is in reality oxygen and
nitrogen; or that water, ice, and steam are but different
appearances of the same elementary particles. This is
perfectly true as a physical fact; but it contributes nothing
towards the solution of any problem of metaphysics. The
ehemical element, as well as the compound, is an object of
sense, and its presence must be tested by sensible criteria.
If, then, there is any apparent antagonism between sense
and thought;—if there is any room for doubt whether what
sense regards as a reality independent of myself, thought
may not resolve into a transitory affection of my own mind,—
such a doubt is equally possible, whether the object of sense
be more or less minute, whether its presence be mani¬
fested by the immediate evidence of sight, or by the indi¬
rect test of experiment. In one respect, indeed, the
chemical element has less of the character of a real object
than the compound into which it enters; inasmuch as its
presence must frequently be inferred rather than perceived,
—detected in its effects on something else, not in its own
proper nature. There will still remain the question, What
1 Principles of Human Knowledge, xxxv., xxxvii. 3 See Treatise of Human Nature, part iv., sects. 5, 6.
3 In the third dialogue between Hylas and Philonous, Berkeley expressly says :—“ I know or am conscious of my own being; and
that I myself am not my ideas, hut somewhat else,—a thinking, active principle, that perceives, knows, wills, and operates about ideas.
Here he distinctly denies the position of Locke, and refutes by anticipation Hume’s deduction from his own principles.
4 Aristotle, Phys. Ausc. i. 7. Compare Harris, Philosophical Arrangements, chap. iv.
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, is the thing itself, as distinguished from the test by which
we discover its presence on particular occasions ?
In like manner it may be shown, lastly, that the meta¬
physical question is in no way simplified by any theory, such
as that ot Boscovich, which regards the senses as imme¬
diately cognisant, not of matter in itself, but only of the
atti active and repulsive forces which one particle exercises
on another. For the ultimate atoms of matter being, upon
this hypothesis, never presented in consciousness, could
never have given rise to the distinction, which apparently
exists in our minds, between the real and the pheno¬
menal. I hat distinction must be suggested by something
of which we are conscious ; and if we are conscious only of
forces, it must depend upon some difference in the forces
themselves. The forces thus inherit all the metaphysical
difficulties of the matter which they represent; and we must
still have recourse to the analysis of consciousness itself, to
determine in what manner the metaphysical doubtcould have
originated, and what are the data available for its solution.
To inquire into the truth and value of Boscovich’s theory
itself, is a question of physics, not of metaphysics.
OF THE REAL AS GIVEN IN CONSCIOUSNESS.
Having thus simplified the problem by the elimination
of foreign elements, we have next to inquire what is the
positive testimony of consciousness itself, as regards the
existence of a distinction between the phenomenal and the
real, and how far the distinction thus indicated will enable
us to ascertain the nature of the respective objects to which
it refers ? for that the distinction has a foundation in con¬
sciousness, however much its meaning may have been mis¬
interpreted, is manifest, if it were only from the existence
of such misinterpretation. Rightly or wrongly, men have
thought that such a distinction exists:—why they have
thought so, the examination of consciousness itself can alone
explain.
It is necessary, in the first place, to determine clearly
what it is of which we are in search. We must know what
is meant by reality, and what by appearance, before we can
classify the facts of consciousness as indicating one or the
other. For here there is an ambiguity which, if not cleared
up. at the outset, may confuse the whole subsequent in¬
quiry. It is one thing to distinguish between the real and
the phenomenal, as exhibited in the facts of consciousness
themselves: it is another to determine what are really facts
of consciousness and what are not. There are judgments
which are sometimes supposed to rest on the immediate
testimony of consciousness, but which, rightly interpreted,
are inferences only remotely suggested by it. I think I
see a friend at a distance: on a nearer approach he turns
out to be a stranger. Here the apparent testimony of sight
is in leality an inference pursued through many successive
stages. In the first place, I am not really conscious by
sight of the presence of a distant object at all, but infer its
presence from the consciousness of certain affections of the
organ of vision. In the second place, when I have pro¬
jected by association the impression of a certain coloured
surface into a space exterior to my organism, I do not
thereby know that this surface is a man: this is a second
inference, implying memory, and comparison, and recogni¬
tion of certain specific attributes. In the third place, when
I have so far obliterated these connecting links as to fancy
that I see a man, I do not thereby know a friend from a
stranger: this is another act of inference, implying memory
of certain individual features, and comparison of them with
my present impression. Yet all this is performed with such
613
rapidity as to appear an immediate act of perception ; and Ontology.
John or Thomas is, in ordinary apprehension, as much an
object of sight as redness or blueness.
This distinction is irrelevant to our present inquiry.
When we ask how reality and appearance may be distin¬
guished from each other by the testimony of consciousness
itself, it is to be supposed that we have already ascertained
what are facts of consciousness, and what are not. But
this being granted, a second ground of distinction presents
itself. Every fact of consciousness, as such, guarantees the
existence of its object, so long as it is actually present. But
there are some facts of consciousness which are instinc¬
tively acknowledged to indicate only the relative and tran¬
sitory existence of their objects, and others which are
supposed to imply something more than this. An affection
of the nervous organism exists only as it is felt, and ceases
to exist when it is felt no longer; it has no independent
existence of its own, but is a mode of my being, created by
the act of consciousness, and ending along with it. But,
on the other hand, all men instinctively believe, and will
believe in spite of the arguments of the idealist, that we are
immediately conscious of an external world, and that that
world exists when we are not conscious of it. The impres¬
sion which the sight of a mountain makes on my optic
nerve is destroyed when I shut my eyes; but no man be¬
lieves that the mountain is destroyed along with it. Con¬
sciousness testifies that we have this belief; and on this
testimony metaphysical systems have been built, which,
however widely some of them may have wandered from the
true solution of the question, all alike prove that the ques¬
tion itself is suggested by consciousness.
This latter distinction properly belongs to ontology; the
former to psychology; though, in actual discussion, the two
have been frequently mixed together. Among the facts,
or supposed facts, of consciousness, the impressions of the
senses, from the one or the other of the above points of
view, have been, almost from the commencement of philo¬
sophy, especially noted as indicating appearance and not
reality. The following may be cited among the arguments
adduced in proof of this positionIn the first place, sen¬
sation is but the result of a transitory relation between the
organ and its object:—colour, for example, exists neither
in the eye by itself nor in the visible object by itself, but
is produced by their temporary juxtaposition.1 In the
second place, the same object presents different impressions
to the same sense, according to the condition of the sensi¬
tive organ itself.2 A man with the jaundice sees all objects
as yellow: one afflicted with colour-blindness sees as blue
that which, in a healthy state of the eyesight, appears as
red: to a diseased palate the taste appears bitter, which
a sound palate receives as sweet. But if the abnormal
state of the organs of sense produces an impression which
is acknowledged to be apparent only, why should the normal
state be regarded as giving a knowledge of reality ? If the
unusual appearance is wholly dependent on an extraordi¬
nary condition of the organism, is not the usual appearance
equally dependent on the ordinary condition ? And how
can either of them represent a real object, which in itself
is unaffected by any change in the condition of the person
perce.vmg it? In the third place, the same object presents
a different quality to different senses. An apple, for in¬
stance, is perceived by the sight as yellow, by the taste as
sweet, by the smell as fragrant.3 If the several objects of
sense are distinct realities, the apple is not one but many ;
i, on t le contrary, the apple is, as we are compelled to
conceive it, one, it follows that the impressions of the
senses are not real things, but unreal appearances of that
1 Plato, Thecetetus, pp. 153, 156.
« Plato Thecetetus, p. 159. Pyrrho apud Laert. ix. 82. Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hup i 100
Pyrrho apud Laert. ix. 81. Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 90. Cf. Plato, SophZes‘V. 251.
J
614
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, which in itself is not diverse but uniform. In the foui th place,
^ t y J the feame object presents different impressions to the same
sense, according to the different circumstances in which it is
placed. A tower, which at one distance appears to the eye
as square, at another seems to be round ; at one distance it
appears larger, at another smaller.^ But the tower itself
undergoes no change of figure 01 size. It is manifest,
therefore, that one at least of these impressions exhibits
not that which is, but that which seems to be; and unless
some reason can be assigned for preferring one to the
other, we may reasonably conclude that both do so. In
the fifth place, the sensible impression may take place with¬
out the presence of any external object by which it can be
caused. Such is the case in dreams and spectral illusions,
in which we appear to see, with all the vividness of actual
sight, things which have no existence except in our own
imagination.1 2 But if this actually takes place in some
instances, why may it not take place in all ? By what
criterion are we to distinguish the true from the ialse; or
how can we be sure that the senses present to us real
objects, when their testimony can be so well counterfeited
by mere phantoms ?
These difficulties are considerably increased, if we adopt,
with the vast majority of philosophers in ancient and modern
times, the representative theory of perception, and maintain
that like can only take cognisance of like, and therefore
that the mind, which is the seat of all consciousness, per¬
ceives through the senses, not material objects, but only
its own ideas, by which material objects are represented.
For how are we to guarantee that the idea has any re¬
semblance to the object which it represents ? To know
that two things resemble each other, I must compare them
together. But the material world, according to this hy¬
pothesis, is never perceived at all, and therefore cannot
be compared with its supposed representative.3 And the
ideas, whether regarded as immaterial objects distinct from
the percipient mind, or as modifications of the mind itself,
are called into existence in and by the act of perception,
and have no existence except when they are perceived4.
On this hypothesis we are not warranted in affirming the
existence of that of which we are never conscious; and
the conclusion to which it naturally leads is that which
denies the existence of matter, and makes the whole
external world a series of phenomena dependent on the
action of the mind. ....
Such are a few of the grounds on which philosophers, in
all ages, have maintained that the senses are the sources of
deception, not of truth, and are conversant with appearance
only, not with reality. And a more accurate acquaintance
with the physiology of the sensitive organs confirms the
latter part of this verdict, though it furnishes a defence
against the former. The senses do not deceive us with
regard to an external world, because, rightly interpreted,
they tell us nothing at all about it. We are deceived, not
in the facts to which the senses bear witness, but in the in¬
ferences which we draw from them. The colour and the
savour appear different in different states of health, because,
in truth, as affections of the nerves of sight and taste, they
are different in different conditions of the organism. I he
sensible qualities of a body are in fact, as they appear
to be, distinct affections of the several organs; and it is not
sense which tells us that these different qualities constitute
a single thing. The tower, which appears to change its Ontology,
shape and size as we approach it, is not in reality the same ■ J
visible object at any two steps of our progress. What we
actually see at any moment is nothing but the rays of light
in contact with the organ of vision; and every change of
position places us in contact with a different complement of
rays. The dream or the spectral apparition is as veritable an
affection of the optic nerve as the commonest impression of
sight; and we err only in inferring the presence of an exter¬
nal object, of which the sight itself in no case tells us any¬
thing. But, while we may thus defend the senses against the
charge of deception, we are in another respect compelled to
acknowledge that their objects are not things but pheno¬
mena. An affection of the nerves of sense is not a distinct
reality existing independently of myself: it is but a transi¬
tory mode of my own consciousness, which exists only
while I am conscious of it. A real object is not de¬
pendent for its being and properties on my being aware
of them: it has an existence and attributes of its own,
whether I am at this moment conscious of them or not.
But the proper objects of the bodily senses,—colours, sounds,
flavours, savours, and tactual sensations,—exist, as such, only
in my consciousness, and cease to exist w hen my conscious¬
ness ceases. They may be caused by some permanent
reality or realities independent of me ; but of the existence
and nature of this reality the senses tell us nothing.
It is not, therefore, to the senses, properly so called, that
we must look for the distinction between reality and ap¬
pearance in the material world. The only attribute of
matter which these make known to us is the extension of
our own organism; and, with regard to this, the distinction
in question has no place. Were the senses the only chan¬
nels of communication between mind and matter, we could
never have thought of asking how much of that communis
cation is real, and how much phenomenal. Whether my
nervous organism exists, as an extended substance, out of
the act of perception in which its extension is manifested,
is a question which could never have arisen from the act
of sensitive perception alone; for, in order to ask such a
question, I must first be enabled to separate in thought
the object of perception from the act of perceiving it, and
thus to constitute it an extra-organic reality ; and to do this,
the extra-organic world must first be presented in some
form of intuition. Apart from the associations which the
senses derive from this intuition, all modes of perception
would be regarded as equally real, or equally phenomenal;
for the real and the phenomenal could never have been
conceived as contrasted with each other.
The analysis of the facts of external intuition, which has
been given in the preceding pages, will enable us to ascer¬
tain the meaning of the distinction, and to determine the
limits within which the question which it raises can be inT
telligibly answered. Resistance to the locomotive energy
is the only mode of consciousness which directly tells us of
the existence of an external world ; and the attributes which
are made known to us in that relation are the only ones
which are directly given as constituting a material reality.
These attributes are occupation of space, implying size and
figure; and resistance, more or less stubborn, implying the
impossibility of two bodies occupying the same place. And
these are, in fact, the tests of reality to which we instinc¬
tively appeal on all occasions, even where the chcumstances
1 Pyrrho apud Laert. ix. 85. Sext Empir. Tyrrh. Ihip. i. 118. Hwme, Essay on the Academical Philosophy.
2 Plato, Theastetus, p. 157. Pyrrho apud Laert. ix. 82. Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 104. We have not noticed those argumen s
which are drawn from the comparison of one man with another, or of men with hrutes. We are treating only of the distinctions indi¬
cated by consciousness ; and we have no access to the consciousness of any other creature than ourselves.
8 Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 74. Berkeley, Human Knowledge, part i., sect. 8 ; Cousin, Cours de 1829, Le$on 21.
4 Berkeley, Human Knowledge, part i., sect. 3 ; Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, Dial. ii. Berkeley goes so far as to deduce
from this position an argument for the being of God j on the ground that the world cannot have a continuous existence, except in some
continuously percipient mind.
METAPHYSICS.
615
Ontology^ of the case do not permit their actual application. A body
is necessarily conceived as in space, and an external body as
in a space exterior to our organism. This implies the occu¬
pation of a portion of space, which is size, and the limitation
by surrounding space, which is figure. But I may not be
able, in particular cases, to verify this conception by any
empirical test. I may be placed blindfold against a wall, of
which I am not able to feel the extremities. I cannot
therefore pronounce empircally, either directly, from contact,
or indirectly, from sight, that it is limited in its length and
height, or that it is square, or circular, or of any other
known figure. But I am compelled to believe that it has a
definite size and figure, and that I should be able to feel
them if I were in some other position. Again, a volume of
smoke may offer no perceptible resistance to the motion of
my arm. But here, again, I am compelled to believe that
it offers some resistance, which, with more acute faculties,
I should be able to perceive ; for I cannot conceive myself
as placing my hand in the midst of the smoke without" dis¬
placing the particles with which it comes in contact. The
atmosphere, whose ordinary pressure, like the music of the
spheres, is unperceived because it is always present, exerts,
as is well known, a resistance as great as lolb. on the
square inch ; and wherever a body penetrates, it produces
during its occupation an atmospheric vacuum. A body,
then, is presented as real when it actually offers resistance
to the locomotive effort: it is represented as real when we
believe that it would resist if we were in a position to make
the attempt. By this test the objects of the senses are in¬
stinctively, and often unconsciously, judged. The visible
and tangible impressions, which are usually accompanied by
the apprehension of resistance, are regarded, first, as signs
of the presence of a real object, and afterwards as real objects
themselves; and the sight of the sun in the sky gives us a
conviction of its independent existence, as firm as if we
could feel it supporting our tread. But that this conviction
is indirect, not immediate,—the result of association, not of
original intuition,—is evident from the fact that, when the
association is broken, the belief in the reality of the object
is instantaneously destroyed. Let an object be given as
visible but unresisting, and it is at once acknowledged to
exist in appearance only, and not in truth :—
“ Ter conatus ibi collo dare brachia circum ;
Ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago,
Par levibus ventis volucrique simillima somno.”1
These lines express the instinctive belief of all mankind
in the true criterion of material reality,—a belief which is
justified and explained by the testimony of consciousness
read by the light of psychological research.
OP THE REAL IN COSMOLOGY.
The above observations may furnish materials for a
criticism of that branch of metaphysics known as cos-
mology, or the ontology of the material world. They will
serve to point out what are the facts of consciousness
which give rise to the conception of such a science, and
what are the limits within which that conception can
be realized. The conception of reality in material ob¬
jects is derived from the consciousness of extension
and resistance in conjunction; and the philosophy of
the real, in this department, has no legitimate field beyond
the several conditions and relations of these attributes, as
presented in various modes of experience. Its object,
therefore, is not a supersensible world lying beyond the Ontology,
facts of consciousness, but the sensible world, in those pro-
perties which are primarily and directly made known to us
as modes of resistance to the locomotive energy, such as
gravity, cohesion, repulsion, motion, and their various sub¬
divisions. Its method is not demonstrative, except in so
far as the mathematical attributes of pure extension are
applicable hypothetically to extension in conjunction with
resistance. In the verification of this hypothesis in any
particular case, and in those researches which belong to its
own province, it deals with matters of fact; and matters of
fact cannot, as such, be matters of demonstration. This
limitation is confirmed, on further consideration, by those
facts of consciousness which at first seem to point to a con¬
trary conclusion,—the necessary principles and reasonings
of geometry. For these have been shown to depend on cer¬
tain forms or conditions of experience, derived from the
constitution of the mind itself, and to imply the existence
of nothing but a conscious mind, modified in a certain man¬
ner. Of the real existence of its object, geometrical rea¬
soning tells us nothing ; but only that, on the supposition
of its existence, certain properties may be proved to belong
to it;—the proof, however, being equally valid whether the
supposed existence be in fact or merely in imagination. The
test of the real existence of matter is resistance, without
which extension alone is not conceived as an external
reality : and to the modes of resistance, as such, the demon¬
strations of geometry are not applicable.
The above conception of cosmology is, it must be con¬
fessed, very different from that which metaphysicians in gene¬
ral have attempted to realize. Indeed it may be regarded
by some as indicating rather a physical than a metaphysical
system ; and this charge must be admitted, if the science
of physics is viewed in its most general extent, as embracing
the universal properties of matter in general, as well as the
special characteristics of this or that body.2 But the fault,
if it be one, lies, not in the conception, but in the facts of
human nature on which it is founded. If our faculties are
so limited as to present us only with physical attributes of
matter, the metaphysics of matter can contain nothing more
than the principles and results of physics in their most
general extent. We may regret, if we please, the limita¬
tion, and sigh for a knowledge of a hyperphysical world ;
but our faculties do not convey such a knowledge, and
all our sighing will not make them do so. The limi¬
tation is one which our Creator has thought fit to im¬
pose upon us, and, regret it as we may, we cannot escape
from it.
But a philosophy which fails to solve, and even refuses
to grapple with, certain problems, may vindicate itself by
explaining why they are insoluble. Before quitting the
subject of cosmology, it is necessary to point out in what
respects the above sketch falls short of the highest concep¬
tion of a metaphysical system, and why it does so. In the
first place, it starts from the apprehension of matter as
extended, and does not attempt to solve the higher difficulty
involved in the notion of extension itself. Extension can¬
not be regarded as the unit of material reality; for it is
dependent on a juxtaposition of parts whose reality cannot
consist merely in their combination. Extension is a rela¬
tion between parts, as exterior to each other; and a relation
implies things related, which must be real in themselves,
n? real.ity cou‘^ residt from their combination. This
difficulty, with all the accompanying paradoxes involved in
the infinite divisibility of matter, is abandoned as insoluble ;
an it is obvious why it is so. If space is a necessary form
1 Virgil, ^En., ii. 792.
common to all bodies may be properly referred to a more general branch of philosophy. ^ ^ aCCepted’the attnbute9
616 M E T A P
Ontology, of intuition, involved in the laws of our mental constitution,
v—it follows that, to explain the generation ot space itself, we
must go out of our constitution, io conceive the ultimate
reality on which extension depends, I must conceive the
non-extended becoming extended,—a conception which is
impossible ; first, because thought is only operative within
the limits of possible intuition, and we can have no intuition
of unextended matter ; secondly, because, to conceive a rela¬
tion between the unextended and the extended, I must be
able to compare them together ; and to do this I must be in
and out of my mental constitution at the same moment. An
ultimate unit of space is thus as inconceivable as a first in¬
stant of time ; and for the same reason—because both space
and time are necessary forms of intuition. In the second
place, the riddle which has puzzled the metaphysicians of all
ages still remains unanswered:—“ How can the one be many,
or the many one ?” In other words, “ How can a variety of
attributes constitute a single object?” This problem also
is insoluble ; and for a like reason—because consciousness
cannot account for its own laws. If consciousness is limited,
the consciousness of that limit implies the existence of
something of which we cannot think; and this is equally
true of the limits of intuition and of those of thought. Now,
it is a necessary condition of conception, as has been already
shown, that its object must comprehend a plurality of attri¬
butes ;—in other words, that thought is impossible except
under the condition of diversity in unity.1 To explain why
this is so, would be to explain why our minds are consti¬
tuted as they are; and this involves a criticism of the laws
of thought themselves. But such a criticism manifestly
destroys itself; for it can only be carried on by thought
operating under the very laws whose validity is questioned.
Whatever doubt, therefore, can be raised concerning the
object of criticism must likewise affect the critical process
itself. Wherever, therefore, we fix the limits of thought,
something must remain inexplicable. From this we can¬
not escape, except by denying that thought has limits ; and
this denial again annihilates itself; for if thought has no
limits, nothing is unthinkable ; and if nothing is unthinkable,
nothing is absurd; and if nothing is absurd, no system of
philosophy is more reasonable than another, and the denial of
limits is not more true than the assertion of them. In the third
place, metaphysical philosophy is admitted to be concerned,
not with matter as it is, but with matter as we conceive it;
and this admission, too, is a necessary consequence of the laws
of consciousness, in its manifestation, as a relation between
a subject and an object. We cannot compare the object
of consciousness with a thing of which we are not conscious ;
for comparison itself is an act of consciousness: we can
only compare one object of consciousness with another, the
permanent with the transitory, the necessary with the con¬
tingent. There still remains the question, “ Do things as
they are resemble things as they are conceived by usr”—a
question which we cannot answer, either in the affirmative
or in the negative; for the denial, as much as the assertion,
implies a comparison of the two.2 If, then, being is inter-
H Y S I C S.
preted to mean the absolute beyond consciousness, and op- Ontology
pearance the relative within it (an interpretation, however,
which is not warranted by the analysis of consciousness
itself), it must be admitted that the philosophy of the
material world, in its highest form, is not ontology, but
phenomenology.
OF THE HEAL IN PSYCHOLOGY.
This admission, however, cannot be extended to the
second branch of the metaphysics of being, which deals
with the internal consciousness and the personal self; for
here the interpretation on which it depends is utterly un¬
tenable. Psychology, like cosmology, cannot transcend the
limits of consciousness ; but in psychology it cannot in any
sense be maintained that the real is that of which we are
not conscious. My own consciousness is not merely the
test of my real existence, but it actually constitutes it. I
exist in so far as I am a person; and I am a person in so
far as I am conscious. Were it possible, which it is not,
to conceive the human soul as a substance of which con¬
sciousness is only an accidental mode,—which may exist at
one time in a conscious, and at another in an unconscious
state,—such a soul could in no sense of the term be called
myself; the various modes of its existence could in no
sense be called mine. The Cartesian cogito, ergo sum, is so
far from being, as its opponents have maintained, an illogical
reasoning from a premise to its conclusion, that its only
fault consists in assuming the appearance of a reasoning at
all. My consciousness does not prove my existence, be¬
cause it is my existence. Descartes does not intend, as Reid
imagined,3 to reason from the existence of thought to the
existence of a mind or subject of thought: he intends to
state wherein personal existence consists; and he rightly
places it in consciousness.4 5 The opinion of Locke,0 that
the soul does not always think, is tenable only as a part of
that false psychology which regards the soul as a substance
projected, as it were, out of consciousness, the unknown
substratum imagined as the support of known accidents.6
If I am never conscious of myself, but only of my ideas, I
can, of course, pronounce nothing concerning the conditions
of my real existence ; but then, upon the same supposition,
I could never have known that 1 am conscious, or that the
ideas are mine. If there is nothing given in consciousness
but ideas, there is no such thing as personal existence ; but
only a multitude of isolated ideas, each conscious of itself.
Put the question in another form : ask what is the evidence
that 1 exist at all; and I can only adduce the direct witness
of consciousness. The existence of myself is a fact of con¬
sciousness, not an inference from it; for an I must be pre¬
supposed to make the inference. The unconscious sub¬
stratum of possible ideas may be a soul, in some arbitrary
and unmeaning definition ot that term ; but assuredly it is
not myself. If we could suppose a human body growing
up to maturity without consciousness, and a conscious prin¬
ciple afterwards infused into it, the body in its previous
I See ante, p. 589. * q \
II Kant maintains that the objects of our intuition are not in themselves as they appear to us. (Kritik. der. r. V., Transc. ^.sth., sect, o.j
Here, however, the critic becomes a dogmatist in negation, and contradicts his own fundamental hypothesis; for if things in themselves
are absolutely unknown, how can we say whether they are like or unlike anything else ?
3 Inquiry, chap, i., sect. 3. ... p. v
4 See the dissertation of M. Cousin, “ Sur le vrai sens du cogito, ergo sum,” printed in the earlier editions of the Fragments i oso
plaques, and in vol. i., p. 27, of the collective edition of his works. The same position is well illustrated by Mr Veitch, in the introduc¬
tion to his translation of the Discours de la Methode, p. 22. See also Principia, p. i., sects. 8, 9, 53.
5 Essay, b. ii. ch. i., sect. 10.
6 Locke’s assertion is but partially refuted by Leibnitz, (Nouveaux Essais, ii. 1.) who holds that, in sleep without dreams, the mind is
in a state of obscure perception, not amounting to consciousness;—an opinion which is also maintained by Wolf, Psychologia Rationalis,
sect. 59. But the opposite opinion, suggested by Aristotle, (Le Somno, c. i., ij triifx/iotlvsi /aeu dti x.ot,&svdovoiv ivvTrma^iiv, ov
[xuYiy.ovti'OviMs.fs adopted by some of the most eminent psychological and physiological writers of modern times, as confirmed both by
d priori probability and by positive experience. (See Kant, Anthropologic, sects. 30, 36; Jouffroy, Melanges Philosophiques, p. 290;
Holland, Chapters on Mental Physiology, p. 80 ; Brodie, Psychological Researches, p. 147.) Some valuable remarks and illustrations of
this position are contained in Sir W. Hamilton’s unpublished Lectures on Metaphysics.
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, condition would be no more a part of myself than the limb
which was amputated from me ten years ago, and which is
now dissolved into its chemical elements. Yet the inquiry,
how far personality is diminished by amputation or increased
by corpulence, is not more irrelevant, than to ask when con¬
sciousness begins in the new-born infant, or in the foetus in
the womb. In so far as the rudiments of my body existed
prior to the birth of consciousness, in so far they were not
parts of myself: and I, as a person, had no existence. I hold
that my personality is undiminished by the loss of a limb,
simply because I am conscious that it is undiminished; and
for the same reason I refuse to acknowledge that I existed
in the rudimentary foetus, or in the ovum, or in the sperma¬
tozoon, or in the organism of my remote ancestors.1
But when we place the personal existence in conscious¬
ness, it is necessary to distinguish between the accidents of
consciousness and its essential constituents. A man who
has lost his eyesight has in one sense less consciousness
than he had before; he has lost that portion which con¬
sists in the sensations of vision. But his personality remains
undiminished by the loss either of the bodily organ or of
the affections of consciousness which that organ communi¬
cates. The same may be said of the other bodily senses;
each of which may be conceived to be annihilated without
any destruction of the personality of the conscious subject.
This is the natural testimony of consciousness to the spirit¬
uality of man. We cannot help believing that the body
and its organs, however necessary during the present life
to certain modes of consciousness, however chronologically
the occasion of the earliest development of consciousness
in general, is yet no part of the conscious subject,—is not, in
any sense of the term, myself. And this instinctive convic¬
tion of the untaught consciousness of mankind is further
strengthened by all that science tells us of the constitution
of the body and its organs. Of the animal body is empha¬
tically true what Heraclitus and the general voice of philo¬
sophy after him declared of the objects of sense in general :2—
it exists not, but is continually being produced; it no sooner
comes into being than it ceases to be. At no two succes¬
sive moments does it consist of exactly the same particles;
and during the course of a long life, the entire system is
many times destroyed and renewed again. Our whole
physical existence is but a series of chemical changes;
“ the solid,” to quote the words of a recent writer,3 “ melt¬
ing into the liquid, the liquid congealing into the solid;
whilst both stand so related to the air, which is the breath
of life, that they are continually vaporising into gases.”
Yet amidst all these changes, the conscious subject, the
personal self, continues one and unchanged. A similar
distinction between the accidental and the essential must be
made with regard to the internal consciousness: the matter
of that consciousness is continually changing; while the
form abides permanent and immutable : emotions, thoughts,
volitions, succeed one another at every moment: the self,—
feeling, thinking, willing,—is one and the same throughout.
It is not necessary to my personal existence that I should
feel joy or sorrow, anger or tranquillity; for the calm man
of to-day is the same as the angry man of yesterday; and
he who laughs to-day may weep to-morrow. Nay, more :
not only is every special experience which constitutes the
matter of consciousness alien to and separable from the
personality of the subject; but even a portion of the form
of consciousness must be regarded as having in this relation
only a hypothetical and secondary necessity. The intuition
GIT
of space, though necessarily accompanying every perception Ontology,
of matter, whether in our own organism or in the exterior
world, is yet necessary only so long as we are in the body
and conscious by the bodily senses. We cannot positively
conceive a state of existence from which space is separated ;
yet, on the other hand, we are compelled to believe that
existence in space is an attribute of body, and not of mind.
But when all these are set aside, there yet remain two
conditions which I conceive as essential to my personal
existence in every possible mode, and such as could not be
removed without the destruction of myself as a conscious
being. These two conditions are time and/ree agency. To
consciousness, in its limited and human form of existence
(of the divine consciousness we are not entitled to speak),
it is essential that there should be a permanent subject with
a succession of modifications. The consciousness of any
object, as such, is only possible under the condition of change;
and change is only possible under the condition of succes¬
sion. Destroy this condition, and, though I am not war¬
ranted in saying that no kind of consciousness can exist, I
am warranted in saying that such consciousness could not
be mine. That a being now subject to the law of succes¬
sion should be identical with one hereafter not so subject,
implies a self-contradiction ; for it implies a consciousness
of the relation of present to past, and the absence of time,
the basis of that relation. Succession in time is thus mani¬
fested as a constituent element of my personal existence,
without which I could not be conscious of that existence;
and, as consciousness is in this case reality, without which
/ could not exist. Again, consciousness in its human ma¬
nifestation implies an active as well as a passive element;—
a power of attending to the successive states of conscious¬
ness, as well as a succession in those states themselves.
Attention appears to be necessary, not merely to the re¬
membrance, but even to the existence of various states of
consciousness as such ;—indeed, attention is but conscious¬
ness in operation upon some definite object,4 But in atten¬
tion we remark, obscurely, indeed, but certainly, the pre¬
sence, in a more or less obtrusive form, of the power of
volition. It is impossible, indeed, to estimate by analysis
the exact amount of will, in the strict sense of the term,
that is implied in the ordinary cognition of objects; the
frequency of the act having obliterated the distinctive marks
of its several elements, before we are capable of reflecting
upon them; but its presence as a constituent element is
not the less surely implied, though it requires some research
to disengage it. It is not going too far to say that, without
the conscious exercise of volition, the distinction between
the permanent subject and its transitory modes, between
myself and my affections, could never have arisen in the
human mind; and the consciousness of that distinction is
even now observed to vary with the fact which gives rise
to it, to become more or less vivid in proportion as the
consciousness of voluntary action is more or less obvious.
I am emphatically and prominently present to my own
consciousness in the exercise of choice: those acts are
peculiarly mine, which are consciously imputable to me as
their cause, and for which I feel myseif responsible.5 Voli¬
tion is not, indeed, the whole of personality, but it is one
necessary element of it;—the consciousness of the one rising
and falling with the consciousness of the other; both more
or less vividly manifested, as is the case with all conscious¬
ness, according to the less or greater familiarity of particular
instances ; but never wholly obliterated in any capable at
ci ni m J  1  oiccu
1 See Plato, Theatetus, p. 152-160; Arist. Metaph. i. 6, xii. 4.
■ Professor George Wilson, in the Edinburgh Essays, p. 313.
6 gee on this point, Kant, Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Vernunft, parti., sect 1
YOL. XIV. J
* See ante, p. 575
4 i
618
Ontology.
METAPHYSICS.
any moment of being detected by analysis, and incapable
of being annihilated by any effort of thought. That a con¬
scious being can, under no possible conditions, be a merely
passive link in the chain of causation, is more than I can
venture to assert; but this much I know, that such con¬
sciousness could not possibly be my consciousnessthat
I could not become such a being, retaining my present
personality unimpaired ^ but that X must be destroyed, and
a distinct being substituted in my place. The freedom of
the will is so far from being, as it is generally considered,
a controvertible question of philosophy, that it is the funda¬
mental postulate, without which all action and all speculation,
philosophy in all its branches, and human consciousness
itself, would be impossible.
The task, then, of the metaphysician, in this branch of
his science, is to unravel and solve the difficulties which
accompany the conception of personality in its twofold cha-
acter,—that of existence in time, and that of free agency.
The fact itself is in both cases equally indubitable: it is as
certain, from the testimony of consciousness, that we are
free agents, as that our ideas occur in succession, one after
another. We are not called upon to account for this ;—which
would be to account for our own existence; every attempt
at which must manifestly assume the very fact which it
professes to call in question;—but, assuming this as the
basis of consciousness, and, in consciousness, of personal
existence, we must endeavour to meet the objections to
which it is apparently liable, and which will generally be
found to arise from a misinterpretation of the testimony of
consciousness itself. For instance, it has been asked, how
can a real thing exist in time; and, if it does so, how can^
we be conscious of its existence ? The earlier phases of
its being have passed by, and exist no more ; the future
exist not yet; the present is perishing as we contemplate
it: How can these several phenomena make one thing?
and, if they could, how can we be conscious of it? lo
know that my past self is identical with my present, I must
compare them together: this is impossible, as they cannot
be made to exist together. Nay, even to compare the
thought of one with the thought of the other, I must con¬
template them successively; and thus each vanishes as
the other presents itself.1 The answer to this objection
may be furnished by a more accurate analysis of the idea
of time itself. The consciousness of time does not simply
imply succession: it implies a permanent subject under
successive modifications. The object of consciousness can
only be presented as successive, on the condition that the
subject is presented as continuous. It is only when I
become an object of consciousness to myself, that I become
a member of a successive series ; but in this case the object
is not the presented self, but my representative conception
of that self, il/y notion of myself may alternate in con¬
sciousness with my notions of other things; but it can do so
only on condition that the presented self the subject,
and not the object, of consciousness, remains one and in¬
divisible. The subject, it is true, cannot be contemplated
apart from its modifications; for this would be to transform
it from a subject to an object; but the two elements are
not the less clearly discerned in the relation of conscious¬
ness ; though they are discerned only in conjunction with
each other. For this reason, the language which implies
succession becomes obviously improper when applied to
the subject of consciousness. I may speak, accurately
enough, of my earlier and later thoughts or feelings; but
I cannot, with any philosophical accuracy, speak of an
earlier and later self even as a merely logical distinction,
for the sake of afterwards identifying the two. To identify
is to connect together in thought objects of consciousness
given under different conditions of space or time ; as when Ontology.
I pronounce the man whom I met in the street to-day to ^ Y y
be the same who called at my house yesterday. But my¬
self the subject of consciousness, is never given under
these different relations at all. It is that presentation from
which our original notion of numerical identity is drawn,
and which cannot be subjected to later and secondary ap¬
plications of the same idea. These considerations may
perhaps throw some light on the vexed question of per¬
sonal identity,—a question which can only be asked con¬
cerning the represented self, or notion made an object;
and which cannot be asked at all without presupposing the
presented identity of the subject.
A like answer may be made to the objections against
free will, drawn from the supposed necessity of a determin¬
ing antecedent in time. Consciousness, rightly interpreted,
repudiates both the extreme theories;—that of an irresistible
determinant, or set of determinants, and that of an arbitrary
will, altogether uninfluenced by motives. Two alternative
motives are manifested in consciousness as both influencing,
but neither compelling; and the freedom of the will con¬
sists, not in being absolutely uninfluenced, but in the
power of determinining which of the two influences shall
prevail. Of a temporal antecedent necessarily determining
my volitions, consciousness tells me nothing;—nay, it tells
me the very reverse, that the influence ot such an antece¬
dent is not necessary. It is only when the idea of volition
is excluded, and, with volition, that of choice, and, with
choice, that of contingence, that the temporal antecedent is
transformed into a necessary determinant.2 But this merely
negative idea of necessity, which is, in fact, only an inability
to conceive contingence, is derived solely from the absence
of volition, and is inapplicable where volition is present.
The only positive notion which I possess of causative power
is that of myself determining my own volitions. This no¬
tion presupposes the freedom of the person, and has no
existence whatever if that freedom be denied. To apply
this notion in support of the hypothesis of necessity, is not
only to go beyond, but actually to reverse the testimony ot
consciousness. It is, in fact, to say that the consciousness
of myself having absolute power over my own volitions
is identical with the consciousness of something else having
absolute power over me.
But if we are conscious that we are free, we are tree in
reality; for, as regards the personal self, consciousness is
reality. In this respect, the ontology of the personal self,
which stands in the place of the rational psychology of the
pre-Kantian metaphysics, occupies a very different position
from the ontology of the material world, which inherits the
unsolved problems of rational cosmology. The latter
science, in its only attainable form, is but a phenomenology
of a higher order. It can distinguish between the perma¬
nent and the transitory attributes of matter relatively to con¬
sciousness ; but it is compelled to admit the possible existence
of a further material world of things, of which we are not
conscious, and which may or may not resemble the objects
of which consciousness, and, through consciousness, philo¬
sophy, takes cognisance. But, as regards myself this sup¬
position is inadmissible. I exist as a person only as I am
conscious of myself; and I am conscious of myself only as 1
exist. The consciousness of personality is thus an onto¬
logy in the highest sense of the term, and cannot be re¬
garded as the representation of any ulterior reality. T e
neglect of this distinction forms the weak point in the other¬
wise masterly discussions of Kant on the antinomies o
pure reason. Denying the existence of an immediate con¬
sciousness of self, and holding, as all who deny this must
do, that the freedom of the will is incompatible with exist-
1 See Herbart, Lehrluchzur Einleitung in die Philosophic, sect. 120, sqq.; Hauptpuncte der Metaphysik, sect. H.
* See ante, p. 601.
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, ence in time, he endeavoured to save liberty itself, and,
through liberty, morality, by a distinction between the
phenomenal self of consciousness, and a real self of which
we are not conscious. The self of consciousness, he
said, is a phenomenon existing in time; and, as such, is
necessarily determined by antecedent phenomena. If,
then, phenomena were things in themselves, freedom would
be impossible. But beyond the field of consciousness there
must exist a transcendental self, the ground and support of
the phenomena; and to this transcendental subject, as
under no conditions of time, we may legitimately attribute
a power of self-determination, or free causality. To this
attempted solution obvious objections may be raised. In
the first place, it may be urged that our real personal exist¬
ence is the existence of consciousness; and no higher gua¬
rantee of reality can be admitted. The self of conscious¬
ness is the true self: that which is beyond consciousness,
if such can be supposed, is in this case the phenomenon.
In the second place, we are not compelled in thought to
postulate the existence of any transcendental self at all;
for consciousness itself presents the permanent subject of
its own phenomena. In the third place, liberty is so far from
being incompatible with consciousness, that it is directly
given in consciousness itself; for I am immediately con¬
scious that the temporal antecedents of my volition exer¬
cise no coercion upon it. Kant’s solution is, in fact, the
very reverse of the truth:—it is the self of consciousness
which is really free: the hypothesis of necessity can only
be maintained by the gratuitous supposition of a law of
causality beyond consciousness, by which I am determined
without knowing it. Such a perversion of the truth, on
the part of so profound a thinker, can only be explained as
a consequence of that suicidal position maintained as a
canon of psychology by the philosophers of the last cen¬
tury; namely, that I have no immediate consciousness of
myself, but only of my successive mental states,—a position
which can only be described as one among many pernicious
results of that reaction of physical upon mental science
which, under the abused name of inductive philosophy, was
permitted to poison with its crude analogies the very foun¬
tain and source of philosophy itself. The same con¬
sciousness which tells me that I am compelled to believe
in the existence of a material world when I am not directly
conscious of it, tells me also that I am directly conscious of
myself, and that I exist in and by that consciousness. To
overlook the distinction thus clearly laid before us is to
confound with each other the two poles of speculative
philosophy, the subject with the object, the necessary with
the contingent, the permanent with the transitory, the ego
with the non-ego.
Beyond the attributes manifested by consciousness as
essential to personality, the ontology of the soul has no
province. It cannot assume those attributes as the basis of
any further demonstration ; for the principles of demonstra¬
tion are inapplicable to real objects. Neither the simpli¬
city of the soul nor its immortality can be demonstrated
as a necessary truth; for they are not implied in the con¬
ception of personality, and beyond that conception we have
no intuition of necessary relations. The favourite repre¬
sentation of the soul as a simple substance, indivisible, and
619
therefore indestructible, is one which, except so far as it is Ontology,
synonymous with continuous existence in time, is either
untrue or unmeaning. If interpreted to mean that the
conception of personality comprehends only a single attri¬
bute, it is untrue; if intended to state that the soul is not
composed of parts coadjacent in space, it is unmeaning,
except on the principles of materialism. A material atom
is an intelligible expression, whether the object which it
denotes is conceivable as really existing or not. A mental
atom is as utterly unmeaning as the opposite expression of
a mind composed of atoms.1 Immortality, again, however
surely guaranteed upon other grounds, cannot be repre¬
sented as a necessary attribute of personal existence.
That which did not exist once, may, without any absurdity,
be supposed not to exist hereafter. The power which was
sufficient to create is also sufficient to destroy; and if man
is destined to exist for ever, it is from no inherent immor¬
tality of his own, but solely because such is the will of his
Maker. That we are designed for a future life, may indeed
be inferred from the direct testimony of consciousness, in
so far as it reveals the existence within us of feelings and
principles which do not find their full satisfaction in this
life; but this inference, however legitimate, does not fall
within the province of metaphysics.
OF THE REAL IN THEOLOGY.
In treating of the third branch of ontology, that of ra¬
tional theology, it is necessary to take a different course
from that adopted by the majority of those metaphysicians
who have attempted theological reasoning at all. In the
number of these, however, we cannot include those philo¬
sophers, whose systems, however veiled under the language
of theism, or even of Christianity, exhibit a conception of
the Deity which virtually amounts to pantheism. A per¬
sonal God cannot be identified with all existence ; and an
impersonal Deity, however tricked out to usurp the attri¬
butes of the Godhead, is no God at all, but a mere blind
and immoveable law or destiny,2 with less than even the
divinity of a fetish, since that can at least be imagined as
a being who may be offended or propitiated by the wor¬
shipper. But, however much we may sympathize with the
purpose of those philosophers who have endeavoured to
demonstrate, a priori, the existence and attributes of a
personal God, we cannot help feeling that such demon¬
strations, whatever may be their apparent logical validity,
carry no real conviction with them to the believer or to the
unbeliever.3 And the reason of this is not far to seek. No
demonstration from conceptions can prove the real exist¬
ence of the object conceived; and, till this is done, the de¬
monstration of the attributes of a hypothetical object proves
no more than the connection between certain thoughts in
our own minds.4 The actual existence of an object can
never be shown by thinking about it; for imaginary objects
are as capable of being represented in thought as real ones.
Reality must be tested, not by thought, but ^by intuition;
we must be able to point to certain facts of consciousness
in which the object of which we are in search is actually
presented before us; or, at least, which can only be accounted
for on the supposition that such an object exists. But this
1 The only legitimate argument from the simplicity of the soul to its immortality is of a purely negative character. We are not
authorized to say that we know the soul to be simple, and that therefore it is indestructible; but only that we do not know the soul to
be compound (indeed, that the epithets compound and simple, as applied to the soul, have no meaning), and, therefore, that we cannot
infer its mortality from the analogy of bodily dissolution. And this is, for the most part, the limit within which the argument is con¬
fined by one of the soberest as well as deepest of thinkers, the admirable Bishop Butler. The majority of philosophers however have
not been so cautious in their reasoning. r r 5 5
8 See Kant, Beweisgrund zu einer Demonstration des Daseyns Gottes, Vierte Betrachtung, sect. 3.
3 For a criticism of some of the principal demonstrations of this kind, see Kant, Kritik derreinen Vernunft., Abth. iii B ii Hauptst 3.
The same grounds, of objection are also applicable to other reasonings of this kind. Compare Waterland’s Dissertation on the Argument
a priori for a First Cause.
* See ante, p.602.
CD O
20
METAPHYSICS.
argument from the facts of intuition is not a priori, but
a posteriori: it does not commence with a general concep¬
tion, in order to exhibit by analysis the subordinate con¬
ceptions comprehended in it, or to construct in imagination
a corresponding object; but it starts from certain facts of
experience, manifested in the outer or inner conscious¬
ness, in order to determine the nature of the object which
those facts present or point out to us.
We must therefore begin our inquiry by asking, What are
the facts of consciousness which appear directly to indicate
the existence of a spiritual being superior to ourselves ?
Two of the intuitions of the internal consciousness appear
especially to possess this character :—the feeling of depen¬
dence, and the sense of moral obligation. To these must
be added, as an indirect and collateral witness, the conscious¬
ness of limitation, which, by suggesting, though not imme¬
diately presenting, the unlimited as its correlative, serves in
some degree to interpret and connect the other two. The
argument from causation, though holding an important place
among the evidences of natural religion, can hardly be
placed among those direct indications of consciousness which
come within the legitimate province of metaphysics. We
are immediately conscious, indeed, of the necessity of sup¬
posing a phenomenal antecedent to every event; but we
are not immediately conscious of a necessity of conceiving
that the series of phenomena is limited or unlimited. Nay,
rather, we are conscious of two counter inabilities, which hin¬
der us from conceiving either an absolutely first cause, or
an absolutely unlimited series of causes and effects.1 W e
have thus two contradictory hypotheses, one of which must
be believed, though neither can be comprehended ; and the
evidence of reason being thus neutralized, we are bound to
adopt that alternative which is most in harmony with the
remaining testimony of consciousness. But, in so doing, we
obey a moral, not an intellectual obligation ; and our con¬
viction, as far as the argument from causation alone is con¬
cerned, is not that of reason, but that of faith. The con¬
clusion from the evidences of design in the works of crea¬
tion, which is but a special form of that from causation, is
likewise not an immediate suggestion of consciousness, but
the gradual product of experience and comparison, arguing
by analogy from what we have learned concerning the
works of man to what we may infer concerning the works
of God. Such arguments have great value in their own
place, as illustrative of, and auxiliary to, the convictions forced
upon us by our religious and moral instincts ; but they are
based upon reflection, not upon intuition ; and, though they
may serve to enlarge our conception of the Deity when once
formed, they do not explain its origin and formation.
The province of the metaphysical theologian is confined
to those evidences which belong to the direct testimony of
the intuitive consciousness, as manifested in the feelings of
dependence and moral obligation. The feeling of depend¬
ence is something very different from the mere recognition
of the relation of subject to object in consciousness, and of
the consequent limitation of the one by the other.2 It is a
feeling that our welfare and destination are in the hands of
a superior Power ; not of an inexorable fate or immutable
law, but of a Being having at least so far the attributes of Ontology,
personality that He can show favour or severity towards
those dependent upon him, and can be regarded by them
with the feelings of hope and fear and reverence and grati¬
tude, and be addressed in the words of prayer and praise. It
is a feeling similar in kind, though higher in degree, to that
which is awakened in the mind of the child by his relation
to his parent, who is first manifested to his mind as the giver
of such things as are needful, and to whom the first lan¬
guage he addresses is that of entreaty. With the first de¬
velopment of consciousness, there grows up, as a part of it,
the innate feeling that our life, natural and spiritual, is not
in our own power to prolong or to sustain ; that there is One
above us on whom we are dependent, whose existence we
learn, and whose presence we realize, by the sure instinct
of prayer. That this feeling is natural to us, is manifested
by the universal practice of mankind every nation, how¬
ever degraded may be its form of religion, having some
notion of a superior being, and some method of propiti¬
ating his favour. We have thus, in the sense of depend¬
ence, the psychological foundation of one great element of
religion—the fear of God.
But the mere consciousness of dependence does not in
itself exhibit the character of the Being on whom we de¬
pend. It is as consistent with superstition as with true
religion—with the belief in a malevolent as in a benevo¬
lent deity; it is as much, if not more, called into exercise
by the painful and terrible aspects of nature as by the
pleasing and encouraging. It indicates the power of God,
but not necessarily his goodness. This deficiency, how¬
ever, is supplied by the other psychological element of
religion, the consciousness of moral obligation. It is im¬
possible to maintain, as Kant has attempted to do,3 the
theory of an absolute autonomy of the will; that is to say,
of an obligatory law resting on no basis but its own impe¬
rative character. The will, or practical reason, with its law
of immutable obligation, is in itself a fact of the human
constitution, and it is no more. Kant’s fiction of an abso¬
lute law, binding upon all rational beings whatever, has
only an apparent universality; because we can only con¬
ceive other rational beings by identifying their constitution
with our own, and making human reason the measure and
representative of reason in general. Why, then, has one—-
part of my constitution, as such, an imperative authority
over the remainder ? What right has one part of the human
consciousness to represent itself as duty, and another merely
as inclination ? There is but one answer possible. The
moral reason, or will, or conscience—call it by what name
we please—of man, can have no authority, save as im¬
planted in him by some higher spiritual being, as a law
emanating from a lawgiver. Man can be a law unto himself
only on the supposition that he reflects in himself the law
of God. If he is absolutely a law unto himself, his duty
and his pleasure are undistinguishable from each other;
for he is subject to no one, and accountable to no one.
Duty itself becomes, in this case, only a higher kind of plea¬
sure—a balance between the present and the future, be¬
tween the smaller and the larger gratification. We are
1 The counter arguments on either side are exhibited by Kant, in his first antinomy of pure reason. The same conclusion, however,
is evident, without argument, from the direct testimony of consciousness. For to conceive an absolutely first member of the causal series
is to conceive a beginning of all time, and thus to be conscious of a relation of time to an object out of time, and therefore out of con¬
sciousness ; and to conceive an infinite series of causes and effects, we must carry our thought through an infinite succession of objects,
a process which would require an infinite time to accomplish it.
* In consequence of not distinguishing between these two, Schleiermacher (Christliche Glaube, sect. 4) has fallen into the error of
representing our relation to the world as a feeling of partial dependence, and our relation to the Deity as one of absolute dependence.
Thus represented, God can no longer be conceived as a person, but is nothing more than the world magnified to infinity ; and the feeling
of absolute dependence becomes the annihilation of our personality in the being of the universe. Of this feeling, the intellectual ex¬
ponent is pantheism. °
* See Metaphysik der Sitten (Abschn. ii., pp. 61, 71, ed. Rosenkranz). Thus refusing to acknowledge an intuition of God as a moral
lawgiver, Kant is compelled to rest the evidence of the existence of the Deity on an assumed necessity of rewarding men according to
their deserts, a necessity which implies an all-wise judge who can estimate merit in every degree. For an able criticism of Kant’s
theory, see Miiller, On the Christian Doctrine of Sin (vol. i., p. 73, of the English translation).
METAPHYSICS.
621
Ontology, thus compelled, by the consciousness of moral obligation, to
postulate a moral Deity, and to regard the absolute stand¬
ard of right and wrong as constituted by the moral nature
of that Deity.1 The conception of this standard in the hu¬
man mind may indeed be faint and fluctuating, and must
be imperfect; it may vary with the intellectual and moral
culture of the nation or the individual; and in its highest
human representation it must fall far short of the reality.
But it is present in all mankind, as a basis of moral obliga¬
tion and an inducement to moral progress; it is present
in the universal consciousness of sin—in the conviction
that we are offenders against God. However degrading
may be the practices into which men have fallen, under
systems of false religion, it may be safely asserted that no
man, and no nation of men, ever consciously deified vice as
such. The voluptuous deities of the pagan mythology were
deified as regards their enjoyments, not as regards their
vices: their acts were contemplated as divine, not because
they were breaches of morality, but because the worshipper
falsely conceived them to be ingredients of happiness. The
god of a nation of savage warriors may delight in revenge
and bloodshed; but the supposed divinity of his acts does not
consist in their cruelty: they are attributed to him because
their infliction is an evidence of superiority; perhaps, also,
• because their endurance is a test of heroism. Even the
worship of an evil principle is a worship of power, not of
vice. He causes vice in man, but he is not himself vicious;
for he transgresses no higher obligation of his own nature;
and, even thus, he is not, in the proper sense of the term, God;
for his worship implies no obligation to obey. The Deity,
however falsely conceived, still represents a moral standard in
the minds of his worshippers: the idea of the perfect good¬
ness of God, as implied in the imperfect goodness of man,
may be corrupted and degraded, but is never wholly ex¬
tinguished. The consciousness of right and wrong, of duty
and disobedience, even in its most perverted form, involves
the consciousness of a being to whom duty and obedience
are due; whose nature, however imperfectly represented,
is necessarily conceived as moral; and whose commands,
emanating from that nature, are manifested in the authority
which they communicate to the moral principle in man.
But though we have thus the direct testimony of con¬
sciousness to the existence of a superior being, on whom
our life and welfare depend, and from whom our moral ob¬
ligations emanate, the being thus manifested does not yet
realize the full idea of the Deity. For neither in depend¬
ence nor in moral obligation can we have an immediate in¬
tuition of the Infinite. The dependent is not absorbed in
that on which it depends: the consciousness of our per- Ontology,
sonal existence is not-annihilated when we feel its relation
to a higher power. Self and not-self still divide the uni¬
verse of existence between them ; and neither can be re¬
garded as exhausting it.2 * * But that which coexists with
the finite cannot be itself conceived as infinite; otherwise
the infinite and the finite together must be conceived as
greater than the infinite. Nor yet can the finite be con¬
ceived as merged in the infinite; for this would be to con¬
ceive myself as existing and not existing at the same time.
In like manner, it is impossible to conceive an infinite moral
nature; for each moral attribute, as coexisting with others,
limits and is limited by the rest; and the very conception of
morality implies law, and law is itself a limitation. Yet, on
the other hand, we cannot escape from the conviction that
the infinite does in some manner exist, and exists, though
we know not how, along with the finite; and though we
can form no positive conception of its nature, we cannot
regard the limits of our conception as the limits of all pos¬
sible existence. We know that, unless we admit the ex¬
istence of the infinite, the existence of the finite is inex¬
plicable and self-contradictory; and yet we know that the
conception of the infinite itself appears to involve contradic¬
tions not less inexplicable. In this impotence of reason
we are compelled to take refuge in faith, and to believe
that an infinite being exists, though we know not how, and
that he is the same with that Being who is represented in
consciousness as our sustainer and our lawgiver. For the
contradictions involved in the denial of the infinite are
positive, and definitely self-destructive; as we directly con¬
ceive the universe as limited, and yet as limited by nothing
beyond itself; whereas the contradictions involved in the
assumption that the infinite exists are merely negative, and
might be soluble in a higher state of intelligence ; as they
arise merely from the impotence of thought, striving to re¬
duce under the conditions of conceivability that which is
beyond its grasp. Thus they are not contradictions mani¬
fested in the infinite itself, but only limitations in our
power of comprehension. We are compelled, therefore, by
reason, as well as by faith, to acknowledge that the infinite
must exist; though how it exists, reason strives in vain to
fathom, and faith rests content with the duty of believing
what we cannot comprehend.
Hence we are compelled to admit that theology as well
as cosmology, viewed as a branch of philosophy, is not a
true ontology, but only a higher kind of phenomenology.
We believe in the existence of an infinite God; and we
know also that we cannot conceive Him as infinite. Our
1 The theory which places the standard of morality in the Divine nature must not be confounded with that which places it in the
arbitrary will of God. On the latter, see the remarks of Sir James Mackintosh, Second Dissertation, ante, vol. i., p. 312; and of
Muller, Christian Doctrine of Sin, vol. i., p. 95. God did not create morality by his will: it is inherent in his nature, and coeter¬
nal with Himself; nor can He be conceived as capable of reversing it. But God did in one sense create human morality, when He
created the moral constitution of man, and placed him in certain circumstances, such as those of mortality, of property, of sexual rela¬
tion, &c., by which the eternal principles of morality are modified during this present life. On the foundation of morality in the
nature of God, see Cudworth, Treatise Concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality, b. i., ch. iii.; b. iv., ch. iv. v. vi.
8 Schleiermacher (Chmstliche GZaufce, sect. 4, 5) maintains a different view. He resolves the religious consciousness into a feeling of
absolute dependence, in which the consciousness of our own individuality and activity in relation to a distinct object of consciousness dis¬
appears in that of a passive relation to the infinite God. In this view he is followed by Mr Morell, who says that man, “ in the pre¬
sence of that which is self-existent, infinite, and eternal, may feel the sense of freedom utterly pass away, and become absorbed in the
sense of absolute dependence.” (Philosophy of Religion, p. 75.) Without dwelling on the difficulties and apparent contradictions involved
in the notion of an absolute dependence which is, at the same time, a relative consciousness, this theory appears to be open to one fatal
objection; namely, that it makes our moral and religious consciousness subversive of each other, and reduces us to the dilemma that either
our faith or our practice must be founded on a delusion. The actual relation of man to God is the same, in whatever degree man may
be conscious of it. If man’s dependence upon God is really not destructive of his personal freedom, the religious consciousness, in
denying that freedom, is a false consciousness. If, on the contrary, man is in reality passively dependent upon God, the consciousness
of moral responsibility, which bears witness to his free agency, is a lying witness. When Schleiermacher assumes the existence of three
degrees of consciosuness,—1. That of the infant, in which there is no conscious distinction of the subject from its object ■ 2. The middle
state of distinct relation between self and not-self; and 3. The highest or religious consciousness, in which the relation again disappears,
—he overlooks the fact that the second and third are not successive stages in the mental development, but must alternate with each other
during a man s whole life ; the one presiding over his moral duties, and the other over his religious feelings. On what ground is one
of these states to be regarded as higher than the other, except in so far as it more truly reveals to us our actual state in the sight of God,
as free or absolutely dependent ? And as this state must be always the same, whether we are conscious of it or not it follows, that in
proportion as one of these states reveals to us the truth, the other must be regarded as testifying to a falsehood 5 * * 8
METAPHYSICS.
622
Ontology, highest conception of the Deity is still bounded by the con-
ditions which bound all human thinking, and therefore can¬
not represent the Deity as He is, but only as He appears to
us. Such a representation, though sufficient for all the
practical purposes of religion, is unable to satisfy in full the
demands of a philosophical curiosity. But a sounder and
more sober philosophy will tell us why those demands can¬
not be satisfiedwhy the highest problems of speculative
theology must and ought to be abandoned as insoluble. It
tells us that our whole consciousness is relative, and there¬
fore cannot comprehend the absolute ; that our whole con-
• sciousness is limited, and therefore cannot comprehend the
infinite. It tells us that a comprehended infinite could be
no infinite at all; for comprehension itself is a limitation ;
and the unlimited must necessarily be the incomprehen¬
sible. To know God as He is, man must himself be God.
The pantheist accepts this position, and identifies the Di¬
vine mind with the universal consciousness of mankind.
The theist accepts it also, and is content to worship where
he cannot understand.
If this limitation of philosophical theology be admitted,
the ground of many a controversy, and the root of many a
heresy, is cut from under it at the very commencement of
inquiry. In acknowledging the existence, and at the same
time the incomprehensibility, of the infinite, we at once con¬
fess that we have sufficient grounds for belief, but not for
theory. If we have no conception of the infinite attributes
of God as such, we may not so interpret those attributes
as to place them in antagonism, either to the direct testi¬
mony of consciousness, or to the plain language of Scrip¬
ture ; nor yet, on the other hand, can we distinctly show
their compatibility with either, though we are bound to be¬
lieve it. How, for example, can we reconcile man’s free¬
will with God’s foreknowledge ? Rather, why should we
attempt to do so, when in the attempt we must needs sub¬
stitute our limited conception of the Divine nature for that
nature as it is. We know not how an infinite intelligence
contemplates succession in time : we know not whether his
consciousness is subject to the law of succession at all.
Eternity, in relation to the Divine mind, may be, as the
schoolmen called it, a nunc stans, in which there is neither
past, nor present, nor future. Foreknowledge may be merely
a means of accommodating the representation of Divine
omniscience to human faculties. To speculate in any
direction,—to adopt a theory of scientia media on the one
hand, or of absolute predestination on the other,—is to deify
our own ignorance ; to make the human conception the
measure of the Divine reality. Why, again, cannot we con¬
ceive infinite power as undoing that which is already done.
If the sun has risen this morning, why can we not conceive
that even Omnipotence can now cause that it shall not have
risen ? Simply, because we cannot conceive infinite power
at all:—the limitation is not of omnipotence in itself, but
of all power as the object of human thought. How, again,
can we reconcile the exercise of two Divine attributes with
each other ? How can infinite mercy pardon every sin,
and yet infinite justice exact the utmost penalty ? How
can we tell, when we can conceive justice and mercy only
in their finite forms, as they are capable of existing in hu¬
man consciousness ? It is obvious how the same principles
may be applied to controversies concerning those deeper
mysteries of the Christian faith which rest on the evidence Ontology,
of revelation only. But into this sacred ground it would
be foreign to our present argument to enter.
OF THE REAL IN MORALITY.
The ontology of morals is subject to the same limitations
with that of religion. If the standard of perfect and immu¬
table morality is to be found only in the eternal nature of
God, it follows that those conditions which prevent man
from attaining to a knowledge of the infinite as such, must
also prevent him from attaining to more than a relative
and phenomenal conception of] morality. And, in truth,
man’s moral, like his religious consciousness, will vary ac¬
cording to his state of mental and moral culture : he may
have higher or lower ideas of duty, as he may have higher
or lower ideas of God. But it does not, therefore, follow,
as was maintained by the sophists of old, that each man
is the measure of all things to himself, and that morality
is nothing more than the law which any man or nation
chooses to enact for a certain time within a certain sphere.1
The very expressions, a higher and a loiver standard, imply
that there are degrees of right and wrong, even in relative
and phenomenal morality;—that one human conception of
duty may be more perfect than another, even if none can
attain to absolute perfection. There is such a thing as an
enlightened and an unenlightened conscience; though no
man may presume to say that his own conscience has at¬
tained to the greatest amount of enlightenment of which
even human nature is capable. It is a mark of the pro¬
gressive character of natural morality and religion, that no
new advance in knowledge contradicts the principles which
have previously been acknowledged by the conscience;
however much it may modify the particular acts by which
those principles are to be carried out. To be zealous
in God’s service is a principle of religious duty common
to Saul the persecutor and to Paul the apostle; though its
result in action is at one time to destroy the faith, and at
another to preach it. And it is a mark of the same character,
that each fresh advance in moral and religious knowledge
carries with it the immediate evidence of its own superiority,
and takes its place in the mind, not as a question to be
supported by argument, but as an axiom to be intuitively
admitted. Each principle of this kind recommends itself
to the minds of all who are capable of reflecting upon it,
as true and irreversible as far as it goes; though it may
represent but a limited portion of the truth, and be here¬
after merged in some higher and more comprehensive for¬
mula. The principles, for example, that virtue, relatively
to the human constitution, consists in observing a mean
between two extremes, or in promoting the good of others,
or in a reasonable self-love, all represent views containing
a portion of truth; though none can be considered as ex¬
hausting the whole truth. While human nature is com¬
plex in itself, and susceptible of various relations and various
duties arising out of those relations, it is not to be expected
that all human virtue should be reducible to a single attri¬
bute, or capable of expression in a single formula. Yet its
general character is not therefore doubtful, because it admits
of being viewed in various special relations. Two men who
differ in their definition of virtue will yet generally be agreed
1 So far from it, that the above ground is constantly taken by the antagonists of the sophistical doctrine, for the express purpose of
refuting it. Thus Plato, in the Dialogue especially devoted to the refutation of the dogma of Protagoras, that “ man is the measure ot
all things,” asserts that some portion of evil must needs exist in our mortal nature, and that we must endeavour to escape from it by
an imitation, according to our power, of the Divine justice and holiness. (Thecetetus, p. 176.) And Aristotle, after stating, as opposedJ;o
his own view, the sophistical position that all justice is conventional and variable, remarks,—xet/ro/ y£ rols 6iolg law? ovaxpug.
(Eth. Nic. v. 7.) Even the comic poet, in his Dialogue between the Unjust and the Just Discourse, representing respectively the sophists
and their antagonists, puts into the mouth of the latter the same argument;—
AA. ou§£ yag etvxt vi.vv (prifil 'h'lx.nv,
AI. ovx. eh/cti <p*ig; A A. (psgs y«£, anv;
AI. -jrxgoi rohi OiolS' (Aristoph. Am6c», 902.)
METAPHYSICS.
Ontology, as to who is the virtuous man. “ Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be like his,” expresses the
conviction of one who, though far from righteous himself,
was yet compelled to acknowledge the existence of a higher
human standard than his own rule of conduct.1 “As much
as it has been disputed,” says Bishop Butler, “ wherein
virtue consists, or whatever ground for doubt there may be
about particulars; yet, in general, there is in reality an uni¬
versally acknowledged standard of it. It is that which all
ages and all countries have made profession of in public: it
is that which every man you meet puts on the show of: it
is that which the primary and fundamental laws of all civil
constitutions over the face of the earth make it their busi¬
ness and endeavour to enforce the practice of upon mankind:
namely, justice, veracity, and regard to common good.”2
Nevertheless, there is an useful lesson to be drawn from
the frequent fluctuations of men’s moral theories, as well as
from the general agreement of their practical confessions.
It is not unusual for philosophers to reason as if they were
possessed of an absolute, and not merely of a relative
standard of morals;—as if they had attained to the concep¬
tion of eternal morality, as it exists in the nature of God,
instead of to that temporary modification of it which is
adapted to a particular state of the constitution, and stage
of the progress, of man. The works in which Kant and
Fichte have attempted to construct an d, priori criticism
of revelation, upon moral grounds, are remarkable instances
of this departure from the limits of all sound philosophy.3
Both assume that the sole purpose of revelation must be to
teach men morality; and both assume that the morality
thus taught must be identical to the minutest particular
with the system attained by human philosophywhich last
is supposed to be absolutely infallible. Hence Kant main¬
tains that the revealed commands of God have no religious
value, except in so far as they are approved by the moral
reason of man; and Fichte lays down, among the criteria
of a possibly true revelation, that it must contain no intima¬
tion of future reward or punishment, and must enjoin no
moral rules which cannot be deduced from the principles
of the practical reason. Whereas, in truth, the principles
of the practical reason are susceptible of additional en¬
lightenment with every stage of man’s progress in this life
(and it may be also with every stage of his progress in
the life to come), and revelation, in two sentences, has
conveyed to us a principle of human morals, which the
philosophy of ages had toiled after in vain, and which the
philosophy of a later day has been content to borrow with¬
out acknowledgment, and to pervert in attempting to im¬
prove “ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and
with ail thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.”4
OF THE REAL IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF TASTE.
. With the ontology of morals is not unfrequently asso-
ciated that of taste. The good and the beautiful were in
the Greek language often expressed by the same word •
and are by many regarded as alike expressing absolute and
623
immutable principles, equally independent of human opi- Ontology,
nion, and equally objects of philosophical inquiry.5 But, in
truth, the object of the so-called philosophy of aesthetics ap¬
pears, even in its highest form, to have far less of an abso¬
lute and immutable character than belongs to the objects
of metaphysical inquiry, even within the limits to which they
have been confined in the preceding pages. The beauty of
an object appears to depend, not so much on the character
of the object itself, as on the feeling of pleasure which it
excites in the spectator; and this, again, on the accidents
of his present constitution.6 This appears to be the case
even with the moral beauty of an action, when that quality
is viewed apart from the other ingredients of its moral cha¬
racter. 1 he consciousness that a certain action is morally
pleasing to me is not necessarily connected with that of its
moral rectitude ; though the two have frequently been con¬
founded together in the various theories concerning the
moral sense.7 But it is easy to conceive that moral obliga¬
tion might remain undiminished, even if no gratification
were derivable from the observance of it; while, on the
contrary, it seems impossible to conceive the existence of an
obligation to be pleased, apart from the apprehension of
the moral character of the act. The beauty of sensible
objects appears to exhibit still more fully the marks of a
merely phenomenal and relative character. A slight change
in the shape and refractive power of the eye would alter all
our perceptions of the form and colour of objects, and, with
them, the impressions of beauty and deformity derived from
this source. And if the senses themselves are confined to
the apprehension of phenomena, how can the beauty of the
objects of sense lay claim to a higher character ? Can we
then assert that sensible beauty is a reflection and imita¬
tion of ideal beauty, even in the same manner and degree
in which our perceptions of moral duty aim at and imply a
divine standard of right and wrong ? Even the fluctuation
in the opinions of various individuals and nations, though far
from being a decisive criterion in any case, appears to be
acknowledged by the general sense of mankind to be a test
more conclusive in questions of taste than in those of truth
or rectitude. The very name taste seems to imply some¬
thing subjective, and, to a considerable extent, arbitrary.
The maxim, “ Z)e gustibus non disputandum est,” may be
the exaggerated expression of a popular conviction ; but, at
any rate, it carries no such shock to the natural feelings of
mankind, as does the sophistical assertion that the distinc¬
tions between truth and falsehood, virtue and vice, are based
on convention, and not on nature. Nor is it difficult to
detect the foundation of truth which underlies the exagge¬
ration. The maxim is true, in so far as it virtually asserts
that beauty is subjective, not objective ; an affection of the
person who is conscious of it, existing only in and by that
consciousness, not a permanent quality, existing in things,
and capable of being expressed by a general notion.8 But
it is exaggerated, in so far as it apparently denies the ex¬
istence of a common sense of beauty, among men of cul¬
tivated minds, by virtue of which similar affections will be
produced in different minds by the same object.9 But this
admission, while it saves the standard of taste from the
1 See Bishop Butler’s Sermon on the Character of Balaam. * f t „  
6 See Kant, Kritik der Urtheikkraft, sects. 1, 6, 15. (Werke iv rm „ v,-
K>nSeea«”0p. 580.'‘“ty ^ bl“ “ f““°« °f »»P«iorfi/lv.r ktare.3 (».U, 8«. 28, p. 122.)“ “h6 b',“‘ifUl' “ admitted
8 See Kant, Kritik der Vrtheilskraft, sect. 17. {Werke iv. p 81 )
See Kant, Kritik der Urtheihkraft, sects. 6,22. Kant resolves the feeling of beauty into an indefinH*
loan end (Zweckmassigkeit), but without the representation of any definite end He admit-. ^ * fC10Usnes9 of>n«" with reference
subjective, and that there can be no objective rule, capable of detemlffing beautyconceptionr"^ thiS COnscio“ is merely
624
METAPHYSIC S.
Ontolorv charge of arbitrariness and instability, at the same time re-
> Zj moves the philosophy of taste from the province of ontology,
and limits it to a psychological investigation of those rela¬
tions between the imagination and the understanding which
give rise to the consciousness of beauty in an object actually
present.1
CONCLUSION.
We have thus indicated, rather than discussed, some of
the manifold aspects of the great fundamental problem,
which, various in its external forms, but one in its real import,
has stimulated the researches of thoughtful men in all ages,
under the names, used for the most part synonymously, of
First Philosophy, Ontology, or Metaphysicsthe problem,
namely, to distinguish that which is from that which seems
to he. Whether we look to its earliest definite statement,
in the dogma of Parmenides, that being is one and un¬
changeable, and that variety exists only in the fancy of
men” or to the boast of Zeno, that he would explain all
things if there were only given to him the one ; whether
we examine Plato’s conception of the science of dialectic, as
that which contemplates real existence by the aid of the pure
intellect, illuminated by the brightness emanating from the
essential form of good; or ask the question which the same
philosopher describes as embracing at once the deepest
mysteries of philosophy and the pettiest quibbles of sophis¬
try, How can the one be many, or the many one ; whether
we adopt Aristotle’s definition of the first philosophy, as the
science which contemplates being as being, and the attri¬
butes which belong to it as such ; or, with Descartes, as-
sume the fact of our own personal existence, manifested in
consciousness, as the one primary and indubitable truth,
whether, with Leibnitz, we regard the sensible world as
composed of an aggregate of unextended monads or meta¬
physical points ; or, with Kant, divide objects into noumena
and phenomena, things as they are in themselves and
things as they are related to human faculties; or, with
Fichte, postulate the existence of an absolute self, implied
. by, though not given in consciousness; or, with Schelling,
attempt by intellectual intuition to reach the point of in¬
difference in which the relations of subject and object are
merged in the identity of both ; or, with Hegel, found a
philosophy on the hypothesis of an absolute thought, iden¬
tical with absolute being, and susceptible of development
into the various modes of personal and impersonal finite
existence ; or, with Herbart, find a common object of all
metaphysical inquiries in the solution of the contradictions
which present themselves in experience;—in all these, and
other different statements, we recognise only verbal varieties
of one and the same fundamental distinctiona distinction
which, however perverted in artificial systems, must have a
natural origin in the human mind; which must be given in Ontology,
one mode of consciousness, or else it could not have been
invented in any.
We have endeavoured to ascertain the primary and pre-
sentative fact of consciousness in which this distinction is
given>—a fact upon which all the secondary and represen¬
tative varieties of it must be based; and thus to fix the
limits within which a science of real being is possible, and
beyond which it cannot be carried. This fact seems to be
discoverable in the relation between a permanent self and
its successive modifications, which forms the condition of
all human consciousness. If this be admitted, ontology, in
the highest sense of the term, becomes identified with
psychology ; and the future task of the metaphysician will
consist in exhibiting the conditions involved in the idea
of personal existence, and solving the difficulties to which
that idea appears to give rise. To attempt to accom¬
plish this task in detail would require a far greater space,
and a more minute examination, than is possible with¬
in the reasonable limits of an article like the present.
We must content ourselves with having pointed out the
fact that such problems exist, and stated the reasons for be¬
lieving that they are not to be abandoned as insoluble.
Beyond the range of personal existence we have no posi¬
tive conception of real being, save in the form of those
more permanent phenomena which constitute our general
conceptions of certain objects, as distinguished from the
transitory phenomena with which those conceptions are at
certain times associated. Here ontology is but a higher
kind of phenomenology: its object is not a thing in itself,
but a thing as we are compelled to conceive it; and to at¬
tempt to give to this branch of philosophy a more absolute
character is to substitute negative ideas for positive, to
desert thoughts, and to take refuge in words which have no
real meaning, save in relation to a different mode of con¬
sciousness. We do not, therefore, attempt to solve the
higher problems of cosmology and theology, nor even to in¬
dicate the conditions under which they might be solved.
But we have attempted to show why they are insoluble,
and what is the origin of that delusion which has led men
in various ages to fancy their solution possible, and to de¬
vise systems for accomplishing it. The failures of great
minds are often not less instructive than their successes;
and the time that is spent in wandering among the mazes
of metaphysical speculation will not be wholly lost, if it
teach us that knowledge which it is the end and aim
of all sound philosophy to inculcate,—the knowledge of
ourselves and of our faculties ; of what we may and
what we may not hope to accomplish; of the laws and
limits of reason ; and, by consequence, of the just claims
of faith. (h.l.m.)
1 See Kant, Kritik der Urtheilskraft, sect. 34.
Metapon-
tum
II
Metastasio
MET
METAPONTUM, or Metapontium, a city of Magna
Graecia, was situated on the Tarentine Gulf, 14 miles from
Heraclea, and 24 from Tarentum. It was colonized by
j Achaeans about the beginning of the seventh century b.c. ;
but some ascribe to it a much earlier origin. In the early
period of its history Metapontum was in all probability in
alliance with Sybaris and Crotona, cities likewise of Achaean
origin; and it was imbued to a considerable extent with
the opinions and doctrines of Pythagoras, who retired to
this city and spent there the last days of his life. His tomb
was still to be seen there in the time of Cicero. The Meta-
pontines assisted the Athenians in their Sicilian expedition
(415 b.c.), being at that time in a flourishing condition of
wealth and prosperity. They embraced the side of Pyrrhus
in his war with the Romans, and after its conclusion fell
under the Roman yoke. When Hannibal invaded Italy
the Metapontines, after the battle of Cannae, were well dis¬
posed to him; but, on account of a garrison of Romans,
were unable openly to desert to him till 212 b.c., when the
city was occupied by a Carthaginian garrison. When
Hannibal was compelled to leave Italy he removed, along
with his own troops, the inhabitants of Metapontum; and
from that time the city disappears from history. Some re¬
mains of it are still to be seen.
ME IAS IASIO, Pietro, whose original name was
Trapassi, was born in Rome, 3d January 1698. His father,
Felice Trapassi, a native of Assisi, had been forced by the
poverty of his family to enter the Corsican regiment of the
pope, had subsequently married, supported himself by copy-
ing legal documents, and saved money enough to open a
shop in Rome, in partnership with a friend, for the sale of
oil, meal, and other things of the kind. His mother was
Francesca Galasti of Bologna. They had two sons, the
elder of whom, Leopold^ afterwards became an advocate,
and distinguished himself as a religious polemic; and two
daughters. Pietro from his earliest years showed an ex-
ti aordinary talent for improvisation, and was accustomed
to entertain his playmates in the street with impromptu
rhymes. The celebrated jurist Gravina, having accident¬
ally heard him so engaged while passing his father’s shop
one day, was so much interested by his precocious talent,
and by the sweetness and modesty of his manners, that he
proposed to his parents to adopt and educate the boy as his
own son. The proposal was accepted. Gravina, who was
a Grecian and a pedant, changed his name to Metastasio,
trom the Greek equivalent to trapassamento. Intending to
educate him for the bar, where he thought his powers of
improvisation and eloquence might be turned to most ac¬
count, he sent him to his cousin Caroprese, in Calabria, to
be taught Greek and philosophy. In a letter to Mattei,
the poet dwells on these youthful studies with enthusiasm.
Gravina did not, however, interdict what was his own fa¬
vourite employment, the reading of the ancient poets, nor
the practice of improvisation ; and the handsome, modest,
and vivacious boy was loved and admired in Naples and
Crotona by the society to which the influence of his patron
admitted him. He relates in one of his letters that he was
accustomed at this time to engage in poetic contests with
the most distinguished improvisatori; but the excitement
being found prejudicial to his health, Gravina caused him
to break it off, and apply himself more closely to the study
of the Greek poets and of the early Italian writers, and to
the cultivation of a correct style. For this course of con¬
duct Metastasio afterwards expressed his gratitude, cen¬
suring the practice of improvisation as extremely injurious
to taste and labour. At the age of twelve he translated the
Iliad of Homer in ottava rima; and two years later he
composed the tragedy of Giustino, on the model of his
patron’s dramas,—stiff and feeble imitations of the Greek,—■
borrowing the plot from the Italia Liberata of Trissini.
An edition of this tragedy is extant, printed in 1713. In a
VOL. XIV.
MET
625
letter to Calsabigi, who superintended the Paris edition of his Metastasio.
work in 1755, he expresses his regret that this immature pro-
duction had been included. Yet it is not without beauties
prophetic of the Olimpiade. The story is simple and affect¬
ing, and the plot is developed with much clearness. In
1714 Caroprese died, leaving Gravina his heir, who in con¬
sequence went into Calabria and rejoined his adopted son.
These mingled occupations of poetical and legal study Me¬
tastatic pursued till the death of his benefactor in 1718.
The blow was severely felt by the poet, who composed on
the occasion an elegy entitledZa strada alia gloria, which he
recited, amid the tears of the audience, to the literary society
founded by his distinguished patron. Gravina bequeathed
him his Roman property, amounting to 15,000 scudi (be¬
tween L.3000 and L.4000) ; and finding himself at the end
of two years nearly penniless, he resolved to resume his
legal studies. With the view of opposing a powerful bar-
rier to his inclination, and escaping the seductions of society,
he went to Naples, and placed himself under the tuition
of the eminent lawyer Castagnuola, whose aversion to poetry
was such that Metastasio was compelled to observe the
strictest secrecy in his favourite pursuits. His genius was,
however, too well known, and too highly appreciated by
the refined society in which he moved, to permit him long
to resist the struggles of nature, seconded by admiration
and flattery. He composed an epithalamium of 100 stanzas,
in ottava rima, on the occasion of the marriage of the
Marchese Pignatelli; and on the same occasion, perhaps,
his first musical drama, Endimione, in 1721. But the
event that fixed his destiny was the followingThe birth¬
day of the Empress Elizabeth, consort of Charles VI., oc¬
curring during her pregnancy, the viceroy wished to cele¬
brate it with unusual splendour, and requested Metastasio
to write an opera. 1 he latter complied, exacting a pro¬
mise of strict silence with regard to the author’s name, and
pioduced Gli Orti Esperidi, which was received with the
most unusual and unbounded applause. The viceroy was so
highly gratified that he presented the poet with 200 ducats.
At first every one was ignorant of the author, and supposed
it to be the work of some Roman poet i not even the com¬
poser, Porpora, nor the actors knew. But Marianna Bul-
garelli, known as “ La Romanina,” from her birthplace, who
had performed the part of Venus with great success and
profit, succeeded in discovering him. Gli Orti Esperidi was
published, with the name of the author, the same year at
Naples. 1 he opera of Angelica, also composed by Por¬
pora, was produced on the same occasion in 1722. It is
not clear whether it was before or after the production of
Angelica that Metastasio finally determined on abandon¬
ing the legal profession. He quitted the house of Castag¬
nuola, and went to live with La Romanina and her hus¬
band. She introduced him to Porpora, from whom he re¬
ceived instructions in the theory of music, and doubtless
much insight into the converse adaptation. From La Ro¬
manina herself he confesses to have learned much. Mattei
asserts, as from good authority, that the finest situations in
h^ext work, Didone Abbandonata, written for the carnival
1124, were suggested by this accomplished actress. This
opera, composed by Sarro, and produced at Naples in that
year, and afterwards composed by Vinci, and produced at
Rome and Vemce in the following years, rapidly spread
the fame of Metastasio over the peninsula as the great dra-
° “7 TA1™ La ^ leave of the
stage, of which she had been now for eighteen vears an
ornament, and returned to her native city, taking with her
her husband and her cicisbeo. Catone in Utica was written
oi the Roman stage in 1728, and was Metastasio’s first (if
we except Gmstind) and last attempt in regular tragedy.
he reception it met with convinced him that it was im-
possible to harmonize the requirements of the musical drama
wi ose o tragedy: he changed the conclusion, adapting
4k
626
M E T A S T A S I 0.
Metastasio. it to the powers of his actors and the taste of his audience,
' . ' and never forgot the lesson. Cajone was composed by
a Vinci for Rome, and next year by Leo for Venice. Ezio,
Alessandro nelV Indie, and Semiramide rapidly followed,
extending his fame, but not much improving his circum¬
stances. Feeling himself partially dependent on La Bul-
earelli and with no very brilliant prospects, he became ue-
spondent, when in September 1729 he received a letter
from Prince Pio of Savoy, director of the court theatre in
Vienna, commissioning two dramas, and inviting him thither
to occupy the post of imperial poet, with an annual salary
of 3000 florins. This appointment he owed to his fame,
to the influence of the Princess Althan, and the generosity
of Zeno, who retired on a pension. Metastasio welcomed
it with eagerness. He merely requested time to complete
his Roman engagements, chiefly the Artaserse ; and having
done so, he took a tender farewell of his family, and of the
faithful Marianna, whom he never saw again, and repaired
to Vienna in April 1730. He was received with cordiality
in the house of Niccolo de Martinez, cerimoniere of the
apostolic nuncio, where he continued to reside till his
death. _
The dramas which he produced in the year succeeding
his arrival, Adriano in Siria and Jlemetrio, both composed
by Caldara, and performed within a few days of each other,
had great success. That of Issipile, written in the follow¬
ing year, moved the emperor from his customary reserve,
and procured the poet his personal congratulations. His
fame increased with the operas of Giuseppe, Demafoonte,a.m\
the Divine Olimpiade, which successively appeared m 1733.
To the plaudits of the Olimpiade the emperor added the
more solid recompense of a treasurership in Naples, of
which, however, he was in a few years bereft by the war
of the succession. His life at this period may best be lead
in his letters to La Bulgarelli, written with great expan¬
sion and confidence. His soul was in his work : the scenes
which touched his audience had first moved himself. I
send you,” he writes, “ a sonnet composed while I was
writing apathetic scene (it was the ninth scene of the second
act of the Olimpiade), with which I was so much affected,
that I found myself in tears.” He sends her directions
for the representation of Demetrio in Rome, asks her for
suggestions and for advice, and talks of the applause he
was receiving. While engaged on the Clemenza di Tito,
February 1734, the news of Marianna’s death reached him.
For some time he was quite overpowered. She bequeathed
him her whole fortune, amounting to 25,000 Roman scudi,
which he at once made over to the widower. There cannot
be much doubt as to the nature of his connection with the
actress. The pious expressions he makes use of on the
occasion, in a letter to a friend (Burney, vol. i., p. 109),
are not sufficient to refute an inference so entirely war¬
ranted by all the facts, and by the state of society then,
and unfortunately still, existing in Italy. His immediate
and generous renunciation of her legacy procured him great
credit. That act was one quite in harmony with the tenor
of his whole life. From this time onward Metastasio s life
was laborious and peaceful, little disturbed in outward ap¬
pearance by the political distractions that followed the death
of Charles VI. in 1740, or that of Charles VII. in 1744.
On the former occasion he received excellent and honour¬
able proposals from various courts, but he adhered to the
fortunes and service of Maria Theresa, whom he had taught
Italian, and who was personally attached to her tutor.
During this period he produced his best works, writing
only at the command of the court, and writing rapidly.
He told Burney that the opera of Achille in Sciro, produced
in 1736 on occasion of the marriage of Maria, was written
in eighteen days, and that of Ipermestra, in 1744, in nine.
The operas of Temistocle and Attilio Regolo, with the ex¬
ception of the Olimpiade perhaps his best works, belong
to this period ; Temistocle being produced in 1 / 38, and Re- Metastasio.
qolo being interrupted in 1740 by the death of the sove-
reign. _ .
This continual labour, and the ungenial climate of Vienna,
brought on in 1745 a serious illness, which obliged him to
suspend his exertions. His malady was chiefly a nervous
one, and he suffered from it more or less till his death. An
occasional visit to his native country would perhaps have
better reconciled his constitution to the severity of the
Austrian climate, of which he so often bitterly complains,
but excepting an annual visit to the seat of the Princess
d’Althan in Moravia, he never stirred from Vienna. His
days were spent in the society of the Martinez, and^of a few
congenial friends. Burney, who visited him in 1 t i2, gives
an interesting account of his mode of life and his conveisa-
tion {State of Music in Germany, &c., vol. i., p. 298 ff.);
but the principal, almost the only, source of information
about him during this latter period are his own delightful
letters. These give a fine picture of the nobleness, gene¬
rosity, and kindness of his disposition. His most intimate
friend was the celebrated singer Farinelli, to whom he writes
as his “ twin brother” {gemello), and who appears to have
deserved and reciprocated his affection, dhese letters also
show how thoroughly he had studied and comprehended the
requirements of the composer, and with what care and judg¬
ment he adapted his dramas to the necessities of music.
The ancient poets he read assiduously. Ovid was his par¬
ticular favourite, as we might guess from the frequent occm -
rence of Ovidian sentiments in his works. In spite of the
care of Gravina, he does not appear to have ever mastered
the Greek language sufficiently to enable him to appreciate
their tragic writers. The analysis he has left of them proves
this; and he confesses to the difficulty he had of reading
the Poetics of Aristotle, of which he has also left an imper¬
fect abstract. Of the Italians, his great favourite and model
was Tasso, to whom he revolted at an early age from the
Ariostisti, and Marino, the so-called depraver of Italian
poetry, whom he always read before sitting down ^to work.
Metastasio died in Vienna on the 12th of April 1782. A
fever, caught by exposing himself on the occasion of the
pope’s visit, carried him off in twelve days. He was buried
in the church of St Michael. He left the younger Martinez
heir to his real property and a fortune of 130,000 florins
with deduction of 2000 for each of the two sisters and
3000 for each of the three brothers of the legate. He had
survived all his Italian relatives.
The dramatic works of Metastasio are of the very highest
excellence in their kind. Judged simply as dramas, and in
front of Shakspeare, Corneille, and Racine, they will be pro¬
nounced exceedingly defective in point of characteiization,
motive, and probability; but regarded as compositions to
be set to music, they are unequalled. What are excellences
and necessities in the spoken drama, become, when trans¬
ferred to the sung drama, difficulties in the way of the
composer and the audience. On the other hand, the im¬
probabilities of incident and situation which would shock an
audience in the spoken drama, tend to heighten the pleasure
derived from music; the music itself, the greatest impro¬
bability, being already conceded. In estimating his powers,
all those points in which Metastasio falls infinitely short of
the real dramatists must be taken into account; but in
estimating the value of his works, it matters little whether
he was deficient in true dramatic genius, or voluntarily re¬
nounced its exercise. One thing only is to be regretted, that
Metastasio did not exercise more judgment in the choice ot
his subjects: we may grant all his sentiments, incidents,
and motive, but not that they should be introduced into
history, or attached to great historical characters. Lsesai,
Amilcar, and Regulus, are too distinctly marked and too
incongruous with the subject to be made the icioes o a
love story. With such a choice, besides, the defects ot
M E T
Metellus. historical and local colouring become quite too glaring.
V Metastasio, in his letter of thanks to Zeno, says that the
lattei was his master and model. Apostolo Zeno rescued
the Italian opera from the debasement into which it had
sunk, and which is so admirably described in Marcello’s
Teatro alia Moda. He is a poet of high ability, if not of
first-rate genius. He as much surpasses his pupil in force
of characterization, simplicity and strength of expression,
and accuracy of historical colouring, as he falls short of him
in sweetness, delicate clearness, and musical adaptability.
It is in these that Metastasio’s great merit consists. His
songs are already music. “ He exerted himself to fulfil
every demand of music. He shortened the recitative; he
cn ivened the dialogue. And as his mother tongue, now in
the highest degree refined, was quite at his command, he
made of the Italian rhythm a syllable music, which is single
in its kind.” (Bouterwek, Gesch. ii., p. 493.) The Italian
critics have almost deified Metastasio. In respect of style,
perhaps, they are the only proper judges ; but it is impos¬
sible to agree with all that Andres, Arteaga, and Baretti
have uttered in his praise. The sweetness, harmony, and
lyrical rounding and finish of many of Metastasio’s arias and
canzonettes are quite unequalled; and one is rather surprised
to learn the mechanical coolness with which he was accus¬
tomed to set to work. Of the canzonette La Partenza and
that to Nice, Grazie agl’ injanni tuoi, are perhaps the
finest, as they are the most celebrated.
. Metastasio, late in life, counted forty editions of his works
in his own library. The best are,—the Paris edition of 1755,
m 9 vols. 8vo, published under the direction of Calsabigi;
t ie Turin, 1757, 10 vols. 4to, founded on the former, and
frequently reprinted till 1780, when the Herissant edition,
in 12 vols. 4to, appeared at Paris, under the care of Pezzana,
C0Py °\ ^le 1 Mrin edition corrected by the author.
.1 he^Conte Pajala published the posthumous works at Vienna
in 1795* The Genoa edition of 1802 and the Padua of
1811 are the most valuable. (V. H.
ME 1ELLUS, the name of a noble family of the Caecilian
gens. Of this family the following are the most notable
members:—
Quintus Ccecihus Metellus Macedonicus, who was ap¬
pointed praetor in 148 b.c. Having received Macedonia
as his province, he routed and captured Andriscus, the
pretended king of that country. He then turned his arms
against the Achaeans, and encountering their praetor Critolaus
near 1 hermopylae, gave him a severe defeat. After gainino-
a victory over the Arcadians near Chaeroneia, he returned
to Rome in 146 b.c., and was honoured with a triumph and
with the surname of Macedonicus. Elected to the consul-
ship in 143 b.c., Metellus was intrusted with the war against
the Celubenans in Nearer Spain. During the two years
of this command he maintained with a steady hand the
severest discipline among his soldiers, and the most skilful
tactics against the enemy. His censorship in 131 b.c. was
rendered notable by his proposing that every Roman should
be forced by law to marry. The speech with which he
introduced this motion was long afterwards read by Augus¬
tus in the senate, and has been partly preserved by A
Gellius in his Nodes Attlcce. Metellus lived to be univer¬
sally respected, and to see his four sons enjoy the highest
honours and the highest offices in the state. He died in
115 b.c., after exhibiting in his life a picture of human feli¬
city which ancient writers have considered remarkable and
almost unexampled.
Quintus Ccecilius Metellus Numidicus, who became
consul in 109 b.c., and was sent into Numidia to carry on
the war against Jugurtha. No sooner had he assumed the
command than the Roman cause, which was formerly on
the descendant, began forthwith to prosper. He routed the
enemy near the River Mathal, ravaged the country without
opposition, and by an artful system of intrigues kept the
M E T
627
Numidian king in a restless terror for his life. In the fol- Metellus.
lowing year, however, he was forced by the wary strategy v^-»v—>
of Jugurtha to protract the war. This delay was employed
by his lieutenant, the ambitious Marius, to ruin his military
reputation. The consequence was, that in a short time the
low-born Marius superseded the aristocratic Metellus in the
consulship and the command of the army. On his arrival
at Rome in 107 b.c. Metellus was received with great
applause, and was honoured with a triumph and with the
title of Numidicus. During his censorship in 102 b.c. his
zeal for the aristocracy led him to attempt to expel from
the senate two inveterate plebeians Servilius Glaucia and
Appuleius Saturninus. In 100 b.c. the latter obtaining the
tribunate, returned the blow of Metellus, and by the aid of
Marius, who was then consul, succeeded not only in depriv¬
ing him of his seat in the senate, but in effecting his banish¬
ment. With cheerful resignation Metellus set out to
Rhodes, carrying along with him his friend Adius Pra?-
coninus, the ihetorician, and bent upon burying all gloomy
thoughts in the deep problems of philosophy. He was
roused, however, from his studies in the following year by
the news that the popular party had suffered a severe check
by the death of Saturninus, and that his own banishment
was repealed. Not long after his return to Rome, Metellus
is supposed to have been poisoned.
Quintus Cacilius Metellus Pius, who received the sur¬
name of Pius from his affectionate endeavours to effect
the lecall of his father Numidicus from banishment. He
was elected praetor in 89 b.c., and gained his first distinc¬
tion as one of the leaders of the Marsic war. From carry¬
ing on hostilities against the Samnites he was summoned
in 87 b.c. to defend Rome from Marius, who had returned
fiom exile, and was marching towards the city to wreak
vengeance on his enemies. Deeming it imprudent to dare
so redoubtable a foe, Metellus repaired to Africa, and did
not return to Italy till 84 b.c. He was among the first to
greet Sulla on his landing at Brundusium in 83 b.c., and
was one of the most effective lieutenants of that general in
his protracted struggle with the Marian party. In 82 b.c.
he gained three successive victories over the forces of
Carbo; and in 79 b.c. he was sent as proconsul into
Spain to check the victorious career of Sertorius. His
ignorance, however, of that country, and the increasing
infirmities of age, rendered him unfit to cope with the alert
movements and guerilla strategy of his enemy. Only after
a campaign of seven years was his military reputation re¬
deemed by a victory over Sertorius. He returned to Rome
in the following year to celebrate a triumph. Metellus
Pius had been consul along with Sulla in 80 b.c., and he
had also been appointed pontifex maximus. He died about
63 b.c.
Quintus Ccecihus Metellus Celer, who was elected to the
prsetoiship in 63 b.c. In this capacity he was intrusted
with the command of the three legions that guarded the
Picentine and Senonian districts during the Catilinarian
conspiracy. Anticipating the attempt of the rebel army to
escape into Gaul, he threw himself into the passes of the
Apennines, and thus compelled Catiline to turn back upon
his pursuers, and to hazard that battle which issued in his
defeat and death. In 60 b.c. Metellus was elected to the
consulship and exerted the entire power of his office in
opposing the measures of Pompey, who was at that time
consideied the deadliest foe of the aristocracy. So deter¬
mined, indeed, was his opposition, that he chose to be
dragged to prison by order of the tribune rather than sanc-
aWI0r Provision °f' Pompey’s soldiers.
W ith the same unflinching resistance did he meet the
agrarian law of Caesar m 59 b.c. His death happened in the
same yeaio n°f without raising suspicions that he had been
poisoned by h.s wife Clodia, the profligate sister of Clodius.
Quintus Ccecihus Metellus Pius Scipio, who was the
628
MET
Metempsy- adopted son of Metellus Pius, and became tribune of the
chosis. people in 59 b.c. In 52 b.C. Pompey took his daughter
Cornelia in marriage, and chose himself as his colleague in
the consulship. Metellus now became a puppet in the
hands of his ambitious son-in-law. In 49 B.c. he proposed
in the senate that Caesar should be commanded to disband
his troops, on pain of being treated as a public enemy.
On the outbreak of the civil war which followed the execu¬
tion of this proposal, the command in Syria was allotted to
Metellus. No sooner had he taken possession of his pro¬
vince than his vicious character and his inability to govern
burst forth into strong manifestation. The most exorbitant
taxes were wrung from the people, the country was overrun
by swarms of pillaging soldiers, and the blackest crimes
passed unchallenged. From this scene of ruthless oppres¬
sion he was summoned in 48 B.c. to play a part in the im¬
pending struggle between Pompey and Caesar. He joined
his son-in-law shortly after the skirmish at Dyrrhachium,
and commencing forthwith to portion out the honours which
the coming victory would leave at the disposal of his party,
he became involved in a hot quarrel with some of his com-
rades touching his own claims to succeed Caesar in the office
of pontifex maximus. On the fatal day of Pharsalia he led
the centre of the Pompeian army, and after he had seen his
ambitious hopes scattered in the rout of his flying squad¬
rons, he repaired to Africa to seek the aid of Juba, King
of Numidia. The partizans of Pompey in that country
placed him at their head. He was engaged in using his
prerogative in his old practice of pillaging and oppressing
when Caesar arrived, towards the close of the year 47 B.c.
In the following year Metellus was completely defeated at
Thapsus. Escaping on board of a small fleet, he was inter¬
cepted by a squadron under P. Sittius, and was on the
point of being captured when he stabbed himself, and then
flung himself into the sea.
METEMPSYCHOSIS, a word of Greek origin signi¬
fying the passage or transmigration of souls, is applied to
a peculiar system of doctrine, of high antiquity, respecting
the destiny of the human soul. According to the more
general forms of this system, the souls of men after death
are supposed to enter successively into various bodies, and
to animate various existences, which differ only in their ex¬
ternal forms. It is equally difficult for man to believe in
the ultimate annihilation of his spirit and to conceive of
a future state of existence totally different from the pre¬
sent, independent alike of sense and of the laws of or¬
ganized life. Accordingly, the mind seeks naturally for
some mode of reconciling these twro antagonistic concep¬
tions—some system of faith, no matter how obscure, whereby
“ the longing after immortality” may be gratified, and the
instinctive shrinking from annihilation find itself respected.
And hence the origin of metempsychosis; the fiist
form in which the doctrine of the immortality of the soul
is presented to the human mind. Metempsychosis was
maintained by the Egyptians, the Hindus, and the Greeks.
Herodotus informs us (lib. ii., sec. 123), that the Egyp¬
tians were the first to adopt the doctrine of the soul’s im¬
mortality ; and it is generally to them that the invention
of the metempsychosis is attributed. They held that the
human soul immediately after death entered into some
animal, called into existence at the same instant, and that
after having successively assumed the forms of all the ani¬
mals which inhabit the land, the water, and the air, it
returned, after completing a cycle of 3000 years, into the
body of a man, to recommence eternally the same end¬
less pilgrimage. With the Hindus, again, the idea of me¬
tempsychosis is more metaphysical, more universal, than
that of the Egyptians, and is closely allied to the idea of
emanation maintained by that highly speculative race. As
matter is the last degree of the emanations of Brahma, it
follows that life, which is the union of the soul with matter,
MET
is essentially an evil. This being the case, all the develop- Metempsy-
ments of life, such as actions, sensations, pleasure, pain,
&c., must of necessity share in the same degradation. Ac-
cordingly, the proper business of the soul is to die to every¬
thing earthly—to elevate itself by contemplation to that
absolute repose in the bosom of the Deity from which it
originally came forth. The soul must expiate in this world
the sins of its previous life ; and in order to purification, the
impenitent are at death condemned to pass from one body
into another of a more or less perfect form, according to
the upward or downward tendency of their nature, buch
is the doctrine taught in the philosophy of Vaisechika. Ac¬
cording to the Vedanta system, again, the soul is not an
emanation but a part of Brahma; a spark from an eternal
fire. It knows neither birth nor death; it endues itse
only for a time in a corporeal envelope, where it is afflicted
by the darkness of ignorance, and subjected to the suttei-
ings attendant upon evil. It visits various bodies in suc¬
cession, and the circle of its metamorphoses embraces all
organized nature, from a plant up to a man. Divine know¬
ledge alone can extricate it from this circle of sorrow and
humiliation; and this knowledge can only be attained by
the soul stripping itself of all personality both of feeling
and will; after which it precipitates itself into the bosom
of the Deity, as a river discharges its waters into the sea.
It is a current belief that the idea of metempsychosis
passed from Egypt into Greece ; but this opinion is not
well founded. For not only are traces of this doctrine to
be found in the latter country, as the name of Orpheus will
suggest, long previous to any authentic intercourse between
those two nations, but Herodotus himself expressly distin¬
guishes between the ancient and the modern partizans ot
metempsychosis in Greece ; between the doctrine current
in the country before the time of Pythagoras and the form
of it introduced by that philosopher, who was the first Greek
speculator initiated in the religious science of the Egyp¬
tian priests. But whether original or borrowed, the doc¬
trine as found in Greece was in complete harmony with
the genius of the Greek people. It was removed alike
from the cloudy mysticism of India and from the miracu¬
lous naturalism of Egypt. It was Pythagoras who gave the
doctrine its most precise form. He limited the metamoi-
phoses of the soul to animal life, and, instead ot a fortuitous
entrance, he maintained that each individual soul passed
into that particular form of organized animal existence which
was most in harmony with its own faculties and condition.
Plato, in adopting this Pythagorean doctrine, attempts in
the Phcedo to establish it from two sources, and thus elevates
it into the class of philosophical ideas. His first proot
is drawn from the general order of nature, and the other
from the human consciousness. Nature, says Plato, is go¬
verned by the law of contraries; death succeeds life, and
life must succeed death. Again, we find evidence ot the
same state of pre-existence in the fact ot reminiscence.
That intellectual suggestiveness and inventive power so
frequently noticeable in the subtler workings of the under¬
standing, by which the mind makes such swift conquest ot
whole territories of the realm of knowledge, are only to be
attributed to the fact that all this knowledge was once fully
comprehended in a previous state of existence. But bow
far Plato insisted on this doctrine, or whether it was aught
more than a piece of suggestive hypothesis, it is difficult to
determine. We find the idea of metempsychosis assuming
new developments during the later stages of Greek specu¬
lation. We encounter it subsequently in the school ot
Alexandria, in the bosom of Judaism, and in a father ot the
church. The hypothesis of a pre-existent state was, with
Origen, a favourite mode of explaining certain biblical diffi¬
culties; and the same argument, particularly in its bearings
on original sin, has been recently revived by an eminen
American divine.
METEOR 0 LITE.
Meteoro- METEOROLITE. This term is derived from the
' Greek ^erewpa, a meteor, and Xi^os, a stone, and denotes a
^ stony substance, exhibiting peculiar characters, and the
descent of which to the earth is usually accompanied by
the appearance and explosion of a fire-ball.
Luminous meteors have in all ages been observed in
the atmosphere. It is also well known that their disap¬
pearance has frequently been attended with a loud noise;
but that they should moreover terminate in the fall of one
or more solid bodies to the earth’s surface, is a position so
repugnant to our ordinary conceptions of the tenor of phy¬
sical events, that we cannot admit it as a fact upon slight
or scanty evidence.
^ One passage may be cited from the books of the Old
Testament in corroboration of the descent of stones from
the atmosphere. In the 11th verse of the 10th chapter of
Joshua we find,—“ And it came to pass, as they fled from
before Israel, and were in the going down to Beth-horon,
that the Lord cast down great stones from heaven upon
them unto Azekah, and they died.”
If from sacred we turn to the early period of profane
history, we shall find the annals of public events very co¬
piously interspersed with notices of such strange ap¬
pearances. Through the midst of fable which envelopes
the history of the bcetuli we discern some characters which
correspond with those of meteorolites. Thus in the Ai&Ka,
a poem falsely ascribed to Orpheus, the o-tS^pcr^s is
said to be “ rough, heavy, and black.” Damascius, in an
extract of his Life of Isidorus, preserved by Photius, relates
that the bcetuli fell on Mount Libanus, in a “globe of fire.”
A fragment of Sanchoniathon, preserved by Eusebius in
his Prceparatio Evangelii (i. 10), moreover informs us, that
these stones were fabricated by the god Uranus or Heaven,
one of whose four sons was named Bsetul. In the same
chapter we are told that Astarte found a “star” which had
“ fallen from heaven,” and honoured it with consecration
in the city of Tyre. The stone denominated “ the mother
of the gods,” if we can believe Appian, Herodian, and Mar-
cellinus, “ fell from heaven.” Aristodemus, cited by the
Greek scholiast on Pindar, asserts that it fell encircled by
fire, upon a hill, at the feet of the Theban bard. It is said
to have been of a black colour, and of an irregular shape.
Herodian expressly declares, that the Phoenicians had no
statue of the sun polished by the hand, but only a certain
stone, circular below, and terminated acutely above, in the
form of a cone, of a black colour, and that, according to
report, it “ fell from heaven,” and was regarded by the
people as the image of the sun.
Amongst various instances which might be selected from
Livy is that of a shower of stones on the Alban Mount,
in the reign of Tullus Hostilius, or about 652 b.c. The
senate was assured that stones had really fallen, “ hand
aliter quam quum grandinem venti glomeratam in terras
agunt.”
But one of the most remarkable cases which occurs in the
records of antiquity is that which is mentioned in the 58th
chapter of the second book of Pliny’s Natural History, of
a large stone which fell near iEgospotamos in Thrace, in
the second year of the 78th Olympiad, or, according to our
chronology, about 467 years before the Christian era.
Pliny assures us that this extraordinary mass was still
shown in his day, and that it was as large as a cart, and of
a burned colour. According to Plutarch, in the Life of Ly-
sander, the inhabitants of the Chersonesus held the Thra¬
cian stone in great veneration, and exhibited it as a public
show. This event is also-recorded in that curious docu¬
ment, The Parian Chronicle, among the Arundelian
marbles, in these terms—“ From the time when the stone
fell at iEgospotamos, and the poet Simonides died at the
age of ninety, during the archonship of Theagenides
at Athens, is 205 years.” Pliny gives another instance
of an aerolite which fell in Lucania about 56 B.c.;
and Caesar records the descent of another at Accilla
46 b.c.
From this period till near the close of the fifteenth cen¬
tury, any historical notices which we have been enabled to
collect are so vague and scanty, that in this abridged view
of the subject we may pass them over in silence.
Professor Bantenschoen, of the central school of Colmar,
first directed the attention of naturalists to some of the old
chronicles, which commemorate, with much naivete, and
in the true spirit of the times, the fall of the celebrated
stone of Ensisheim. The following account accompanied
this very singular mass when it was suspended in the
church :—“In the year of the Lord 1492, on Wednesday,
which was Martinmas eve, the 7th of November, there
happened a singular miracle; for, between eleven o’clock
and noon there was a loud peal of thunder, and a pro¬
longed confused noise, which was heard to a great dis¬
tance, and a stone fell from the air, in the jurisdiction of
Ensisheim, which weighed 260 pounds, and the confused
noise was, moreover, much louder than here. There a
child saw it strike on a field situated in the upper jurisdic¬
tion, towards the Rhine and Inn, near to the district of
Gisgard, which was sown with wheat; and did it no harm,
except that it made a hole there ; and then they conveyed
it from that spot, and many pieces were broken from it,
which the landvogt forbade. They therefore caused it
to be placed in the church, with the intention of suspend¬
ing it as a miracle, and many people came hither to see
this stone.”
Again, Trithemius, in his Hirsaugiensian Annals, em¬
ploys language to this effect:—“ In the same year, on the
7th day ot November, in the village of Suntgaw, near the
townlet of Ensisheim, not far from Basil, a city of Ger¬
many, a stone, called a thunder-stone, of a prodigious size,
for we know from eye-witnesses that it weighed 255 pounds,
fell from the heavens. Its fall was so violent that it broke
into two pieces. The most considerable is still exhibited
at the door of the church of Ensisheim, suspended by an
iron chain, as a proof of the fact which we have mentioned,
and to preserve it in the public recollection.” We learn
also from Paul Lang, “ that there arose a furious storm on
the 7th of November 1492, and that whilst the thunder
roared, and the heavens appeared all on fire, a stone of
enormous size fell near Ensisheim.”
It is worthy of observation that these chroniclers lived
at the period which they assign to the descent of the stone,
and that although their names are hastening to oblivion,
Trithemius yielded to few of his contemporaries in labour
and learning; whilst Lang, a German Benedictine, had
travelled in search of historical monuments, arraigned the
license of the Catholic clergy, and applauded the indepen¬
dence of Luther and Melancthon.
In the Commentary of Surius, a Carthusian monk of
Cologne, mention is made of a shower of large stones
which fell in Lombardy in 1510. These stones were harder
than flint, and smelled of sulphur. 1 he heaviest weighed
120 pounds. The same event is more particularly related
by Cardan, in his work entitled He Perum Varietate (lib.
xiv., c. 72). According to this author, near the River
Adda, not far from Milan, and at five o’clock in the even¬
ing, about 1120 stones fell from the air, one of them weigh¬
ing 120 pounds, and another 60 pounds. Many were
presented to the French governor and his deputy. In the
Memoirs of the Emperor Jehan-schah, written in Persian
by himself and translated by Colonel Kirkpatrick, is an ac-
^rorf ^ , £Lst(?ne t*lat 'n the province of Lahore in
6^0 ; and F erishta has recorded, in the true oriental style,
t e conversion of “ this son of thunder,” as he calls it, into
two scimitars, a dagger, and a knife, by order of the em¬
peror. I he emperor says,—“ Here I had this substance
629
Meteoro-
lite.
630
Meteoro-
lite.
METEOROLITE.
weighed in my presence. Its weight was 160 tolahs.1 I
committed it to a skilful artizan, with orders to make of it
a sabre, a knife, and a dagger. The workman reported
that the substance was not malleable, but shivered into
pieces under the hammer. Upon this I ordered it to be
mixed with other iron. Conformably to my orders, three
parts of the iron of lightning1 were mixed with one part of
common iron, and from the mixture were made two sabres,
one knife, and one dagger.” ^ n
The celebrated Gassendi informs us, that on the 2,1m
of November 1627, about ten o’clock in the morning,
during a very clear sky, he saw a flaming stone, of the
apparent diameter of 4 feet, fall on Mount \ aision, an
eminence situated between the small towns of Perne and
Guillaumes in Provence. This stone was surrounded by
a luminous circle of different colours, nearly resembling
the rainbow, and its fall was accompanied with a noise
like the discharge of artillery. It weighed 59 pounds, and
its specific gravity was to that of common marble as
fourteen to eleven. It was of a dark metallic colour,
and extremely hard. From a curious book printed at
Paris in 1672, and now become very scarce, entitled
“ Conversations tirees cle VAcademic de M. VAbbe Bour-
delot contenant diverses Recherches et Observations Phy¬
siques, par le Sieur Legallois, we make the ensuing
extract:—44 A member presents a fragment of two stones
which fell near Verona, one of which weighed 300 and the
other 200 pounds. Ihese stones, says he, fell during
the night, when the weather was perfectly mild and serene.
rph0y seemed to be all on fire, and came from above, but
in a slanting direction, and with a tremendous noise, ihis
prodigy terribly alarmed 300 or 400 eye-witnesses, who
were at a loss what to think of it.
No philosopher of the present day doubts the descent of
stony bodies from the atmosphere; and the testimony of
innumerable witnesses of their fall, with phenomena nearly
similar, places meteorolites among the established facts of
natural science. If several of the early notices of them are
obscure, we have, in the end of the last and in the present
century, many descriptions of their appearance, on their
descent, by intelligent witnesses; so that scepticism on
this subject can be no longer entertained. It is also very
remarkable, that wherever they have fallen, in Europe, in
India, or America, their composition is nearly identically
the same, and agrees in composition with no known mineral.
This has been established by the careful experiments of the
Hon. Mr Howard, of Vauquelin, Laugier, Klaproth, and
Berzelius, as well as by the investigations of Bournon and
many other mineralogists. Their general composition
may be stated as follows :—Silica, 40 per cent.; malleable
iron, 25 ; nickel, from 6 to 8 ; with a small quantity of iron
pyrites, and variable proportions of alumina, lime, magnesia,
manganese ; with traces of chrome, cobalt^ and sulphur. In
the present century many have fallen in trance, Germany,
India, and America ; and in our own islands one fell in
' Yorkshire in 1795, another in Gloucestershire in 1835, a
third near Glasgow in 1804, and two in Ireland from 1810
to 1813. We shall now proceed to more detailed instances.
We have now to direct our attention to a report of M.
de Lalande, inserted in the Historical Almanac of Bresse
for 1756. In the month of September 1753, about one
o’clock afternoon, when the weather was very hot and very
serene, without the least appearance of clouds, a very loud
noise, like the discharge of two or three cannons, was heard
within the circumference of six leagues, but was of very
short duration. This noise was loudest in the neighbour¬
hood of Pont-de-Vesle ; and at Liponas, a village three
leagues from the last-mentioned place, it was even accom-
1 A tolah is about 180 grains troy weight.
- This expression is equivalent to our term thunderbolt.
panied with a hissing like that of a cracker. On the same
evening there were found at Eiponas and at 1 in two blackish
masses, of a form nearly circular, but very uneven, which
had fallen on ploughed ground, and sunk by their own
weight to the depth of half a foot below the surface. One
of them weighed about twenty pounds; and a fragment of
one of them, weighing eleven and a half pounds, was pre¬
served in the cabinet of M. Varenne de Beost at Dijon.
The basis of these masses resembled a grayish whinstone,
and was very refractory; and some ferruginous pai tides
were disseminated in grains, filaments, or minute masses,
throughout the substance of the stone, especially in its
fissures. On the 15th of September 1760, according to
the Abbe Bachelay, about half-past four o’clock afternoon,
there appeared near the Chateau de Chevabrie, in the
neighbourhood of Luce, a small town of the province of
Maine, a stormy cloud, from which proceeded a loud peal
of thunder, like the discharge of cannon, and followed by a
noise which was mistaken by several people for the lowing
of oxen. This sound was heard over a space of about two
leagues and a half, but unaccompanied by any perceptible
flame. The reapers in the parish of Perigue, about three
leagues from Luce, on hearing the same noise, looked up,
and saw an opaque body, which described a curve, and fell
on soft turf upon the high road from Mons, neai which
they were at work. They all quickly ran up to it, and found
a sort of stone, nearly halt of which was buried in the earth,
and the whole so hot that it could not be touched. At first
they ran away in a panic; but upon returning to the spot
some time afterwards, they found the stone precisely in the
same situation, and sufficiently cooled to admit of being
handled and narrowly examined. It weighed seven ounces
and a half, and was of a triangular form.
On the 20th of November 1768 a stone fell at Mauer-
kirchen, near the River Inn in Bavaria, which weighed
38 pounds, and was of a triangular form, being about
eio-ht inches in thickness. Its fall was accompanied by
a "'hissing noise. The next remarkable case that has
been recorded occurred on the 20th of August US9 at
Barbotan, near Roquefort, in the Landes of Bortieaux. A
much more remarkable phenomenon, however, of tne same
description occurred near Agen on the 24tn of July 1790.
An inhabitant of St Severe communicated the following
particulars to M. Darcet the chemist, who was then resident
at Paris:—“ Our town’s-people were yesterday very much
alarmed. About a quarter-past nine o’clock in the evening
there suddenly appeared in the atmosphere a fire-ball, drag¬
ging a long train, which diffused a very vivid light over the
horizon. This meteor soon disappeared, and seemed to
fall at one hundred paces from us. It was quickly followed
by an explosion louder than that of a cannon or of thunder.
Everybody dreaded being buried under the ruins of his
house, which seemed to give way from the concussion.
The same phenomenon was seen, and the report heaid, in
the neighbouring towns, as Mont de Marsan, lartas, an
Dax. The weather in other respects was very calm, with¬
out a breath of wind or a cloud, and the moon shone m al
her brightness.” Those which fell on the houses produced
a noise, not like that of stones, but rather of a substance
which had not yet acquired compactness.
M. Baudin mentions, that as M. Cams of Larbotan and
he were walking in the court of the Castle of Mormes, about
half-past nine o’clock in the evening of the 24th of July
1790, when the air was perfectly calm and the sky clou -
less, they found themselves suddenly surrounded by a pale
clear light, which obscured that of the moon, although the
latter was nearly full. On looking up they observed,
almost in their zenith, a fire-ball of a larger apparent dia¬
meter than that of the moon, dragging a tad which seemed
to be five or six times longer than the diameter of its body,
and which gradually tapered to a point; the lattei ap
METEOIiOLITE.
631
Meteoro- preaching to blood-red, though the rest of the meteor was
^lt6, of a pale white. This luminous body proceeded with great
velocity from south to north, and in two seconds split into
portions of considerable size, like the fragments of a burst¬
ing bomb. These fragments became extinguished in the
air, and some of them, as they fell, assumed that deep red
colour which had been observed at the point of the tail.
1 wo or three minutes afterwards M. Baudin and his friend
heard a dreadful explosion, like the simultaneous firing of
several pieces of ordnance; but they were not sensible of
any tremulous motion under their feet, although the con¬
cussion of the atmosphere shook the windows in their
frames, and threw down kitchen utensils from their shelves.
When these gentlemen removed to the garden the noise
still continued, and appeared to be directly over their heads.
Some time after it had ceased, they heard a hollow sound
rolling in echoes for about 50 miles along the chain of
the Pyrenees, and at the end of about four minutes gra¬
dually dying away in distance. At the same time a strong
sulphurous odour was diffused in the atmosphere. The
interval which occurred between the disruption of the me¬
teor and the loud report induced M. Baudin to conjecture
that this fire-ball must have been at least 8 miles from the
earth’s surface, and that it fell about 4 miles from Mormes.
“ The latter part of my conjecture,” says he, “ was soon
confirmed by an account which we received of a great
many stones having fallen from the atmosphere at Juillac
and in the neighbourhood of Barbotan.” It appears, in¬
deed, from the concurring testimony of intelligent persons
worthy of credit, that the meteor really exploded at a little
distance from Juillac, and that its fragments were found
lying in an almost circular space of nearly 2 miles in dia¬
meter. Some of them weighed 18 or 20, and a few, it is
alleged, even 50 pounds. M. de Cams procured one of
18 pounds, which he transmitted to the Academy of Sciences
at Paris. That examined by M. Baudin was small, but
heavy in proportion to its size, black on the outside, grayish
within, and interspersed with many minute, shining, metal¬
lic particles.
Our chronological series of cases has now brought us to
the fall of several meteorolites near Siena, the particulars
of which, as reported by the Earl of Bristol and Sir Wil¬
liam Hamilton, are recorded in the first part of the Philo¬
sophical Transactions for the year 1795 (p. 103). The
date of the Siena meteor is the 16th of June 1794. On
the 13th of December in the following year, about three
o’clock in the afternoon, another of these singular stones,
weighing about 56 pounds, fell near the country-house
of Captain lopham in Yorkshire. The captain’s report,
which is inserted in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1796,
is distinct and satisfactory; whilst the chemical examina¬
tion of the mass, detailed in Mr Howard’s paper in the Phi¬
losophical Transactions for 1802, affords a still more deci¬
sive proof of its atmospheric origin. M. de Dree also found
it to correspond exactly in aspect and character with frag¬
ments of meteoric stones from Benares and Ville-Franche.
The original mass is larger than a man’s head. It weighed
56 pounds, and is now in the British Museum.
Mr Southey, in his letters from Spain and Portugal,
transcribes the authenticated relation of another instance
of the descent of a stone from the clouds on the 19th of
February 1796. But we pass to some of the most im¬
portant details relative to the stone which is affirmed to
have fallen near Ville-Franche, in the department of the
Phone, on the 12th of March 1798. It was transmitted
to Professor Sage, member of the National Institute.
“ It is of an ash-gray colour,’’ says M. Sage, “ granulated,
and speckled with gray, shining, and pyritous metallic
points. One of its surfaces is covered with a dingy black
enamel about the third of a line in thickness. This stone
acts very powerfully on the magnetic needle.”
An account of the same meteor was published in the Meteoro-
Journal de Physique by M. de Dree. From his minute lite<
and deliberate investigation, it appears that the fire-ball
had scarcely fixed the attention of the inhabitants of Sales
and the adjacent villages, when its rapid approach, accom¬
panied by a terrible whizzing noise, like that of an irre¬
gular hollow body traversing the air with unusual velocity,
inspired the whole commune with alarm, especially when
they observed it passing over their heads at an inconsider¬
able elevation. It left behind a long train of light, and
emitted, with an almost unceasing crackling, small vivid
flames like little stars. Its fall was remarked at the dis¬
tance of only fifty paces by three labourers. These three
witnesses attest the astonishing rapidity of the meteor’s
motion and the hissing which proceeded from the spot where
it fell.
On the 19th of December 1798, about eight o’clock in
the evening, the inhabitants of Benares and its neighbour¬
hood observed in the heavens a very luminous meteor,
in the form of a large ball of fire, which exploded with a
loud noise, and from which a number of stones were pre¬
cipitated near Krakhut, a village about 14 miles from
the city of Benares. Mr Davis, the judge and magistrate
of the district, affirmed that in brilliancy it equalled the
brightest moonlight. “Of these stones,” says Mr Howard,
“ I have seen eight nearly perfect: externally they were
covered with a hard black coat or incrustation, which in
some parts had the appearance of varnish or bitumen;
and on most of them were fractures, which, from their being
covered with a matter similar to that of the coat, seemed to
have been made in the fall by the stones striking against
each other, and to have passed through some medium, pro¬
bably an intense heat, previous to their reaching the earth.
Internally they consisted of a number of small spherical
bodies of a slate colour, imbedded in a whitish gritty sub¬
stance, interspersed with bright shining spiculae, of a me¬
tallic or pyritical nature. The spherical bodies were much
harder than the rest of the stone; the white gritty part *
readily crumbled on being rubbed with a hard body ; and
on being broken a quantity attached itself to the magnet,
but more particularly the outside coat or crust, which ap¬
peared almost wholly attractable by it.”
An account of the extraordinary shower of stones which
fell near L’Aigle in Normandy, on 26th April 1803, appeared
in the following letter addressed by M. Marais, an inhabi¬
tant of the place, to his friend in Paris:—“ An astonish¬
ing miracle has just occurred in our district. Here it is,
without alteration, addition, or diminution. It is certain
that it is the truth itself. On Friday (26th of April),
between one and two o’clock in the afternoon, we were
roused by a murmuring noise like thunder. On going out
we were surprised to see the sky pretty clear, with the
exception of some small clouds. We took it for the noise
of a carriage or of fire in the neighbourhood. We were
then in the meadow, to examine whence the noise pro¬
ceeded, when we observed all the inhabitants of the Pont
de Pierre at their windows and in gardens, inquiring con¬
cerning a cloud which passed in the direction of from S.
to N., and from whence the noise issued, although that
cloud presented nothing extraordinary in its appearance.
But great was our astonishment when we learned that
many and large stones had fallen from it, some of them
weighing 10, 11, and even 17 pounds, in the space be-
the house of the Buat family (half a league to the
N.JN.E. of L Aigle) and Glos, passing by St Nicolas, St
1 lerre, &c., which struck us at first as a fable, but which
was afterwards found to be true. The following is the
explanation given of this extraordinary event by all who
witnessed it: Ihey heard a noise like that of a cannon,
then a double report still louder than the preceding, fol¬
lowed by a rumbling noise, which lasted about ten minutes,
IL
632
METEOROLITE.
Meteoro the same which we also heard, accompanied with hissings,
lite. caused by these stones, which were counteracted in their
fall by the different currents of air, which is very natural
in the case of such a sudden expansion. Nothing more
was heard t but it is remarkable that, previously to the
explosion, the domestic fowls were alarmed, and the cows
bellowed in an unusual manner. All the country people
were much dismayed, especially the women, who believed
that the end of the world was at hand. A labourer at La
Sapee fell prostrate on the ground, exclaiming, ‘ Good God,
is it possible that thou canst make me perish thus? Par¬
don, I beseech thee, all the faults I have committed.’ The
most trifling objects, in fact, might create alarm; for it is
not improbable that history offers no example of such a
shower of stones as this. The piece which I send was
detached from a large one weighing about 11 pounds,
which was found between the house of the Buats and Le
Fertey. It is said that a collector of curiosities purchased
one of 17 pounds weight that he might send it to Paris.
Everybody in this part of the country is desirous of pos¬
sessing a whole stone, or a fragment of one, as an object of
curiosity.”
At the sitting of the Institute on the 9th of May, Four-
croy read a letter from L’Aigle addressed to M. Vauquelin,
and which sufficiently corroborates the preceding state¬
ments. But we pass to the substance of M. Biot’s letter
addressed to the minister of the interior, and published in
the Journal des Debats. This very eminent philosopher
was deputed by government to repair to the spot, and col¬
lect all the authentic facts. He left Paris on the 5th of
June, and instead of proceeding directly to L’Aigle, went
first to Alen^on, which lies 15 leagues to the W.S.W. of that
place. He was informed on his way that a globe of fire
had been observed moving towards the north, and that
its appearance was followed by a violent explosion. From
Alencon he journeyed through various villages to L’Aigle,
being directed in his progress by the accounts of the in¬
habitants, who had all heard the explosion on the day and
at the hour specified. Almost all the inhabitants of twenty
hamlets, scattered over an extent of upwards of 2 square
leagues, affirmed that they were eye-witnesses of a dreadful
shower of stones which were darted from the meteor. The
following is his summary of the whole evidence: “ On
Tuesday, 6th Floreal, year 11, about one o’clock p.ive, the
weather being serene, there was observed from Caen,
Pont d’Audemer, and the environs of Alenfon, Falaise,
and Verneuil, a fiery globe of a very brilliant splendour, and
which moved in the atmosphere with great rapidity. Some
moments after there was heard at L Aigle, and in the
environs of that town, in the extent of more than 30
leagues in every direction, a violent explosion which lasted
five or six minutes. At first there were three or four re¬
ports like those of cannon, followed by a kind of discharge
which resembled the firing of musketry; after which there
was heard a dreadful rumbling like the beating of a drum.
The air was calm and the sky serene, except a few clouds,
such as are frequently observed.. This noise proceeded from
a small cloud which had a rectangular form, the largest
side being in a direction from E. to W. It appeared mo¬
tionless all the time that the phenomenon lasted; but the
vapours of which it was composed were projected momen¬
tarily from different sides by the effect of the successive
explosions. This cloud was about half a league to the
N.N.W. of the town of L’Aigle. It was at a considerable
elevation in the atmosphere, for the inhabitants of two
hamlets, a league distant from each other, saw it at the same
time above their heads. In the whole canton over which
this cloud was suspended, there was heard a hissing noise
like that of a stone discharged from a sling, and a great
many mineral masses, exactly similar to those distinguished
by the name of meteoric stones, were seen to fall. The
district in which these masses were projected forms an Meteoro-
elliptical extent of about 2.^ leagues in length, and nearly lite-
1 in breadth, the greatest dimension being in a direction
from S.E. to N.W. forming a declination of about 22
degrees. This direction, which the meteor must have
followed, is exactly that of the magnetic meridian, which
is a remarkable result. The greatest of these stones fell
at the south-eastern extremity of the large axis of the ellipse,
the middle-sized in the centre, and the smaller at the other
extremity. Hence it appears that the largest fell first, as
might naturally be supposed. The largest of all those that
fell weighs 17£ pounds. The smallest which I have seen
weighs about 2 gros (a thousandth part of the last). The
number of all those which fell is certainly above two or
three thousand.”
It deserves to be remarked, that the L’Aigle stones were
very friable for some days after their descent, that they
gradually acquired hardness, and that after they had lost
the sulphurous odour on their surface, they still retained
it in their substances, as was found by breaking them.
That some of the relations to which we have referred are
vague and unsatisfactory cannot be denied, but the circum¬
stantial testimony conveyed by others is pointed and posi¬
tive ; and the whole mass of historical proof, especially when
combined with the argument deduced from the identity of
the physical and chemical constitution of the stones, ap¬
pears to us to be altogether irresistible.
In the course of our inquiry into this novel and interest¬
ing subject we have ascertained a variety of circumstances
which render it highly probable, if not indubitable, that
those detached masses of native iron, the history of which
has so often staggered and perplexed the geologist, are only
modifications of meteoric depositions. The Tartars, for
example, ascribe the descent of the Siberian mass described
by Pallas, Chladni, and others, to a period that is lost in
the remoteness of antiquity; and whilst tradition thus
favours our hypothesis, the analogy which is obviously ob¬
servable, in point of texture and chemical characters, with
those of other solid bodies the fall of which is no longer
questioned, strengthens tradition. According to the dis¬
coveries of Proust and Klaproth, native iron, reputed me¬
teoric, differs from that which occurs in a fossil state by the
presence of nickel. The former of these celebrated ana¬
lysts obtained 50 grains of sulphate of nickel from 100
of the South American mass, and his results are corroborated
by Mr Howard and the Count de Bournon.
Of the two pieces of Siberian iron now in the British
Museum, one of which was transmitted by Dr Pallas,
weighs several pounds; and another presents a cellular and
ramified texture analogous to that of some very light and
porous volcanic scoriae. When attentively examined, there
may be perceived in it not only empty cells, but also im¬
pressions or cavities of greater or less depth, and in some
of which there remain specks of olivine. The iron itself is
very malleable, and may be easily cut with a knife or flat¬
tened under the hammer. The specific gravity is 6487,
which is obviously inferior to that of unforged iron that has
undergone fusion, and may be partly owing to the oxidize-
ment of the surface of the iron, and partly to the many
minute cavities in its substance, which are often rendered
visible by fracture, and which have their surface also oxid¬
ized. The fracture is shining and silvery, like that of
white cast-iron; but its grain is much smoother and finer,
and it is much more malleable when cold. The heavier
specimen is more solid and compact, exhibiting no cavities
or pores, though its surface is ramified and cellular. So
blended and incorporated is its compact part with the oli¬
vine mentioned above, that if the whole of the latter could
be subtracted, the remainder would consist of iron in the
metallic state, and would display the same cellular appear¬
ance as the preceding specimen, or as the superficial por-
METEOROLITE.
Meteoro- tion of that now described. “I cannot help observing”
1 e‘^y says Count de Bournon, “ that there appears to exist a
very interesting analogy between these transparent nodules
and the globules I described as making part of the stones
said to have fallen on the earth. This analogy, though not
a very strong one, may lead us to suppose that the two
substances are similar in their nature, but that the globules
are less pure, and contain a greater quantity of iron.”
Having now, as we apprehend, sufficiently established
the existence and nature of meteorolites, we hope that our
readers will excuse us from enlarging on the various causes
which have been assigned for their origin, as these seem
to lie beyond the reach of our present state of knowledge.
After a candid and patient review of the principal theories,
we conceive that most of them are open to many and for¬
midable objections.
The terrestrial hypotheses, we believe, begin already to
be generally abandoned as untenable. Until the pheno¬
menon of exploding meteors had been distinctly observed
and i ecorded, Lemery and others could maintain, with
some degree of plausibility, that lightning might tear up
the ground, and convert soil into a compact mass. But
the appearances of a thunder-storm and of a fire-ball are
now ascertained to differ in various important particulars.
Spectators worthy of credit have seen the latter terminate
in the fall of solid bodies, and the composition of these
solid bodies has been found to differ from that of all the
known fossil substances on the surface of the globe. It is
in vain, then, to allege that they are formed on the ground
by common lightning, which has often produced very ex¬
traordinary effects, but which never generated thousands
of stones in fine calm weather. The supposition that such
stones have been projected from some of our volcanoes is
hardly less conceivable. The ashes which accompany a
violent eruption of Altnaor Vesuvius have, from their levity,
been carried to a very considerable distance; but we are
totally unacquainted with any projectile force which could
dart solid masses many hundred miles through such a dense
medium as the atmosphere. The compact lavas of burn¬
ing mountains are never found remote from the scene of
their formation, and none of them present the characters
and aspect of the stones which we have described. Of
those who contend for the atmospherical formation of me¬
teorolites, scarcely any two agree in regard to the manner
m which such formation is effected. The celebrated Mus-
chenbroeck in one part of his writings ascribes the descent
of stones from the air to earthquakes and volcanic eruptions ;
an opinion which later observations have disproved. In
other passages, however, he seems to incline to a modifica¬
tion of the atmospherical hypothesis, and endeavours to
trace the origin of shooting stars to an accumulation of the
volatile matters which are suspended in the air. M. Sal-
verte has given extension to the theory of formation from
vapours by having recourse to the agency of hydrogen gas.
According to him, in consequence of the decomposition of
water, which is constantly going on at the surface of the
earth, immense quantities of hydrogen gas are continually
rising into the atmosphere, and ascending to its higher re¬
gions. As this gas is capable of dissolving metals, it carries
along with it a portion of iron and nickel. During thunder¬
storms this gas is kindled by electricity ; the metals are de¬
posited, reduced, melted, and vitrified; in other words,
meteors are produced and stones formed. But this hypo¬
thesis is scarcely more satisfactory than the others. It does
not account for the presence of magnesia and silica, nor
does it explain why the stones are always composed of the
same materials. In general we may observe, that if the
origin of meteorolites be really atmospherical, the matters of
which they are composed must have existed in one of two
states, namely, in very attenuated particles or concretions
of tlie matters themselves volatilized and held in solution in
VOL. XIV.
the air, or only in the elements of these matters. In the
first case, when abandoned by their menstruum to their re¬
ciprocal tendencies, they would unite by aggregation only ;
in the second, by chemical combination. M. Izarn, who
has published a treatise on Atmospherical Lithology, has
entered into a somewhat obscure exposition of his own
theory, founded on this principle. We shall give the sum¬
mary, as nearly as we can, in his own words :—
“ Gaseous substances, arranged in spherical masses in the
upper regions of the air, being admitted, the various agita¬
tions of the atmosphere should naturally waft some of these
masses from their insulating medium into one capable of
combining with them. If the combination begins, the dis-
engagement of light is explained. In proportion as the
combination advances the specific gravities are changed,
and consequently a change of place will commence. Mo¬
tion being once impressed, the mass traverses other media,
capable of supplying new principles, which, still increasing
the weight, determine the curve ; and when at length the
principles which are at work have attained the requisite pro¬
portion for extinguishing the elements in the birth of the
compound, the grand operation is announced by the ex¬
plosion, and the product takes its place among the solids.”
That the stones in question are produced by chemical com¬
bination in the higher regions of the atmosphere, and that
they are thus formed from their own elements, are supposi¬
tions fully as probable as any that have been advanced on
the subject; but whether the union of their parts be effected
in the manner detailed by M. Izarn we are unable to deter¬
mine, because our range of data is as yet too circumscribed
to warrant any specific or decisive conclusions.
A much bolder theory has been suggested, and its pos¬
sibility demonstrated, by Laplace, who shows that meteo¬
rolites may be the products of lunar volcanoes. We shall
present the reasoning upon which this extraordinary hypo¬
thesis is founded, in the popular and perspicuous language
of Dr Hutton of Woolwich. The respect due to the name
of Laplace will justify the length of the extract. “ As the
attraction of gravitation extends through the whole plane¬
tary system, a body placed at the surface of the moon is
affected chiefly by two forces, one drawing it toward the
centre of the earth, and another drawing it toward that of
the moon. The latter of these forces, however, near the
moon’s surface, is incomparably the greater. But as we
recede from the moon, and approach toward the earth, this
force decreases, whilst the other augments; till at last a
point of station is found between the two planets, where
these forces are exactly equal, so that a body placed there
must remain at rest; but if it be removed still nearer to
the earth, then this planet would have the superior attrac¬
tion, and the body must fall towards it. If a body, then, be
projected from the moon towards the earth, with a force
sufficient to carry it beyond the point of equal attraction,
it must necessarily fall on the earth. Such, then, is the
idea of the manner in which the bodies must be made to
pass from the moon to the earth, if that can be done, the
possibility of which is now necessary to be considered
Now supposing a mass to be projected from the moon*
in a direct line towards the earth, by a volcano or by the
production of steam by subterranean heat; and supposing
for the present, these two planets to remain at rest; then
it has been demonstrated, on the Newtonian estimation of
the moons mass, that a force projecting the body with a
velocity of 12,000 feet in a second would be sufficient to
carry it beyond the point of equal attraction. But this esti¬
mate of the moon’s mass is now allowed to be much above
the truth ; and, on M. Laplace’s calculation, it appears that
a force of little more than half the above power would be
sufficient to produce the effect; that is, a force capable of
projecting a body with a velocity of less than a mile and a
ia per second. But we have known cannon-balls pro-
4 L
633
Meteoro-
lite.
634
METEOROLITE.
Meteoro. jected by the force of gunpowder with a velocity of 2500
lite. feet per second or upwards ; that is, about half a mile, it
follows, therefore, that a projectile force, communicating a
velocity about three times that of a cannon-bal, would be
sufficient to throw the body from the moon beyond the
point of equal attraction, and cause it to reach the earth.
Now there can be little doubt that a force equal to that is
exerted by volcanoes on the earth, as well as by the pro¬
duction of steam by subterranean heat, when we consider
the huge masses of rock, so many times larger than cannon¬
balls thrown on such occasions to heights also so much
greater. We may easily imagine, too, such cause of motion
to exist in the moon as well as in the earth, and that in a
superior degree, if we may judge from the supposed symp¬
toms of volcanoes recently observed in the moon by the
powerful tubes of Dr Herschel; and still more, if we con¬
sider that all projections from the earth suffer an enormous
resistance and diminution by the dense atmosphere of this
planet, whilst it has been rendered probable, from optical
considerations, that the moon has little or no atmospneie
at all to give any such resistance to projectiles.
“ Thus, then, we are fully authorized in concluding that
the case of possibility is completely made out; that a known
power exists in nature capable of producing the foregoing
effect, of detaching a mass of matter from the moon, and
transferring it to the earth in the form of a flaming meteor
or burning stone: at the same time we are utterly ignorant
of any other process in nature by which the same pheno¬
menon can be produced. Having thus discovered a way in
which it is possible to produce those appearances, we shall
now endeavour to show, from all the concomitant circum¬
stances, that these accord exceedingly well with the natural
effects of the supposed cause, and thence give it a very high
degree of probability. u u *
“ This important desideratum will perhaps be best at¬
tained by examining the consequences of a substance sup¬
posed to be projected by a volcano from the moon into the
sphere of the earth’s superior attraction, and then compar¬
ing those with the known and visible phenomena of the
blazing meteors or burning stones that fall through the air
on the earth. And if in this comparison a striking coinci¬
dence or resemblance shall always or mostly be found, it
will be difficult for the human mind to resist the persuasion
that the assumed cause involves a degree of probability but
little short of certainty itself. Now the chief phenomena at¬
tending these blazing meteors or burning stones are these :
1. That they appear to blaze out suddenly; 2. 1 hat they
move with a surprisingly rapid motion, nearly horizontal,
but a little inclined downwards; 3. That they move m
several different directions with respect to the points ot the
compass ; 4. That in their flight they yield a loud whizzing
sound; 5. That they commonly burst with a violent explo¬
sion and report; 6. That they fallen the earth, with gieat
force, in a sloping direction ; 7. That they are very hot at
first, remain hot a considerable time, and exhibit visible
tokens of fusion on their surface ; 8. I hat the fallen stony
masses have all the same external appearance and contex¬
ture, as well as internally the same nature and composition ;
and, 9. That they are totally different from all our terrestrial
bodies, both natural and artificial.
“ Now these phenomena we shall proceed to compare
with the circumstances of a substance projected by a lunar
volcano, and in the order in which they are here enumerated.
And, first, with respect to the leading circumstance, that of
a sudden blazing meteoric appearance, which is not that of
a small bright spark, first seen at an immense distance, and
then gradually increasing with the diminution of its dis¬
tance. And this circumstance appears very naturally to re¬
sult from the assumed cause. For, the body being pro¬
jected from a lunar volcano, may well be supposed in an
ignited state, like inflamed matter thrown up by our terres¬
trial volcanoes, which, passing through the comparatively Meteoro
vacuum in the space between the moon and the eaith s sen ^ ^
sible atmosphere, it will probably enter the superior parts
of this atmosphere with but little diminution of its original
heat; from which circumstance, united with that of its vio¬
lent motion, this being ten or twelve times that of a cannon¬
ball, and through a part of the atmosphere probably con¬
sisting chiefly of the inflammable gas rising from the earth
to the top of the atmosphere, the body may well be sup¬
posed to be suddenly inflamed, as the natural effect or
these circumstances ; indeed it would be surprising if it did
not. From whence it appears, that the sudden inflamma¬
tion of the body on entering the earth’s atmosphere is
exactly what might be expected to happen.
“ 2. To trace the body through the earth’s atmosphere,
we are to observe that it enters the top of it with the great
velocity acquired by descending from the point of equal
attraction, which is such as would carry the body to the
earth’s surface in a very few additional seconds of tune if it
met with no obstruction. But as it enters deeper in the
atmosphere, it meets with still more and more resistance
from the increasing density of the air, by which the great
velocity of 6 miles per second must soon be greatly re¬
duced to one that will be uniform, and only a small part of
its former great velocity. This remaining part of its motion
will be various in different bodies, being more or less as the
body is larger or smaller, and as it is more or less specifi¬
cally heavy ; but for a particular instance, if the body were
a globe of 12 inches diameter, and of the same gravity as
the atmospheric stones, the motion would decrease so as to
be little more than a quarter of a mile per second of per¬
pendicular descent. Now, whilst the body is thus descend¬
ing, the earth itself is affected by a twofold motion, both the
diurnal and the annual one, with both of which the descent
of the body is to be compounded. The earth’s motion ot
rotation at the equator is about 17 miles in a minute, or t\v o-
sevenths of a mile in a second; but in the middle latitudes
of Europe little more than the halt of that, or little above
half a quarter of a mile, in a second ; and if we compound
this motion with that of the descending body, as in me¬
chanics, this may cause the body to appear to descend
obliquely, though but a little, the motion being nearer the
perpendicular than the horizontal direction. But the other
motion of the earth, or that in its annual course, is about
20 miles in a second, which is eighty times greater than the
perpendicular descent in the instance above mentioned;
so that, if this motion be compounded with the descending
one of the body, it must necessarily give it the appearance
of a very rapid motion in a direction nearly parallel to the
horizon, but a little declining downwards; a circumstance
which exactly agrees with the appearances of these meteoric
bodies, as stated in the second article of the enumerated
phenomena. .. . c ,,
“ 3. Again, with regard to the apparent direction ot the
body; this will evidently be various, being that compounded
of the body’s descent and the direction of the earth s annual
motion at the time of the fall, which is itself various in the
different seasons of the year, according to the direction o^
the several points of the ecliptic to the eart s iai\°,r
axis. Usually, however, from the great excess of the earth s
motion above that of the falling body, the direction of this
must appear to be nearly opposite to that of the former.
And, in fact, this exactly agrees with a remark made by Ur
Halley, in his account of the meteors in his paper above
given, where he says that the direction of the meteor s
motion was exactly opposite to that of the earth in ber oibit.
And if this shall generally be found to be the case, it will
prove a powerful confirmation of this theory of the lunar
substances. Unfortunately, however, the observations on
this point are very few, and mostly inaccurate; the an
or direction of the fallen stones has not been recor e ,
METEOROLITE.
Meteoro- that of the flying meteor commonly mistaken; all the various
lite. observers giving it a different course, some even directly
the reverse of others. In future it will be very advisable
that the observers of fallen stones observe and record the
direction or bearing of the perforation made by the body
in the earth, which will give us perhaps the course of the
path nearer than any other observation.
“ 4. In the flight of these meteoric stones it is commonly
observed that they yield a loud whizzing sound. Indeed
it. would be surprising if they did not. For if the like sound
be given by the smooth and regularly-formed cannon-ball,
and heard at a considerable distance, how exceedingly great
must be that of a body so much larger, which is of an irre¬
gular form and surface, too, and striking the air with fifty
or a hundred times the velocity.
“ 5. That they commonly burst and fly in pieces in their
rapid flight is a circumstance exceedingly likely to happen,
both from the violent state of fusion on their surface, and
from the extreme rapidity of their motion through the air.
If a grinding-stone, from its quick rotation, be sometimes
burst, and fly in pieces, and if the same thing happen to
cannon-balls when made of stone and discharged with con¬
siderable velocity, merely by the friction and resistance of
the air, how much more is the same to be expected to
happen to the atmospheric stones, moving with more than
fifty times the velocity, and when their surface may well be
supposed to be partly loosened or dissolved by the extremity
of the heat there.
“ 6. That the stones strike the ground with a great force,
and penetrate to a considerable depth, as is usually observed,
is a circumstance only to be expected from the extreme
rapidity of their motion and their great weight, when we
consider that a cannon-ball or a mortar-shell will often bury
itself many inches, or even some feet, in the earth.
“ 7. That these stones, when soon sought after and found,
are hot, and exhibit the marks of recent fusion, are also
the natural consequences of the extreme degree of inflam¬
mation in which their surface had been put during their flight
through the air.
“ 8. That these stony masses have all the same external
appearance and contexture, as well as internally the same
nature and composition, are circumstances that strongly
point out an identity of origin, whatever may be the cause
to which they owe so generally uniform a conformation.
And when it is considered,
“ 9. That in those respects they differ totally from all
terrestrial compositions hitherto known or discovered, they
lead the mind strongly to ascribe them to some other origin
than the earth we inhabit; and none, so likely as coming
from our neighbouring planet.
“ Upon the whole, then,” continues Dr Hutton, “ it ap¬
pears highly probable that the flaming meteors and the
burning stones that fall on the earth are one and the same
thing. It also appears impossible, or in the extremest de¬
gree improbable, to ascribe these either to a formation in
the superior parts of the atmosphere, or to the eruptions
of terrestrial volcanoes, or to the generation by lightning
striking the earth. But, on the other hand, that it is pos¬
sible for such masses to be projected from the moon so as
to reach the earth, and that all the phenomena of these
meteors or falling stones, having a surprising conformity
with the circumstances of masses that may be expelled
from the moon by natural causes, unite in forming a body
of strong evidence that this is in all probability actually the
case.”
M. Poisson, a very ingenious French mathematician, has
shown, by an algebraical calculation, the possibility of a pro¬
jectile reaching our planet from the moon. His calculation,
however, which may be found in the work of Izarn quoted
above, proceeds on the supposition that our satellite has no
atmosphere, or next to none. There are, no doubt, appear-
635
ances which seem to favour this supposition, but they do Meteoro-
not amount to positive proof of the fact. .
The hypothesis of Dr Chladni, which likewise boasts of
its advocates, deserves to be stated. As earthy, metallic,
and other particles form the principal component parts of
our planet, amongst which iron is the prevailing part, other
planetary bodies, he affirms, may consist of similar, or per¬
haps the same, component parts, though combined and
modified in a very different manner. There may also be
dense matters accumulated in smaller masses, without being
in immediate connection with the larger planetary bodies,
dispersed throughout infinite space, and which being im¬
pelled either by some projecting power or attraction, con¬
tinue to move until they approach the earth or some other
body, when, being overcome by attractive force, they im¬
mediately fall down. By their exceeding great velocity,
which is increased by the attraction of the earth and the
violent friction in the atmosphere, a strong electricity and
heat must necessarily be excited, by which means they are
reduced to a flaming and melted condition, and great quan¬
tities of vapour and different kinds of gases are thus dis¬
engaged, which distend the liquid mass to a monstrous size,
until, by still further expansion of these elastic fluids, they
must at length displode.
Such are the principal hypotheses which have been ad¬
vanced on the origin of meteorolites. We shall conclude
this article by a list of these bodies contained in the British
Museum.
Aerolites in the British Museum, with Time and Place of
their descent, when known.
Ensisheim, 1492; Reichstadt, Bohemia, 1723 ; Bechin, Bohemia,
1753; Agram, Croatia, 1754; Saharampore, Delhi, 1758; Maur-
kirchen, Austria, 1768; Bobric, Chazkow, 1787; Siena, Italy,
1794; Thwing, Yorkshire, 1795; Sales, France, 1798; Benares,
India, 1798; L’Aigle, France, 1803; Borgo, Parma, 1804; Fossil,
near Glasgow, 1804; Timochin, Russia, 1807; Weston, Connecti¬
cut, 1807; Casignano, Parma, 1808; Stannern, Moravia, 1808;
Tipperary, Ireland, 1810; Berlanguillas, Spain, 1811; La Vendee,
France, 1812; Adare, Limerick; 1813; Wiburg, Finland, 1814;
Agen, France, 1814; Chassigny, France, 1815; North Carolina,
America, 1816; Joussac, France, 1819; Juvenas, France, 1821;
Nanjemoy, Maryland, 1825; Sandwich Islands, 1825; Nashville,
Tennessee, 1827 ; Chesterfield, Virginia, 1828 ; Berar, India, 1828 ;
Charvallas, India, 1834; Tennessee, 1835 ; Aldworth, Gloucester¬
shire, 1835 ; Bokkeveld, Cape of Good Hope, 1838; Little Piney,
Missouri, 1839; Triguerre, France, 1841; Carthage, Tennessee,
1847; Bishopville, South Carolina, 1847 ; Cabarras, North Caro¬
lina, 1849.
Fragments of Meteoric Iron, date of fall unknown.
1. Part of the Otumpa mass sent from South America by Sir Wood¬
bine Parish,—it weighs 1400 lb.; 2. Part of the Siberian mass of
Pallas; 3. Aix-la-Chapelle; 4. Tennessee; 5. Alabama; 6. Kamis-
dorf, Saxony; 7. Lockport, New York; 8. Red River, Texas;
9. Arva, Hungary; 10. Elbogen, Bohemia; 11. Cape of Good
Hope; 12. Heidelberg; 13. Durango, Mexico; 14. Zacatecas, do.;
15. Xiquipilco, do.; 16. Atacama, Bolivia ; 17. Gran-Chaco, Peru;
18. Lenarto, Hungary; 19. Green County, Tennessee; 20. Benidego,
Brazil; 21. Senegal; 22. Kentucky; 23. Cocke County, Tennessee;
24. Laesegen Lake, Brandenburg; 25. Colima di Brianza, Milan ;
26. Esquimeaux knives of meteoric iron, brought by Captain Ross
from Lat. 76. 12. N., Long. 53. W.
For further information on the subject of this article, see
Izarn’s Lithologie Atmospherique; Biot’s Relation d’un
Voyage fait dans le Departement de VOrne, pour constater
la realite d’un Meteore observe a FAigle; Bottiger’s Obser¬
vations on the Accounts given by Ancient Authors of
Stones said to have fallen from the Clouds ; Fulda’s Me¬
moir on Fire-Balls ; Cavallo’s Elements of Natural Philo¬
sophy ; Klaproth on Meteoric Stones; Soldani’s Account
of the Tuscan Meteor ; Chladni’s Treatise on the Siberian
Mass of Iron; Mr Edward King’s Remarks concerning
Stones said to have fallen from the Clouds; and the Trans¬
actions of several learned societies. (l. m.)
636
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- (i.) Meteorologt, which, in its ancient and etymolo-
^logy. gicai senSe, included all the appearances of the heavens,
as well astronomical as atmospheric, is at present re¬
stricted in its meaning to the description and explana¬
tion of that class of phenomena which group themselves
under the heads of the weather, of the seasons, and of
climate—phenomena which, scientifically regarded, are
referable almost entirely to the investigation of those
laws which govern the ever-varying affections of the
atmosphere of our globe in its relations to heat, mois¬
ture, and electricity, and the movements which the
changes of those relations, brought about by astrono¬
mical or other causes, impress upon its parts.
(2.) Were it not for this last-mentioned class of rela¬
tions, those, namely, which depend on the mobility of our
atmosphere, and the consequent perpetual local inter¬
change of its parts more or less heated, and more or less
moist, inter se, the problems presented by meteorology
would be of a very simple nature. Whatever be the
temperature of the interior of our globe (and there is
every reason to believe it very high), it has been amply
demonstrated, that the escape of its internal heat into
space through its surface, for many ages past and to
come, may be regarded as uniform, and so excessively
slow as to be quite inappreciable as a cause of any por¬
tion of the temperature prevalent on the surface, still
more so of any variation in that element. Local confla¬
grations and volcanoes (whatever influence geologists
may ascribe to the latter in earlier states of our planet)
are absolutely insignificant at present for the supply of
warmth, so that it is to the sun alone that we have to
look as the ultimate source of heat, and therefore also, in
all probability, of electrical excitement. Supposing, then,
no lateral communication or transfer between the columns
of air incumbent on adjacent parts of the earth’s surface,
the totality of atmospheric and climatic change in any
given locality would be limited to periodical and perfectly
regular fluctuations of temperature depending on the direct
heating power of the sun at its various altitudes above the
horizon during the day, and its withdrawal during the
night, and to the ultimate generation and condensation of
vapour equally periodic and regular, immediately conse¬
quent on such fluctuations, over those parts of the surface
occupied by water. No rain would ever fall on, or cloud
form over, any part of the land, which would be per¬
fectly arid, and dependent for its temperature, at any spot,
on the greater or less aptitude of its materials at that
spot for absorbing and retaining the sun’s rays. It is
needless to add that, under such circumstances, the ocean
only would possess the conditions indispensable to animal
or vegetable life.
(3.) The mobility of the air, while it destroys this
simplicity of sequence, and substitutes for it the variety
and complexity of phenomena we actually observe, lands
us, while seeking for their explanation, among mechani¬
cal difficulties of a very high order. If there be one part
of dynamical science more abstruse and unapproachable
than another, it is the doctrine of the propagation of
motion in fluids, and especially in elastic fluids like the
air, even when the amount and application of the original
acting forces are known and calculable. But in this case,
the acting forces consist in local dilatations of parts of
the atmosphere by the sun’s heat during the day, and
contractions by cold during the night—in the permanent
difference of temperature in the equatorial and polar Meteoro-
regions—in the evaporation of moisture in some parts, and logy,
its precipitation in rain in others, which act directly as ■
a motive force, displacing air, and indirectly by carrying
heat in a latent form from one region to another. And
as if the problems arising out of these considerations
alone were not sufficiently complex and intractable, the
occupation of one part of the surface of our globe by
land and another by sea, differing as they do in their
relations to heat, in their evaporation of moisture, and in
their resistance to the motion of bodies of air passing
over them; the irregular form of the continents, and the
existence on them of mountain chains which confine,
obstruct, and divert the free courses of aerial currents—
all concur to fill the subject of meteorology with difficulties
utterly insurmountable if attacked by those methods of
calculation which have proved so signally successful in
many other branches of science.
(4.) And yet it is these very difficulties, and this
excessive complication, which, by forcing us to abandon
the deductive mode of philosophizing from sheer inade¬
quacy of methods, throws us on the opposite, or inductive
course of inquiry in the very attitude most favourable to
success. For it is not because the general principles of
dynamics are inapplicable to the subject that we are
deterred from resorting to them as our sole dependence,
but because we neither possess data sufficiently wide and
precise to afford ground for their application, nor com¬
mand enough of them as instruments to grapple with
such data in all their particularity if we had them. In
our assurance of their general applicability, we possess an
invaluable clue, which precludes all groping in the dark
for causes, and which serves at every step to direct the
course our induction ought to take, and the forms in
which it is desirable that our acquirements should be
invested so as to be most available for constructing a
complete theory. We come to the subject, in short, as
we have every reason to believe, with a clear appre¬
hension of all the principal efficient causes, and a pretty
distinct conception of their direct action. It is the number
and simultaneous operation of their derivative causes,
the immense influence and complication of their indirect
actions, which constitute the difficulty of this branch of
physics. But, on the other hand, our knowledge of these
causes throws the whole burden of the inquiry on the
discovery of subordinate or derivative laws, and never
leaves us at a loss (as in so many other departments of
physical research) for the interpretation of those laws
when discovered, or for the best and most philosophical
way of expressing them in terms conveying their true
theoretical import.
(5.) And hence arises one of the most marked pecu¬
liarities of this our science, viz., that while in respect of
the general explanation of its phenomena it may be said
to be nearly complete, inasmuch as there are few of its
more important facts and broad features which cannot be
rationally and satisfactorily accounted for, and referred
to the recognized operations of physical agents, yet when
we would follow out the results of their actions in “ num¬
ber, weight, and measure,” and as exhibited in specified
time and place, theory affords us little or no assistance.
Meteorology,in short,in all that concerns numericalvalua-
tion, is pre-eminently a science of detail, and one in which
all the subordinate laws which are susceptible of numerical
METEOROLOGY.
637
Meteoro- statement have to be made out by laborious and con-
tinued observation carried on in every region of the globe.
The results of such observation, accumulated in masses,
and discussed by the application of those powerful and
refined processes of calculation which modern invention
has devised, become cleared of accidental error, freed
from the influence of transient and purely local causes of
irregularity, and presented in the form of mean or ave¬
rage conclusions, each expressing some general fact or
law of progressive change. Thus, while on the one hand
deductive theory, based on our knowledge of the acting
causes and the circumstances under which they act, pur¬
sues their operation clearly to a certain extent, and less
and less distinctly as it becomes lost in their entangle¬
ment ; it is yet enabled to point out the directions where
light is to be looked for, the lines of inquiry which induc¬
tive observation ought to pursue, and the form of the
results which it ought to aim at securing.
(6.) The course we shall follow in the present article
will be in accordance with this general view of the sub¬
ject. "VVe shall first pass in review the agents concerned,
and the laws which regulate their mutual reactions. We
shall then apply our knowledge of these laws to the
general explanation of the phenomena of meteorology in
their order of importance and natural sequence, and
finally afford as complete a view as the very confined
limits of this article will allow of those subordinate laws
of periodic fluctuations which meteorologists are agreed
upon, a knowledge of which, as modified by geographi¬
cal situation, constitutes the science of climatology; as
well as of the combined system of observation and calcu¬
lation by which this knowledge may be most availably
obtained and extended.
Of the Sun as a source of Heat, and of the measure of its
direct action. Actinometry.
(7.) The absolute uniformity of the sun’s emission of
heat is open to considerable doubt. From some recent
inquiries by .Professor Yfolf, it would appear subject to
a periodical increase and diminution connected with the
abundance and paucity of spots on its disc, a connection
surmised by the late Sir William Herschel. That the
appearance of such spots is periodical, has been shown
by Professor Schwabe. The period assigned is 11.11
years from minimum to minimum, or almost exactly nine
periods to each century, commencing at the beginning of
the century itself. The last year (1856) has been remark¬
able for an almost total absence of spots—a fact in perfect
agreement with this law. As the planet Jupiter, the
hugest in our system, revolves about the sun in nearly
this time (11.9 y.), it would almost seem as if these singu¬
lar appearances stood in some connection with electric or
magnetic reactions between the sun and planets, the
comparatively small discordance of periods being due
perhaps to the action of the other planets.1
(8.) Independent, however, of any such cause of in¬
equality, the amount of solar heat momentarily received
by the earth is subject to a regular annual fluctuation
to the extent of one-fifteenth of its mean amount, due to
the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit—the heat received in
perihelia (or on the 1st of January) being to that in aphelio
(July 2d) as 16 to 15. As the sun is vertical over the
southern tropic about the former epoch, and over the
northern about the latter, it would seem at first sight
that the southern hemisphere would receive per annum
a larger supply of heat; but the unequal angular velocity
of the earth in its orbit, which varies (see Astronomy) Meteoro-
in the same precise ratio, effects an exact compensation logy,
in this respect by giving a shorter duration to a hotter ^
summer in the southern hemisphere, and a longer to a
cooler one in the northern.
(9.) The general dependence of climate on geogra¬
phical situation, the high temperature observed at the
equator, and the extreme cold at the poles, the annual
variations of temperature which accompany the changes
of season, as well as the diurnal alternations of heat and
cold, are all such obvious consequences of those astrono¬
mical arrangements, in consequence of which the sun, at
apy geographical station, attains a greater or less meri¬
dian altitude, and continues a longer or a shorter time
above the horizon, as to need no lengthened explanation.
The same sunbeam which, at a vertical incidence, acts
on a surface equal to its own sectional area, when inci¬
dent obliquely on the earth (including its atmosphere),
is spread over a surface larger in the inverse proportion
of radius to the sine of the obliquity. It needs little con¬
sideration, then, to perceive that at the poles, where the
sun is below the horizon for half the year, and where
during the other half it never attains a greater altitude
than 23^°, and that only for a short time, its effective
warming power on a given horizontal surface must be
very far inferior to that which it exercises in the equa¬
torial regions, where its meridional altitude never falls
short of 66£°, and where the days and nights are always
nearly twelve hours in dui’ation ; nor that in interme¬
diate latitudes the increase of its altitude, and the length
of the day as it advances along the ecliptic from the
winter to the summer solstice, should bring with it that
accession of general temperature which we observe.
(10.) This effect of obliquity of incidence is, how¬
ever, enhanced by another cause. The sun’s heat is par¬
tially absorbed in passing through the atmosphere, and
that the more, the greater the mass of air it has to pene¬
trate, or the more obliquely it traverses it. Professor
Forbes, reasoning from observations made by himself
and M. Kamtz on the Faulhorn in Switzerland, as com¬
pared with others at Brienz, 6844 feet lower in level,
concludes that 46 per cent, of a vertical sunbeam is
absorbed in traversing a cloudless atmosphere before
reaching the sea level. A series of observations made
in Paris by M. Pouillet (in 1837-38) at different zenith
distances of the sun, gives only 24 per cent. One-third
is probably not too low an estimate. The remaining
two-thirds only (or less if the incidence be oblique) are
directly effective in heating the earth’s surface. The
absorbed portion is employed in heating the air through¬
out its whole extent, and though not ineffective in main¬
taining the general temperature, acts to that end in a
very different manner, as being more immediately trans¬
ferable from one region to another by the action of the
wind.
(11.) From experiments made at the Cape of Good
Hope from December 23,1836, to January 9, 1837, by
the writer of this article, it results that the direct heat¬
ing effect of a vertical sun at the sea level is such as
would suffice to melt 0.00754 in. per minute in thick¬
ness, from a sheet of ice exposed perpendicularly to its
rays. M. Pouillet’s conclusions, reduced to a similar form
of expression, give 0.00703 in. A mean of the two deter¬
minations, 0.007285 in. per minute, may therefore be
pretty confidently stated as, the measure of the sun’s
vertical heating power at the sea level in a perfectly
c oudless sky. If visible cloud or haziness, even very
1 While in the act of revising this sheet, we observe in the Koyal Society notices for March 12 18V7 a i ++ r -of w u
“““'“““s lls dl‘corer? »f “ •rt-ixriod of the spots—a fact strenglj comi™ ^ WoU
638
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro¬
logy-
trifling be present, the effect is diminished. In a clouded
state of the sky nearly the whole of the solar heat is
1 expended in heating the air, and evaporating the clouds.
(12.) Supposing, however, the sky clear, and all the
rays of heat equally absorbable (which, however, is not
probable), the melting effect per minute of oblique sun¬
shine for a zenith distance = r not exceeding 80° on a
sheet of ice perpendicularly exposed to it, would be
expressed by 0.01093 in. (|) sec-% and on a sheet laid
horizontally, by the same function multiplied by cos. r.
This latter effect is the measure of the direct power of
sunshine to heat the general surface of the region on
which it is incident (abstraction made of the specific
nature of that surface). A table, in which the calorific
efficacy of a vertical sun is represented by .750, and
which gives its diminution for oblique incidences for
every fifth degree of altitude, will be found in our article
on Climate, vol. vi. p. 77G.
(13.) Actinometry.—The direct heating power of the
sun’s rays may be measured in two different ways—
statically and dynamically. The statical method consists
in equilibrating the heating power of sunshine on some
body (as a blackened thermometer) with some external
cooling influence which is itself measurable, or which
we have reason to believe invariable. It has been usual
to suppose this accomplished by simply noting the degree
marked by such a blackened thermometer in the sun
(exposed till it ceases to rise), in excess of that marked
by a similar one in the shade. I his is much as if a man
should measure his strength by the depth to which he
could thrust a pole into the ground, in the absence of
any knowledge of its sharpness, or the resistance of
the soil. The cooling influences (conduction and radia¬
tion) are dependent for their effects on local and tem¬
porary circumstances too numerous and too variable to
estimate. The measure itself requires to be measured.
The objection is palliated but not removed, by enclosing
the thermometer in an exhausted glass tube, which
eliminates conduction by cutting off the contact of air,
and by other methods designed to deaden, or equalize
external influences. It is, however, insuperable in prin¬
ciple. , .
(14.) The dynamical method consists in ascertaining
the amount of physical change of a nature susceptible of
definite measurement, effected on some object by a given
sectional area of sunbeam in a given time, such for in¬
stance as the dilatation of a liquid, the melting of ice, oi
the raising of the temperature of a given quantity of water
a certain number of degrees. -The first attempts at obtain¬
ing such a measure, so far as we are aware, were made
by the writer of this article in a tour through Sicily in
1824. A glass vessel full of inked water was exposed
alternately 5 m. in sunshine and in shade, the change of
temperature being noted by a very delicate thermometer
immersed in the liquid, and the solar effect per minute
measured by the difference of the minutely changes
observed to take place in sunshine and in shade. A
similar method was employed in the experiments at the
Cape of Good Hope, cited in art. 11} the sun, nearly
vertical, being allowed to shine directly on the water.
M. Pouillet’s “ pyroheliometer” is constructed on this
principle—a cylindrical body of water, of large diam¬
eter in proportion to its height, being enclosed in a
metallic vessel of that form with a glass face, which is
exposed perpendicularly to the sun. In the “ actino-
meter ” 1 a blue liquid (ammonio-sulphate of copper)
is enclosed in a glass cylinder, one end of which is
closed by a silver screw working in a tight collar, to
admit of a small change of capacity when the liquid Meteoro-
becomes too much dilated by heat, while the other end
is soldered on to a thermometer tube, by which the
liquid measures its own dilatation, the cylindrical portion
acting as the bulb of the thermometer. The actual tem¬
perature of the liquid (on which its dilatability depends)
is ascertained by an interior thermometer occupying the
axis of the cylinder, and whose stem penetrates the axis
of the adjusting screw, and is read off along its exterior
prolongation. This instrument being several times alter¬
nately exposed for one minute in the sun and shade, and
the changes of volume in each case read off on the scale,
the differences or sums of the mean changes, according as
the action has been in the same or in a contrary direc¬
tion, gives the dilatation produced by the sunshine alone
(freed from the disturbing influences), corresponding to
the actual temperature of the liquid, which being reduced
by an appropriate table to give the temperature acquired,
affords a measure of the effect of a given sectional area of
sunbeam in heating a definite volume of liquid. Finally,
the result is reduced to “ actines,” or units of solar radia¬
tion, each actine denoting that amount of radiation
which would suffice to melt one millionth part of a metre
from the thickness of a sheet of ice perpendicularly
exposed, in one minute, supposing it wholly absorbed.
For the details of the description, the tables to be used
for reducing the observations, and the general manage¬
ment of the instrument, our narrow limits compel us to
refer the reader to the “ Manual of Scientific Enquiry,”
published by the Board of Admiralty, which contains,
moreover, practical directions for making and registering
every description of meteorological observation. Ihe
portability and facility of use and reduction of this
instrument, as well as the consistent results it affords,
leave nothing to desire, and afford a perfect measure of
solar radiation.
Of the Nature and Constitution of the Atmosphere. Its
Pressure, Mass, and Extent.
(15.) We live under what may not improperly be
called an ocean of air, w.hich covers the sea and land, and
extends far beyond the summits of the highest mountains.
Like the sea, this ocean has its currents, which are
winds, its waves of vast extent and magnitude, not visible
indeed to the eye, but capable of being made so to the
intellect by means of the barometer, and its tides, due to
the action of the sun and moon. But here the analogy
ceases. The air is a permanent gas, incapable of being
reduced to the liquid state by any degree of cold or pres¬
sure yet applied. As such it is highly and perfectly elastic ;
condensible by pressure, when confined, into any fraction,
however minute, of its ordinary volume, and dilating
itself, when relieved, so as to fill any space, however
large. Its elastic force, like that of all gases (see Pneu¬
matics), is in the direct proportion of its density, its tem¬
perature continuing unaltered, but increases, it the tem¬
perature be raised at the uniform rate of ^7 or O.OOobb
of its amount, for every degree centigrade (or 5-9ths ot this
quantity = 0.002033 for every degree of Fahrenheit s
thermometer) of additional heat, and diminishes at the
same rate if cooled.
(16.) As the air reposes on the earth, and the whole
weight is distributed over the whole globe, each portion
(suppose a square inch) of its surface supports the weight
of the column of air vertically above it, to whatever
height it may extend, and therefore, by the law of reac¬
tion, presses upward that column with a force equa
First used in the field hy the author in 1826, in Cantal, on the Puy do Dome, and at Montpellier.
METEOROLOGY.
639
Meteoro- to its weight. Hence it follows, that the pressure per
_S(luare inch, which equilibrates, and therefore measures the
elasticity of the air at the earth’s surface, must be equal
to the weight of such a column. This the barometer
enables us to ascertain, at any instant and at any place,
by balancing it (see Barometer) against that of a
column of mercury just sufficient in height to counteract
it. It is subject to extensive fluctuations, but observation
has shown that the mean or average length of such a
column in the latitude of Paris, and at the level of the
sea, may be taken at 0.760 met. (French measure)
(29.922 in.), the mercury being of the density which it has
at the temperature of melting ice, which is 13.596 times
that of distilled water at its maximum. If the tempera¬
ture of the mercury be 62p Fahr., which is the standard
temperature of the English metrical system, the dilatation
of mercury for 1° Fahr. being almost precisely 1-10,000th
of its volume, the corresponding length of the mercurial
column is 30.012 in., which is so nearly 30 in. that it is
customary for English meteorologists to consider 30
inches as the mean or standard height of the barometer.
In all meteorological reductions and discussions, however,
wherever the term “ barometric 'pressure ” is used, it
expresses the length of a column of mercury at the tem¬
perature 0° C. or 32° Fahr. which balances the aerial
pressure.
(17.) The weight of such a column of mercury having
a square inch for its base is 14.7304 lbs. avoird., which
is therefore the weight of atmosphere incumbent on each
square inch of the earth’s surface, supposed a perfect
sphere. Hence, from the known diameter of the earth
(7926 miles), we calculate the total weight of an atmo¬
sphere so uniformly covering it at 11.67085 (about 11|
trillions of pounds; so that, making allowance for the
space occupied by the land above the sea-level, we may
take 11 x 1018 lbs. as an approximate value, which is
about 1-188,000,000th part of the mass of the earth
itself. Of this, about 99^- percent, has been ascertained
to consist of a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen gases in
the proportion of 21: 79 in volume, or about 23 : 77 in
weight. An atomic compound of these gases in the pro¬
portion of 2 atoms of nitrogen to 1 of oxygen, would give
a ratio of 20 : 80 in volume. Some chemists, therefore,
have considered the air as such a compound, and not a
mere mixture. But, besides that the deviation of the
ratios from each other is beyond the limit of error which
chemical analysis tolerates, M. Eegnault (Chem. i. 144)
has adduced arguments which must be considered deci¬
sive against such a conclusion. Still the near approach
to an atomic proportion is remarkable. Of the remaining
0.5 per cent, about 0.05 consists of carbonic acid, and
0.45, on an average, of aqueous vapour.
(18.) The specific gravity of dry atmospheric air is
to that of mercury (at 32° Fahr., and 0. 76 m. pres¬
sure), as 1 :10513^, and a cubic foot of such air weighs
1.29056 oz., so that were the air of that uniform density
from the surface upwards, in order to exert the same
pressure, it would require to be 26214 feet, or a trifle
less than five miles in altitude. This is what is under¬
stood by the height of a homogeneous atmosphere.
(19.) Such, however, is not the real constitution of the
atmosphere. There are mountains higher than this,
which yet are covered with perpetual snow, and have
clouds above them ; and if we consider that each stratum
of air, as we ascend from the earth’s surface, bears only
the weight of those above it, and being therefore less and
less pressed, occupies a larger and larger volume in pro¬
portion to its weight, we shall perceive that (supposing
air infinitely divisible and expansible), there would be
no assignable limit to the height of the atmosphere.
Theory demonstrates (see Pneumatics), that supposing the
temperature uniform throughout, the density would decrease
in geometrical progression as the altitude increases in
arithmetical, and assigns for the relation between them
the following equation, (in which P, p, represent the den¬
sities (measured by the barometric pressures), at the sea
level and at the height h, and H the height of a homo¬
geneous atmosphere), viz. A = H (Log. P—Log. p), the
logarithms being hyperbolic ; or if A and H be expressed
in feet, and the hyperbolic reduced to common or tabular
logarithms, h — 60309 (Log. P — Log. p). At the
height, then, of 60,000 feet in round numbers, or about
Hi miles, the density of the air on this supposition
would be one-tenth of that at the sea level; at 23 miles,
one-hundredth; at 33-|-, one-thousandth, and so on. At
an altitude of 103 miles, the density would be reduced
to the thousand-millionth part of its superficial amount.
Actually (for reasons which will presently appear), the
decrease is still more rapid.
(20.) The question, whether or not there be any abso¬
lute limit to the atmosphere, has been considered to
depend on the view we may take of the intimate consti¬
tution of matter. If it consist of ultimate, finite atoms,
a limit must at all events occur where the gravity of one
atom to the general mass of the earth exceeds the repul¬
sive power exerted on it by the air below it, a question
which defies calculation, since we know nothing of the
law of force with which the particles of air repel each
other, the usual opinion that it is inversely as their dis¬
tance being quite untenable. If, on the other hand,
matter be infinitely divisible, it has been argued by Dr
Wollaston that the celestial spaces must be full of
attenuated air, and that the sun, planets, and satellites,
standing in communication with this general reservoir,
would each, in the course of ages, have drawn to itself
such a share, that equal densities in their vicinity should
correspond to equal forces of gravitation. Calculating
on this datum, the sun’s atmosphere should have the
density of the earth’s at the sea level, at about times
its own radius above its surface, and Jupiter at above T8T.
At these distances from the respective luminaries, the
rays of light should suffer a deviation by refraction equal
to twice our horizontal refraction, or more than a degree,
a result directly refuted by observation, which indicates
no refraction whatever. This argument, however, takes
no account of the effect of centrifugal force. Apart from
all considerations of molecular repulsion, it is certain
that at about 26,000 miles’ distance from the earth’s equa¬
torial surface, the centrifugal force would equal gravity,
and beyond that distance would exceed it; so that were
there no physical cause producing a positive and definite
limit, all the air beyond that level must be flirted off into
space; and there being no pressure, other air would rise
from below to replace it, and share the same fate, so that
the whole atmosphere would be drained away, to form
a ring like that of Saturn. In fact, however, the exces¬
sive tenuity which must, under any hypothesis, be
ascribed to the interplanetary air (to express which in
fractional parts of its density at the earth’s surface would
require the denominator to consist of at least 1370 figures),
dispenses with giving such reasonings any serious discus¬
sion. If, indeed, there were the least ground for believing
that atmospheric air could be liquefied by cold of 120°
Fahrenheit, the existence of a limit at a very moderate
leight would follow as a matter of course, as will presently
appear. Supposing the law of dilatability tohold good rigo¬
rously fox all temperatures, the elasticity of air at—273®
centigrade would be nil. But we have no means copro¬
ducing this degree of cold, and therefore no experimental
examination of the case is possible; and we must therefore
Meteoro-
METEOROLOGY.
640
Meteoro- be content with the assurance, that at no elevation which
Iogy- can ever be attained by man, or in which animated life
could be supported, does the law in question suffer any
impeachment; and that at 80 or 90 miles above the
earth’s surface a vacuum exists, inconceivably more per¬
fect than any Avhich we can produce with our air pumps.
At 45 miles the air is already rarified about 25,000 times,
at which elevation it would seem, from the duration of
twilight, that some feeble reflexion of light still subsists.
(21.) According to Dalton’s views respecting the mix¬
ture of gases, two or more bodies of this nature mixed
together exert no elastic force on each other mutually,
though they obstruct and impede each other’s free move¬
ment. Each tends to diffuse itself among the others,
and to arrange itself as if the others had no existence,
and if left long enough undisturbed would do so. In
consequence of this property in a mixed atmosphere, if
perfectly quiescent, each gas would constitute a separate
and distinct atmosphere, arranged according to the above
laws of equilibrium, and each sustaining its quota of the
total pressure in the exact proportion of its own volume
present in the mixture at the point where the pressure
is estimated. But these volumes would be proportionally
different at different elevations, the density of the oxygen
atmosphere decreasing in a more rapid geometrical pro¬
gression than that of the nitrogen, and that of the carbonic
acid than either. But owing to the obstruction each offers
to the free permeation of the others, and to the extreme
mobility and continued agitation of the air, the state of
equilibrium is never even approached; and experiment
has shown that air collected at all elevations above the
sui'face in balloon ascents (in one instance by Gay Lussac,
in his memorable ascent in 1804, at the height of 22896
feet), contains these two elements in precisely the same
proportions. With the carbonic acid, the case is some¬
what different, that gas being subject to local variations
consequent on its peculiar uses in the economy of animal
and vegetable life ; but the differences are so trifling, that
for meteorological purposes they may be altogether
neglected, and the atmosphere (at least its gaseous por¬
tion) regarded as one homogeneous gas.
Of the decrement of Temperature on ascending into the atmos¬
phere, and on the barometric measurement of heights.
(22.) All who have ascended high mountains and all
aeronauts are agreed on the fact of a decrease of tempe¬
rature, which is conspicuously evident from the existence
of perpetual snow on elevated summits even in the hottest
regions. Respecting the rate of this decrease and its law,
much uncertainty still prevails. We possess, it is true,
a great accumulation of observations of mountain tem¬
perature, both barometrically and trigonometrically deter¬
mined by De Saussure, Cordier, Ramond, Humboldt,
Colonel Sykes, Eschmann, Boblaye, and many others,
on the Alps, Pyrenees, Etna, Teneriffe, the Andes and
Himalayas, and in Greece; but the results are only
loosely accordant, and appear to indicate that the rate of
decrease depends in some considerable degree on the
season of the year and the local situation of the place of
observation. If we assemble the most accordant, and espe¬
cially those cases where the heights ascended have been
considerable, and trigonometrically determined, we find
an average decrement of 1° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer
for every 100 yards of ascent, or 1° per cent, for every
180 yards. I he most unexceptionable mode of determin¬
ing this important element would no doubt be by balloon
ascents ; but as the heights in such ascents are necessarily
determined barometrically, they involve in their calcula¬
tion (as will presently be shown) the very element in
question, and the results deduced from such ascents seem Meteoro-
generally to indicate a materially slower rate of decrease.
Thus we find, indeed, from Gay Lussac’s voyage, as calcu¬
lated from a decrease of 72-5° Fahr. in ascending 22896
feet, a decrement of 1° in 316 feet, agreeing pretty well
with the average above stated. But on the other hand, a
mean of four ascents by Mr Green and Mr Rush in the
Nassau balloon in 1838 and 1850, to altitudes between
19185 and 20352 feet, gives 485 feet, and a similar
mean of four ascents by Mr Welsh in the autumn of
1852 from London, under the direction of the committee
of the Kew Observatory, one of which was to the height
of 22930 feet, and in which all the observations were
conducted with scrupulous precision, and the reductions
vei'y scientifically made, afford the result of 386 feet.
As a general average deduced, then, from balloon ascents,
400 feet per degree of Fahrenheit would seem to be pre¬
ferable to 300.
(23.) For the cause, or rather causes, of the general
fact of the decrement in question, we have not far to
seek. There are several, all probably more or less effi¬
cient.
The first is, that in receding from the earth’s surface,
we are quitting the proximity of a heated body, approach¬
ing a region where no such body exists, and interposing
more and more of a medium obstructive of heat. If we
put any confidence in the theories of Fourrier and Pouil-
let, the temperature of the interplanetary spaces is pro¬
bably not higher than — 226° Fahr. Consequently, a
thermometer exposed at a height where, practically
speaking, there is no air, ought at all events not to
stand above an arithmetical mean between this and the
temperature of the earth’s surface below it, that is, — 72°
at the equator, and —113° at the poles, taking 82° Fahr.
and 0° Fahr. as the mean temperatures at those places.
Between these two latitudes and levels, then, it would
mark, of course, every intermediate degree.
Again, secondly, As the earth’s surface receives on
the average (art. 10) twice as much solar heat as the air,
it is, generally speaking, habitually warmer, and warms
the air by constant communication. The heat so im¬
parted is entirely, in the first instance, diffused through
the lower strata, only that radiated off going to heat the
upper
Thirdly and lastly, there exists a powerful cause, first
pointed out by Leslie, of quite a distinct nature, which
will need a little more explanation.
(24.) Suppose the atmosphere of equal temperature
throughout and at rest. Now let any mass of air at the
surface receive an impulse upwards by some extei’nal
force (not by heating it). It will rise, and in so doing,
displace quiescent air above it, which will descend to fill
its place, and this process will continue till the upward
impulse is extinguished by friction and resistance. In
rising, air expands, but as the descending air contracts,
pari passu, the whole disturbed space when quiet is re¬
stored, will be occupied by air as before, and the total
pressure will be unaltered. But as regards the distribu¬
tion of sensible heat, a great change will have taken
place. The air which has expanded in ascending has
absorbed caloric (see Heat), and grown colder, while that
which has contracted in descending has given out just
as much, and become hotter. The total heat and the
total mass remain unchanged, but the equilibrium of
temperature is destroyed. The lower strata have
become warmer than the upper, the density adjusts
itself accoi'dingly, and the undisturbed column superin¬
cumbent on both is supported as before. Precisely the
same consequence will result from forcing down by
mechanical means (not by cooling) any mass of air from
METEOEOLOGY.
641
Meteoro- a higher to a lower level. The descending air in con-
I_°gy- < densing becomes heated, while that which ascends to
replace it is cooled by its own expansion.
(25.) Now this is no imaginary case. It will be shown
hereafter (art. 52) that when aqueous vapour ascends
by its levity, it drags air up with it; not by heating it,
but by mere mechanical impulse ; and thus we see that
the mere fact of a circulation of air in the atmosphere,
in so far as that circulation is due to the generation and con¬
densation of vapour, or even to the downward mechanical
impulse of the fall of rain or snow, must of necessity cause
a deficiency of sensible heat in the higher as compared
with the lower regions.1
(26.) As regards the law followed by this decrement,
little decisive can be said. A uniform rate of decrease,
such as that described in art. (26.) as a physical law co¬
extensive with the atmosphere, is not probable, though
for heights below 15000 or 20000 feet it is perhaps as
exact as any which can be briefly stated in words.
Assumed as a basis of calculation, it leads to the follow¬
ing very remarkable relation betwen the height (^r) in
yards, and the ratio of barometric pressures (w =
at the higher and lower levels, viz.—
/X\5.584
W = U)
when a = 180 yards (273+T), T being the reading of
the centigrade thermometer at the lower station, and X
the depression of the upper station below the height a,
(reckoned from the lower station) (X = a—x), which
must be considered a limit to the atmosphere, or rather
as a limit beyond which the formula is uninterpretable,
or, physically speaking, absurd. Nevertheless, within the
limits above specified it affords results not very remote
from the truth. Thus it gives for Gay Lussac’s ascent,
calculated on his own data (in which T = 30°.8 C. and
w = 0.42966), a height of 7678 yards, differing only 46
yards from that assigned by himself. Meteorologists
in general, we apprehend, are hardly aware how com¬
pletely the law of equable decrease is subversive of the
received notion of a diminution of pressure in geometric
progression upwards from the sea level. This our for¬
mula above renders very apparent.
(27.) The law of decrement of temperature is a
subject to which great interest is attached, and around
which a vast amount of laborious research has accumu¬
lated, with a result not unusual in such cases—a great
deal of thought and calculation wasted, and no very
positive conclusion arrived at. The fact is, the problem
has been attacked in the wrong direction. Speculation
has been busy in assigning hypothetical laws, either
simply tentative, or resting on no solid foundation of
physical consideration, to exhibit the relation of the tem¬
perature to the height directly: to verify which supposes a
series of heights and temperatures corresponding to each
other to be given by direct observation, the whole series
being comparable. Now we possess not, and never can
possess, any such series ; and it is therefore purely and
simply groping in the dark to assemble a mass of mis¬
cellaneous observation from all quarters, in all climates
and seasons, in which insulated decrements of tempera¬
ture are concluded from mountain ascents; and put them
together with the expectation that any intelligible result
should emerge. We pass, therefore, without discussion,
the theory of M. Biot (Kamtz, ii. 130) which assigns a de¬
crement in geometrical progression for heights in arithme¬
tical, and which sets out with the assumption that the
whole heat of the air at any place is due to the extinction Meteoro-
of heat radiated or conducted immediately from the earth °&y-
at that place; or that of Lambert, followed by Baron
Zach and Mr Atkinson, in which it is assumed (on a
mere general impression that the decrement decreases
with the height) that equal decrements of temperature
shall correspond to uniformly increasing increments of alti¬
tude. In fact, no law of decrement, which would not
make the density increase upwards, would be incompatible
with the equilibrium of the strata; and for heights
under 10000 feet almost any law and rate which satisfies
this condition, and represents the temperatures at the
highest and lowest levels correctly, will do so at the
intermediate ones. The great defect of all such hypo¬
theses is, that they cannot be fairly tested unless we pos¬
sessed a scale of heights, trigonometrically determined,
up to 20000 or 30000 feet, all in one geographical situa¬
tion, and readily accessible from the sea level. Balloon
ascents, indeed, amply satisfy the latter requirement
but as the heights must be concluded barometrically, they
fail to afford what this mode of looking at the subject
absolutely requires. A most valuable piece ot positive
information is, however, afforded by a balloon ascent,
viz., that in a given very limited locality, out of the reach
of surface inequalities and up-turned currents of heated
air, on a given day, and with every facility for obtaining
simultaneous observations on the surrounding region, a
definite relation, depending on no hypothesis, but absolutely
given by observation, prevails between the temperature and
pressure, as read off at as many different instants,
throughout the ascent, as the observer pleases—which
relation is capable of being exhibited to the eye with all
its capricious incidents by graphical projection in a curve,
and of being freed, by a mode of treating such pro¬
jections which has elsewhere {Mem. Ast. Soc. v.) been
largely exemplified by the writer of these pages, from
the greater part of the errors arising from casual influ¬
ences or imperfect observation. In the view of the
subject we are about to take (which it is something
astonishing should have been overlooked by all who have
treated of it), this information is all that is necessary for
a rigorously exact determination of the heights of the
several points of observation themselves, and of the law of
decrement which actually subsisted at the time and place.
By the comparison of such laws at different times and
places, it will then be seen whether they are such as
really to admit of any uniform or general expression.
(28.) To show this, let ja be the barometric pressure,^
the temperature (centigrade), and d the density of the air
at any altitude, x and P, T, A, those at the sea level, h the
height of a homogeneous atmosphere at the temperature
0° C. and H at temperature T. Now if& = 0.00366, we
shall have by what was shown in art. (15),
_ b (1+& t) p #
P A (1+k T) ’ (1)
and since the differential of the pressure {dp) is
the weight of the column d x, whose density is h,
dp = b. dx\ (2.) Dividing, then, equation (2) by (1),
and observing that
A (1+&T)
dp   d x
P ~
= h, we shall have
(3)
h{\+kty
If t be known in functions of x, this equation gives at
once the relation between the altitude x and the barome¬
tric pressure p ; and this is the mode in which the ana-
1 If instead of being urged upwards by external impulse, a body of air dilated by heat ascend in consequence of such dilatation, it
will rise until its expansion reduces it to the temperature of the surrounding air; but it cannot do so without depressing other air
to a lower level, which thus becomes heated, so that in this case also the equilibrium of sensible heat is subverted', though in a somewhat
different way.
YOL. XIV. 4 >1
642
METEOROLOGY.
d LU
Meteoro- lysis of this question has always been conducted. But if
-_l0g-_' Pu^ un(ler the form
(1 kt) dp^ Qr ® = r (1 + kt) dp _
p h d p ’ ^ *
it becomes available for a different mode of procedure.
If the law of temperature, as depending on the. pressure,
be analytically expressible, or if t be an explicit function
of p, we have x given at once by integration. But what
makes this way of putting the matter peculiarly valuable
is, that if this be not the case, but t only given numerically
by the registered observations of the thermometer, and
the reading-off of a graphical projection of them as above
described, the integral in question may be obtained graphi¬
cally with quite sufficient precision (practically speaking),
and in an infinitely shorter time, than by any system of cal¬
culation; so that the determination of the altitudes in bal¬
loon ascents is made to depend on no hypothesis whatever,hut
to result purely and absolutely from the series of observed
temperatures and pressures in the ascent and descent.
(29.) We have been able to collect no more than nine
balloon ascents to sufficient altitudes (which should not
be less than 10,000 feet), in which a series of corre¬
sponding readings of the two instruments have been taken
consecutively enough for discussion, viz., those of Gay Meteoro-
Lussac (art. 22), of Messrs Green and Rush in 1838 and ,_Logy'
1850 (19185, 20352, 19904, 19440 feet), and of Mr Y
Welsh in 1852 (19510, 19100, 12640, and 22930 feet),
these latter leaving nothing to desire in point of instru¬
mental appliances and scientific precision in their use.
Plate XVIII. exhibits the graphical projection of the
observations registered in each of these ascents, the dots
being the points laid down, the continuous curve lines
swept among them libera manu, without reference to any
theory, but that one condition without which no general
speculation on the subject is possible, viz., that their
curvature shall be, generally speaking, similar in character,
and have its concavity throughout towards the same side,
and the dotted lines analogous curves in which this
condition is not adhered to, but in which the most essen¬
tial peculiarities of each ascent are brought into evidence.
Each set of dots is referred to the curve to which it
belongs by a light connecting line. The readings-off of
these curves are stated in cols. 2, 3 .... 10 of the fol¬
lowing table, and are set down just as they were read from
the actual projections used without any subsequent equalization
of differences or correction whatever.
i
p =
pressure
in
inches.
30.5
30
29
28
27
26
25
24
23
22
21
20
19
18
17
16
15
14
13
Gay Lussac.
Sept. 17,
1804.
t =
82°.3 :
81.8
79.7
77.7
75.4
73.0
70.6
67.8
64.7
61.6
58.0
54.4
50.2
46.0
41.0
35.8
30.0
23.5
16.7
3
Bush,
Sept. 4,
1838.
t -
66°.4:
66.0
65.0
63.8
62.6
61.5
60.0
58.3
56.4
54.3
52.0
49.1
45.9
42.6
38.5
33.5
28.0
21.9 :
15.4:
4
Bush,
Sept. 10,
1838.
60°.0
59.8
59.1
57.8
56.4
54.7
52.6
50.2
47.1
43.8
40.4
36.7
33.4
29.5
25.4
21.0
16.4
11.0 :
5.4:
Bush,
June 22,
1850.
73°.2
72.6
71.0
69.5
68.0
66.2
64.4
62.3
60.0
57.6
54.8
51.7
48.6
45.4
41.5
37.7
33.5
29.0
24.0 :
6
Bush,
June 29,
1850.
64°.0:
63.4
62.6
61.5
60.0
58.3
56.6
54.7
52.5
50.0
47.3
44.4
41.3
37.7
33.3
28.3
23.2
17.2
11.3
7
Welsh,
Aus. 17,
1852.
73°.0
72.0
69.8
67.4
64.9
62.4
59.5
56.4
53.0
49.0
44.8
40.4
35.7
30.8
25.5
19.9
14.0
8.0
1.4
Welsh,
Aug 26,
1852.
t =
66°.5:
65.4
63.3
61.1
58.8
56.2
53.3
50.5 :
47.6
44.4
41.0
37.4
33.7
29.6
25.0
19.9
14.9
9.6:
4.0:
9
Welsh,
Oct. 21,
1852.
t =
57°.9:
57.6
56.3
55.0
53.5
51.3
49.4
47.0
44.2
40.6
36.7
32.5
27.6
22.6
17.6 :
12.0:
6.4
+ 0.5
—5.5
10
Welsh,
Nov. 10,
1852.
t =
47°.1
46.7
45.6
44.1
42.4
40.5
38.4
36.2
33.9
31.3
28.7
25.6
22.1
18.4
13.8
9.4
+4.2
—1.5
—7.3
11
Mean
of the fore¬
going
t =
65°.6
65.0
63.6
62.0
60.2
58.2
56.1
53.7
51.0
48.1
44.9
41.4
37.6
33.6
29.1
24.2
19.0
13.2
7.3
12
Values
of t
calculat
from
Eqn.
Art. 34.
65.0
62.5
56.3
51.0
41.0
33.0
19.0
7.0
Col. 11 contains the means of all the readings in the other
columns, and from these a curve (the last of the plate re¬
ferred to) is laid down which exhibits an average form of
the curve, and embodies all the other results. That this
proceedingislegitimate willappear from the following con¬
sideration :—Suppose t the temperature (or ordinate of any
one of the curves) corresponding to the pressure p (the ab¬
scissa), and suppose any general relation such as i = a.p
(p).+ /3-4'(p) + &c. to subsist, a, /3, &c. being parameters pe¬
culiar to each curve. Then if there be several such curves
in which (corresponding to the same pressure') a, (3, a', (31,
a , [3 &c. are the parameters, and t, t‘, t“, &c. the ordi¬
nates, since t = “p + /3-\J/+&c., t‘ = a'<p + /3'-4/ + &c., we
have i±i±^=?±^>^_±0±fa.++&c.;Whioh
shows that a similar relation subsists between the mean
of the temperatures and the pressures, provided mean
values of the parameters are used.
(30.) This essential point premised, we may now
observe that the course of all the curves is evidently sys¬
tematic ; that the tendency to fluctuate in one direction in
the early part of their course, as marked by the dotted
curves in some of them, is contradicted by a similar ten¬
dency in the opposite direction in others, and that they
agree in speaking a language to the eye which we have
to interpret into a formula. Thus a good deal depends
on the view we may take of the nature of heat itself and
of temperature. Is there an absolute zero ? And if so,
does matter occupy space in virtue of the presence of
heat ? If we reply in the affirmative to both these
questions, and suppose moreover, empty space abso¬
lutely devoid of heat, we must take the extreme lowest
thermometer reading, as t — — go corresponding top == 0.
In that case the speculative prolongation of our curve
would give it a vertical asymptote at /> = 0, and as its
aspect so prolonged bears some general resemblance to a
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- logarithmic curve, we will give that curve a trial,
logy. 7
  ' Taking, then, log.^ = a + /&,1 (5), we have ^-~[3dt, and
P
by equation (4) art. (28), x = h
(6)
But by equation (5) we have log. P = a + T, whence we
get /3(T—*) = l0g. P—log. p ; substituting which in (6)
it becomes
x=h.\og.(?) (7)
(31.) This is the formula given by Laplace in the tenth
book of the Mecanique Celeste, abstraction made of two
factors in his expression for viz. (1+0-00228-log.?)
which takes into account the diminution of gravity in
receding from the centre of the earth, and (1 -f- 0-00265-
cos. 2 k), \ being the latitude of the place, which ex¬
presses the influence of the centrifugal force arising from
the earth’s rotation. The value of h, if the logarithms
used are the common tabular ones, may be taken at
60309 British feet; if hyperbolic, at 26254 feet. This
is the formula (including these factors) now universally
adopted for computing heights from barometric observa¬
tion. Its reduction to numbers is facilitated by tables
which are given in the “ Annuaire” of the French Board
of Longitude, in Galbraith’s Barometric Tables (Edin.
1833), and in that very useful collection by Arnold
Guyot, published by the Smithsonian Institution, U.S.
(Washington, 1852), to which, as containing almost every
table a meteorologist can require, we once for all refer
our readers. From this formula it appears that, according
to the best estimate we can form of the temperature at
great elevations, the extreme rarefaction specified in art.
(19) as existing at 103 miles, on the supposition there
made, would really be found about 11 miles lower, or at
about l-85th part of the earth’s diameter above its surface.
(32.) Laplace’s investigation of this formula is based
on an assumption (avowedly introduced by him for the
sole purpose of simplifying his analysis) of a variation of
temperature with altitude which amounts to supposing
equal decrements of temperature to correspond to incre¬
ments of height, decreasing progressively in arithmetical
progression. I his is in fact the law of decrement which
would result from our equation (6). It is therefore
precisely the reverse of that of Lambert, Zach, and
Atkinson, and, we may add, not in accordance with the
general impression among meteorologists (in which,
however, we do not participate), that the decrease
is slower the higher we ascend. It is somewhat singu¬
lar that Laplace does not appear to have noticed the
logarithmic relation (5) which his hypothesis implies
between the temperature and pressure ; and still more so
(and we are surprised that the remark should not have
occurred either to Laplace himself, or to any of those
who have used his formula) that his expression is identi¬
cal with that which would result from assigning to the whole
atmosphere a uniform temperature, the mean of those actually
observed at the higher and lower levels.
(33.) When we come to examine our curve of decre¬
ment more particularly, however, it becomes evident
that it is not a logarithmic curve, but a most undeniable
parabola. The errors in the former case are systematic,
and far beyond bearable limits. Supposing the curves
to agree at the 15th and 30th inch of p, the errors are
at 13, 17, 20, 23, 27, and 30.5 inches respectively-f-2-2°,
—1-8°, —3-3°, —4-2°,—2-2°, and+1-2°. The loga¬
rithmic curve, therefore, is not in satisfactory accordance
with the average course of nature as collected from these
observations.
(34.) If we take for Fahrenheit’s scale a = — 87°,
/3 = + 9-0667, and y — —0-1333, or for the centigrade
a = — 66-1111, /3= + 5-0370, and y = —0*0741, we
shall find the numbers in col. 11 to be perfectly well
represented by the equation t zzz a(3 p yp'*, substi¬
tuting which in equation (4), integrating from P and T
to p and t, eliminating y by the equation T — t=z
(3 (P—p) +y (Ps—p2), taking 60309 ft. for the value
of h (as adapted for the use of common logarithms), put¬
ting for h its value 0-00366, and using the centigrade
values of a and /3, we shall find
x = h -[(1 + 0-00366 a) log.I”+0-0007951 (T —!) +
(10)
(35.) To apply this formula to any proposed ascent,
the readings of the instruments having been graphically
projected, two extreme and one intermediate pair of
corresponding values of t and p are to be fixed upon, and
thence by resolving the three simple equations of the
form a +p. (3 +p2. y — t which these afford, the values of
a and 8 are obtained, which may then be substituted in
(10), and the value of x determined. As an example
we shall take Mr Welsh’s ascent of Nov. 10, which
gives P=29-972, p=12-240; T = 46°-7F. = 80T6 C.;
* = — ll°-3 F. = — 24°-06 C.; a = — 94°-804 F.= —
70^-44 C.; and /3=+8°-4848 F.=+ 40-7136 C., and exe¬
cuting the calculation we obtain a? = 22983 feet, which
corrected (by the factors in art. 31) for latitude and de¬
crease of gravity, finally gives x = 23027 feet, being 97
feet in excess of the height assigned by Mr Welsh from
Laplace’s formula; by which it appears that, whatever
be the objections to which the law of temperatux-e implied
in that formula may be liable, it may still be safely used
even for such altitudes.
(36.) If ^> = 0, or so nearly such as would be the case
in ascending some 25 or 30 miles, t=. a, which is there¬
fore the temperature a thex-mometer would mai'k exposed
to the total joint radiation of the earth and air from
beneath, and to that into space from above. If then we
call S the temperature of space beyond the influence of
terrestrial radiation, we have, at least approximatively,
a ^ 2 (T + S). Now we have seen that in our mean curve
a = — 87° F. and T = + 65° F., and that in Mr Welsh’s
last ascent a — — 95, T = -f 49. Both agree in giving
S = — 239° F. Hence we may conclude generally, that
taking for S this value, a may be at once assumed as
T
— 2 —F- At the equator, then, the limiting
temperature of the atmosphex-e would average — 771° F.,
and at the poles about — 119^° F., with a range of
temperature from the surface of 161^° in the former case
and 1195° in the latter.
Of land and water as recipients and communicants of heat.
(37.) Of the solar heat which actually reaches the
suiface of the globe, that which falls on water penetx-ates
it to some moderate depth and is absorbed internally,
while that which is incident on land is wholly absorbed
superficially, or within a very minute thickness. Water,
mox eover, is eminently a non-conductor of heat, so that
once received into its substance it is only diffusible by
agitation ; and since this, however violent at the surface
643
Meteoro-
logy. _
t here expresses centigrade degrees, the same form applying equally to either mode of expression.
044 METEOR
Meteoro- of the ocean, diminishes rapidly with the depth, the
ultimate communication of heat downwards to any con-
siderable depth is a very slow process. By far the greater
portion of the daily supply of heat to water then may he
said to float within a moderate depth of the surface,
forming a kind of reservoir of heat. On the other hand,
water is a good radiant, and as such is continually both
day and night giving off radiant caloric, which is absorbed
in traversing the air, and thereby tends to raise the tem¬
perature of the latter medium. It is a property of caloric
radiant from bodies heated below incandescence to be
eminently absorbable by transparent media. (See Heat.)
Hence it is most probable that much of the heat so
radiated off is detained in the lower strata of the air.
Meanwhile a balance is struck in the water itself of the
quantities received and parted with, by the preponderance
of one or the other of which it gains or loses in average
temperature on the 24 hours. Thus, in the warm season,
when days are long and nights short, the general tem¬
perature of the sea is slowly rising above its annual
average, and vice versa in the opposite season. Below a
certain depth, however, the temperature of the ocean
would appear to be determined by other causes, and to
be very little dependent on its superficial amount or
fluctuations. It results from the observations of Kotzebue,
Beechy, and Sir James C. Ross, as a general fact ascer¬
tained by thermometric soundings, that the deep sea
water below a certain level, determined by the latitude,
is of invariable temperature throughout the globe, and
that a very low one; the calculations of Lenz, founded
on Kotzebue’s results, giving 36° F., and those of Ross
39°.5 (which last is the temperature at which pure water
attains its maximum of density). The depth at which
the fixed temperature is attained is about 7200 feet at
the equator, diminishing to lat. 56° on either side of
that line, where it attains the surface, and the sea
(superficial currents apart) is of equal temperature at all
depths. Thence, again, the upper surface of this uniform
substratum descends, and at 70° of latitude has already
attained a depth of 4500 feet. Thus the ocean is divided
into three great regions ; two polar basins in which the
surface temperature is below 39°, and one medial zone
above it, attaining 82° at the equator, and at the poles
of course the freezing point of sea water. It is within
these respective regions only, then,that superficial currents
can act as transporters of meteorological temperature.
(38.) The habitudes of dry land with relation to inci¬
dent heat are very different. There is no mobility of
parts, and the communication of heat downwards is
therefore entirely a process of conduction. But what is
most influential, is the fact that the absorption is performed
strictly on the exposed surface, which therefore in the
instant of absorption fixes upon itself within a very minute
depth all the heat which, falling on water, would in the
same instant be disseminated through many feet or yards
of its substance. The mere superficial film, then, becomes
much more heated, and, since it is a law of radiation that
its intensity increases rapidly with the temperature of the
radiant surface, it radiates out on the very instant a much
larger fraction of the total incident heat than in the case
of water, besides imparting to the air by contact-commu¬
nication a proportionally greater amount. In water the
absorbed heat is for the most part withdrawn from the
radiamt action, enveloped and husbanded. In dry land
it is instantly and wholly exposed to such action in its
most intense form. It is no uncommon thing in dry and
light (*". e. badly conducting) soils, in hot climates, to find
a superficial temperature of 120°, 140° F., and even
OLOG Y.
more. "We have ourselves observed it at 159° F. at the Meteoro-
Cape of Good Hope. In the arid regions of Australia,
Captain Sturt reports that a lucifer match dropped on
the ground takes fire. The surface water of the equa¬
torial seas is scarcely ever known to range higher than
83° in the day, and 82° in the night.
(39.) That portion of the heat which enters the soil is
conducted downwards, and so long as the surface is
gaining in temperature a wave of heat is continuously
propagated downwards into the earth. When the sur¬
face, however, by the decline of the sun, begins to lose
heat, this ceases, and (the radiation still continuing) what
may be called a wave of cold (less comparative heat)
begins to be propagated, and so on alternately during the
day and night. These waves as they run on spread
forwards and backwards, and so by degrees neutralize and
destroy each other. Thus the diurnal fluctuations of
temperature beneath the surface grow continually less as
the depth increases ; the rate of diminution depending on
the “ conductibility” of the soil. In ordinary soils the
difference between the diurnal and nocturnal extremes
becomes imperceptible at four feet below the surface.
(Quetelet, Mem. Acad. Brux., 1836). In like manner,
the general increase of heat due to the summer season,
and of cold during winter, are propagated in similar but
lai’ger and feebler annual waves, which in their turn
neutralize each other at more considerable depths, and
become imperceptible at 40 or 50 feet. Professor Forbes
has shown in an elaborate memoir on this subject {Trans.
R. S. Edin., xvi.) that at depths varying from 57 to 9.9
feet, according to the nature of the soil, the annual vari¬
ation does not exceed 0°.01 C.
(40.) The absorption of incident heat as solar heat, and
its radiation outwards as terrestrial heat (i. e. heat of a
much more absorbable nature) by the solid surface,
depends very much on the nature of its substance ; but
if the ground be covered with vegetation, the whole of
the incident heat is returned back either by radiation or
contact-communication to the air; and the soil receives
no heat where so covered, otherwise than circuitously
through the medium of heated air. All these causes act¬
ing together produce a vast difference as respects the tem¬
perature of the air in regions of the globe covered by the
ocean and those occupied by dry land. In the former its
fluctuations, both diurnal and annual, are confined within
very much narrower limits than in the latter; and this
contrast, which theory indicates, is confirmed by universal
observation, as the expression of the distinction between
an insular and a continental climate, or that of a small
island remote from all other land and of the central regions
of an extensive continent. If there be one general feature
in meteorology more prominent than another it is the uni¬
formity of temperature over great bodies of water, as com¬
pared to that under similar exposures to the sun on land.
(41.) Terrestrial Radiation.—The theory of radiant heat
promulgated by Prevost, which all experimental inquiry
into the subject has tended to confirm, lays it down as a
principle, that a mutual intei’change of heat is continually
taking place between all bodies freely exposed to view
of each other, the hotter radiating more than the colder
in the ratio of some function increasing with the tempe¬
rature. The experiments of Dulong and Petit on the
radiation of bodies in vacuo, have shown that this func¬
tion, within the limits of their experiments, is of the
exponential form, or in other words, that the force of
radiation in vacuo increases in geometrical progression
as the excess of temperature of the radiant body above
that of its envelope increases in arithmetical.1 Hence,
1 There must be some natural limit to such a law. Radiation in absolute vacuity cannot be infinite.
METEOROLOGY.
645
Meteoro- when a hot body is placed in presence of bodies, some
colder some hotter than itself, an equilibrium will rapidly
* be established, in which its momentary gains and losses
of heat to and fro among them all will balance each
other, and its temperature will thenceforward be un¬
changed.
(42.) Such will be the case if the body be completely
surrounded or enclosed by others. But if only partially
so, if there be an opening out into perfectly free space,
through which rays of heat can escape, and from which
none are returned, heat will constantly flow out from
• such a system, and the body will be maintained at a
temperature lower than that of such partial envelope, and
the more so the larger the angular area of the opening.
(43.) If it were certain that the vacuum, or setherial
medium in which the planets move, and which conveys
light, had absolutely no temperature of its own capable of
being imparted to matter, and if the air were perfectly
transcalescent and incapable of radiation from its own
particles, or from those of impurities floating in it, a
thermometer placed a very small distance from the ground,
with an unobstructed view of the sky, would receive from
the hemisphere above it no heat but that radiated from
the stars and moon; or (putting the moon out of the
question, as it is almost certain that no portion of her
heat escapes absorption in the air), none bearing a greater
ratio to that it would receive from the sun, than the
light of a starlight night to direct sunshine, which cannot
exceed that of 1 to 100000000. It may therefore be
regarded as nil.
(44.) The mean temperature of the earth remaining
unchanged, it necessarily follows that it emits by radia¬
tion from and through the surface of its atmosphere, on an
average, the exact amount of heat it receives from the
sun, i. e., as much as would melt 0’01093 in. in thickness
of ice per minute over the area of one of its great circles,
or one-fourth of this thickness (0"00273 in.) over its whole
surface (art. 11, 12), which is equivalent to 135-960ths
of that quantity, or 0’000374 in. depth of water per minute
(or l-40th in. per hour), condensed from its dew point.
Taking this as the measure of the total average radia¬
tion, one-third of it, or 1-120th in., maybe taken as radi¬
ated off from the atmosphere without ever reaching the
earth, and the remaining two-thirds (l-60th in.), may be
considered as got rid of by radiation, direct or indirect,
from the surface of the earth. In complete absence of
any means of estimating the ratio of these portions, we
may suppose the latter to be one-half of 1-60th or l-120th
in. Let us now consider the manner in which this part
of the process takes place, supposing a clear sky to
prevail.
(45.) Conduction through the soil is a very slow
process, radiation a very rapid one. So soon, then, as
the sun has sunk so low as not to counteract the earth’s
radiation, the immediate surface begins to part with its
heat, at first, of course, slowly, but as night advances
more rapidly, and at length much faster than it can per¬
colate from the interior to supply the waste. The surface,
therefore, becomes greatly chilled, and a wave of cold
(to use the mode of expression adopted in art. 39)
is propagated downwards, neutralizing and destroying
the heat-wave rising to meet it, a process which goes on
leisurely, and takes its own time. Meanwhile the chilled
surface now borrows heat from the air also, to supply
its waste, 1st, by contact-communication ; 2d, by down¬
ward radiation ; and, 3rf, by condensation of vapour when
the temperature of the surface-air is reduced to the dew point,
and thus attains that state of equilibrium which the cir- Meteoro-
cumstances admit of. The process is in fact in every k ^gy-
respect the converse of that described (art. 38), by which
heat penetrates the soil, the immediate surface exhibiting
in both cases the most sudden and violent effect of the
acting causes.
(46.) The most consecutive series of experiments and
observations we possess on terrestrial radiation, are those
of Professor Daniell, Captain Sabine, and more recently
Mr Glaisher, the author of a very elaborate memoir on
the subject {Phil. Trans., 1847). Our limits will only
permit us to mention some of the more prominent results
obtained. The maximum of terrestrial radiation takes
place when a perfect calm and cloudless sky prevail
during a long night, in a level country. Under these
circumstances, there is nothing to disturb the air imme¬
diately resting on the soil, so as to replace the air cooled
by contact with the chilled surface by warmer air from
above; and if a series of thermometers be exposed at
various heights above the surface, that which is just not
in contact will be found to mark several degrees lower
than the general temperature of the air, and the others
at greater altitudes, will stand progressively higher up,
to about 10 or 12 feet, the difference, however, above 4
feet being very trifling.
(47.) The depression of the thermometer exposed to
radiation in contact with any horizontal surface is
greater as the radiating power of the substance of which
that surface consists is greater, and as its power of con¬
ducting heat is less. The greatest depression observed
by Mr Glaisher below a thei'mometer freely suspended
at 12 feet above the ground, was no less than 28°.5
Fahr.! the lower thermometer being placed on raw
cotton wool on long grass. The relative depressing
powers of this and other supporting substances, assigned
by him from a mean of all his observations, are given
below; long grass being taken as a standard.
Hare Skin, . . . 1316
Rabbit Skin, . . . 1240
Raw White Wool, . . 1222
Flax 1186
Raw Silk, . . .1107
Unwrought White Cotton
Wool, . . . 1085
Long Grass, . . . 1000
Lamp-black Powder, . 961
Flannel, . . .871
Glass, .... 864
Sheet Copper, . . 839
Coloured Lambs’ Wool, . 832
Whiting-powder, . . 827
Charcoal Powder . .776
Jet-black Lambs’ Wool, . 741
Sheet Zinc, . . . 681
White Tin, . . . 667
Snow, .... 657
Sheet-Iron, . . . 642
Paper, .... 614
Slate, . . . .573
Garden Mould, . .472
River Sand, . . . 454
Stone, .... 390
Brick, .... 372
Gravel, .... 288
(48.) When a thermometer is exposed with its bulb in
the focus of a concave silver hemisphere 1 or paraboloid,
highly polished both internally and externally, and deep
enough, when exposed with the concavity upwards, to
cut off from the thermometer all view of the earth, and
as it were to continue the sky beneath it, it can only
receive heat by condensation and radiation from the air,
and from the condensation of moisture. A thermometer
so exposed under a clear sky, and shaded from direct
sunshine, always marks several degrees below the tem¬
perature of the air, and its depression affords a rude
measure (of the statical kind, and open to all the objec¬
tions to which that kind of measure is open.—See art.
13) of the facility for the escape of heat by radiation
afforded under the circumstances of exposure. As com¬
pared with exposure on any of the supporting substances
above enumerated, the depressing power of such a reflec¬
tion by Mr Glaisher’s experiments appears to be 888,
1 The figure is absolutely of no importance. A paraboloid is generally used, for no reason that we can perceive but to increase
646 METEOR
Meteoro- that of long grass being 1000, which is almost identical
]osy- with that of the glass of which the bulb is formed. If
' axis of such a reflector be directed to a cloud, or to
any terrestrial object, the thermometer immediately rises,
even should that object be the summit of a snow-covered
mountain (as we had ourselves occasion to observe on
April 18, 1824, from the roof of the observatory at
Turin, the snowy range of the Alps affording an excel¬
lent object for trial). If directed to a cloud, the height
of the cloud is not indifferent—Mr Glaisher’s observa¬
tions clearly showing that the higher the cloud the
greater the radiation upward, whether estimated by the
reflector, or by the depression of a thermometer laid on
grass. Thus, in nights uniformly and totally cloudy, the
mean height of the clouds being respectively 1900, 2800,
and 3700 feet (which his peculiar situation enabled
him to ascertain), the depressions were found to average
1°.6, 2°.5, 3°.9, clearly indicating the lower temperature
of the higher clouds.
(49.) As an instance of the effect of terrestrial radia¬
tion applied to a practical purpose, may be mentioned
the manufacture of ice in the East Indies. The process,
as described by Mr Williams (Phil. Tr., vol. Ixxxiii.
p. 56) practised in Benares on an immense scale, con¬
sists in exposing shallow porous earthen pans on straw
in a level area, divided into compartments four or five
feet square. The pans are filled in the afternoon ; and
the temperature being much reduced by evaporation
before night, the freezing process is completed by radia¬
tion at night. In this way Mr Williams has often seen
ice inch in thickness produced in December, January,
and February, the thermometer at 5^ feet above the
ground, marking from 41° to 46° Fahr. In a night of
12 hours, it may be remarked, the mean emission of
heat from the earth’s surface, taken as two-thirds of the
total mean radiation, would suffice for the conversion of
480x0-00273 or 1*31 in. into ice. (art. 44.) So that
there can be no necessity to recur to other causes than
radiation (as has been done by some) for a full account
of the effect observed.
(50.) Of the evaporation and condensation of water,
and the dilatation of air, as elements of power in Meteor¬
ological Dynamics.—Water, freely exposed to the air,
evaporates at all temperatures, even when in the state of
snow or ice. The rapidity of evaporation is, however,
much increased by warmth. Thus, in a calm atmosphere,
under the ordinary pressure, Dalton found that when,
from a certain surface, the evaporation from boiling
water proceeded at the rate of 40 grs. per minute, it
was 20 grs. at a temperature of 180° Fahr, 13 grs. at
164°, 10 grs. at 152°, and so on. Cceteris paribus, in
dry air the rapidity of evaporation is proportional to the
elastic force with which the generated vapour tends to
escape from the evaporating surface ; i. e., to the tension
of vapour due to the temperature of that surface (See
Evaporation). If the air be already moist, evaporation
is proportionally retarded, the force of escape being the
difference between the elastic tensions of the generated
vapour and of that already existing in the air. Under
a low atmospheric pressure, also, it is far more rapid than
under a high one, owing to the comparative absence of
obstruction to the diffusion of vapour by the aerial par¬
ticles—vapour being subject to the same laws of diffusion
and non-reciprocity of pressure as other gases, and indeed,
while maintained in the vaporous state, to all the other laws
of gaseous statics and dynamics (See Heat). Owing to the
same reason, evaporation is accelerated by wind blowing
over the evaporating surface, which removes the genei’ated
vapour as fast as it is produced, and dispenses with the
slower process of diffusion upwards. Cceteris paribus,
OL O G Y.
moreover, the amount of water evaporated is propor- Meteoro-
tional to the surface exposed to air. It is much greater,
therefore, from rough and porous solid substances kept
wetted (as, for instance, from moist soil or from vegeta¬
tion wetted by rain), than from the surface of water
itself; and from the latter, when agitated by winds or
dashed in spray, than when tranquil.
(51.) Evaporation never takes place without the ab¬
straction of heat from the evaporating surface. Every
grain of water evaporated carries off with it sufficient
heat to raise 960 grains, 1° Fahr., to supply which, that
quantity of the residual water must have been cooled 1°.
This heat, however, is latent, i.e., does not appear as tem¬
perature in the vapour produced, which is no warmer than
the surface from which it emanates. On condensation,
however, the absorbed heat is given out again ; and thus
aqueous vapour becomes an agent in the transfer of
heat, in its latent state, from one part of the globe,
or from one region of the atmosphere to another, just
as a moving body transfers the impetus which cre¬
ated its velocity to the place where it encounters an
obstacle.
(52.) Vapour introduced into the air acts as a moving
power in two distinct ways. ls<, By a simple addition
of volume. The tension of the vapour is added to the
elastic force of the air, according to Dalton’s law, and
increases by the same amount the total power of the
mixture to support pressure. Were the specific gravity
of vapour the same with that of air, the effect of its intro¬
duction would be simply one of distension. It would
tend to relieve itself by lateral diffusion, or removal of
obstructing air; and if prevented from so doing, would
simply heave up the incumbent aerial column in
struggling to diffuse itself, and so increase its total
vertical altitude. Id, But a far more efficacious motive
power originates in the less specific gravity of the
vapour of water than of air of the same temperature
(0-6235 : 1). It is the lightest of all known “ vapours,”
and, with exception of hydrogen and ammonia, the
lightest of gases. In consequence, as soon as generated,
it tends to rise in the air by its buoyancy, and in so
doing, carries up with it much of the air with which it
is intermixed, disengaging itself no doubt from it, in its
upward progress, to become entangled, however, with
fresh particles, which again it carries upward, to abandon
them for others. In this way, not only is its upward
diffusion far more rapid than its horizontal, but in its
struggle upwards it tends to produce an ascensional move¬
ment in the air itself, and thus (as we shall presently
see) to act as a powerful agent in the production of wind.
(53.) Whenever vapour comes in contact with any
body, or arrives at any locality whose temperature is
lower than that due to its tension, a portion of it con¬
denses into water, or, it may be, into ice. In so doing it
gives out again its latent heat, which is communicated
to the condensing body, raising its temperature, or else
is disseminated throughout the region, together with the
condensed particles. If the condensation be into water,
the heat thus reappearing as temperature is precisely the
same in amount as that taken up in evaporating the same
quantity of vapour from water, or 960° Fahr.; if into ice,
the additional amount of 135°, which is that which be¬
comes latent on the conversion of ice into water, is set
free. If the condensation take place h’tf the surface of
the earth, the result is dew or hoar-frost, according as
the surface is above or below the freezing-point; if aloft
in the air, the result is a cloud or mist, or, if abundant,
rain, snow, or hail. But in every case the condensation
of vapour is accompanied with a mitigation of cold at the
point where it actually takes place. The same is true of the
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- freezing of water, however contrary to ordinary notions.
Were it not for this, our winters would be intolerable.
(54.) It is clear, moreover, that the generation of vapour,
under any extensive region, more rapidly than it is carried
offhy diffusion or otherwise, must be attended with an
increase of barometric pressure, since the total weight of
the atmosphere vertically over any region must be sup¬
ported by the total area of surface, and equally so that
its condensation, provided the condensed water be abstracted
from the atmosphere, must lead to a diminution of pres¬
sure. The contrary will happen if the vapour generated
be carried off as fast as produced by such a general up¬
heaving of the aerial strata over any region as shall
subvert their equilibrium, and cause them to overflow,
upwards and laterally. In such a case, since air also
will be carried off bodily from the region, and be replaced
by vapour, the mean specific gravity of the whole aerial
column, and its total weight, will be diminished, and the
barometric pressure lowered. This takes place on a most
extensive scale over the intertropical seas. The tempera¬
ture of the surface water in them is habitually very ele¬
vated (from 78° at the tropics to 83° at the equator), and
varies very little by the vicissitudes of season, or the
alternation of day and night. A steady and copious
evaporation is therefore continually going on. Vapour,
carrying with it air, is constantly thrown up beyond the
levels of equilibrium, where it flows over and spreads
itself out over the upper regions of higher latitudes.
The immediate consequence is a habitual deficiency of
barometric pressure at the sea-level on the equatorial, as
compared with that on the extra-tropical seas. In a
voyage to the Cape of Good Hope in 1833-34, the writer
of these pages found this decrease from the tropics to the
equator, on either side, to amount to 0-24 in.
(55.) The dilatation of the air itself by heat, whether
communicated to it from the earth, or radiated directly
into it from the sun, acts in a somewhat different manner.
Air is dilated only by about one-tenth of its volume by
50° Fahr. increase of temperature, so that, unless locally
and violently heated, its effect in producing bodily up-
rushing currents is comparatively less than that of the
introduction of vapour into its mass. When heated over
large tracts, it acts rather by increased elasticity to up¬
heave the superincumbent strata, and, by bulging them
upwards, to destroy their equilibrium, and cause the
upper atmosphere to flow over on less heated regions.
The general effect, however, is similar; and as the sun
cannot generate vapour without at the same time heating
the air, it is impossible to separate their dynamical effects.
Whether the air go forth from its place proprio motu, or be
jostled out of it by the introduction of a lighter medium,
the local relief of pressure is equally produced.
(56.) Of the winds.—Among the proximate agents in
meteorology, the winds hold the first place. To their
agency is owing the subversion of what Humboldt has
termed the solar climate of the world (or that which would
exist were the atmosphere motionless), and the production
of its real climate. This they effect in two ways, viz., 1st,
Directly, by transferring into regions remote from their
origin the heated air and aqueous vapour (charged with
latent heat) which the sun’s direct action generates; and,
2dly, Indirectly, by-causing cukents in the ocean, which
convey to one locality the surface Wafer heated in another.
In both ways they effect a constant circulation, both of
heat and moisture, the two great elements of climate,
which cannot therefore be understood till we know
something of the habitual force and direction of these v
great aerial movements, considered on an extensive scale.
(57.) A very small difference of atmospheric pressures,
as a moving power, suffices to generate a considerable
647
wind. Calculating from a formula given by D. Bernouilli Meteoro-
to express the velocity of a gas issuing through an orifice
in a vessel in which it is compressed into surrounding
air of less elasticity, it appears that, to generate in atmos¬
pheric air, velocities of efflux equal respectively to 10, 20,
30; 60, 90,120 ; and 150 feet per second (or of 7,14, 21;
41, 61, 82; and 92 miles per hour), would require cor¬
responding effective differences of pressure of O’OOd in.,
O'OIO in.,0'016 in., 0’06 in.,0‘14 in., 0*25 in., and 0'41 in.,
which may be taken as the velocities of wind in a gentle
air, a light breeze, a good sailing breeze, a gale, a great
storm, a tempest, and a hurricane producing universal
desolation, sweeping away buildings, and tearing up trees.
The corresponding pressures of the wind per square foot
on a plane surface, perpendicularly opposed to it, are re¬
spectively in pounds 0'2, 0-9, 1-9 ; 7*5, 16-7, ; 37‘9.
It must be borne in mind, however, that for such pressures
to produce the velocities ascribed to them, they must be
supposed to act unmitigated by any graduation, which is
never the case in nature, the transition from a higher to a
lower pressure at stations remote from each other being
always extremely gradual, so that barometric elevations
and depressions to a much larger extent may and do
exist without giving rise to great winds. It is only when
sensible differences subsist between the pressures at
places near each other that violent phenomena arise.
(58.) We have seen that the immediate effect of the
application of heat to any region is to generate an ascen¬
sional movement in the incumbent atmosphere, a bodily
overflowing of its material above, and a relief of barome¬
trical pressure below. The air of the cooler surrounding
region not being so relieved (but rather the contrary,
owing to the increase of weight poured on it from above),
will be driven in by the difference of hydrostatic pressures
so arising, and thus originate two distinct winds, an upper
one setting outward from the heated region, a lower inward.
If the region heated be a limited one, these currents will
radiate from and to it as a centre; if a linear tract, or a
whole zone of the globe, such as the generally heated in¬
tertropical region, they will assume the character of two
sheets of air setting inwards on both sides below, uniting
and flowing vertically upwards along the medial line, and
again separating aloft, and taking on a reversed movement.
(59.) In this account of the production of wind, how¬
ever, no account is taken of the earth’s rotation on its
axis, which modifies all the phenomena, and gives their
peculiar character to all the great aerial currents which
prevail over the globe. The first clear perception and
announcement of this cause, as affording an explanation
of the trade winds (otherwise inexplicable), is due to
Hadley (Phil. Tr., 1735), and affords a beautiful de¬
monstration of that great astronomical principle as a
physical fact. To form a right estimate of its import¬
ance, it is only necessary to observe, that of all the
winds which occur over the whole earth, one-half at
least, more probably two-thirds, of the average momen¬
tum is nothing, else than force given out by the globe
in its rotation in the trade currents, and in the act of
reabsorption or resumption by it from the anti-trades.
(60.) Since the earth revolves on an axis passing
through its poles from west to east, each point in its sur¬
face has a rotatory velocity eastward proportional to the
radius of its circle of latitude, and any body of air rela¬
tively quiescent on that point will have the same. Con¬
ceive now such a body to be urged by any impulse in
the direction of a meridian towards the equator. Since
such impulse .communicates to it no increase of easterly
velocity, it will find itself, at each point of its progress,
continually more and more deficient in this element of
movement, and will lag behind the swifter surface below
648
Meteoro-
METEOR
it, or drag upon it with a relative westerly tendency.
In other words, it will no longer be a direct north or
south wind, but, relatively to the surface over which it
is moving, will assume continually more and more the
character of a north-easterly or south-easterly one,
according as it approaches the equator from the north
or south.
(61.) Meanwhile, however, the earth is continually
acting on the air by friction, and communicating to it
rotatory velocity. As it approaches the equator, in
whose vicinity the diurnal circles increase more slowly,
the relative westerly tendency is continually less and
less reinforced by the cause which produced it, and the
counteraction arising from friction acquires energy, till,
on arriving near the equator, the wind loses its easterly
character altogether; while the northern and southern
currents, here meeting and opposing, mutually destroy
each other, producing a calm ; and become deflected
upwards, to form an ascensional current, replacing the
air abstracted. The result, then, is the formation of two
great tropical belts, in the northern of which a north¬
easterly, and in the southern a south-easterly wind pre¬
vails, while the winds in the equatorial belt which
separates them, are comparatively feeble and free from
any steady prevalence of easterly character. This is
the general description of the trade winds as actually
observed.
(62.^) A precisely contrary set of re-actions takes place
on the upheaved or displaced equatorial air. In flowing
over to regain its level, it commences its course relatively
in a meridional direction, but really with the full amount
of easterly velocity which the earth’s equator has ; and
since this, as it proceeds north or southwards, is in excess
of what would suffice to keep it on the same meridian, it
continually deviates to the westward ; and when it again
returns to the earth in its circulation, wdiich it does on
both sides beyond the tropics, it does so with a powerful
westward tendency, and the more, as in its course it has
been less under the influence of surface friction, owing
to the elevated region in which it has travelled. It thus
restores to the mass of the earth the momentum abstracted
by it in the former phase of the cycle. We have here
the origin of the SW. and westerly gales, so prevalent
in our latitudes, and of the almost universally westerly
winds in the northern and southern extra-tropical seas.
The existence of an upper current, opposite in direction
to the under, is a matter of frequent observation, as
shown by the courses of a lower and higher stratum of
clouds.
(63.) Were the whole globe covered with water, and
the sun always in the equinoctial, the system of the trades
and anti-trades (for so the compensating westerly winds
may conveniently be designated) would be perfectly
symmetrical about the equator, as their medial line.
Two causes tend to derange this symmetry, viz.:—Isi,
The movement of the sun in declination, which carries
it alternately away from the equator to 23^-° on either
side; and 2d, The existence and peculiar form of the
continents.
(64.) Suppose the sun at the northern tropic. At that
time, the region beneath the southern being 47° from the
circle of vertical sunshine, will be receiving little more
than half its maximum of solar heat (art. 12), and the
circle of 47° latitude will be receiving as much heat
as the equator itself, or more, the days being longer.
If this state of things were permanent, the neutral line
would shift from the equator to the northern tropic,
carrying the whole system of the trades with it. But
the sun approaches the tropic gradually, and does not
remain there, but returns to the equator ; and as, more-
OLOGY.
over, the general temperature of the ocean follows very Meteoro-
slowly the action of its rays (art. 40), these effects
cannot be fully wrought out, or nearly so, and the ut¬
most that could arise would be a very moderate northerly
transfer of the medial line, and with it, of the inner and
outer limits of the trades ; and as the reverse effects will
of course arise when the sun gets into south declination,
the result altogether will issue in a periodical annual
oscillation of the wind system to and fro on either side
the equator; the maximum excursions falling later in
the year than the precise epochs of the solstice, on the
general principle t/ia( cumulative effects necessarily attain
their maximum later in point of time than their causes.
(65.) This is very nearly an accurate account of the
real state of things in the Pacific Ocean, whose vast
extent brings it within the general scope of our hypo¬
thesis, and in which the north-eastern trade extends from
about 2° to 23° north latitude, in its mean situation, and
the south-eastern from abo,ut 3° to 21° south latitude.
Between them lies an equatorial belt of about 5° in
breadth, of such habitual calm as to have given a name
to the ocean itself. The annual oscillation is confined
within very moderate limits.
(66.) In the Atlantic the disturbing influence of the
continents is very sensibly felt. The great mass of
Africa, and especially of its sandy and burning deserts,
lies considerably north of the equator. These become
intensely heated, and their temperature follows the sun
much more closely than that of the sea. There can be
no doubt that the medial line of the trades crosses Africa
considerably to the north of the equator, nor that the annual
oscillation of the northern trades at least is very great,
and the influence extends to the neighbouring Atlantic.
In this ocean the equatorial limit of the north-east trade
shifts with the season from 5° 15' to 11° N. lat., and
that of the south from about 2° to 3° 15' N., so that the
medial line lies always a little north of the equator.
(67.) It is in the Indian seas, however, and especially
in the vicinity of the great Asiatic continent, that the
disturbing influence of the land is most clearly exhibited,
issuing in a complete reversal of the north-east trade
during a considerable portion of the year, and the pro¬
duction of monsoons, z.e., of winds which blow half the
year in one, and the other half in the contrary direction.
When the sun is south of the equinoctial, it being the
cold season in those continental regions, the regular trade
winds prevail throughout those seas, and what is called
the north-east monsoon is in fact no other than the undis¬
turbed north-east trade wind. But where the sun has north
latitude, and especially about the northern solstice, it is
vertical over a very large region of Arabia, Hindostan,
Bengal, Burmah, and Cochin, which become, of course,
intensely heated. Under these circumstances, besides
the permanent line of maximum temperature in the
equatorial sea, there is developed another more intense
and less regular line of the same nature, under or near
the northern tropic, towards which, and not towards the
equator, a large proportion of the intermediate air is
drawn. Receiving thence a northern impulse, and that
impulse carrying it into a region of less rotatory velocity
than that which it has left, it assumes a relative south¬
west direction, and is called the south-west monsoon.
Meanwhile, south of the equator, the south-east trade
continues to prevail from May to October over all that
part of the Indian Ocean which is not skirted with large
tracts of land to the south; but where this is the case, as
in the Java seas, as far as New Guinea, which are skirted
to the south by the great Australian continent, we have
again a double maximum, and the phenomenon of a
NW. monsoon taking the place of the SE. trade. Our
METEOROLOGY.
649
Meteoro- limits, will not allow us to pursue ims subject into details,
*■_^or we must refer to Dove’s Meteorological Re¬
searches, Kamtz’s Meteorology, and Horsburgh’s India
Directory. The setting in of the monsoon is generally
accompanied by deluges of rain and thunder storms of
excessive violence.
(G8.) Sea and land ivihds.—The uniformity of tempe¬
rature over a surface of sea, compared with that over
land, gives rise to ‘winds alternately setting to and from
the land, at those seasons when it is powerfully heated
in the day time, white at night its temperature sinks to
an equality, or even sometimes below, that of the sea sur¬
roundin'?: As the hottest and coldest hours of the day
ure about 2 p.m. and a little before sunrise, the winds in
question necessarily attain their greatest power at some¬
what later epochs in the day.
(69.) Dove’s law of rotation of the wind.—It is not, how¬
ever, merely in the great system of aerial movements
which affect the whole atmosphere, that the influence of
the earth’s rotation is felt. Even very limited local move¬
ments are modified by it. It is a remark as old as Lord
Bacon (de Vends, IQOQi), and since confirmed by Mari-
otte in France, Sturm in Germany, Toaldo in Italy, and
many other writers both in Europe and North America,
that the wind has a decidedly preponderating tendency
to veer round the compass according to the sun’s motion,
i.e., to pass from N. through NE., E., SE., to south,
and so on round in the same direction through west to
north; that it often makes a complete circuit in that
direction, or more than one in succession (occupying
sometimes many days in so doing), but that it rarely
veers, and very rarely or never makes a complete circuit
in the contrary direction. M. Dove in his “ Meteorolo-
gische Untersuchungen,” was the first to show that this
tendency is a direct consequence of the cause above men¬
tioned.
(70.) Suppose that at any station in north latitude,
after a calm, the air over and around the place, for some
considerable distance, to receive an impulse in the direc¬
tion of a meridian, carrying it towards the equator. The
first air which passes over the station, coming from its
immediate neighbourhood, has the same rotatory velocity
as the station, and therefore passes it as a north wind.
But the movement continuing, that which arrives subse¬
quently having set out from a continually higher and
higher latitude, arrives with continually less and less
rotatory velocity, and therefore in its passage over the
station, will relatively decline more and more to the
east, and pass as a north-east wind. If now the south-
wai d movement relax, and at length cease, the relative
motion from the east will continue for a while, till
destroyed by friction, and the wind will for the moment
have become a direct east wind. Now, suppose a con¬
trary impulse given, or that the mass of air begins to
travel again northward, the east wind will evidently
begin to be deflected towards the north, and will be¬
come a south-east wind. As the northward movement
continues, the fresh arrivals will bring with them an
excess of rotatory velocity, or a tendency to blow
relatively from the west, and will thus first neutralize
the easterly character, changing the wind from SE. to
S., and finally overcome it, passing into a south-west
wind. If, then, the other oscillation take place, and the
mass of air begin again to travel southward, the wind, by
the very same reasoning, will gradually change to west,
then by NW. to N., and finally come round again to the
NE. It is obvious that for a station in south latitude,
the conditions being reversed, a contrary law of rotation
ought to prevail. Observations in south latitude are in
great measure wanting by which to test this theory.
VOL. XIV.
In north, as we have seen, it is found conformable Meteoro-
to fact. logy.
(71.) In the tropical regions, where the superficial
air always flows towards the equator, no such oscillatory
movement northwards and southwards, as is above sup¬
posed, takes place. Where monsoons exist, there is but
one such oscillation annually, and accordingly the wind
makes one annual circuit; but in the temperate zones
beyond the trades, as casual circumstances determine,
equatorial and polar tendencies alternately preponderate,
and every oscillatory movement so impressed is thus con¬
verted into a circulation in a fixed direction.
(72.) Cyclones.—The West Indian seas, those about
Mauritius, and the China seas, are infested with hurri¬
canes, or storms of wind, of excessive violence, productive
of frightful devastation both on land and on sea, and
which, in addition to the interest which such scourges
must always command, have of late come to possess a
peculiar one in the eyes of meteorologists, on account of
the remarkable features in their history brought to
light by the laborious researches of Professor Redfield,
Colonel Reid, and Mr Piddington. By a collection of
the log-books of ships which have encountered such
storms, and the comparison of the recorded directions of
the wind, at different periods of their progress on land,
in regions devastated by them, the following general
facts respecting them have been established, viz., 1st,
That in any such hurricane, the movement of the air
(regarding its whole extent) is vorticose. They are in
fact whirlwinds, though often of vast magnitude, the
diameters of some of them, which have been already
traced, exceeding 500 miles, though for the most part
not more than 200 or 300. Hence the name given to
them of cyclones. 2d, The centre of the vortex is
not fixed, but travels leisurely enough (from 2 to 30
miles per hour), along certain tracts. In the West
Indies they are confined to a pretty definite area, their
usual course being in a parabolic curve, having some
point near Bermuda for its focus—originating in the
Gulf of Florida—and running along the coasts of the
United States, following generally the course of the
Gulf Stream, and sweeping across the Atlantic, occa¬
sionally visiting our island. In the southern Indian
seas, according to Mr Piddington (Sailor’s Handbook),
they follow also parabolic curves, the vertices of which
often sweep round the isles of Mauritius, Rodriguez,
and Bourbon, and whose average focus is a point
about 25° S. lat. and 70° E. long. Along the arcs
of these parabolas, in both regions, the initial move¬
ment of the centre of the storm is westward, so that
the movement of the cyclone in its parabolic orbit is
contrary to that of the wind in the cyclone itself. 3d,
In cyclones which occur in the northern hemisphere,
the rotation of the air is invariably in the contrary
direction of the hands of a watch laid face uppermost
^; in those of the southern hemisphere the
reverse, . 4th, They originate between the
tropics, and run outwards from the equator towards the
poles. But on the equator itself they never occur. 5th,
They are announced by a rapid fall of the barometer,
the depression being greatest in the centre (sometimes
amounting to two inches!) 6th, The wind is most
violent in the neighbourhood of the centre of the cyclone,
but as the centre itself passes over any spot, a momen¬
tary calm is observed, the wind immediately recom¬
mencing in the reverse direction to what it had the
instant before (a necessary consequence of the vorticose
motion).
(/3.) A complete account of all these characters is
afforded by Hadley’s principle, as developed by Dove in
4 N
1
i
650
METEOEOLOGY.
Meteoro- his “ Law of Rotation,” and applied to this specific class
logy- of aerial movements by Professor Taylor. Suppose (in
the northern hemisphere), that owing to the application
of local heat, a tendency in the air over some extensive
locality C, to ascend in a vertical column should arise;
to supply the place of the air so ascending, an indraught
from ah the surrounding region will commence. Let
the equal lines Nw, 1-1, 2-2, 3-3, Ee, &c. (fig. 1) ie-
isr
Kg. i.
present the forces and directions of currents drawn
in from equidistant points, situated to the N., NINE.,
NE., ENE., East, &c.; then, were the earth at rest,
these currents would all press towards C with equal
force, and the lines Nn, &c., would be terminated by
concentric circles, and a mere vertical ascending current
without gyration would result. But the earth revolving
from W. to E., take to the westwards of n, na to Nn as
the difference of the rotatory velocities at N, rc to the
velocity of the indraught; join Nn, which will then re¬
present the relative force and direction of the current
settino- in from N ; and a similar construction being made
at every other point, the system of relative currents will
be that represented by the arrows Na, 1 £, 2 c, 3 d, E e,
&c. And it needs but a bare inspection of the figure to
perceive that such a system terminating in an ascensional
movement over the tract C can be no other than a vortex
or spiral eddy in the direction of the internal curved
arrow, i.e., in a direction contrary to the motion of the
hands of a watch laid face upwards. In the southern
hemisphere it will be the reverse, as will appear on
drawing the figure.
(74.) It is also obvious that the force of the vortex so
arising must be in proportion to the strength of its effi¬
cient causes. In high latitudes there is a deficiency of
solar heat and aqueous evaporation to produce a suffi¬
ciently powerful ascending current. On the other hand,
on the equator, with abundant heat, the other efficient
cause, viz., a difference of diurnal rotatory velocity, is
absent.
(75.) Atmospheric waves.—The atmosphere, like the
ocean, has its waves, which are rendered sensible by the
increase or diminution of barometric pressure, as the
crest or the trough of the wave passes over the place of
observation. They are, however, on a much vaster
scale than those of the sea, as might be expected, from
the greater mobility of the medium, and the extent of
surface over which their existing causes act simulta- Meteoro-
neously. But they are distinguished from the latter by
features of a peculiar kind, which depend on two causes,
viz., 1st, The varying density of the air from the earth
upwards; and, 2d, The fact that the disturbances in
which they originate are not (as in the case of the
sea-waves) merely superficial, but extend through the
whole depth of the atmosphere, and are most powerful
at the ground level.
(76.) A very good general notion may be formed of
the peculiar modification of waves wbjch depend on a
decreasing density of the medium in ■vvi.ioh they are
excited, by pouring into a large glass vessel nuiJ. re
different densities which do not mix, and which have
different colours. An undulatory movement impressed
on such a system disappears very speedily from the
surface of the uppermost fluid, but continues long after
to agitate the lower strata; and moreover the latter,
while possessing the inertia which belong to their entire
densities, but the preponderant weight which corresponds
only to their differences of density from those above them,
are less controlled by gravity in proportion, and their
excursions above and below their planes of equilibiium
are therefore vastly exaggerated. Again, if there are
several such strata, which is easily managed by carefully
pouring, one over the other, several fluids (even if mis¬
cible, provided actual mixture be avoided), their undula¬
tions are far from maintaining any parallelism or corre¬
spondence ; and it will be found practicable to propagate
in them waves of independent origin, and differing in
direction, mutually reacting on each other. The aerial
waves are, besides, exaggerated by the elasticity of the
medium, the portion thrown up, ipso facto, dilating itself,
and therefore swelling into a higher convexity than it
would assume if inelastic.
(77.) As the attraction of the sun and moon tend to
produce an elliptic distortion in the spherical outline of
the ocean (whose vertex follows the luminaries), and
which thus becomes converted into a great circulating
tide-wave, with two maxima and two minima in the
luni-solar day; so the heat of the sun producing a far
more considerable elevation of the level lines, and a far
greater disturbance of equilibrium in the aerial hemis¬
phere beneath it, while the nightly chill on the other
side acts in a contrary sense on the opposite hemisphere,
a similar, but much more considerable circulating wave,
or heat-tide, is generated, following the sun (as all cumu¬
lative and periodical effects follow their causes) at a
certain interval, but which differs from the sea-tide
wave in having only one elevation and one depression of
the barometric column, and in having a mean solar day
for its period. Of this, more hereafter. The gravita¬
tion-tide, depending on the joint attraction of the sun
and moon, gives rise to no greater difference of level in
the aerial strata than what the same causes produce in
the ocean itself, viz., about six feet. Their effect on the
barometer would amount at the maximum to less than
1-130th of an inch.
(78.) Were the sun constantly vertical over the equator
(exactly as in the astronomical theory of the tides), no
annual fluctuation would arise ; but as the point of maxi¬
mum heat oscillates from tropic to tropic, an annual
transfer of air from hemisphere to hemisphere takes
place, producing a fluctuation analogous to the menstrual
inequality of the tides arising from the moon’s change of
declination—only as there is more time given for this
cause to work out its effect, and the obstructing causes
are comparatively feeble, the extent of the annua vaiia
tion in the barometric pressure bears a much greater
ratio to the diurnal than in the analogous case : and or
METEOROLOGY.
651
Meteoro- the same reason, as in the diurnal fluctuation, the wave
^logy- which causes it is single, not double crested.
(79.) It is not with these fluctuations, however, that
we are now concerned. They will be considered under
another head. The atmospheric waves here considered
are those which originate, not from the general move¬
ment of the whole body of the atmosphere, but from
internal displacements, the result of winds diverted from
their course, or of great local disturbances of temperature,
due to a concurrence of circumstances which may be
termed casual, forasmuch as we cannot trace their laws.
Such waves have been traced by comparing hourly
observations of the barometer made by numerous ob¬
servers, on certain days determined by preconcerted
arrangement, in distant places, the progress of the waves,
their general direction, their height, and velocity, being
concluded from the rise and fall of the barometer as
noted in each. Thus, to cite some instances, it has been
found that on the 21st of September 1836, by observa¬
tions made at Markree, Limerick, Halifax, Oxford,
London, Brussels, Hanover, Geneva, Turin, Gibraltar,
and Cadiz, a wave having a barometric depth of 0.2 in.,
was ascertained to have passed over the British Isles and
the west of Europe, having its crest nearly in the direction
NNE. or SSW., and the direction of its progress nearly
from WNW. to ESE. The half breadth of this wave,
which occupied nearly 26 hours in its passage, extended
from Oxford to near Halle in Wiirtemberg (about 540
miles). Its velocity of advance was about 26 miles per
hour. Again, on the 21st of December 1837, a very
well defined wave travelled in a direction from 10°
north of W. to 10° south of E., at the rate of 18,62 miles
per hour. The total depth of this wave from crest to
trough was measured by fully J inch of barometric
pressure, so that the level strata must have fluctuated
through a vertical height of at least 700 feet. The
area over which this wave was traced, is marked by
fifteen stations of observation, extending from Markree
in Ireland, to Parma in Italy.—{Brit. Ass. Rep. 1843.)
(80.) It would appear from the researches of Mr Birt,
that a very remarkable wave of this kind (to which he
has given the name of “the great November wave”)
passes annually over these islands and the adjacent
regions (embracing probably the whole of Europe and
the seas on its north-west coasts in its range), the crest
extending in a direction from NE. to SW., the direction of
progress (at right angles to this or) from NW. to SE., the
velocity about nineteen miles per hour. Both the breadth
and depth of this wave are on a vast scale. The whole
wave occupies about fourteen days in its transit, the crest
passing over London about the middle of November, so
that its total breadth cannot be less than 6000 miles,
while the extent of barometric elevation from its trough
to its crest seldom falls short of an inch, and occasionally
amounts to double that quantity. What is no less
remarkable, there is a certain region (in which London
is included), over which the rise and fall of the barometer
during the transit of the wave exhibit a considerable
resemblance, so that a section of it, in the direction of
its advance, would be a symmetrical curve, the middle
crest being preceded and followed at about five days’
interval by two lower ones, and the beginning and the
end marked by deep depressions. The researches of M.
Le Yerrier leave no doubt that the great Crimean storm
of the 14th November 1854, of disastrous memory, was
part and parcel of this phenomenon.
(81.) Anemometry.—The wind, regarded as a meteoro¬
logical element to be measured and recorded, differs from
other elements, inasmuch as it offers two distinct objects
of measurement, viz., its direction and velocity ; three,
indeed, since the quantity of air passing over a given Meteoro-
place of observation varies as the velocity and density l°gy-
jointly. This, however, is a nicety into which meteoro-
legists have not yet thought it worth while to go, being
content to regard the number of miles travelled over by
the wind in a given direction as expressing the material
transfer of the air in that direction. In fact, as different
and often opposing currents co-exist at different levels, it
would be a useless refinement to do so. The direction
and velocity, however, are essential features. The for¬
mer is readily determined by a well-constructed vane,
erected high enough to be out of the reach of eddies,
and either read off on a divided circle to degrees of devi¬
ation from the meridional direction, or so mechanically
arranged as to register itself at every instant. The velo¬
city may be measured (or self-recorded) in several diffe¬
rent ways. As, for instance, first, by causing the wind
to act perpendicularly (as in Osier’s anemometer) against
a square foot of surface, so as to drive back a spring of
known elasticity, the extent of compression determining
the number of pounds which equilibrate the momentum
per square foot, and which (like the direction) may be
self-recorded at every instant. Secondly, by causing it
to drive round the fans of a light vane, presented always
perpendicular to its direction, and registering the number
of its turns by means of an endless screw and wheelwork,
as in Whewell’s construction (C. U. Phil. Tr. vi.; im¬
proved by Dr. Robinson, Mem. R.I. Acad, xxii.), which
has the advantage of giving not merely the momentary
velocity, but the total or integral amount of space run
over, or the transfer of air per day, per hour, or per
minute, as may be required.
(82.) Since the whole of the air in the region surround¬
ing the place of observation participates in the movement
so recorded, and must be considered as transferred bodily
at each instant with a motion equal and parallel, the par¬
ticle which was first over the spot will describe a curve
whose elementary arc and direction are determined, and
may therefore be traced, either by hand or by a self-acting
movement in the mechanism of the anemometer on any
scale. Suppose (fig. 2) A ^ g r B to be the trace of
one day’s movement, A S the direction of the meri¬
dian, p, q, r, the points attained at stated hours, t2, &c.
and let Q1( Q2, Q3) &c. be the angles^) A P, 5 p a, rq b, &c.
or the directions of the wind, reckoned round thecompass
from the north, eastwards, and v1) v2} &c. its velocities ;
then since pR = v. sin. 9, AP = v. cos. 9-, if dt be the
element of the time, we shall have AS =— Jvdt. cos.
and BS =fvdt. sin. 9, from * = 0 to Z = 24 h. in strict¬
ness ; and approximately—
BS = Vj. sin. 9X + v*. sin. 92 + &c. = A
AS = Vj. cos. 9X +v2. cos. 93 + &c. = B
So that if AB be joined, AB representing the mean
652
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- movement during the twenty-four hours, if AB = Y,
log^ and BAS = <p, we shall have
  A
Y = V' Az -f B2; tan. <p = y
whence the mean velocity and direction, during the
twenty-four hours, may be calculated from a series of
registered numbers, or from the measurement of AB
and BS on the self-registered trace.
(83.) If AB, BC, CD, DE, &c., represent the mean
diurnal movements during a week, month, or year
(fig. 3), so, by a similar system of calculation, may the
mean weekly, monthly, or annual direction and velocity
be computed. Hitherto it has not been possible to obtain
the necessary data for any considerable number of
stations, the instruments required being both costly and
comparatively of recent construction. But no class of
observations is calculated to afford more insight into the
sequence of meteorological changes ; and they cannot be
too earnestly recommended to general attention. Mean¬
while, in the absence of all information as to the velocity
of the wind, it has been the practice to assume all winds
as of equal force, or rather that the force of winds may
be regarded, on the average, as measured by the frequency
of their occurrence. The formula given by Lambert for
the average direction and force of the wind, is founded
on this supposition (a most misleading one), and consists
in substituting for vly v2t &c., in the general values of A
and B above given, the numbers n2) and in which the
winds N., NNE., NE-, &c., making angles ^ = 0,
02 = 22°^, d3 = 45°, &c., supposing the circumference
divided into sixteen “ pointsor ^ = 0, 62 = 45°,
&c., if only into eight points. As there exists an abun¬
dance of observations in which the direction of the wind,
per vane, is thus recorded daily, a rude approximation to
the desired results can thus be made for a great number
of localities. Kiinitz and Dove have thus computed the
mean annual force and direction, as well as their monthly
variations, for a great number of stations in Europe and
North America, the general result of which the former
has embodied in a synoptic table, as below, viz.—
England 
France and Holland 
Germany 
Denmark 
Sweden 
Eastern Europe 
Northern part of United States..
Direction.
S. 66° W.
S. 88 W.
S. 76 W.
S. 62 W.
S. 77 W.
N. 87 W.
S. 86 W.
Force.
0.198
0.185
0.177
0.170
0.228
0.167
0.182
in which the numbers under the column headed Force
express the values of Y in the formula so modified.
(84.) Oceanic Currents.—The winds act indirectly
as distributors of heat and moisture, by producing cur¬
rents in the ocean. Were there a free communication
round the globe, at or about its equator, the continuous
action of the trades could not fail to establish a westerly
circulation of the equatorial waters with little deviation
to the north or south ; and were the whole globe covered Meteoro
with water, the compensating SW. and NW. winds
beyond the tropics would produce two extra-tropical
easterly currents, surrounding the globe, and separated
from the equatorial one by zones of still water, a lively
picture in short of what is most probably the state of the
planet Jupiter (the rotatory velocity of whose equator is
26 times greater than the earth’s) as concluded from the
appearance of its belts.
(85.) The continent of America, however, which pre¬
sents an unbroken barrier as far as the 55th degree of
south latitude, effectually prevents the equatorial current
from making a complete circuit round the globe, its
passage round Cape Hoi’n being barred by the contrary
southern compensating current. Its passage round the
Cape of Good Hope, also, is materially impeded, though
not prevented, by a similar cause, so that in the Atlantic
two vast eddies are formed, in the southern of which the
water, deflected along the Brazilian coast till it meets the
opposite current at Cape Horn, joins that current, and is
swept eastward with it. In the northern it is thrown
upon the north-east coast of South America, through the
Caribbean Sea, obliquely into the hollow of the Gulf of
Mexico, where it is suddenly and violently deflected to
the north-west, and issues in what is called the Gulf
Stream, to which, as a very powerful agent in determining
our own climate, we must devote some small space, re¬
ferring the reader for further details on the subject of
currents to our article Hydrography, and to the chart
of Oceanic Currents by Captain Beechy, in the Admiralty
Manual of Scientific Enquiry, p. 106.
(86.) The Gulf Stream, where it quits the Gulf of
Florida, has a velocity of from three to five miles per
hour (varying with the season), a breadth of only
a few miles, and a temperature of 83°. Thence it
follows the coast of America to about the 36th degree
of latitude, where it still possesses a temperature of
76° Fahr., and where it quits the coast about Cape
Fear, and encircling the Azores, spreads itself in wide
diverging streams over the basin of the Atlantic, between
the coasts of America and Spain, forming a vast eddy,
overgrown with the “ sargasso ” or Gulf weed. The
main stream, however, continues to run north-west¬
ward, directed full towards the British Islands, to
about the 46th parallel, in the 40th degree of west
longitude, where its force is much weakened by sub¬
division. The surface water, however, continues to
flow onwards in the same direction, and its presence on
our western shores is evidenced by the warm vapours the
south-west winds waft from above it, and by tropical
plants and seeds thrown ashore on the west coast of Ire¬
land, on the Hebrides, and even on Norway. Were the
isthmus of Panama broken through, there is no doubt
that the whole climate of our islands would undergo a
most notable deterioration.
(87.) Of the precipitation of vapour, and the formation
of dew, fogs, clouds and rain, fyc.—Air and vapour, accord¬
ing to the views of Deluc (first distinctly announced in
a very remarkable paper, Phil. Tr. 1792, p. 400), and
the theory of the independent elasticity of gases, in
general, announced by Dalton in 1801, form two distinct
and in great measure independent atmospheres ;.the one
permanent in material and constant in quantity -the
other in a continual state of destruction and renovation.
Were the temperature of all regions of the globe alike,
no precipitation of vapour in the form of rain or snow
would ever take place. A certain definite amount of
vapour once generated and diffused, would remain as a
permanent constituent of the atmosphere, and each
aerial stratum would exist in a state of habitual exact
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- saturation, so that no further evaporation would take
place from a moist surface at whatever level exposed.
But owing to the equatorial heat, the polar cold, and the
great system of circulation established by the winds,
the atmosphere is converted into a great distilling appara¬
tus, and the vapour raised in warmer regions is con¬
tinually being precipitated in colder, according to laws
which we are now to trace.
(88.) The most immediate, though assuredly not
the most obvious result of this state of things, is a general
fact avouched (like the cold of the higher regions) by all
mountain travellers and all aeronauts, viz.—The habi¬
tual hygrometnc or relative dryness of those regions in clear
weather. This is shown by very ordinary but very de¬
monstrative facts. Thus Deluc remarked that the head of
his walking stick always fell off in high mountain ascents,
from the shrinking of the wood. We have seen that
were there never any rain, &c., each stratum of the air
would be in an exact state of saturation, and no evapora¬
tion would be possible from a moist surface at any level.
“Buti every act of precipitation, no matter how pro¬
duced, unsettles this state of things and withdraws from
the total mass of air some portion of its entire amount of
vapour. As such precipitations, therefore, are constantly
going on in some place or other, the atmosphere, as a
mass, though incumbent on a wet and evaporating sur¬
face, is necessarily always deficient in moisture ; and for
the very same reason, every superior stratum is relatively
deficient in comparison with that immediately beneath it,
from which its supply is derived. In point of ultimate
causation, then, there is a constant drain on the aqueous
contents of the atmosphere, arising from changes of tem¬
perature. This drain extends to all its strata ; but while
the lower renew their losses from a surface hygrometri-
cally wet, the upper draw their supply from sources more
and more deficient in moisture.” What the equatorial
depression of the barometer at the sea level then is to
the system of winds, such is the habitual hygrometric
dryness of the air above the clouds to that of rains—at
once an indication of a process in progress, and an
efficient agent in continuing it. Wherever such relative
dryness exists, vapour, by its own expansive nisus, is in
the act of transfer in an invisible state from one atmospheric
region to another, and the rapidity of that transfer is
pioportional, caiteris paribus, to the degree of dryness, as
the velocity of a river at any point is to the inclination
of its. surface to the horizon. This by no means supposes
a universally prevalent deficiency of vaporous tension.
Complete saturation must exist at the points of evapora¬
tion and deposition, but at intermediate ones any amount
of irregularity may prevail according to local circum¬
stances.
(89.) Hygrometry.—To obtain a measure of this im¬
portant element is the object of hygrometry, which con¬
sists in determining by instrumental means the absolute
quantity of water existing, as vapour, in a given volume
(suppose a cubic foot) of air, under any circumstances of
temperature and pressure, and thence, from the known
specific gravity of vapour, deducing its elastic force or
tension. For the ways in which this may be accom¬
plished, and for a description of the instruments used,
the reader is referred to our article on Hygrometry.
The method now adopted in preference to all others, as
the most simple and convenient in practice, and leading
to results which a very severe examination has proved
to be quite satisfactory, is the simultaneous observation
of the wet and dry thermometer. The formula of reduc¬
tion, as it results from Dr Apjohn’s elaborate investma-
653
tions, is as follows :—Let t, V be the respective readings Meteoro-
of the wet and dry thermometers (in degrees Fahrenheit), jfgy-
h the barometric pressure in inches,/the elastic force of
saturated vapour at the temperature t, and F its elastic
force at the “Dew-point,” or at that temperature which
the air ought to have, so as to be exactly saturated with
the quantity of vapour it actually contains. Then will
F =/- ^ ■ air (a) or’ F (»
96 80
the equation (a) or (b) being used according as t, the
reading of the wet thermometer, is above or below 32°.
/is found from a table of the elastic force of saturated
vapour (see Steam) at different temperatures, which will
also be found in the Admiralty Manual of Scientific
Enquiry, p. 321 ; and F being calculated from the
above expression, the dew-point may be had from the
same table, used reversely, i. e., entering the table with
F and finding the corresponding temperature. F known,
the Aveight of water per cubic foot is found by multiply¬
ing the weight of a cubic foot of dry air at 30 inches
(563-2124 grs.) by the specific gravity of steam for elas¬
ticity F, i.e., by F x 0,6235, or by the formula F x
35T66. Copious tables for facilitating the whole process
have been published by Mr Glaisher, (Hygrom. Tables,
Bond. R. and J. E. Taylor. 1847.)
(90.) If the temperature of any given space contain¬
ing vapour be higher than its dew-point, water exposed
in it will evaporate. The air it contains is then said to
be relatively more or less dry, or (in reference to the old
chemical theory of solution advanced by Hutton, the
language of which being convenient, is retained, though
the theory is exploded), under-saturated. If lower,
some portion of the vapour will begin to be precipitated,
and this precipitate assumes various forms, according to
the circumstances under which a sufficiently low tempe¬
rature is produced.
(91.) I. Dew.—When the mass of moist air is simply
brought into contact with a cold body, the result is dew,
which is deposited in minute globules of water on the
body, or if the temperature of the latter be below the
freezing-point, ice or hoar-frost. The nature of these
phenomena was, up to a late period, strangely miscon¬
ceived,—the effect, by a mistake very common in meteo-
rology, being put for the cause, the dew being regarded
as producing the chill accompanying it, instead of the
reverse. Dr Wells, in his “ Essay on Dew a little
work which deserves to be considered as a model of
experimental inquiry—was the first to place in a clear
light the true nature of the process. The chief facts to
be accounted for are these :—1st. Dew (as distinguished
from small rain or the moisture produced by visible fog)
is never deposited except on a surface colder than the
air. 2d. It is never deposited in cloudy weather; and so
strict is its connection with a clear shy, that its deposition
is immediately suspended whenever any considerable
cloud passes the zenith of the place of observation. 3d.
It is never copiously deposited in a place screened or
sheltered from a clear view of the shy, even if the screen
be of very thin material, such as muslin or paper sus-
pended over it. 4th. It is most copiously deposited on
all such bodies as are good radiants and bad conductors of
heat, such as grass, paper, glass, wool, &c., but little or
not at all on bad radiants, such as polished metals, which
are also good conductors. And, lastly, it is never depo-
81 muc^ wind. All these circumstances,
as Dr Wells has shown, point to the escape of heat from
ie o les exposed by radiation out into space, or into the
? Edinburgh Review, 1848.
654
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- upper and colder regions of the air, faster than it can he
logy- restored by counter-radiation or by conduction from con-
tact with the warm air or with solid substances—wind
acting in this respect with great efficacy, by continually
renewing the air in contact. Hoax-frost diffeis only
from dew by being frozen in the moment of deposition,
and therefore accreting in crystalline spicule.
(92.) II. Mist or Fog. If a table of vapour tension, or
the formula from which such a table is calculated, viz.
Tab. Log. (JL) —-0.0085412197.«-0.0000208109.ZJ + 0.000000058.<3
where p is the elastic force of saturated vapour, corres¬
ponding to a temperature of 212°—£ Fahr. (Biot, Tr. de
Phys. i. 278), be projected into a curve, (fig. 4), taking t for
Tig. 4.
an abscissa, and p for an ordinate, it will be found to have
the form P D Q convex in every part towards its axis
or asymptote A B. Hence, if between any two dew¬
point temperatures, A M, A N, an arithmetical^ mean
A B be taken, and P, Q, the ends of the ordinates joined,
B E will express the arithmetical mean of the extreme
ordinates, or of the elasticities at the two temperatuies,
and BD (less than BE) that corresponding to their
mean. Hence it is evident, that if two equal volumes of
air, saturated at temperatures t and t' be mixed, since
the mixture will have the mean temperature, water must
be precipitated, the corresponding vapour tension being
less than the mean. The form in which the moisture so
precipitated first appears, will necessarily be that of very
minutely divided particles, which, however, having the
refractive power of water, reflect and refract light as
such, and appear therefore as a mist, fog, or cloud of
greater or less density and opacity, according to the
amount precipitated in a given volume. It is a favourite
dogma with many meteorologists, that the particles so
precipitated assume the form, not of drops, but of hollow
spheres or bubbles. De Saussure states, that he has seen
such floating before his eyes in clouds and fogs on the
Alps, and the dusty appearance of the vapour, floating
over a cup of coffee in the sunshine is adduced in proof.
The strongest argument in their favour, however (for
there is great room for optical illusion in such matters), is
that adduced by Kratzenstein, that the sun striking on a
cloud or fog produces no rainbow, which it ought to do
were the water collected in spherical drops. This argu¬
ment does not admit of a ready answer ; but the difficulty,
on the other hand, of conceiving any possible mode in
which such bubbles can be formed, disposes us to believe
that the extreme minuteness of the globules may perhaps
be found to afford one, their diameters being probably of
an order comparable with the breadths of the luminife¬
rous undulations.
(93.) Radiation Fogs and River Mists. — When the
air in contact with a radiating surface has been reduced
in temperature to the dew-point, and has discharged its
superfluous moisture in dew or frost, it remains saturated, |o®° 0
and at the same time colder than that above it. If t io
ground be quite level, and the air quite calm, however,
little or no mixture will take place, the upper air remain-
in0- uppermost, in the absence of any reason for its de¬
scent, or for the rise of that beneath. But if the ground
slope ever so little towards a valley or hollow basin, the
cold air will run downwards, and mixing with the air
below, if sufficiently near to saturation, will depress the
mean temperature of the mixture below its resultant
dew-point, and produce fog. If the low ground.be occu¬
pied by water or marsh, as the air reposing on it is sure
to be saturated, copious precipitation will necessarily
result. If dry, the mist produced will be less copious,
and may not even take place at all. In the Weald of
Kent, a district abounding in grassy slopes and winding
and branching valleys, in the calm clear nights which are
there so frequent, beautiful instances of radiation-fog are
of perpetual occurrence. Immediately after sunset, in
clear weather, dew commences—streams of cold air set
downwards, following the lines of watershed (very sensi¬
ble as descending currents), their course being marked
with mist, thin and filmy at first, but acquiring density
in its downward progress, and by degrees filling the val¬
leys with fog, which, in the morning before sunrise, pre¬
sents exactly the aspect of a winding lake, or livei of
water, whose surface, perfectly even and horizontal, runs
a sharply defined level line round every promontory and
into every retreating nook. Descending into such a lake,
under a full moon, a few yards below its upper surface,
a lunar rainbow is frequently seen in the mist. e on
one occasion resorted to a particular spot, well situated
for the purpose, to look for one, and were not disap¬
pointed. (Here then, at least, the argument of Kratzen¬
stein for vesicles is inapplicable ; and we cannot forbear
adding that by far the finest lunar rainbow we have ever
been fortunate enough to witness (Nov. 12, 1848) was
formed in a dense fog, evidently close at hand, ana when
not a drop of actual rain was falling. On this occasion
the exterior or secondary bow was seen.)
(94.) It is a matter of ordinary remark, that the
sprin0- frosts are severer in hollows and low grounds than
on slopes and heights. This is an obvious consequence
of what has been said. The cold air flows downwards,
and collects in the hollows, being replaced on the heights
by the air of a higher stratum, unchilled by radiation.
(95.) A radiation-fog once formed tends to its own
increase, by radiating off heat from its own particles,
water in the liquid state being a good radiant of caloric.
(96.) When the warm current in the open ocean
encounters a shoal, the lower water (of inferior tempera¬
ture) is thrown up to the surface. The surface-water,
therefore, on the shoal is colder than that of the surroun
ing ocean, and their atmospheres (saturated at the respec¬
tive temperatures) mingling, produce those fogs winch
are observed to be prevalent in such localities. Ihe togs
of Newfoundland are a remarkable instance in point-
Fogs, too, are produced in the neighbourhood of fioat-
ing°icebergs, on a similar principle. The Arve, m its
descent from Chamouni, occasionally presents the ap¬
pearance of a river of warm water throwing up steam
(though, in fact, many degrees colder than the air), from
the mixture of the cold air above it with the saturated
warmer air of the valley through which it flows {Obs.
Aug. 1821). „
(97.) Barometric fogs. — The temperature of a mass
of air may be lowered beneath the dew-point, independent
of radiation, contact of a cold body, or mixture with co er
air, by the simple effect of its own expansion. I his may
take place in two ways, viz., 1st, By a rapid and con-
METEOEOLOGY.
655
Meteoro-
. logy-
siderable relief of barometric pressure from above ; or,
, 2<lly, By its own ascent into a higher region of the
atmosphere. The first case takes place when the trough
of an atmospheric wave (see art. 75) passes rapidly over
the place of observation. The fog so produced comes on
for the most part suddenly, and without any obvious
cause. It is not rolled in from a distance by the wind,
nor does a moderate wind dissipate it. It is not confined
to the surface of the ground, but extends at once to great
altitudes. It does not resolve itself into rain, but dis¬
appears, when the atmospheric equilibrium is restored,
by the recondensation of the air, and the reappearance of
its sensible heat. Such fogs are very common, and are
precisely analogous to the cloud produced in the receiver
of an air-pump by a rapid partial expansion of the air.
They want a name, and that of barometric fogs seems not
inappropriate.
(98.) III. Clouds.—When a body of vapour is gene¬
rated from any warm evaporating surface, it ascends by
its relative levity, losing sensible heat, as well by its own
expansion as by its bodily transfer into and intermixture
with colder air. Should the supply of vapour, however,
not be very copious, and should it find itself, in its ascent,
always in a region hygrometrically dry, it by no means fol¬
lows that it will reach the pointof precipitation; but should
the reverse of these conditions obtain, viz., a copious and
continued supply from below, and a state of vaporous
tension already existing aloft approaching saturation, a
portion will be precipitated, in visible cloud, on arriving
at a certain level. When this process takes place in a
calm state of the air, and the evaporating surface is
limited in extent, or irregularly distributed in patches (as
over marshy ground, rivers, lakes, &c.), or if any other
cause dispose the vapour to rise in columnar bodies of
greater or less extent, the summits of these are marked
by protuberant masses or piles of cloud, with generally
rounded outlines, which appear to repose on flat bases,
indicating the “vapour plane,” or that level where
hygrometric saturation commences. To such clouds, in
Howard’s Nomenclature of Clouds, the name of Cumulus is
assigned. They abound in the calm latitudes of the equa¬
torial seas, and form a distinguishing feature in the
meteorology of that region.
_ That the mere self-expansion of the ascending
air is sufficient to cause precipitation of some of its vapour^
when abundant, is rendered matter of ocular demonstra-
tion in that very striking phenomenon so common at the
Cape of Good Hope, where the south or south-easterly
wind which sweeps over the Southern Ocean, imping
ing on the long range of rocks which terminate in
the Table Mountain, is thrown up by them (as marked
by the direction of the arrows in fig. 5), makes a
i ,
Fig. 5.
clear sweep over the flat table-land which forms the
summit of that mountain (about 3850 feet high), and
thence plunges down with the violence of a cataract,
clinging close to the mural precipices that form a kind of
background to Cape Town, which it fills with dust and
uproar. A perfectly cloudless sky meanwhile prevails
over the town, the sea, and the level country, but the
mountain is covered with a dense white cloud, reaching to
no great height above its summit, and quite level, which,
though evidently swept along by the wind, and hurried
furiously over the edge of the precipice, dissolves and
completely disappears on a definite level, suggesting the Meteoro-
idea (whence it derives its name) of a “Table-cloth.” l°gy-
Occasionally, when the wind is very violent, a ripple is
formed in the aerial current, which, by a sort of rebound
in the hollow of the amphitheatre in which Cape Town
stands, is again thrown up, just over the edge of the sea,
vertically over the Jetty, where we have stood for hours
watching a small white patch of cloud in the zenith, a
few acres in extent, in violent internal agitation (from the
hurricane of wind blowing through it), yet immovable,
as if fixed by some spell, the material ever changing, the
form and aspect unvarying. The Table-cloth is formed
also at the commencement of a “ north-wester,” but its
fringes then descend on the opposite side of the moun¬
tain, which is no less precipitous. Fig. ], PL XIX., is a
careful representation of such an exhibition of it on May
20, 1835.
(100.) Nomenclature of Clouds.—The forms and aspect
of clouds are very indicative of the circumstances under
which they are in the act of forming or dissipating.
Howard (Askesian Lectures, 1802) has endeavoured to
embody their chief characters in a determinate nomen¬
clature, which has been generally adopted. He divides
clouds into three primary modifications: Cumulus, Stratus,
and Cirrus, with intermediate forms graduating into one
another under the names Cumulo-stratus, Cirro-stratus,
Cirro-cumulus, and, lastly, a composite form, resulting
from a blending or confusion of the others, under the
name Cirro-cumulo-stratus or Nimbus.
(101.) Cumulus has been already described. Mr
Howard defines it as sursum crescens, increasing upward
from a horizontal base. This is in conformity with its
origin. When sharply terminated by rounded spherical
forms, which under sunshine appear as snow-heaps, the
form clearly indicates the act of self-dissipation in invisible
vapour into the upper relatively dry air.
(102.) consists of horizontal sheets. Its situa¬
tion is low in the atmosphere, and may be considered as
intermediate between cloud and fog, being chiefly formed
at night, and under the influence of radiation either from
the surface of a ground fog (as already described), or from
impurities floating in the air itself. The latter is remark-
ably the case in great cities in which coal is chiefly con¬
sumed as fuel, and gives rise to those dense, yellow,
suffocating fogs which infest London in the winter months.
A very peculiar phenomenon exhibited by the London
atmosphere has been described to us by the Astronomer-
Boy al, and appears to be referable to the same cause.
In calm evenings after sunset, as seen from the Royal
Observatory on Greenwich Hill, the vast irregular mass
of smoke hovering over London appears to subside. Its
heaped and turbulent outline becomes flat, and sinks
rapidly into a low level cloud-bank, with a very definite
outline, and fair sky above. It would seem that each
particle of soot, acting as an insulated radiant, collects
dew on itself, and sinks down rapidly as a heavy body.
Stratus is also sometimes formed very suddenly on a
higher level, when in a clear, calm night the general
temperature of the air sinks by radiation, or by diminu¬
tion of atmospheric pressure, till at some definite altitude
above the surface the dew-point is attained. Thus on the
night of April 19,1827, the sky, up to 16h. 16m. Sid. T,
being perfectly cloudless, and not a breath of wind stir¬
ring, stratus at a high level commenced in the eastern
horizon, and in eight minutes had extended to the west¬
ern obscuring the whole sky, the calm remaining un-
broken. In this case the velocity of propagation of the
edge of the cloud from east to west (or following the sun)
couid not have been less than 300 miles per hour (M&m.
Ast. Soc. m. b\.)
656
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro¬
logy-
(103.) Cirrus consists of fibrous, wispy, or feathery
clouds occupying the highest region of the atmosphere.
The name of mares’ tails, by which cirri are commonly
known, describes their aspect well. Of all forms of
cloud these present the greatest variety. Their filamen¬
tous structure clearly indicates them as either in the act
of originating from the union of aerial currents running
parallel to each other, or as the residues of dissolving
cloud drawn out into fibres by wind. Mr Howard
is disposed to assign to them an electric origin, or at
least to attribute their fibrous appearance to electricity,
but in this view we cannot coincide. From the great
elevation of cirrus it is more than probable that its par¬
ticles are frozen, and of course crystalline, and that to
this constitution it is owing that halos, coronas, and
other optical appearances referable to reflexions and
refractions in ice crystals, appear almost invariably in
this cloud and in its derivative forms, especially the cirro-
cumulus. It is said to be often a precursor of windy
weather.
(104.) T\\q Cirro-cumulus, most characteristically known
as a “ mackarel sky,” consists often of small roundish
masses disposed with more or less regularity and connec¬
tion. They usually float at great elevations, and often
appear as a loftier stratum through the intervals of lower
clouds, contrasting strongly by their slow (and some¬
times contrary) movement, with the scud and drift of the
inferior masses. They are frequent in summer, and
attendant on dry and warm weather.
(105.) Cirro-stratus “ appears to result from the subsi¬
dence of the fibres of cirrus to a horizontal position, at the
same time approaching laterally. The form and relative
position when seen in the distance frequently give the
idea of shoals of fish.” It often precedes wind and rain,
and often forms the ground on which halos and parhelia
are projected.
(106.) Cumulo-stratus would seem to be the modification
of cumulus, when the columns of rising vapour which go
to form it arrive in an upper atmosphere not sufficiently
dry to round off its summits by rapid evaporation, allow¬
ing them to spread horizontally and form flat-topped,
mushroom-shaped masses, the upper parts of which aie
often curled by the wind of an upper current into cirrous
wisps, or cleanly cut off* by a horizontal plane, forming
an “ anvil-shaped cloud” with a lateral projection, gene¬
rally considered as a precursor of wind below. Its ten¬
dency is to spread, overcast the sky, and settle down into
the Nimbus, and finally to fall in rain. When two stiata
of clouds on different levels tend to unite, it is evident
that the intermediate region must be nearly or quite in
a state of hygrometric saturation. The cloud then forms
confusedly and in irregular masses through the whole
region, and finally resolves itself into heavy rain.
(107.) When cloud is present, the sun’s rays are of
course prevented from reaching the earth directly, and
their heat is diffused through the general atmosphere
thus softening and mitigating their ardour. When the sun
shines on a cloud, which absorbs its heat, the cloud itself
is necessarily partially evaporated, and the vapour by its
levity tends to produce an upward current, and thus to coun¬
teract the effect of gravity on the globules of which it con¬
sists. A globule of water l-4600ths in. in diameter, in air
of five-sixths of the density on the surface, or at the height
of about 5000 feet, would have its gravity countei’acted
by resistance, with a velocity of descent of one foot per
second (supposing no friction and no drag); and even if
the terminal velocity were reduced to half that quantity
by these causes, wrould still require some such upward
action to enable it to maintain its level—a circumstance
which sufficiently accounts for the lower level generally
observed of cloud during the night. It is more than Meteoro-
probable, however, that, when not actually laining, a
cloud is always in process of generation from below, and
dissolution from above, and that the moment this pro¬
cess ceases, rain, in the form of “ mizzle, commences.
In a word, a cloud in general would seem to be merely
the visible form of an aerial space in which certain pro¬
cesses are at the moment in equilibrio, and all the par¬
ticles in a state of upward movement.
(108.) IV. Rain. In whatever part of a cloud the ori¬
ginal ascensional movement of the vapour ceases, the ele¬
mentary globules of which it consists being abandoned to
the action of gravity begin to fall. By the theory of the
resistance of fluids, the velocity of descent in air of a
given density is as the square root of the diameter of the
globule. The larger globules, therefore, fall fastest, and
if (as must happen) they overtake the slower ones, they
incorporate, and the diameter being thereby inci eased,
the descent grows more rapid, and the encounters more
frequent, till at length the globule emerges from the
lower surface of the cloud, at the “ vapour plane, as a
drop of rain; the size of the drops depending on^the
thickness of the cloud stratum, and its density. Rain
indeed has been observed to fall (at least apparently)
from a cloudless sky, but the occurrence is one of extreme
rarity, and it seems hardly possible to be certain that it
has not been brought by wind at a high level fiom \eiy
great distances. A vei'y minute rain from a cleai sky
is known in France by the name of serein, and seems to
be not uncommon.
(109.) The quantity of rain which falls on any given
place may be measured by the very simple contrivance
called a “ rain-guage,” which is an open vessel of a
definite aperture (suppose a square foot), and of a funnel
shape below, to conduct the rain fallen into a graduated
vessel where it can be measured to a nicety, a \eiy
minute superficial depth of rain being thus read off on a
magnified scale, even though hardly more than enough
to wet the surface. It is usually recorded in inches o
actual depth, and the wetness of a year or of a season
is expressed by the number of inches and parts to which
the earth’s surface would be covered, if it could neither
run off, sink into the soil, or evaporate. Some very extra¬
ordinary and unexpected facts respecting the fall of rain
have been disclosed by the use of this instrument, which
would appear to indicate that its formation is by no
means limited to the region of visible cloud. At one
and the same place a series of rain-guages,
different elevations above the soil, indicate very different
quantities of rain, the amount being greater at the loiver
level. Thus Dr Heberden found in twelve months,
from’July 7, 1766, to July 7, 1767, the amount of rain
at the top of Westminster Abbey to be only 12-099 in.,
while on the top of a house close by, but much inferior
in altitude, it was 18.139 in., and on the ground
22-608 in. Thus also Mr Phillips found the fall ot
rain at York for twelve months, in the years 1833-34,
at the height of 213 feet from the ground, to be 14-963
in.; at 44 feet, 19-852 in.; and on the ground,
25-706 in. Again, at the Observatory of tl‘e
ratio of the rain collected during the nine years (1818-
1826) on the terrace of the Observatory, and 3 metres
from the ground (or 27 metres = 88^ feet lower
in level) was that of 1:1-116, the difference being much
less proportionally than in England, where the ratio
from Mr Phillips’s observations is that of 1 : 1-ay at
213 feet, and 1 : P296 at 44 feet. The usual account
given of this phenomenon (Kamtz, i. 419) is that rain
falling from a high level, and therefore colder than tlie
temperature of the air at the surface of the ground,
*
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro
logy-
arriving in an atmosphere nearly or quite saturated with
moisture, condenses on itself, or causes the condensation,
in the chilled air, of an additional quantity of vapour.
But it is evident that this cause, though not uninfluential,
is totally inadequate to account for so great a difference.
Admitting a given weight of rain to arrive at 213 feet
from the ground, with the temperature of the region at
which it was formed unaltered, and supposing it to
acquire in the remaining 213 feet the full temperature of
the air (both of them extreme and indeed extravagant
suppositions), admitting too (though hardly less extrava¬
gant) the mean height of formation of the rain to be
12000 feet, it would bring down with it a cold of
40° Fahr., which would condense (whether on the drops
or in saturated air if diffused through it) only 40-960ths,
or l-24th = 0’042 of its weight, = one - seventeenth
of the quantity to be accounted for. Still less can the
effect be due to a greater obliquity of fall at a higher than
at a lower level, since the same quantity of rain must
fall on the same horizontal surface after changing its
obliquity as before. Dr Heberden, in the spirit of
that meteorology which refers everything not clearly
understood to electricity, ascribes an electrical origin to
the phenomenon. The real cause is yet to seek, and there
is no more interesting problem which can fix the atten¬
tion of the meteorologist. Visible cloud rests on the soil
at low altitudes above the sea-level but rarely: and from
such cloud only, would it seem possible that so large an
accession of rain could arise.
(110.) The amount of rain which falls habitually per
annum in any locality depends on a great variety of cir¬
cumstances, the most influential being its proximity to
large bodies of heated water, such a prevalent direction
of wind as shall not drift the vapour away from it, and
the absence of any lofty mountains in the direction of
the moist wind, to act as a barrier by causing its depo¬
sitions on them. As we recede from the sea into the
interior of great continents rain becomes rare, especi¬
ally if the soil be sandy. Thus in the Great Sahara of
Africa rain is unknown, as also in Arabia and part of
Persia, in the great desert of Gobi, in the table-land of
Thibet, &c. The greater part of the enormous evapora¬
tion of the equatorial seas is at once condensed and dis¬
charged again in rain from the cumuli which mark its
up-rush into the higher and colder regions of the air,
the rain being most continuous in those latitudes between
the tropics, oyer which for the time the sun is vertical,
or in the region of the calms. In this zone the nights
are for the most part clear, but as the day advances the
clouds thicken and pour down torrents of rain, clearin0-
again at sunset.
(Ill-) Rain is of unfrequent occurrence, however, in
the zones on either side of the calms, where the trade-
winds blow steadily and regularly. These winds them¬
selves, coming from higher latitudes, are acquiring tempe¬
rature and taking up moisture from the sea. The returning
counter-currents having discharged their first overload
of moisture, pursue their course aloft, free from cloud
and relatively dry; and in the neutral interval between
them and the opposite lower current, cloud is not gene¬
rated, or rain produced, by the intermixture of the two—
the upper portions of the trades not being saturated, for
the reason just adduced. The clouds which do occur in
these winds belong not to their higher strata but to a
much inferior level, not exceeding five or six thousand
feet in altitude, while the medial line between the winds
has nearly double that elevation. Such at least are the
phenomena on Teneriffe, as exhibited during the late resi¬
dence of Mr C. P. Smyth on the summit of that mountain
for a fortnight in the month of August, during the whole
VOL. XIV.
657
of which time the sea horizon was never once visible, a
stratum of these low clouds lying uninterrupted in every
direction, the upper half ol the peak being free from cloud,
and its summit, at 12500 feet, just surpassing the medial
line, and coming within the upper or SW. current.
(112.) Between the tropics there is, properly speak-
ing, no winter or summer. The year is divided into a
dry and wet season—the dry, when the sun is in the
opposite hemisphere, and the trade wind blows strong;
the wet, when in the same, and approaching the zenith.
In the neighbourhood of the equator, where the sun
passes the zenith twice at several months’ interval, there
are two dry and two wet seasons, or rather two unequal
maxima and minima of rain. Where monsoons prevail,
however, the law of rain is different. Thus, on the
eastern coast of the peninsula of India, the rains occur
during the north-east monsoon, and on the western
during the south-east or trade.
(113.) Beyond the tropics, where the anti-trade or
returning current descends to the level of the earth’s sur¬
face, and by degrees takes up the temperature of our
milder latitudes, its vapour, held so far in abeyance,
becomes available for the production of rain, unless inter¬
cepted, as above indicated, by some lofty mountain bar¬
rier tossing up the stream and prematurely precipitating
its vapour. Where this obstacle does not exist, however,
the rains are distributed in the extra-tropical regions with
considerable indifference as to season; in some, indeed,
a certain approach to a wet and dry division of the year
prevails, as, for instance, along the coast of Portugal, as
well as in Italy and the south of France, where scarcely
any rain falls in summer, while at Pekin the contrary
rule prevails. Since, however, the deposit of water from
the air, as it travels, must of necessity bear some rude
proportion to the actual quantity in transitu, the amount
of rain or snow which falls on any country must, on a
general average, diminish as the latitude increases, a
conclusion confirmed by observation.
(114.) The west coasts of England and Ireland form
a rather remarkable exception to this law. They receive
with the west and south-west winds which generally
prevail, the vapour of the Gulf Stream. In consequence
the annual fall of rain is not only much greater than on
the eastern and southern coasts, but in one district, that
of the Lakes of Cumberland, is quite enormous. The
annual fall at Seathwaite, in Borrowdale (Lake district)
amounted, according to the careful observations of Mr
Miller, to no less than 141'54 inches on an average of
three years ; while that in London is only 23^. To bring
this result into comparison with what obtains elsewhere,
we subjoin a table (see next page) of the mean annual
amount of rain in some of the more remarkable localities.
(115.) Rain, except in the tropical regions, is perhaps
the most irregular of all meteorological phenomena, both
in respect of the frequency of its occurrence and in the
quantity which falls in a given time. The quantities
recorded are, in some instances, truly astonishing. It is
considered, in the greater part of England, a heavy rain
if an inch fall in the course of twenty-four hours; yet
at Seathwaite, above mentioned, 6-62 inches are recorded
by Mr Miller to have fallen on November 27, 1845, in
that time. . At Joyeuse fArdeche), in France, 31T73
inches fell in twenty-two hours ; at Genoa, 30 inches in
twenty-four hours ; at Gibraltar, 33 inches in twenty-six
hours. “ On the mountain tops overhanging Bombay,
24 inches of rain have been recorded in a single night.”
—{Perry, Bird's Eye View of India, p. 17). These are,
however, only sudden, unsustained falls. But in tro¬
pical regions we have instances of what may almost be
called deluges. Humboldt collected, at Rio Negro, in
4 o
Meteoro-
logy-
658
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- the rainy season in May, as an ordinary rain, 1| inch in
iQgy. ~ "r^ *— ^ ^ XV*-— 4-1%/^ ^ f
between 8 p.m. and 9 a.m., he collected 10^ inches. At
Meteoro-
ison in may, us u/t viwvvuy ***v,.* - -__y' -- ’ .. f n i Ioct.
five hours. Admiral Roussin found, for the amount of Cherra Ponjee, in the Khasyah mountains, east of Cal-
rain at Cayenne, between the 1st and 24th February cutta, nearly 600 inches per annum are stated to have
1820, no less than 12 feet 6*96 inches, and on one night, fallen.
Place.
Singapore  
Kandy  
Trevandrum 
Sierra Leone 
Uttray Mullay  
Cape Comorin  
Allepy   
Cochin  
Dodabetta 
Grenada 
Seringapatam  
Madras  
St. Helena  1
(Very irregular) j
Rangoon  
Mahabalishwar 
St. Domingo 
Poonah  
Bombay 
Calcutta 
Cherra Ponjee  
Rio Janeiro  
Havannah 
Charleston 
Madeira 
Cape of Good 1  
Hope  j
Williamsburg  
Palermo 
Lisbon  
Washington, U. S.
Mafra 
Pekin  
+ 1°
+ 7
16'
20
+ 8 28
+ 8
+ 8
+ 8
+ 9
+ 9 58
+ 11
+ 12
+ 12
+13
23
7
26
4
-15 57
+16 47
+ 18 ...
+18 29
+18 30
+ 18 53
+22 35
—22 54
+23 9
+32 46
+33 30
-33 56
Philadelphia 1  
(Gir. C.)
Cambridge, U.S. ...
Coimbra 
Bacon  
Tijlis 
Rome 
Rain
per Ann,
+37 13
+38 8
+38 42
+38 54
+38 55
+39 54
+39 56
+40 5
+40 12
+40 22
+41 40
+41 54
Inches.
97.0
52.1
64.5
86.2
267.2
28.4
113.3
106.1
101.3
112.0
23.7
44.6
45.2
84.0
254.1
107.6
25.4
75.2
76.4
592.0
59.2
91.2
54.0
27.7
47.0
22.3
27.1
41.2
44.0
26.8
37.2
38.9
118.8
15.2
19.9
31.0
Place.
Odd years obs^.
Hobart Town 
Even years obsd.
Toulon   
Marseilles  
Siena 
Toulouse  
Toronto  
Arles     
Florence  
Orange  
Genoa   
Bologna 
Bordeaux  
Rovigo  
Turin 
Padua 
Verona  
Vicenza 
St. Bernard  
La Rochelle  
Geneva  
Milan 
Lausanne  
Poictiers  
Montpellier  
Berne  
Zurich  
Troyes  
Augsburg  
Him  
Tubingen  
Lougan  
Stuttgard  
Paris  
Carlsruhe  
Metz  
Manheim  
Nismes  
Prague  
Latitude.
-42° 521
+43 9
+43 17
+43 22
+43 36
+43 40
+43 42
+43 46
+44 7
+44 24
+44 29
+44 50
+45 4
+45 5
+45 25
+45 27
+45 32
+45 50
+46 9
+46 13
+46 28
+46 30
+46 35
+46 36
+46 55
+47 21
+48 18
+48 21
+48 25
+48 31
+48 35
+48 36
+48 50
+49 0
+49 5
+49 30
+50 3
+50 5
Rain
per Ann.
Inches.
13.42
18.4
23.34
18.2
23.4
34.2
25.2
39.7
23.8
41.3
30.3
47.3
31.0
25.8
32.9
26.6
36.9
36.9
43.8
58.5
24.5
31.7
37.8
40.2
23.6
32.4
46-1
34.3
23.9
39.1
26.8
25.5
13.6
25.3
22.2
26.4
29.0
22.4
25.3
14.1
Place.
Cracow  
Penzance  
Gosport 
Brussels 
Nertschinsk  
Coblentz 
Bristol  
Gottingen 
Middle burg  
London (Green-)
wick)  j
Breda 
Rotterdam 
Oxford  
Strasburg  
Lyndon  
Nottingham  
Franeker  
Barnaoul    
Dublin  
Liverpool  
Manchester   
Lancaster  
Isle of Man  
Kendal  
Seathwaite  
Gorki 
Dumfries   
Catherineburg ....
Zlatoouste 
Copenhagen   
Glasgow..... 
Edinburgh  
Kinfauns  
Sitka  
Stockholm 
Bogoslovsk 
Upsala  
Petersburg 
Bergen  
Latitude.
+50° 6
+50 8
+50 48
+50 17
+51 18
+51 22
+51 27
+51 30
+51 30
55
10
Rain
per Ann.
+51 31
+51 32
+51 55
+51
+52
+52 42
+53 10
+53 11
+53 20
+53 23
+53 24
+23 29
+54 3
+54 15
+54 19
+54 ...
+54 45
+55 4
+55 11
+55 11
+55 40
+55 52
+55 57
-(-56 20
+57 34
+59 20
+59 45
+59 48
+59 56
Inches.
13.3
37.2
29.7
28.6
16.0
22.2
23.3
26.6
27.1
24.4
26.3
22.7
26.5
27.3
18.3
26.4
30.5
10.5
29.1
34.5
36.2
39.7
37.1
53.7
141.5
18.2
36.9
15.6
17.7
18.5
21.3
24.9
24.7
87.9
20.4
17.2
17.8
17.3
88.6
(116.) V. Hail.—In a balloon ascent performed by
Messrs Green, Rush, and Spencer, on September 4,1838,
after mounting to an altitude of 19185 feet, during which
ascent the thermometer, at 12000 feet, marked 46° Fah¬
renheit, they found, on descending again to the last
mentioned level, a temperature of 22° Fahrenheit only,
or 24° colder than in their ascent. At the same time,
they found there a heavy fall of snow in progress. It is
evident that this arose from the condensation of vapour
at that level, and that, from the intrusion of some current,
a mass of intensely cold air had been introduced, which,
finding vapour near saturation, converted it into snow.
It is equally evident that, had the latter condition pre¬
vailed not at the level in question, but at a somewhat
higher, where the condensation might have been into
rain very near the freezing point, the drops, in descend¬
ing, would have been frozen solid and fallen as hail. It
might have been so equally, had the precipitation been
so copious as to allow the coalescence of a great number
of minute particles in a nascent state into drops frozen
together instanter, since there is good reason to believe
that the solid form is never assumed without transition
through the liquidj however momentary.
(117.) The generation of hail seems always to depend
on some such very sudden introduction of an extremely
cold current of air into the bosom of a quiescent, nearly
saturated mass. Hailstorms are always purely local
phenomena, and never last long. They often mark their
course by linear tracks of devastation, of great length
and very small breadth. In the hailstorm of July 13,
1788, which passed across France from south to north,
two such tracks were marked, of 175 and 200 leagues in
length respectively, parallel to each other, the one four
leagues broad, the other two, and separated by a tract
five leagues in breadth, in which only rain fell. A simi¬
lar character is very common, though not to such an
extent. Such linear hailstorms are always attended
with violent wind, sudden depression of the barometer,
indicating a great commotion in the air, and probable
mingling of saturated masses of very different tempera¬
ture. To attribute to hail, as is often done, an electrical
origin, because hail is often accompanied with thunder
and lightning (<{ hailstones and coals of fire ), seems to
us to be putting the effect for the cause.
(118.) Hail may be very properly distinguished into
single hailstones and aggregated masses. Single stones
have generally a crystalline structure, radiating fiom a
centre if large, forming spherical, oval, or rounded
masses, often marked out (on making a section) into
concentric layers, like the rings in the section of a branch.
They fall from the size of small peas to that of an egg,
an orange, or a man’s head, and weighing from a few
grains up to fourteen pounds and upwards. Dr Thom¬
son, in his Introduction to Meteorology, a work in which
the reader will find assembled a most extraordinary
collection of the recorded marvels of meteorology, gbes
many instances of the fall of large hail-stones. One,
described by Captain Delcrosse, as having fallen at
METEOROLOGY.
659
Mg- 6.
ing it as a single stone, foi'med in passing through
two distinct regions of condensation. Dr Buist stated
to the Bombay Geographical Society, that in India the
hail-stones are from five to twenty times larger than those
in England, often weighing from six ounces to a pound,
seldom less than walnuts, often that of oranges and
pumpkins ! .These storms are almost always accom¬
panied by violent wind and rain, thunder and light-
ning,. and are frequent in the delta of the Ganges,
especially in the low country within fifty miles of the
Bay of Bengal.
(119.) Great hail-storms are often preceded by a loud
clattering and clashing sound, indicating the hurtling
together of masses of ice in the air. The recent experi¬
ments of Professor Tyndall on the reuniting of broken
ice by ‘regelation, or a sort of welding, fully explains
the formation, under such circumstances, of large masses
of ice of irregular forms in this aerial conflict. Such
aie recorded to have fallen of almost fabulous magnitude.
In Candeish, in 1826, in a hail-storm which perforated
the roofs of houses like small cannon shot, a mass fell
which took some days to melt, and must have weighed
more than a hundred-weight.—(T/a/eL) On May 8,
1832, a mass fell in Hungary a yard in length and nearly
two feet in thickness.—{Thomson.) And if it be true,
as stated in the Boss-shire Advertiser in 1849, that a block
irregular shape, nearly twenty feet in circumference,”
feffin. August of that year on the estate of Mr. Moffat of
Ord, immediately after an extraordinarily loud peal of
thunder, Heyne s relation of a hail-stone as lam-e as an
elephant, at Seringapatam, in the reign of Tippoo Sultan,
may perhaps find believers. The Ross-shire mass is
stated to have been composed of lozenge-shaped pieces,
one to three inches in size, firmly congealed together.
(120.) VI. Snow.—When time is allowed, and the pro¬
cess of precipitation and congelation takes place in a less
tumultuous manner, so as to allow the deposited particles
to. accrete according to regular arrangements, small
spiculae form, crossing one another at angles of 60°, the
primitive crystal of ice being a rhomboid'of 60° and 120°,
producing as one of its secondary forms the ren-ular
hexagonal prism, having (as all such crystals) one axis of
double refraction parallel to the axis, as is easily seen in
a sheet of ice formed in still water on exposure to
polarized light. When deposited as hoar-frost in the con¬
densation of dew, the crystallization is confused by con¬
tact with and adhesion to the radiant body, but when
supported only by air and receiving accretion on all sides,
a high degree of regularity is attained, and the most per¬
fect and symmetrical six-rayed star-like forms arise, of Meteoro-
which (drawn from actual observation of the falling ,0gy-
spangles, in very cold weather) Dr Scoresby has given
several figures, and Mr Lowe and Mr Glaisher have
more recently published series of engravings. The variety
of forms affected by these delicate mechanisms is infinite ;
the beauty of their patterns incomparable. By Mr
Glaisher’s permission we have transferred a few of his
figures to our pages (PI. XIX., figs. 2-15). Mr Lowe
has been fortunate enough to observe them in the act of
forming, and to witness the whole process of construction
of some of their most elegant and complex varieties.
(121.) It can hardly be doubted that clouds at great
elevations consist of frozen particles. The phenomena of
parhelia, and some species of halos are explicable only
by the refraction and reflexion of light in prisms, with
angles of 120° and 60°, as M. Bravais has shown (follow¬
ing up the theoretical views of Mariotte and Young) by
a neat and elegant mechanism. Now these are the
angles of the primitive rhomboid actually measured by Dr
Clark. In such clouds, at all events, vesicles cannot exist,
and in the gradual melting of the snow spangles, the laws
of capillary attraction, by filling up all re-entering
corners, would effectually preclude the inclusion of the
smallest air-bubble, though a compound snow-flake hur¬
riedly melted might now and then entangle one.
(122.) Fallen snow of even a very moderate depth,
is a powerful agent in mitigating the extreme effects of *
frost on the soil. Owing to its loose texture and its in¬
clusion of eight or ten times its bulk of air, it is a very
bad conductor; and although its upper surface may be
cooled by radiation or otherwise to a very low point, its
interposition cuts off the communication between the
chilled surface and the soil beneath it. The farmer looks
to a fall of snow as his best security for the preservation of
his autumn-sown and sprouting crops through the winter.
(123.) Level of Perpetual Snow.—Since by ascending
into the atmosphere a temperature inferior to congelation
is everywhere met with, it is evident that a mountain of
some certain elevation will have the mean temperature
of its summit at or below the freezing point; and although
it does not follow that where the mean temperature is
precisely .32°, snow will necessarily be found all the year
round (since this will depend on the greater or less
accumulation of it in the cold seasons, and on the greater
or less evaporation in the warmer ones), yet, somewhere
about this limit, and at all events at no great elevation
above it, we must expect to encounter the phenomenon
of perpetual snow. If we take 1° Fahr. for the average
depression of the thermometer for 100 yards of increased
altitude in mountain ascents, as a rough approximation
and assume 84° for the mean equatorial temperature!
this would give (84—32) x 300 ft.=15600 ft. for the
height above the sea level, at which, under favourable
circumstances, the perpetual snow line may occur under
the equator ; we say under favourable circumstances, for
it is evident that if the mean temperature of the year be
ever so little above the freezing point, we cannot expect
snow to he all the year round, especially on the summit
ot a mountain where all the water produced by melting
immediately runs off, and therefore ceases from tha°
moment to act as a reservoir of cold. Now the mean of
Humboldts determinations of this element for the moun-
tains of equatorial America from 4°.46 N. lat. to 1°.30 S.
(AsteCentraJe, pA6l, tab.) gives 4774 metres^ 15670 feet.
(124.) I his, however, must be considered as a
minimum reckoning. In the celebrated work just cited,
-LJaron Humboldt has given a table of the most authentic
determinations of the snow-level for 34 mountains
tngonometncallij measured from 71" N. lat. to 54 S. Of
660
Meteoro¬
logy-
METEOROLOGY.
these the mean annual temperatures at the sea-level are
. correspondingly stated for 18 stations calculating on
which it would appear that about 2100 feet on an
average ought to be added to the height calculated on
the decrement of temperature assumed in the last article,
to give that of the snow line.
(125.) In fact, however, no general rule or principle
of calculation can be laid down, and though attempts aie
not wanting to construct formulae which shall afford a
close approximation to the height in any geographical
position, it is impossible to place any reliance on them.
This will be the more evident when we come to consider
the causes which must of necessity influence the result.
Of these the principal are—1st, The situation of the slope
on which the snow lies on the mountain chain, with
respect to the incidence of the sun’s rays. Thus, on the
southern declivity of the Maladetta in the Pyrenees, the
level in question is nearly 1200 feet higher than on the
northern; 2d, and more especially its situation with
respect to the direction of the wind, which brings the
chief supply of moisture to be deposited in snow, and
which will naturally be heaped on that side of the moun¬
tain which acts as an obstacle to its progress. To these
causes must be added, 3dly, the greater or less steepness
of the slope; and above all, 4thly, the greater or less
degree of habitual dryness of the region in which the
mountain is situated, by which the snow itself is eva¬
porated and carried off. So great is the influence of
these causes, that in the Himalayas, where some of the
mountain peaks attain the enormous altitude of 28000
feet, the snow line on the southern side of the great
chain occurs at 13000 feet, and on the northern at
16600, or even (according to Mr Lond) 18300, the moist
winds of the SW. monsoon depositing their snow almost
wholly on the southern side, while the northern is ex¬
posed to the evapox*ation of one of the driest regions of
the globe. On the other hand, on the eastern slope of
the Cordillera, in Chili, the snow-level occurs at 15900,
while on the western it rises to 18500 (Humboldt’s Asie
Centrale, iii. 360), the difference again being attri¬
butable to the direction of the wind (the SE. trade), to
which the chain of the Andes forms a barrier, and of
which, to a certain extent, it diverts the course, and the
excessive aridity of the region between the chain and the
Pacific, in which rain is a thing almost unknown. Apart
from the illustration it affords of the distribution of
temperature in different strata of the atmosphere, the
subjects of the level of perpetual snow, the inferior pro¬
longation into glaciers, and the occasional instances
where ice occurs in caves far below the snow-line, pre¬
served throughout the summer (or even in open pits, as
in the quarries of the Niedermennig on the Rhine), belong
rather to physical geography than to meteorology proper.
(126.) VII. Atmospheric Electricity, Lightning, Thunder,
fyc.—The community of nature between lightning and
electricity was suspected from the very earliest discovery
of the electric spark, by Wall, in 1708, but it was not till
1752 that Franklin suggested the idea of obtaining
evidences of their identity by erecting pointed metallic
conductors properly insulated. The experiment was tried
in France with success, but Franklin, tired of waiting for
the erection of a pointed rod on a spire in Philadelphia,
had the happy idea of flying a kite and exploring the
string for electricity. The experiment succeeded, merit¬
ing by its success that sublime image which forms the
inscription on one of his medals,
“ Eripuit fulmen ecelo, sceptrumque tyrannis.”
Franklin’s kite was flown with ordinary pack-thread,
held by a few feet of silk line, and the electric effects ob¬
tained by him were feeble, though sparks were produced.
But Romas, using in place of a string, a fine wire, ob¬
tained, during a thunder-storm (1757), flashes of fire
nine or ten feet in length, thirty of which succeeded each
other in an hour, besides innumerable flashes of seven
feet, which, by means of a conductor, insulated by a glass
handle, he was enabled to direct at pleasure not alto¬
gether with impunity, being struck down on one occasion;
though the terrible catastrophe of July 26, 1753 (when
Professor Richmann of Petersburg was killed on the
spot while explaining to a companion the construction
and movements of an electrometer attached to his con¬
ductor) might have warned him of the dangers attending
such experiments.
(127.) By means of a wire 370 feet long, attached by
a silk cord to the top of a steeple at Maintenon, the
Abbe Mazeas, in 1753, ascertained that the presence of
a thunder-cloud is not an essential condition for the mani¬
festation of atmospheric electricity, but that in clear, dry,
and especially hot weather, electric effects are produced
at all hours between sunrise and sunset. He even
noticed a certain regularity of diurnal increase and de¬
crease. From that time the exploration of atmospheric
electricity has formed a part of meteorological enquiry.
It is performed by erecting in a clear exposure, at a con¬
siderable height, a pole, carrying at the top an insulated
and pointed metallic rod, connected with an insulated
wire to convey the electricity into a fitting place for
examination. There it communicates with an electro¬
meter, a Leyden jar, a condenser, or an apparatus for
measuring the length of the spark (if any), by which the
kind of electricity (vitreous or resinous) may be tested,
and its intensity measured and registered. When vio¬
lent, a bell is made to ring by the alternate attraction
and repulsion of a metal ball, suspended by a silk thread.
The best collector of electricity, which is often used
when a rod like a fishing rod, with an insulating handle,
is thrust out from an upper window, is a bit of amadou,
held in a metallic forceps, the smouldering smoke of which
being an excellent conductor, as it were searches the air
into which it ascends, and conveys its electricity down to
the wire attached. A sponge moistened with alcohol,
and set on fire, is also an excellent collector.
(128.) Read, to whom we owe a very elaborate series
of researches, continued almost hourly, without inter¬
mission (except for sleep), for two years (1791-2). Cou¬
lomb, Cavallo, Saussure, Schubler, Colladon, and others,
have shown that the normal character of aerial electricity
is positive or vitreous. Of 987 trials, Read found that
664 gave positive indications ; but as his method of
observation improved, he found that the ratio of posi¬
tive cases increased ; and moreover, that a great number
of the negative were only apparent, arising from induc¬
tion, the top and bottom of his rod giving contrary indi¬
cations. Out of 10500 observations made at the Kew
Observatory in 1845-47, 10176 showed positive, and
only 364 negative electricity—the latter being almost
always accompanied with heavy rain.
(129.) Not only is the normal electricity of the atmo¬
sphere positive at all seasons, hours of the day, and
places, but the intensity of its manifestation is invariably
greater the higher in it a conductor is raised. Ibis
would appear to be the case even in the very highest
regions. Thus in Gay Lussac’s ascent, a wire 150 feet
long, hung from the car of the balloon, manifested a
negative state of induced electric tension at its upper ex¬
tremity (where only it could be tested), thus indicat¬
ing a higher state of positive electricity in the highest
strata; or, in other words, the usual condition of
electric observation on the ground being reversed, and
Meteoro¬
logy.
METEOROLOGY.
661
Meteoro-
logy-
the state of the lower strata being explored by the wire,
/ it was found to be relatively negative. Hence it mani¬
festly follows that, relatively to the air, the earth’s surface
is habitually negative—the positive electricity being re¬
pelled inwards, and the negative drawn to the surface.
As moisture is withdrawn from the lower strata of the
air, by deposition in dew when evaporation ceases; so
electricity, when not in the act of being supplied from
below (as presently to be shown), is perpetually, though
slowly, drawn off by conduction.
(130.) Fog is, for the most part, strongly electric,
and invariably positive, even during the deposition
of dew. Read found the vapour near the ground,
in the act of condensing into dew, always highly elec¬
tric. The importance of this remark will presently
appear.
(131.) From the observations of Saussure, Arago,
Schubler, and others, it appears that the electric tension
of the atmosphere is subject to a diurnal periodicity with
a double maximum and minimum. The maxima occur
about 10 A. m. and 10 p. m., and the minima from noon
to 4 p. M., according to the season (summer or winter),
and a little before sunrise. The nocturnal minimum is
much more strongly marked than the diurnal. The
electric tension is also stronger in winter than in summer.
On the open sea, except during storms, there is but little
indication of atmospheric electricity, but the masts and
rioS^no ships interfere greatly with the requisite
arrangements for observing it.
(132.) The origin of aerial electricity has been
traced with every appearance of probability to evapora¬
tion. Saussure and Beccaria proved by many experi¬
ments that the rapid evaporation of water from heated
bodies gives rise to a separation of the vitreous and
resinous electricities (see Electricity), the one being
carried off by the vapour, the other remaining in the
residue or being conducted away by its support, but
nothing uniform or consistent either as to the positive or
negative character of the electricity thus conveyed into
the air, or its amount under given circumstances was
obtained, until the subject engaged the attention of M.
Pouillet, who,in a remarkable memoirreadto the Academy
of Sciences in 1825, announced the following results :—
Isi, Simple change of state from the solid or liquid to
the vaporous form of any body, is unaccompanied by any
electrical excitement. The evaporation of pure water or
of any substance not decomposed, or at least partly
decomposed in the act, produces none whatever. 2rf,
When evaporation is accompanied with chemical change,
electricity is developed. Water evaporated from alkaline
solutions carries off resinous and leaves behind vitreous
electricity. The reverse happens when it evaporates
from an acid, or from neutro-saline solutions, including
that of sea salt, or from heated iron which it oxidizes.
3rf, I he processes of vegetation in which water is abun¬
dantly separated from the other constituents of plants,
and perhaps also their disengagement of oxygen under
the influence of light, or carbonic acid under contrary
circumstances, are also sources of electricity.
(133.) Thus we are led to look to the immense evapora¬
tion both from sea and land, and to the vital processes
going on in the latter, as furnishing at least the chief
supply of electricity to the air. Volcanic eruptions and
conflagrations contribute their quota. Thus in the great
eruption of Vesuvius in 1794, described by Sir William
Hamilton, the dense cloud of mixed vapour, smoke, and
ashes, which overhung the mountain, was overcharged
with lightning, which darted around in continual flashes
(ferille) upon Somma and the slopes of the crater.
Wind, too, by its friction, or by that of the dust, &c.,
which it carries with it, may also contribute somewhat
to the general stock.
(134.) In what state free electricity exists in gaseous
matter is at present a mystery. The simplest conception
we can form, is that of its investing the ultimate molecules
of vapour as an electric coating of infinitesimal tension,
far too feeble to discharge itself from one to the other,
and so to escape by what is called “ conduction through a
moist atmosphere” If this be granted, we can conceive
the co-existence at a distance from each other of masses
of air oppositely electrified, and equally capable of giving
out a portion of their contents by contact discharge, to a
rod, wire, flame, &c., and thus explain the collection of
electricity by these means from the air, and its diversity of
character as to plus and minus.
(135.) But whatever may be the state of the ultimate
molecules of vapour, it seems impossible but that when
a great multitude of them lose their vaporous state by cold,
and coalesce into a drop or snow-spangle, however minute,
that drop will have collected and retained on its surface
Meteoro-
logy-
(according to the laws of electric equilibrium), the whole
electricity of its constituent molecules, which will there¬
fore have some finite, though very feeble tension. Now,
suppose any number (1000 for instance) of such globules
to coalesce, or that by successive deposition one should
gradually grow to 1000 times its original volume. The dia¬
meter will be only 10, and the surface 100 times increased.
But the electric contents being the sum of those of the
elementary globules, will be increased one thousand¬
fold, and being spread entirely over the surface, will have
a tenfold density {i. e. tension). This simple view of the
subject, put forward in the most distinct form, at the
very origin of the discussion of the nature of lighting by
Eeles {Phil. Tr. 1752, p. 527), needs only to be carried
a very little farther than the then state of electric know¬
ledge enabled its author to do, to render a complete expla¬
nation of all the ordinary electric phenomena. And,
first: the comparatively high electric state of fog (and
cloud is nothing else), is an obvious consequence of it.
Every minute globule of water, of which fog consists,
carries about with it an electric coating, which it is ready
to part with by constant discharge to the surface of any
conductor, and the denser the fog, and the larger its glo¬
bules, the greater the amount of electricity given out.
Again, the electricity of the superficial air occasioned by
the deposition of dew, is in perfect accordance with this
view, and is a corollary from the general proposition too
obvious to need insisting on. Again, as regards the
diurnal fluctuation, when the air is exhausted of its vapour
by night deposition in dew, and by upward diffusion
without a new supply, the electricity is at its minimum.
It increases as new vapour rises under the influence of
the ascending sun, decreases again (though not much) as
the increasing warmth of the air renders it more capable
of holding the still larger amount of vapour uncondensed,
and as the vapour itself rises rapidly to form cloud,
increases again as night comes on, dew begins to form
at sunset, and vapour to settle into globules by atmos¬
pheric radiation, and once more decreases as the quantity
of these electrified globules diminishes by deposition and
diffusion. There is no doubt a certain amount of slow
conduction back into the soil, the intimate nature of which
it is very difficult to conceive rightly, but of which the
phenomena of electricity of weak tension furnish abun¬
dant examples by which a considerable portion of the
electricity near the surface is returned to the earth, and
■which is more effective, the more u relatively moist” is
the air, and by which the march of the diurnal fluctua¬
tion, and its epochs of maxima and minima, are materially
influenced.
662
Meteoro-
logy-
METEOROLOGY.
(136.) When condensation of vapour takes place aloft,
as when a cloud is formed, the tension on the surface of
its globules may increase by the process explained, till a
portion of the electricity is enabled to work its way to
the surface of the cloud, regarded as a conductor, though
a bad one, by the general law of electric equilibrium,
which tends to throw out the fluid to the surface, and
universally, no doubt, the exterior of a cloud is in a
higher state of tension than the interior, and its under
surface, as opposite the earth, than its upper. When
the almost infinite dimensions of a cloud, in comparison
with one of its constituent globules, is considered, it must
be evident that, were the whole electricity of each globule
thus at once determined to the surface, a tension so enor¬
mous would arise as would discharge the whole in a single
flash, at whatever height the cloud might be. But this
is assuredly not the case. Probably but a very minute
fraction of the interior electricity is at once conveyed to
the surface, the further communication being delayed
until the exterior tension is relieved, either by slow dissi¬
pation or by self-discharge. When this happens, the
accumulation commences anew by the same kind of per¬
colation (if we may use the term to express the outward
struggle of the electricity of the globules), till another and
another discharge at length exhaust the supply.
(137.) It will easily be seen, that when thousands of
these electriferous globules again further coalesce into
rain drops, a great and sudden increase of tension at their
surface must take place. Their electricity, then, is
enabled to spring from drop to drop, and rushing in an
instant of time from all parts of the cloud to the surface,
a flash is produced. Accordingly, in thunder-storms,
it is the commonest of all phenomena to find each great
flash succeeded by a sudden rush of rain at such an inter¬
val of time as maybe supposed to have been occupied in
its descent. The sudden precipitation of large quantities
of rain, and especially of hail, which is formed in a cold
region where the insulating power of the air is great, is
almost sure to be accompanied with lightning, which the
usual perversity of meteorologists, where electricity is in
question, long persisted, and even yet persists, with few
exceptions, in regarding as the cause, and not the con¬
sequence of the precipitation. Ihe theories of the elec¬
trical formation of hail which have been advanced,
indeed appear to us too absurd to need a moment s consi¬
deration. The utmost amount of electrical agency which
we can conceive influential in determining precipitation,
is the sudden relief of tension on the discharge of a flash,
which may permit, and perhaps by the vibration of the
air in the thunderclap cause, the coalescence of globules
into drops, which would otherwise have been kept asun¬
der by their mutual repulsion. As a cause of winds, or any
atmospheric movements not merely molecular, we attri¬
bute to it no importance whatever. As a chemical, and
still more as a magnetic agent, however, there is every
reason to believe atmospheric electricity to play a very
important part in the economy of nature, as we cannot
but admit the possibility at least of a connection between
the diurnal variations in the electric state of the general
atmosphere and the diurnal inequalities of terrestrial
magnetism; and the transformation of oxygen into ozone
(the most powerful of all known disinfectants) by the
electric spark (and therefore on a larger scale by light¬
ning), is not a matter of conjecture but of experiment.
(138.) There is one phenomenon which at first sight
seems opposed to the view we have taken of the produc¬
tion of lightning—the negative electricity frequently^
observed during the descent of rain. But the researches
of Faraday {Phil. Trans., 1843) have shown that the
friction of water-drops (when pure) against all substances
(and therefore probably against air) develops negative
electricity most powerfully in the substance rubbed.
And the probability is converted into certainty by the
fact that the spray of a descending waterfall fills the air
around with negative electricity, sensible even at several
hundred feet distance. It is probably to this cause that
we must attribute the rapid alternations of positive and
negative indications in the atmosphere which always
attend thunder-storms.
(139.) It is certain that the flashes of lightning are
often some miles in length. The prolonged roar, inter¬
rupted by explosions, of the thunder, which, excited at
the same instant along the whole course of the flash,
reaches the ear in succession by the transmission of sound
at a uniform rate from every point, sufficiently proves
this. Nothing is more common than to see flashes of
lightning subtending at the eye an angle of 30°, the
nearest point of which, estimated by the commencement
of the thunder, cannot be less than two or three miles
distant, and which its prolongation proves to be very
oblique to the line of sight. We have been assured by
a celebrated Abyssinian traveller, that he has seen flashes
in that country extending from horizon to horizon, and
which he could not estimate as under 50 or 100 miles in
length. It is evident, then, that the electricity in light¬
ning does not merely spring across a nonconducting
interval to the nearest object (which in most cases would
be the earth), but finds a path of ease, and is led on from
interval to interval (as its zigzags denote) along a line of
least resistance, and is not improbably reinforced in its
course by other electricity not of itself intense enough to
break the obstacle opposed to its escape.1 By far the
greater number of discharges are made into air or into
less electrified cloud, and only a very small percentage
into the earth.
(140.) Of those which do so, the destructive effects
are well known, and volumes might be filled with in¬
stances of their amazing power, and capricious and unac¬
countable forms of its manifestation (Arago, Bureau
des Long. 1838.) We shall mention only one or two
as specimens. In a storm at Ludgvan, in Cornwall,^ as
related by Borlase, Phil. Trans., 1753, a flash of lightning
striking a chimney-stack of hewn stone four feet square,
carried it bodily away, and threw it into a pond twenty
feet distant. In another, described by Arago, a wall
containing twenty-six tons of brick-work was carried
en masse, retaining its vertical position, nine feet from
its place. W^e have seen a large oak tree, near Alton,
Hants, which was rent into ribands, and every limb of
which had been struck off as if by an axe, and had fallen
around the tree, as by mere privation of support, with¬
out lateral projection. In producing these effects, the
electricity would seem to act immediately by the expan¬
sion of vapour generated by its violent heat. When it
strikes into deep sand, it produces those extraordinary
hollow tubes of fused quartz ! known as <£ fulgurites, of
which the British Museum possesses a magnificent speci¬
men, dug out near Dresden by Prof. Fiedler. Other
effects of lightning are recorded in the Athenaeum,
No. mdxxxv., March 28, 1857, too marvellous to be
Meteoro¬
logy.
1 This is not a mere hypothesis. In an experiment suggested by the author to the late Professor Daniell, and performed as soon
as suggested, the striking distance of a voltaic battery was greatly increased by passing a common electric spark from the posi ive
the negative pole. The vastly increased striking distance of a magneto-electric combination in the neighbourhood of name, m w nc
its detours may be observed, affords a perfect illustration of the process described in the text.
M E T E O
Meteoro- recounted here, but which, should they be verified, would
, open quite a new field of inquiry in electrical research.
(141.) Thunder-storms occur with very unequal fre¬
quency in different geographical situations. In Jamaica,
according to Mr Graham Hutchinson, a thunder-storm
bursts over the mountains near Port Royal every day
from the beginning of November to the middle of April,
at about 1 h. p.m., continuing about an hour and a half.
In the neighbourhood of Cape Town, thunder-storms are
few and feeble, while on the eastern coast of South
Africa they are frequent and violent. The one region
is arid, the other well watered.
(142.) The quantity of electricity discharged during
some storms must be enormous. In the storm of Aug.
23-4, 1855, the blaze of lightning was almost uninter¬
rupted for many hours, from a series of clouds passing
from west to east, in two lines, over the south of England.
The commencement of the SW. monsoon in India, in
May 1848, was marked by “a thunder-storm extending
over 600 miles from N. to S., and measuring 50 miles
in breadth.” The thunder-storm of September 3, 1841,
“ visited at the same time London, Paris, Rouen, Magney,
Lille, and Evereux.”—{Thomson). The mere evaporation
of water would seem at first sight inadequate for the
supply of so vast an expenditure, were it not that we
learn from Dr Faraday that the chemical action of a
“ grain of water on four grains of zinc can evolve a
quantity of electricity equal to that of a powerful flash
of lightning !”—{Phil. Trans., 1834, p. 117.)
Systematic View of Meteorological Periodicities — General
Principles of Climatology.
(143.) The climatology of the globe is the summary
of our knowledge of the climates of all the places on its
surface, so presented to our minds as to convey the
notion of law, and give it an ideal unity. To do this it
is necessary to study seriatim the elements which enter
into our estimate of climate, and follow out the course
of the variations of each,—ls£, independently of the
others, and then in connection with them, or, in other
words, to determine for each of these elements, ls£, its
mean or average amount, as measured in its appropriate
units; 'idly, the extent and laws of its deviations from
that amount; and, Sdly, their mutual interdependence, or
the reaction of each element on the rest. Such features
as are not susceptible of definite measurement, as have
no appropriate units, or as we have no instruments
competent to measure, must of course be excluded.
Looked upon in this general point of view, the science
in question can hardly be considered as advanced beyond
its infancy.
(144.) It is a dynamical law absolutely universal, and
one which extends even beyond the domain of mere
dynamics, that all periodicity in the action of a cause
propagates itself into every, even the remotest, effect of
that cause, through whatever chain of intei'mediate
arrangements the action is carried out. When the effect
is indirect, and especially when it is the result of one
and the same law of periodicity in the same cause operat¬
ing circuitously through several systems of intermediate
connection, the numerical valuation of the effect (which,
in the simplest case of direct action, depends on the cal¬
culation of an expression of the form A + B . sin. {nt + C),
where A is the mean or average value of the result, B,
C constant quantities, and nt an arc proportional to the
time directly, and the length of the period inversely) re¬
solves itself into that of a series of similar terms, con¬
taining not merely nt, but its multiples 2 nt, 3 nt, &c.,
each with its own appropriate constants, and which
ROLOGY. 663
therefore run through their periods respectively in half, Meteoro-
one-third, &c., of the period from which they originate,
Thus, if the original period be a diurnal one, and 6 be
the time converted into arc at 15° per hour, the ultimate
expression of the effect will always put on the form
E = A + B sin. (0 + C) -t-B' sin. (2 0 + C') + &c.,
in which A is the mean or average value of the effect in
question, and B, C, B', O', &c. constants determined a
priori, if such determination be possible ; if not, by obser¬
vation from the comparison of as extensive a series as pos¬
sible of registered values corresponding to determinate
instants of time. The term containing 6, which runs
through its period in a day, expresses the leading feature
of the effect—that which gives it its character of a diurnal
fluctuation; the others, which run through theirs re¬
spectively in 12h., 8h., 6h., &c., express subordinate
fluctuations, more or less materially modifying the law
of its increase and diminution, and the epochs of its
maximum and minimum, and in certain cases giving rise
to double maxima and minima in the twenty-four hours.
In meteorology, it has hitherto been seldom found neces¬
sary to carry such series out beyond their third terms.
(145.) When the acting cause is subject to two or
more distinct periodical fluctuations, these make their
appearance in the numerical expression of the effect
under the form of periodical combinations, such as may
arise from multiplying together terms of a similar form
containing nt, and another arc n't similarly derived from
the other period. In astronomical researches these are
usually resolved into sines and cosines of the sums or dif¬
ferences of nt, n’t, and of their multiples. But in meteor¬
ology this would be inconvenient, and a different mode
of regarding such combinations is found preferable for
the following reason :—
(146.) The sun’s action being the ultimate efficient
cause of all meteorological change, every meteorological
fluctuation of a regular character will arrange itself, on
the principle above laid down, into diurnal and annual
periodicities, including under this expression semi¬
diurnal and semi-annual ones, &c., and such as may re¬
sult from their superposition (leaving out of question the
period of 11T1 years, depending on the constitution of
the sun itself, see art. 7). But the year being a very
great multiple of the day, we may regard the solar
agency as practically invariable during a single day, or
such a small number of successive days as may suffice to
bring out the full diurnal effect, which comes to the same
thing as adopting in general the diurnal form of expres¬
sion,
E = A + B. sin. (0+ C) + B'. sin. (2 0+ C') + &c.
for the fluctuating effect, and regarding the co-efficients
A, B, C, &c., as constant for any single day, but each
subject to an annual periodicity, and as being, each of
them, expressible under the same general form, substitut¬
ing for 6 the corresponding annual arc—for which, if we
choose, we may use the sun’s mean longitude. Thus each
of the co-efficients of the diurnal formulm,
A + B . sin. (0 + C) + B'. sin. (2 0 -f C') + &c.
comes to be regarded as itself a periodical function of
the form,
a + b. sin. (© -f- c) + 5'. sin. (2 0 -f d) -f &c.,
© being the sun’s mean longitude.
(147.) Every one of these co-efficients, whether diur¬
nal or annual, generally considered, is dependent on the
geographical position of the place of observation ; in
other words, is a function of the latitude, longitude,
and elevation above the sea-level of that place, which,
664 METEOR
Meteoro- being arbitrary and of unknown form, may be considered
I°gy- as embodying all the local peculiarities of whatever
nature ; and it is not until all these co-efficients are de¬
termined, or at least all which have an appreciable mag¬
nitude, for each meteorological element—in temperature,
barometric pressure, tension of vapour, rain, &c.,
wind, and electricity—that the climate of the place can
be said to be fully known.
(148.) Any one of these functions, though its analy¬
tical form maybe quite beyond the reach of our enquiry,
yet, by a sufficiently extensive and continuous combina¬
tion of observation and calculation, carried on upon a
system presently to be explained, may become known
numerically, and tabulated for every accessible part of
the globe ; and being so tabulated, the points at which it
has equal values may be laid down on a globe or chart,
and being connected by a continuous line, and this done
for a succession of values, progressing by convenient and
regular intervals in its scale of magnitude, from the
maximum which it has in any part of the globe down to
the minimum wffiich occurs anywhere; a series of level
lines, or isometeoriclines (if we may coin a word to convey
the general notion) will arise, which will present to the eye
the progression and connection of this particular co-effi¬
cient over the world. Exactly as if wishing to convey,
for instance, an idea of the exterior form of the solid
surface of the globe, we should commence by delineating
the coast-lines of the continents and islands, which are
the level-lines for 0 ft. from the sea-level, and similarly
laying down points wherever the height of 100 ft. above,
or depth of 100 ft. below, the sea occurred, and con¬
necting them, should get the level lines of + 100 ft. or
— 100 ft., i.e., what would be the coast-lines were the
sea to rise or sink 100 ft.; and so on, to the tops of the
mountains and extreme depths of the ocean.
(149.) This mode of exhibiting to the eye by a pic¬
ture (a picture which might become a model by execut¬
ing it in relief) the law of variation of a function
known only by observation, over the surface of the globe,
or any particular district of it, was first devised by Hal¬
ley to express the law of the variation of the magnetic
compass, but first introduced into meteorology by Hum¬
boldt, to exhibit the law of distribution of tempera¬
ture, by laying down a system of Isothermic lines, or those
in which the mean annual temperature is alike throughout;
that is to say, in which the co-efficient, a, in the expression
for the mean temperature of the whole year, viz.,
a + h. sin. (0 + c) + &c., is constant; and which, there¬
fore, serve to connect in idea, as places having at least
one very eminent meteorological feature in common, all
those points in the globe which receive (from whatever
cause) the same annual total of heat. To these lines we
shall recur hereafter. Climatology as a science (or
rather as a branch of physical geography, to which, rather
than to meteorology, it properly belongs), would be com¬
plete, or nearly so, if we possessed a complete atlas of
such charts, each containing the isometeoric lines for all
the really influential co-efficients, both annual and diur¬
nal (which are not very numerous), exhibiting the mean
values of each of the annual co-efficients from the obser¬
vations of many years, and the mean values and annual
maxima and minima of each of the diurnal ones. Hitherto
only a few of such lines have been traced, and that im¬
perfectly, viz., thelines suggested by Humboldt, or the Iso¬
thermal, Isothei al, and Isocheimal lines, or those in which
the general mean temperature, the mean summer tempera¬
ture, and the mean winter temperature are respectively
constant; the Isogeothermal lines of Kupffer, in which the
mean temperature of the soil is constant (and which are not
always identical with the Isothermals), the Isobarometric
OL O G Y.
lines of Kamtz, in which the limits of fluctuations Meteoro-
of barometric pressure are equal (a series of which it is
not easy to see the use), and a few others. We shall
now proceed to consider by what means such knowledge
can most readily and effectually be attained.
(150.) Determination of Meteorological Averages and Co¬
efficients.—The general form into which, as we have seen,
every meteorological quantitative expression can be thrown,
clearly indicates the system of observation which ought
to be followed, so as to lead most directly to a knowledge
of their mean values. It is a well-known property of the
sine or cosine of an arc, that if the circumference be
divided into any number, n, of equal parts, 6, we shall have,
sin. (^ + c) sin. (2 0 -j- c) -j- sin. (re 0 + c) = 0
Suppose, then, we would ascertain the diurnal mean, A, of
any element, E, supposed to be expressible as in art. 144.
Were we sure that E contained only one periodical term,
B . sin. (d-)- C), it would suffice to make a series of obser¬
vations at intervals of 12 hours, on summing up which, as
the -f- and — values of this term would destroy each other,
the sum divided by the number would afford the value of A.
If an eight-hourly interval be substituted for a twelve, a
like summation will eliminate the terms depending both
on 6 and 2 6; if a six-hourly one, those depending on 6,
2 d, and 3 6, and so on. So far as meteorological compu¬
tation has hitherto been carried, this would appear to be
in most cases sufficient, the co-efficients of the successive
terms diminishing rapidly. From a simple observation
per diem, no average can be concluded, except it be made
at such an hour as experience shows to be that on which
the quantity observed has usually its mean value. This
differs for each element and for each locality, and is
itself a desirable item of meteorological inquiry.
(151.) Annual means may be obtained by summing
diurnal ones. If the series be incomplete, two courses
may be followed, viz., 1st, By subdividing the year into
monthly groups, calculating the means for each month
from the observations recorded, and taking a mean of the
twelve results; or, 2dly, By striking out days corre¬
sponding to those deficient at 3- or 4- monthly inter¬
vals from each.
(152.) The law of fluctuation requires us to know the
values of the several constants which enter into the
periodical terms. To do this effectually from a series of
recorded observations, requires the application of the
“ method of least squares.” If the observations be nume¬
rous, and made at irregular hours, this is attended with a
frightful amount of calculation; but if they form a re¬
gular series made at definite hours of the day, and either
complete, for many days, or capable of being completed by
the insertion of the deficient observations according to any
observed law of progression, or in the absence of such law, by
a mean of the adjacent day's observations at homologous hours,
nothing can be simpler or more expeditious than the treat¬
ment of such a series by least squares, so as to give the
most probable values of the constants. The following
practical rule, the investigation of which is, we believe,
originally due to Bessel, will give them:—
(153.) Suppose we have such a series of observations
at epochs 6,2 6,3 6, n 6= dividing any entire period
into equal intervals, reckoning from and up to the end
of the period, or any other convenient epoch. Let
Si, Sg, .... Sra be the sums of the observed values, at
homonymous epochs, throughout the series. Look out,
in a table of sines and cosines, for the sines and cosines
of 6, 2 6, .... n 6 converted into degrees at the rate of
15° per hour for the diurnal, or 30° per month for the
annual fluctuation (or their logarithms, if we proceed
logarithmically), and call the sines in succession sl5 st,
METEOROLOGY.
665
.... sn, and the cosines Ci, c^, ... cn, observing that 0
and cn — 1. This done, compute the quantities ao>
 an, bi, . . . . bn, by the following formulae, in
which N is the total number of observations at all the
epochs.
«0 = (Si + Sg +. .. . Sn)
JN
2
(cq Si + C2 S2 + • • • • Cn Srt)
2
«2 = (C2 Si + Cl S2 + C2n Sn)
2
«3 = ^ (C3 Sl+ C6S2+ C3„ S») &C.
2
——- (si Si + S3 S2 + Sn Sfi)
and so on. These will be the tnost probable values,
respectively, of the co-efficients in the general expression
of E under the periodical form,
E = a0+ «i .cosJ+Sj.sin. 0 + a2.cos.2 0 + &2.sin. 20+&C.
which may then be transformed into
E =s= ao + Bi . sin. {Q + Ci) + B2 . sin. (2 0 + C2) + &c.
by taking B = va2 +^2 j tan. C —
(154.) In the practical application of this formula, it is
not necessary that the number of the terms of which the
final result E is to consist, should be pushed farther than
necessity or convenience may require, and it is a pecu¬
liarly valuable property of these expressions, that if the
approximation be stopped at any one term, as, for instance,
at the term Bi. sin. (0 + Ci), and the co-efficients Bi and
Ci be determined accordingly, then should it be consi¬
dered afterwards desirable to carry it a term farther, so
as to include the next sub-period expressed by the term
B2 . sin. (2 0 + €2)5 it is not necessary to recompute the
former co-efficients, their values remaining unaltered, so
that the several sub-periodic terms are separately and
independently calculable from any complete series of obser¬
vations, just as if the others had no existence. And
moreover, the constitution of the formulae is such that
any number of complete cycles of observation may be
treated as a single cycle, by taking the means of the
recorded observations at homonymous epochs, and thus
forming from them a single cycle.
(155.) For example, supposing we have a series of
mean monthly results, obtained during a series of years,
for any meteorological element, such as temperature, and
we wish to deduce from them the law of the annual fluc¬
tuation. In the first place, we take the mean of all the
results for January as a new January mean, of February
for February, and so on, and denoting their means so
obtained in their order, by Si, S2, S3, .... S12. If we
wish merely to obtain the most probable mean annual
temperature, we use the expression,
A=i { Si + S2+ ....S12 }
If we would now carry the inquiry one step farther,
and determine the amount of fluctuation regarding the
curve of temperature as one of a single undulation, ne¬
glecting subordinate flexures and sub-periods, we retain
the same value of A, and calculate Bj and Cj by the for-
6 ai = (Si — S5 — S7 + S11) . cos. 30°
+ (S2 — S4 — 83+ S10) • cos. 60°
— 83 + S12
6 5!= (Si + 85 — 87 — 812) • sin. 30°
+ S2 + Si —S8 — S10) . sin. 60°
+ S3-S9
Bi = >]a\ + b\; tan. Ci
And if we would now go on farther to investigate the
semi-annual sub-period, or that depending on 2 0, we re¬
tain the means of A, Bi, Ci, already computed, and still
using the same sums Si, S2, &c., go on to find a2, 52, and
from them B2 and C2 by the formulae,
6 a2 = (Si — S2 — S4 + S5 + Sy — Sg — S10 + Sn)
x cos. 60°
— S'5 + Ss — 89 + S12
6 52 = (Si + S3 — S4 —>85 + S7 + S8 — S10 — Sn)
x sin. 60°
  a2
B2 — Va2 + 5; ; tan. C2 = —.
z i o-i
In applying which it will be remembered, of course,
that as the means Si, S2, &c., belong to the middle of
the months, the values of 0 corresponding to them are 30p,
60°, &c., so that the commencement of the year from which
0 reckons, is, in effect, placed in the middle of Decem¬
ber. If we reckon the time, then, from the beginning of
January, this amounts to putting 0” + 15° for 0; or,
retaining the same values of the co-efficients A, Bi, B2,
&c., increasing Ci by 15°, C2 by 30°, &c. For the
thii*d term, the co - efficients are still more simple in
their expression, viz.,
6 «3 = — S2 + S4 — Sg + Sg — S10 + S12
6 53 = + Si — S3 + S5 — S7 + Sg — S11
(156.) The application of the formulae is equally
simple and easy in every other case; and, in fact, such is
its facility, that it leaves no excuse to meteorologists for
not reducing their observations, and should act as a
powerful recommendation to induce them, in all cases,
to conform to its requisitions in arranging the times of
their observations.
(157.) All that depends on regular periodic action may
be represented in this manner by periodic functions, the
co-efficients of which, as determined by observations for
any place, embody the resultant of the mode in which
the action is propagated to the place. Each of them is
therefore, no doubt, inherently a function of the latitude
and longitude of the place, but one complicated with and
dependent on the whole geographical system of the globe
as one of its data — the configuration of its land, the
height and arrangement of its mountain chains, nay,
even the depths of its seas and the form of their beds ;
since all these elements enter into the list of causes which
determine the arrival of heat, wind, and moisture at the
place.
(158.) It is the task of the practical meteorologist,
each at his own station, to furnish his quota of recorded
observation towards carrying out this great work—a
task tedious, perhaps, and requiring, like all scientific
operations, care in observing and precision of statement,
but easy in itself, and full of interest at least to such as
are able and willing to execute the reduction of their
own observations, and thereby to furnish (so to speak)
not merely a lump of material rude from the quarry, but
a stone hewn and squared on the spot, and ready to take
its fitting place in the general edifice. Having fixed on
the range and scope of his observations, the instruments
whose indications he proposes to record, and the hours
at which his personal convenience, and the dependable
means at his command will enable him to record them,
4 p
Meteoro¬
logy-
VOL. XIY.
666
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- all he has to do is to pay scrupulous attention to obviate
—everything which may tend to derange the adjustment of
his instruments, or affect the fairness of their exposure—to
read them off accurately, and register the readings faith¬
fully, and to adhere precisely to system in their reduc¬
tion. It should be remembered, however, that no series
of observations can be considered of any value for the
determination of the diurnal co-efficients in which the
twenty-four hours are not equally divided by the epochs
of observation, and of comparatively little if they be
fewer than four in number; the most advantageous hours
for which, generally speaking, will be found to be 3 h.
and 9 h. a.m. and p.m., or 4 h. and 10 h. a.m. and p.m.,
should the habits of the observer render the 3 h. a.m.
observation very irksome.
(159.) To those observers, however, whose means will
allow them to avail themselves of the resources which
modern art affords, the principles of photographic and
mechanical self-registry, which have of late been ap¬
plied to all the most important instruments, affords an
alleviation of all the tedium of personal attendance, and
supplies what personal observation never can do — an
unbroken record of the march of each instrument during
the night as well as the day. On the occasion of a re¬
ward of £500, offered in 1846 by the Lords Commis¬
sioners of the Admiralty, for the discovery of an avail¬
able application of photography for such purposes, two
systems of procedure were devised and carried into effect
by Mr Brooke and Mr Ronalds, the one at the
Royal Observatory at Greenwich, the other at the
observatory of the British Association at Kew, both of
which have been found perfectly adequate to the object,
not only of meteorological, but of magnetic self-registry.
Without going into minutise (which the reader will find
stated for the former system in the Introduction to the
Greenwich Observations for 1847, and for the other
in three papers published in the Transactions of the
Royal Society for 1847. We may state the general
principle of Mr Brooke’s method in few words as
follows : — Paper being prepared sufficiently sensitive
to receive an impression from the light of an argand
or camphine lamp by night, and'•the reflected light of
the sky by day, is stretched between two rollers, so as
to be wound on one and unwound from the other uni¬
formly by clock - work, receiving, as it travels, punc¬
tures or marks made on it by an appropriate mechanism,
at equal intervals of time, suppose hourly, and which,
therefore, convert the space travelled over into a scale of
time capable of being read off by a scale of equal parts,
if necessary. The direction of the motion of the paper
is perpendicular to that in which the indicating point of
the instrument to be registered moves, whether that be
the end of a column of mercury rising and falling (as in
the stem of a thermometer, or in the tube of a barometer),
on an index arm capable of carrying a screen pierced
with a hole to transmit a small pencil of light. If the
former, the light is so arranged that only the vacant
part of the stem or tube above the mercury shall
allow a free passage for it to reach the paper, the sha¬
dow of the mercury cutting off all below. If the lat¬
ter, the whole paper is shaded except that point which
happens at each instant to be behind the hole. In the
one case, the boundary of light and shadow is marked by
a curve terminating the continuous photographic impres¬
sion formed by the unrolling of the paper; in the other,
the impression itself takes the form of a curve line, of
which the ordinate indicates the reading of the instru¬
ment at the moment of time indicated by the abscissa.
To facilitate the subsequent reading off of these curves
the graduation of the scale (in the case of the thermome¬
ter), is marked on the paper by the shadows of wires Meteoro-
carried across the stem at each degree. In Mr Ronalds’ kgy.
second or improved method, described in the third of the
papers above cited, an image of the index point ter¬
minal line of mercury, or other object which defines the
reading of the instrument, is formed by an achromatic
lens on the moving paper. One or other of these sys¬
tems of self-registry, or some equivalent one, is, or
ought to be, adopted wherever meteorological observa¬
tion is carried on as a part of the regular business of
a public establishment. Taken in conjunction with
the mechanical self-registry of the anemometer, and
with that by which the rain-gauge is made to empty
itself whenever a definite quantity of rain is collected,
and to record the number of such emptyings, and the
weight of water it contains at each hour, the system of
self-registry may be regarded as complete.
(160.) For the special reductions which each kind of
instrument requires, the nature of its adjustments, and
the precautions to be observed in its use, we must refer
the reader to the descriptions of the several instruments
in other parts of this work under their proper heads; to the
Admiralty Manual of Scientific Inquiry already referred
to, and the Report of the Royal Society on the occasion of
Captain Ross’ Antarctic Expedition in 1840 ; and to the
former of these works for a detail of the particulars which
a complete meteorological register ought to embrace, and
the most convenient and advantageous form of statement
it admits.
(161.) Of the distribution of barometric pressure, audits
periodical fluctuations.—The mean barometric pressure on
any place is of course dependent on its height above the
sea level, so that each locality has corresponding to it a
certain individual correction or reduction to the sea level,
which affects equally all its barometric observations,
When the level of the place is trigonometrically ascer¬
tained, the mean temperature of the station being known,
this reduction may be exactly computed; and were itafact
that the mean barometric pressure at the sea level were
everywhere the same, the height of every place might be
determined from the mean height of the barometer as
given by observation. This, however, is not the case.
We have already seen (art. 54) that in the open ocean
the pressure diminishes on approaching the equator from
either side, as well as the reason for this diminution.
But this is not all. The atmosphere is not in a state of
statical equilibrium, nor are the forms of its strata of
equal density identical (as they would be in that case)
with the ellipsoids of equal level, for the very obvious
reason, that the surface of a fluid in motion (even when
unagitated by waves), is not that of the same fl^jd at rest.
The surface of a river, though smooth, is not a horizon¬
tal, but an inclined plane. That of a swift stream with
an unequal bottom is not a plane at all, but a surface of
ridges and depressions, fixed in place and permanent in
form, as is seen in the familiar case of the ripple caused
by a smooth round stone at some depth below the surface;
hence we might be prepared to expect great differences
between the surfaces of equal level and of equal density
in the interior of extensive continents, where the atmo¬
sphere, swept en masse from the sea, up the gradual slope
of the land surface, is lifted with all its strata preserving
their relative bearings on each other, the extent of ele¬
vated country on all sides tending to prevent lateral
overflow. Under such circumstances there may, or rather
must, exist great discordances between the trigonometric
and barometric determinations of altitudes (the only form
in which the cause in question can make its appearance),
and which, it may be remarked generally, go to render
all barometric determinations uncertain in windy weather.
7
METEOEOLOGY.
667
Meteoro- (162.) What may not, however, he so obvious, or rather
Iogy- , what, when first proposed, appears quite paradoxical, is
Y that, even in the open ocean, there exist extensive tracts
in which a permanent depression of the barometer to the
enormous extent of an inch and upwards (equivalent to
an elevation of 800 feet above the sea level), is found to
prevail. Such a tract is the whole extent of the Antarc¬
tic Ocean, from 63° to 74° S. lat., and 8° to 7° W. long,
as ascertained by Sir James C. Ross {Voyage of the Ere¬
bus and Terror, ii. 376, 385); and a corresponding
depression, though not to so great an extent, appears,
by the observations of Ermann, to exist in the region
nearly diametrically opposite, about the Sea of Ochotzk,
and in the interior of the Asiatic continent of that neigh¬
bourhood.
(163.) It is impossible not to perceive, in these singular
phenomena, the evidence of the existence of what must be
regarded as a fixed system of ripples in the general atmo¬
sphere, caused by the great system of circulation in both
hemispheres, of the trades and anti-trades reacting on the
general mass of the continents as obstacles in their path,
and dependent for their depths and limiting forms on the
configuration of the surface of the land. The progressive
change of mean atmospheric pressure at sea, in proceed¬
ing from the equator southwards, is stated by Sir J. Ross
as follows :—
Lat. South.
0° O'
13 0
22 17
34 48
42 53
45 0
49 8
Mean Pressure.
29.974
30.016
30.085
30.023
29.950
29.664
29.469
Lat. South.
51°33'
54 26
55 52
60 0
66 0
74 0
Mean Pressure.
29.497
29.347
29.360
29.114
29.078
28.928
(164.) For northern latitudes, the results hitherto col¬
lected run very irregularly. Meteorologically, however,
this is not a cause which would appear to be productive
of any marked train of consequences. And in relation
to the matter at present in hand, it goes only to show,
that the first term of the periodic function expressing the
barometric pressure, is not an absolute constant, even for
the ocean, but that it has to be tabulated and worked out
by local observation into a system of isobarometric lines,
carried indifferently over both sea and land, and, as
regards the latter, distinct from the level lines. We are
far, indeed, from any approach to the construction of
such a system.
(165.) The periodic fluctuations of the barometer are
annual and diurnal. The consideration of the former
will enable us to form a neater conception of the mode
in which the latter arise. When it is summer in one
hemisphere it is winter in the other. Hence (See art.
78), the air generally incumbent on the heated hemi¬
sphere is dilated, and expands both upwards and late¬
rally, as well by its own increased elasticity as by the
increased production of vapour. It therefore not only
encroaches on the other hemisphere by lateral extension,
but what is far more influential, flows over upon it. In
order to perceive clearly the nature of the process, we
must separate in idea the aqueous and aerial constituents
of the portion of atmosphere so transferred. The gene¬
ration of the former goes on in the heated hemisphere,
and replaces, in part at least, the loss of pressure arising
from the transfer of air, while in the other the excess of
vapour so introduced is constantly undergoing precipita¬
tion, and is thus continually being withdrawn from the
total mass, leaving behind it, however, to accumulate, the
dry air which accompanied it. Thus, if we regard the
total barometric pressure as subdivided into that of the
dry air and of the aqueous vapour, and denote the for¬
mer by P, the latter byj>, we see that the dry pressure
P is diminished in the hot, and increased in the cold
hemisphere, without any countervailing action, while p
is in process of increase from below by evaporation, and of
diminution from above by overflow, in the former : and
vice versa, in the latter. If, then, the observed barome¬
tric pressure at every point in either hemisphere be
analysed by calculation into its two constituents, by taking
account of the hygrometric state of the atmosphere, and
subtracting from the total pressure P +p the portion
p due to the amount of vapour present, the remainders
ought to exhibit, as a general result, an excess of dry
pressure P in the winter hemisphere over that in the
summer.
(166.) So far as observation has hitherto gone, this
result is perfectly corroborated, though unfortunately
there are not yet accumulated sufficiently numerous and
extensive series of observations in which the effects of the
aqueous pressure can be duly separated from the dry.
As examples, we shall select the series for the Indian
stations, Calcutta, Benares, Seringapatam, and Poonah,
calculated by Dove from the observations of Prinsep
Sparmann and Colonel Sykes, as compared with that at
Apenrade from those of Neuber, and with the results
obtained at the Meteorological Observatories of Prague,
Toronto, and Hobart Town, v.d.l.
Stations.
Calcutta,
Benares,
Seringapatam,
Poonah,
Apenrade,
Prague,
Toronto,
Hobart Town,
P, PHESSUKE OF DRY AIR.
Max. in
Min. in
p, PRESSURE OP VAPOUR.
Max. in Min. in Differ.
Jan.
Dec.
Jan.
Dec.
Feb.
Dec.
Dec.
July
July
July
J une
June
July
July
July
Nov.
Differ.
inches.
X.Ol 9
1.244
0.455
0.760
0.450
0.383
0.271
0.218
Aug.
July
May
July
July
July
Aug.
Feb.
Jan.
Dec.
Jan.
Dec.
Jan.
Jan.
Feb.
July
inches.
0.551
0.645
0.217
0.435
0.346
0.285
0.380
0.125
These are large quantities ; but we see that as the maxi¬
ma of P correspond in point of time with the minima
of p, it is only their differences which constitute the total
or observed annual fluctuation of barometric pressure.
(167.) Since, as observed (art. 165), the annual fluc¬
tuation of p is the result of an excess of supply over
expense in one hemisphere, and of expense over supply
in the other, it may very well happen that the annual
fluctuation of p in certain localities may exceed that of
P, and being in a contrary direction, may either neutralize
the fluctuation of the gross pressure P + jo, or convert it
into one of an opposite character. This, however, is but
rarely the case, and where instances of it do occur as at
Sta. Fe de Bogota, and Bangalore {Kdmtz, ii. 299), they
are for the most part readily enough accounted for by
the influence of local peculiarities. J
(168.) If we consider that in general the values of P
and p, regarded independently, fluctuate in opposite
directions, and hence the maximum of the one corres¬
ponds, or nearly so, in epoch with the minimum of the
other, we shall easily see that, representing P by
P = A + B. sin. (0 + C) + B'. sin. (>2 0 + 00+ &c-»
ve shall have, at least approximately, for » an expres¬
sion such as,
p = a + 5. sin. (© + C +180°) + V. sin. (2 0 + c') + &c.
the value of C in the term 0 differing by 180°, while
Meteoro-
668
Meteoro¬
logy*
METEOROLOGY.
those in the other terras (C', c\ C ", c", &c.) may or may
not stand to each other in a similar relation the only
condition being, that they shall be such as to render the
co-efficients B, B', &c., I, V, &c., all positive. The gross
pressure P "f* then, will come to be expressed by the
form,
p -p p = (A + a) -f- (B — b). sin. (0 + C) + /3. sin.
(2 0 + 7) + /3" . sin. (3 0 + y“) + &c.,
Since B1. sin. (2 0 + C') + &'• sin. (2 0 + c') may always
be reduced to the form,
/3. sin. (2 0 + 7), &c.
(169.) Thus we see that the tendency of the cotemporary
action of the two elements composing the gross pressure
is, 1st, to produce a mean annual pressure (A + a) equal
to the sum of the separate pressures; 2dly, to subdue the
influence of the term depending on 0, by reason of the
opposition of signs affecting B and b in the joint co-effi¬
cient B — b-, and thus, 3c%, to give a greater comparative
influence to the terms depending on 2 0, 3 0, &c. !Now
it will be observed that a series thus constituted, of
sines of 0, 2 0, &c., when made to run through its whole
period by varying 0 from 0 to 360°, will have only a
single maximum and minimum when the co-efficient of
sin. (0 + C)is large in comparison with those of the other
sines, but when the contrary is the case, a double, or even
triple or multiple maximum and minimum may result
from such mutual relations among the co-efficients as
may very easily occur. The principal terms nearly
neutralizing each other by their mutual opposition, leave
the general character of the law of periodicity of the com¬
pound effect to be decided by the relations inter se of the
subordinate ones, and thus is explained, without preju¬
dice to the general reasoning in art. 77, 78 (which remains
true as regards i\\Q form of the atmosphere as disturbed by
the sun’s action) the fact, which appears on first sight in
opposition to that conclusion, that the annual oscillation
of the gross barometric pressure presents in a great many
localities the phenomenon of a double maximum, or even
a still more complex character. Thus, in Paris, to take
a single instance from a mean of eleven years’ observa¬
tions^! 816-182 6), the total pressure exhibits two maxima
in January and in July, the former being highest, and two
minima in April and October, the latter being the lowest.
(Kdmtz, ii. 295.)
(170.) The great length of time in which the efficient
causes are acting in one direction, to produce the annual
oscillation in question, admits of a very considerable
fraction of the atmosphere to be transferred from hemi¬
sphere to hemisphere, and to allow a range in the values
of P, for instance, to the large extent (as we have seen
in the case of Benares) of nearly an inch and a quarter
of mercury, partially neutralized by a fluctuation of more
than half an inch of aqueous vapour. Thus the effects
are brought out into prominence, in both elements, by
the long-continued action of the causes; and thus, by
the study in the first instance of the annual oscillation,
we are led to an easy understanding of the perfectly
analogous phenomena in the diurnal oscillations (or, as
they have sometimes though very improperly been called,
“atmospheric tides”) which have a good deal perplexed
meteorologists, but whose analysis, into what we have
for convenience called wet and dry pressure, has happily
been suggested by M. Dove as affording a rational
explanation.
(171.) To simplify our conception of the diurnal oscil¬
lation, we will suppose the sun to have no declination, but
to remain constantly vertical over the equator. The sur¬
face of the globe will then be divided into a day and a night
hemisphere, separated by a great circle passing through the Meteoro-
poles, coincident with the momentary horizon, and revol-
ving with the sun from east to west in twenty-four hours.
The contrast of the two hemispheres, both in respect of
heat and evaporation, in this case will evidently be much
greater than in that of art. 165, and therefore the
dynamical cause, the motive force, transferring both air
and vapour from the one to the other will be much greater.
But on the other hand, much less time is afforded for this
power to work out its full effect, and long before this can
be accomplished for any locality, the circumstances are
reversed, and a contrary action commences. The causes,
then, and the mode of their agency, are perfectly analo¬
gous, in the production, whether of the annual or diurnal
oscillation ; but in the former, the feebler acting cause is
aided by the very much greater length of the period ; in
the latter, its superior intensity is in great measure neu¬
tralized by the frequency of its reversal. There is another
consideration, moreover, which cannot be without its
effect in establishing a distinction between the two cases.
By far the larger portion of the land is distributed over
the northern hemisphere, and of the water over the
southern. The former is more uniformly terrene, the latter
more uniformly aquatic ; and as, under the circumstances
now considered, the transfer of air does not take place in the
direction of meridians, but at right angles (mainly) to their
direction, we should be led to expect that the amount of
counteraction in the diurnal fluctuations of the dry pres¬
sure P by those of the wet p, would be, generally speak¬
ing, very different in the two hemispheres, and that
therefore the extent of fluctuation in the gross pressure
P +^9 would, generally speaking, present a corresponding
difference. A sufficient amount of observation has not
yet been accumulated to bring this conclusion to the test
of experience ; but we cannot help remarking that the
very same cause (the excess of water in the southern
hemisphere), acting according to the difference of condi¬
tions in the case of the annual oscillation, ought to result
in an average uncompensated action on the dry air,
urging it towards the northern hemisphere, and to its
replacement, bulk for bulk, by vapour, which being
lighter than air, may be one of the causes of the gene¬
rally lower atmospheric pressure over the Southern Ocean
—a certain percentage of the due proportion of dry air
being permanently driven out and prevented from return¬
ing by the constant outflow of vapour.
(172.) It ought to be observed, that the oscillations
in question are only in appearance analogous to those of
the oceanic tides. In the latter, the tide wave is merely
a circulating form without any lateral transfer. The
sun’s heating action on the atmosphere is not one which,
destroying a portion of its gravity, tends to alter its form
of equilibrium, but one which, leaving its gravity unal¬
tered, tends to throw its strata by their dilatation, and
by the introduction of vapour from below, into forms
incompatible with equilibrium, and therefore necessarily
productive of lateral movements. "When anemometiy is
further perfected, we may expect to trace the influence
of this chain of causation into a morning and even¬
ing tendency of the wind (on a long average of obser¬
vation), to draw towards the points of sunrise and
sunset, to compensate the overflow from off the heated
hemisphere, which takes place aloft in the contrary
direction.
(173.) The diurnal oscillation of the barometer is a pheno¬
menon which invariably makes its appearance in every
part of the world where the alternation of day and night
exists, on reducing any considerable series of houily
observations, though in extra-tropical latitudes it is tor
the most part so overlaid by casual variations as not to
V
METEOEOLOGY.
669
Meteoro- be remarked in a single day. On the other hand, between
—^ropics> and especially in the equatorial regions, its
regularity of progress is most striking. Thus Col. Sykes
remarks {Phil. Trans. 1850) that, among many thousand
observations taken personally by himself on the plateau
of the Deccan (1825-30), there was not a solitary instance
in which the barometer was not higher at 9-10 a.m. than
at sunrise, and lower at 4-5 p.m. than at 9-10 a.m.,
whatever the state of the weather, &c., might be. Hum¬
boldt also observes (tom. i. p. 308) :—“This regularity
is such that, in the daytime especially, we may infer the
hour from the height of the column of mercury without
being in error on an average more than 15 or 17 min.
In the torrid zone of the New Continent I have found
the regularity of this ebb and flow of the aerial ocean
undisturbed either by stoi’m, tempest, rain, or earthquake,
both on the coasts and at elevations of nearly 13000
English feet above the level of the sea. The amount
of horary oscillation decreases from the equator to 70°
N. lat., where we have very accurate observations made
by Bravais at Bosekop, from 0T17 in. to 0-016 in.”
Within the Arctic Circle, however, the diurnal, for very
obvious reasons, dies out, or rather merges in the annual
oscillation.
(174.) Generally speaking, the diurnal oscillation
presents the phenomenon of a double maximum. The
epochs of the maxima are about 9 h. or 9£ h. a.m., and
IOtt h. or 10f h. p.m., and the minima at 4 h. or 4^ h. p.m.
and 4 h. a.m. The fact that the barometer frequently,
“ both in summer and in winter, stands higher in the cold
mornings and evenings than in the warmer midday,”
seems to have been first made matter of remark by Dr
Beale in 1666. In 1682, Messrs Des Hayes and De
Glos observed, that at Goree the barometer was usually
lowest when the thermometer was highest, that it stood
higher by night than by day, and that the daily depres¬
sion (between the morning and evening maxima) ex¬
ceeded the nightly. At Surinam the same phenomenon
was noticed by an anonymous observer, and distinctly
described in 1722. Towards the middle of the last
century (1735-61), its existence at Quito, in the Antilles,
in India, and at Sta. Fe de Bagota, was severally estab¬
lished by Godin. The observations of Humboldt as to
the extreme regularity of its progression in equatorial
America are corroborated by those of Colonel Wright
in Ceylon. That the double maximum and minimum
of its march really originates in almost all cases in the
manner above explained, by the approximate destruction
of the second term in the series
(A + a) + (B — 5). sin. (d + C) + /3. sin. (2 + 7) + &c.
owing to the opposite march of the dry and wet elements
of the total pressure, has been put out of doubt by the
calculations of Dove. Yet there are localities, as for
instance at Bombay, in which even, in the expression of
P, the co-efficient of the second term is so small in com¬
parison with the others, as to give rise to the appearance
of a double maximum in the dry pressure itself, and the
mode in which this is accomplished is evidently referable
to the more complicated local relations which arise from
the juxta-position of land and sea under exaggerated
circumstances of temperature and radiation, giving rise
to alternating sea and land breezes—one minimum of
the dry pressure being found to coincide with the
greatest strength of the sea breeze, the other with that
of the land breeze, and the maxima with the minima of
force of the wind.
(175.) If we regard only the gross pressure
V +p, the following table will exhibit the amount
of its daily fluctuations above and below the mean
value, as deduced from the calculations of Kamtz Meteoro-
(ii. 254, &c.) — logy-
Place.
Atlantic Ocean
Pacific Ocean
Payta . . .
Sierra Leone
Cum ana . .
La Guayra .
Callao . . .
Lima . . .
Pacific Ocean
Otaheite . .
Pacific Ocean
Calcutta . .
Rio Janeiro .
Cairo . . .
Padua . . .
Munich . .
Halle . . .
Abo ...
Latitude.
0° 0'
0 0
5 6 S.
8 30 N.
10 28 N.
10 36 N.
3 S.
3 S.
0 S.
29 S.
0 N.
22 35 N.
22 54 S.
30 2 N.
45 24 N.
48 8 N.
51 29 N.
60 57 N.
Morning
Min.
—0.056
—0.032
+0.004
—0.022
0.022
0.023
0.038
0.071
0.021
0.035
0.020
0.017
0.036
0.008
0.004
0.011
0.006
0.009
Forenoon
Max.
+0.069
0.040
0.051
0.032
0.043
0.054
0.045
0.065
0.040
0.052
0.034
0.052
0.040
0.035
0.012
0.011
0.013
0.002
Afternoon
Min.
-0.045
0.045
0.082
0.038
0.050
0.048
0.044
0.067
0.040
0.030
0.044
0.038
0 040
0.055
0.014
0.008
0.012
0.005
Evening
Max.
+0.045
0.028
0.050
0.031
0.037
0.029
0.035
0.050
0.028
0.018
0.027
0.018
0.030
0.030
0.007
0.009
0.005
0.008
(176.) As examples of the application of the general
form of expression in cosines of the sun’s hour angle from
noon, we shall subjoin only the values obtained by
Kamtz by the method of least squares from the whole
series of observations recorded for three of the above
localities, viz., Payta, Callao, and Padua.
For Payta.
P + = 29in- -840 + 0in- -050 . sin. {6 + 203° 20
+ . sin. (2 6 + 153? 43').
For Callao.
P +7? = 29in- -824 + 0in-*099 . sin. (0 + 180°. 590
+ 0in- *036 . sin. (2 6 + 171° 60-
For Padua.
P + 7? = 29“--797 + O^-OOS . sin. (0 + 183° 460
0“--010 .sin. (2d+ 135° 590
(177.) The stations in the foregoing table are (except
in the cases of Munich, Halle, and Abo) at the sea level.
On mountain stations, or at least on such as rise abruptly
from that level, or from an extensive plain, there exists
a cause of diurnal oscillation in the barometric pressure
of quite a different nature from that above considered.
The whole vertical column of air, from the sea level to
the top of the atmosphere, being dilated by the increase
of diurnal temperature, it is evident that in the hotter
portion of the twenty-four hours, a certain portion of the
air below the cistern of the barometer must be lifted above
it, and vice versa for the colder. The actual weight of
air incumbent on the mercury must thus be alternately
varied in excess and defect of its mean amount, and the
mercurial column balancing it must rise and fall accord¬
ingly. The effect of this cause (which runs counter to
the law of oscillation of the dry air at the sea level
though forming part and parcel of the mechanism by
which that law is determined), is easily calculable for any
given elevation and diurnal change of temperature. Sup¬
posing that of the whole aerial column between the sea
and the station uniform, and equal to the mean of the
upper and lower, it is easily shown that the effect in
question will attain its maximum value at an altitude
where the barometric pressure is one 2-7182818th of
that at the sea level, t. e. llin--03, corresponding to
about 26.100 feet, and at this height the total diurnal
fluctuation due to a change of temperature of 30°
Fahr. would amount to the very considerable quantity
Qm. *672. The effect at inferior elevations for 10° of
670
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro-
logy-
diurnal oscillation of temperature is calculated in the
following table:—
Alt. in
Feet.
1000
2000
3000
4000
5000
Diurnal
Oscillation
for 10° F.
inches.
0.022
0.043
0.062
0.080
0.096
Alt. in
Feet.
6000
7000
8000
9000
10000
Diurnal
Oscillation
for 10° F.
inches.
0.111
0.125
0.137
0.148
0.159
Alt. in
Feet.
11.000
12.000
13.000
14.000
15.000
Diurnal
Oscillation
for 10° F.
inches.
0.168
0.176
0.184
0.191
0.197
These quantities, when increased in the ratio of the
actual diurnal changes of temperature, are quite large
enough at any considerable elevation to overlay and
mask the real diurnal oscillation, and ought therefore to
be applied as a reduction to the sea level, whenever local
circumstances are such as to render such reduction safe
and possible, which is not often the case.
(178.) Diurnal and annual fluctuations of temperature,
and climatological distribution of heat.—We have seen (arts.
11, 107) that moisture in the form of visible clouds, or
even in that excessively divided, yet unevaporated state which
is sufficient to injure the transparency of the atmosphere,
and which must be confessed to belong to the yet unre¬
solved problems of meteorology, produces absorption of
the sun’s rays, and the conversion of sensible into latent
heat. The diurnal march of temperature, then, in the
general atmosphere is intimately connected with its hygro-
metric state, and especially with its degree of retowe dry¬
ness, i.e., its more or less near approximation to a state of
saturation ; and for the same reason that the heat of the
day is mitigated by the evaporation of the diffused mois¬
ture, so is also the cold of night by its deposition, and
hence arises a phenomenon of very general prevalence,
viz., that the difference between the daily and nightly
extremes of temperature, or the extent of its diurnal fluc¬
tuations, is greater in summer than in the winter, or
rather to speak more generally, and in language applicable
alike to inter and extra tropical localities, in those sea¬
sons where the air is relatively drier or moister. In fact,
it is evident that when the air is relatively dry, evapora¬
tion during the day is more active and a larger portion
of the incident heat becomes latent; and on the other
hand, that as it is necessarily the dew-point which limits
(at least approximately) the temperature of the lowest
stratum of air at night (see art. 45), since in the act of
condensation the vapour gives out its latent heat, and
therefore so long as the supply is continued prevents
its further depression, the farther removed from satura¬
tion the air is, the greater depression can be effected
by radiation before that limit is reached. The near
coincidence of the dew-point with the lowest nightly
temperature, at every season of the year, has been
shown by Anderson from observations made at Kinfauns
Castle during the year 1815, and the calculations of
Kamtz showthat the difference between the daily extremes
of temperature is universally greatest in those months of
the year when the relative dryness of the air is the greatest.
(179.) In India, again, where, properly speaking, there
cannot be said to exist a winter, the moist and cloudy sea¬
son is that in which the least diurnal fluctuation of tem¬
perature occurs—a circumstance sufficient of itself to
show that it is not to the difference in the lengths of day
and night, or to the low altitude of the sun in winter that
the phenomenon in higher latitudes must be attributed,
since between the tropics these causes can have but little
influence. The east and west coasts of Ceylon exhibit in
this respect a pointed contrast. At Colombo, on the
western side of the island, the least diurnal change of Meteoro-
temperature takes place in July, and the greatest in fpl'
January, the rainy season being that of the SAY. mon¬
soon, when the sun is north of the equator; while at
Trincomalee, on the eastern side, the reversed conditions
as to moisture obtain, accompanied with a corresponding
reversal in the extremes of temperature.
(180.) The uniformity of temperature which prevails at
sea, and the greater general uniformity of an insular as
contrasted with a continental climate, has already been
noticed (art. 40), and is at least partly referable to the
same cause, viz., the alternate conversion of sensible
into latent heat, and vice versa, by the evaporation and
condensation of moisture disseminated through the atmo¬
sphere during day and night, in addition to the causes there
enumerated. In consequence, in the neighbourhood of
the sea, on an average of the whole year, the twenty-four
hours are unequally divided into the hotter and the colder
portions; that is to say, those in which the temperature
is above, and in which below the mean —the compara¬
tive shortness of the hotter portion being compensated
by a greater absolute elevation of temperature, and the
length of the colder by a less'absolute depression.
(181.) The foregoing considerations sufficiently show
how vain would be any attempt to conclude even an
average of the progression of daily temperature, a priori
setting out with a knowledge of the declination of the sun
and the latitude of the place, and thence calculating the
amount of heat received even in a calm atmosphere. Ob¬
servation only can lead to any just conclusion, and the
general process indicated in art. 150 must be resorted to,
leaving to subsequent theoretical enquiry the difficult
(indeed at present impracticable) task of assigning to
direct solar and terrestrial radiation, moisture, and wind,
their share in producing the final result. As instances,
however, of the kind of results which are attainable in
this direction, we shall here set down the formulm for the
mean diurnal temperature, calculated by Kamtz from the
hourly observations of Chiminello at Padua, and those
instituted by Sir David Brewster, at Fort Leith, near
Edinburgh, viz., for Padua—
T = 56°.75 + 40.79 sin. (0 + 51o.47') + l°.OO sin. (2 d
+ 66o.33,) + 0°.22 sin. (3 0 + 233°)
and for Fort Leith—
T= 48o.24 + 3°.03 sin. (0 + 44°.43') + 0°.43 sin. (2 0
+ 44°.43') + 0°.14 . sin. (3 0 + 175o.l 1').
(182.) It is a matter of much importance, in cases
where a complete and continued series of meteorological
observations cannot be obtained, and in sea voyages,
where no lengthened stay is made at any one place, to
ascertain the mean temperature approximately from the
least possible number of observations. This may be
accomplished in different ways, viz.—Isf, By taking care
to observe at those hours, or one of them in which the
temperature is habitually, exactly, or very near its mean
through the twenty-four hours, or at such hours as shall
have the mean of their temperatures very nearly coincident
with that of the day. Such hours are 4 a.m. and 4 p.m., or
more conveniently 10 a.m. and 10 p.m. If four observa¬
tions per diem can be made, these four epochs should be
chosen in preference. 2dly, By taking the mean of the
maximum and minimum for the mean temperature.
This, however, is a coarse and rude approximation, as is
obvious on considering what has been abov stated, art.
180, as to the greater length of time during which,
at stations near the sea, and still more at sea, the^tem-
perature ranges below the mean than above it. Kamtz
recommends (from a discussion of the observations at
METEOROLOGY.
efficient, fluctuating from 0-366 in December to 0.560 in
August; and which may, for the purpose in question, be
taken quite near enough at 0.44 . sin (©+ 120°), 0 being
sun s mean longitude. The mean temperature of the
day may also be very approximately obtained from three
temperatures t, i, t', observed at 7 a.m., 2 p.m., and
9 p.m., by the formula
* + + 2 t"
4 '
or if observed at 8 A. m., 3 p. m., and 10 p. m., from the
expression
7< + 7<'+10f
24
(183.) The annual fluctuation of temperature is derived
from the consideration of the consecutive values of the
mean temperatures of each day, or of the constant co-effi¬
cient A in the expression of the diurnal temperatures,
considered as a periodical function of 0, the sun’s mean
longitude ; or, if we please, of 0, the arc proportional to
the time commencing from any given date. For sim¬
plicity we shall suppose, however, that the value 0 — 0
commences on the 1st of January, so that 0 = 15° cor¬
responds to the middle of January, 45° to that of Febru¬
ary, &c., or rather to the exact days nearest the middle
of each month, which divide the year into 12 equal parts.
The monthly mean of temperature being obtained by
taking the arithmetical means of the daily ones for each
month, the annual formula
T— « + &!• sin. (0 + Cl) -f- 52 . sin. (2 0-f c2) + &c.,
will be obtained, as in art. 155. The following values for
a series of stations in order of latitude calculated by
Kamtz, will serve as examples for extra-tropical lati¬
tudes :—
671
Meteoro-
Place of Observation.
.Enontekies
Upsal,
Christiania,
Manchester,
Paris,
Padua,
Turin,
Fort Sullivan,
Rome,
Fort Johnston,
Cape Town,
Abusheher,
Latitude.
68°40' N.
59 48 N.
59 54 N.
53 29 N.
48 50 N.
45 25 N.
45 5 N.
44 0 N.
41 54 N.
34 0 N.
33 52 S.
28 15 N.
Value of
A
deg. Fahr.
26°.85 F.
41 .70
41 .60
47 .66
51 .44
54 .21
53 .00
41 .81
59 .87
66 .60
66 .49
77 .06
Value of
B.
23.93
19.77
19.15
12.09
14.48
21.03
20.08
20.59
14.64
15.19
8.72
16.89
Value of
C.
266059'
266 23
264 26
264 46
266 13
260 52
267 41
258 31
260 21
265 31
264 38
-180
262 47
J 264 38 >
( 180 |
Value of
B'
1.92
1.07
2.13
0.98
1.39
1.15
1.81
0.49
1.23
0.49
1.28
1.57
Value of
C'
404°21*
420 15
434 29
372 32
344 31
381 17
343 41
361 3
386 14
408 20
357 43
352 20
Hottest Day.
July 26.
July 21;
July 20.
July 27.
July 28.
July 26.
July 27.
July 29.
Aug. 1.
July 21.
Jan. 6.
July 18.
Coldest Day.
Jan. 20.
Jan. 16.
Jan.17.
Jan.12.
Jan. 15.
Jan. 15.
Jan. 5.
Jan. 24.
Jan. 16.
Jan. 18.
Aug. 4.
Jan. 12.
To which, as a further example, we shall add the expres¬
sion of the annual variation of temperature at St. Peters¬
burg, from the CorrespondanceMeteorologique of M.Kupffer,
1848, where the terms beyond the 3d order, though given
in the original, are suppressed as insignificant, viz.—
T = 38°-73 + 23°-32. sin. (0 + 263° 42')
+ 0p-89 . sin. (20 + 115° 27')
+ 0°-39 . sin. (30 + 234° 31')
(184.) The general coup-d'ceil of the annual progres¬
sion of temperature afforded by these results is not a little
remarkable. The values of C, upon which the epochs of
the maximum and minimum and mean temperature
mainly depend, are very nearly alike, and have but little
reference to the latitude of the place, and as we see the
epochs set down (those for Cape Town, whose latitude
is south being reversed), all agree in placing the extreme
of heat and cold nearly about the 26th July and the 14th
January. The epochs of the mean computed from the
formulae offer a similar agreement ; all fall within a very
few days of the 24th April and 21st October. A general
mean ot the whole, which may be taken as a verv near
approximation to the law of annual temperature over at
least the whole of the extra-tropical northern hemisphere
and probably also of the southern, may be expressed
thus:—
T = A + ^ (M—m). sin. (0 + 263° 54)
+ +> M — m)‘sin- (2 0 + 23° 46')
Where M and m are the maximum and minimum respec¬
tively of the mean diurnal temperatures (Kamtz, i. 126).
As the co-efficient of the second term is l-15th that of
the first, which is the precise fraction by which the
intensity of solar radiation fluctuates by reason of the
change of the sun’s distance—this might almost lead to a
surmise, that the semi-annual term has its origin in this
i
cause (since it is obvious that it cannot have a purely
local origin.) In effect, if we consider the simple expres¬
sion, T=A+B.sin. (0+ Q, as varied by regarding A
and B (which are evidently proportional, cceteris paribus,
to the force of direct solar radiation) each to be variable
by reason of the varying proximity of the sun, and to be
represented respectively in general by A+a. sin. (0 + a)
and B + J . sin. (0 + /3); A and /3 being still the mean
values of these co-efficients in a whole revolution, the
expression for T will become
A+ a. sin. (0 + a) + B. sin. (0 + C)+5. sin. (0+/3). sin. (0 + C)
which is reducible to the form
M + N . sin. (0 + rc) + |-. sin. (2 0 +p),
XTX. XI • J- «
--7 .7 — 7 7 X 7  LiiUUj would in
fact introduce a term depending on 2 0, or having a semi¬
annual period, into the ultimate effect of the sun, and pro¬
portional to the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit. Wre are
quite ready to admit that this reasoning is not very strict
but the coincidence is a remarkable one, and it is rather
thrown out as a surmise than as a demonstration.
(185.) Between the tropics, however, other and power-
xul causes, having obvious reference to geographical
situation, tend to increase the semi-annual term, depending
on 2 0, and by rendering it more nearly comparable to
that depending on 0, disturb the regular increase and
decrease in a very marked manner. Not only does the
sun between the tropics pass twice a year through the
zenith of each station, but the interception of his beams
by cloud during the afternoon at least of almost every
day in the wet season, the descent of a large quantity of
cold ram from the upper regions of the air, and its eva¬
poration from a heated soil, all go to disturb the simple
law ot increase and diminution of heat with the sun’s
672
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- meridian altitude and the length of the days, which
logy. moreover vary but little in these regions. Owing to
^ these causes, then, the heat in those regions near the
tropics where a rainy monsoon prevails, instead of con¬
tinuing to increase as the sun becomes more nearly
vertical, so as to produce a burning summer, remains
nearly stationary, and even in some localities undergoes
a slight depression, thus producing a double minimum
with°the progress of the rains, while in others, where
this cause does not act, no such duplication takes place.
(186.) To determine with precision the mean annual
temperature of a place requires the accumulation of many
years’ observation. This is abundantly shown by com¬
paring the results obtained in successive years for a long
period, wherever records exist of a dependable character,
which can hardly be said to be the case, however, earlier
than the year 1770, owing not only to absence of
due care in ascertaining the zero points, and verifying
the scales of thermometers, but also to the want of suffi¬
cient attention to circumstances of exposure, &c. Where,
however, such records do exist, it is found that differ¬
ences to the extent of two or three degrees of Fahrenheit
in the means for individual years from a general mean
of the whole occur. Thus in a series of annual tempera¬
tures deduced by Mr Glaisher from the records kept at
the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, during the 85
years elapsed from 1771 to 1855 (both included), we
find the extremes of cold and hot years to be respectively
51°.3 and 45°.1, differing by 6°.2 inter se, and 3Q.l each
from the general average. So also in the series of mean
temperatures for Manchester for 25 years from 1794 to
1818, derived by Dalton, we find a variation of 5Q F. in
hot and cold years ; and in a similar series for Paris, as
deduced byBouvard from the records of the Observatory
of that city for 21 years, nearly as much. Such differ¬
ences might be expected when we consider the exceed¬
ingly variable influence of winds and cloudy and rainy
seasons; and the differences, moreover, from year to
year, succeed each other with great irregularity,
so that it becomes exceedingly difficult to form any
judgment as to the existence of a law of periodicity in
this respect. The observations of Mr Luke Howard,
indeed, in the neighbourhood of London, have led him
to suspect a decennial period of fluctuation ; and the
records of the Greenwich Observatory above mentioned
show a marked tendency to a regular increase and dimi¬
nution, with a period of 14 years from minimum to
minimum ; but these two results partly contradict each
other, and, so far as other similar records have been
examined, no distinct conclusion on the subject would
appear to have been arrived at. We shall not long,
however, remain in ignorance on this point. Multipli¬
cation of stations, in which normally accurate observa¬
tions are made, will furnish data in 15 or 20 years fully
competent to decide the question; since any cause of a
general or astronomical nature (such as that alluded to
in art. 7) must of necessity make its appearance on the
comparison of a great many stations, in the lapse of a
single period, quite as evidently, indeed more so, than
at one and the same station in the lapse of many.
(187.) As the mean annual temperature at any place
is a very important element in its climatological relations,
it is desirable to point out means by which it may be
obtained with the least possible amount of observation
and registry by residents whose avocations will not allow
them to perform a complete series of meteorological
observation. From what has been said (art. 184), it
will easily be collected that from observations of the
daily temperature from a week before to a week after
the 24th April and the 21st October, in any part of the
world beyond the tropics, will afford a certain approxi- Meteoro-
mation to the temperature in question; so will also a
mean between the extreme temperatures (similarly
observed at about epochs of maximum and minimum,
January 14 and July 26.) Another method consists in
deadening and weakening the effect of casual diurnal fluc¬
tuation by recording twice in the 24 hours, at 12 hours
interval, the readings of a thermometer with a long stem,
having the bulb and lower part of the stem packed in a
tin box of dry sand or saw-dust, but otherwise fairly
exposed. A few days’ attention to such a thermometer
will show at what interval beyond the hottest and coldest
times of the day its indications attain their maxima and
minima, the means of which will give very nearly indeed
the mean diurnal temperatures. The enclosure of a
maximum and a minimum self-registering thermometer
in a large cask of dry sand, which might be opened and
read off twice a year, would also probably afford a very
accurate mean result.
(188.) From what is said in art. 39, it is evident that
the temperature of the soil at some considerable depth
below the surface will never vary greatly from the mean
annual temperature of the air, and that therefore the
temperature of the last-drawn portions of large quantities
of water, freshly drawn from deep, closed wells, or that
of copious perennial springs which there is reason to
believe do not rise from any very great depths(and so bring
up the higher temperature of the interior of the earth),
or descend from much higher land in the neighbourhood,
will also afford a considerable approximation. At four feet
deep, the mean temperature of the soil in extra-tropical
regions may be considered as attained about the 10th of
June and the 6th of December, at which times, therefore,
its observation will give nearly the yearly mean tem¬
perature. Boussingault states that under the equator it
is sufficient to observe the temperature of the soil at that
or even a less depth, at any time, to obtain a very near
approximation to this element.
(189.) As this element of all other meteorological
data is that which it is desirable to obtain with the
greatest precision, it is necessary to be on our guard
against receiving, as final, results so obtained. The tem¬
perature of the soil is necessarily influenced by that of
copious rain, which brings with it the temperature of the
upper strata of the atmosphere, and carries it rapidly
down below the surface, in a very different manner from
that of sunshine, nocturnal radiation, or aerial conduction.
Where the rains are distributed with tolerable equality
over the year, the aberration of the mean temperature of
the soil from that of the air from this cause is not likely
to be material. But it is otherwise where the reverse of
this condition prevails. Thus Smith found, in Congo, the
temperature of a well 100 feet deep 73° F., being 5° below
the mean temperature of the place of observation. Again,
when the earth is long covered with snow, which during
its melting preserves a uniform temperature of 32°, and
while unmelted, greatly impedes the free communication
of heat between the air and the earth, it cannot be that
the same law of the downward propagation of tempera¬
ture should be followed as if the same amount of water
had fallen in a liquid form. M. Kupffer has constructed
a series of lines analogous to Humboldt’s isothermal
lines, which he terms isogeothermal lines, and which
connect the points at which the mean temperature of
the soil is constant, thus forming a series of curves tor U ,
5°, 10°, ... as far as 25° Cent These are by no means
coincident with the isothermal lines of the same te™Pe^‘
tures. Thus, for instance, the two curves for 10 U.,
which coincide over the southern part of England, begin
to diverge where they enter on the continent ot Europe,
METEOROLOGY.
673
Meteoro-
logv.
—the isogeothermal cui’ve deviating northwards in its
^ eastern progress, until at a point in Asia, about half way
between the Baikal Lake and the Caspian Sea (see the
chart, PI. CLXXIII.) (or in lat. 50°, long. 80° E.) it
meets the isotherm of 5° C., thus indicating a difference
of 5° C = 9° F. between the air and soil; and again, at
a point north-east of Petersburg, in lat. about 63°, long.
40° E., a similar encounter between the isotherm of 0°
(32° F.) and the isogeotherm of 5° (41° F.) takes place.1
It is probable, however, that in most places where the
soil is porous or gravelly, and where well-water is not
found but at some considerable depth, the temperature of
the soil at three or four feet deep under an area exten¬
sively roofed over and well drained around, and where
no artificial temperature is kept up (and in cities many
such may be found), a very exact annual temperature
might be obtained.
(190.) But it is rather to careful observations of the
temperature of the equatorial seas (according to a sug¬
gestion of Arago) at a few feet below the surface that we
should look for normal results, capable of being compared
from year to year with a view to bring into view any
secular or periodic change of mean annual temperature.
There are vast regions of the Pacific where, “ over thou¬
sands of square miles, a wonderful uniformity of tempera¬
ture prevails,” and where both the diurnal and annual
fluctuations are reduced within exceedingly narrow limits.
In these, therefore, the accumulation of observations
during voyages made with instruments really dependable,
and executed with really scientific precautions, would very
soon put us in possession of some decisive conclusion on
this most interesting point.
(191.) The influence of the alternate annual approach
and recess of the sun, consequent on the eccentricity of
the earth’s orbit, to produce an annual fluctuation of the
mean temperature of the whole earth, has been shown in art.
12 to be nil. But Prof. Dove has shown, by taking at
all seasons the mean of the temperatures of points on its
surface diametrically opposite to each other, that the
average temperature of the whole earth’s surface in June
considerably exceeds that in December. This is owing
to the great excess of land in the northern and of water
in the southern hemisphere, which gives to the general
climate of the former more the character of a continental,
to the latter more that of an insular or oceanic one
(art. 40). Suppose A and a to be the summer and
winter average temperatures in the former, and B and b
in the latter. Then the summer falling in June in the
northern, and. in December in the southern, the June
temperatures in both will be A, b, and their mean, or the
that given with less precision and in less detail, but con- Meteoro-
veying a clearer notion of their forms in high latitudes in ^°gy-
the polar projection, Plate CLXXIV., and to the descrip-
tion of them under the head of Climate, observing only
that in the latter, one point only of maximum cold (3^°
F.), that namely in the neighbourhood of Melville Island,
is laid down, whereas the existence of a second point of
even lower mean temperature (2° F.) appears to be suffi¬
ciently well established somewhere about the 79th degree
of north lat., long. 120° east (which is accordingly duly
projected on the other chart). The curves, accordingly,
about the north pole bear no inapt resemblance (as
remarked by Sir David Brewster) to the isochromatic
lines, or coloured sphsero-lemniscates exhibited by polar¬
ized lights in a biaxal crystal, whose optic axes are
inclined to each other about 30°, having the pole itself
almost centrally situated between them, and their line of
junction nearly coincident with that diameter of the
polar basin which bisects it and passes through its two
great outlets into the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans—a
most remarkable feature, strongly indicative of the
absence of land, and of the prevalence of a materially
milder temperature (possibly not averaging below 15° F.)
at the actual pole. Of the point or points of maximum
cold in the southern hemisphere we know nothing.
(193.) The general equation of the optical curves in
question is,
sin. Q . sin. 0'=:T.
T being a number expressing what is called in optical
language the order of the tint exhibited (and which
varies in arithmetical progression, on passing from one
curve to another in succession of the same colour) and 6,
0 the distances of any point in one and the same curve
from the two poles respectively. Thus in fig. 7, S and
average June temperature of the whole earth,
’ 2 ’
Similarly the average December temperature will be
2 and the difference, or (June—December) will be
A-f-5 a-f-B A—a B — b ,
—2 2 2 2—’ whlch 13 a positive
quantity, because the fluctuation A—a is (for the reason
assigned) greater than B—b.
(192.) The best general idea of the distribution of heat
over the globe is to be gathered from a chart of the iso¬
thermal lines; and as the limits of this article forbid our
entering into any detailed account of a subject which
properly belongs rather to the department of physical
geography, we shall content ourselves with referring to
that given in Plate CLXXIII., in whicli we find these
lines already laid down on Mercator’s projection, and to
1 We are bound to state vliat we find recorded, but w
VOL. XIV.
Tig- 7.
S' being the poles, P the middle point between them, A
B C D the optic equator of the polarizing crystal, A P C,
D P B meridians,, the one passing through S S', the other
at light angles to it, and MX any one of the isochromatic
curves of the order T, we shall have S M = d, S'M= 0.
Iheie can be no doubt then, from the general resem¬
blance of the two sets of curves, that supposing a mean
temperature thermometrically indicated by T to prevail
at any point, M, in north latitude, a curve K L M N O
traced by calculation from the equation a . sin. d . sin. h
^n" son:ie certain numerical constant indepen¬
dent of t), would approximate at least in some rude and gen¬
eral way to the isothermal line corresponding to T. Sup¬
pose this done for temperatures varying by equal thermo-
metnc intervals and a series of curves so drawn. It is
obvious, then, that these curves, in respect of their magni-
tudes, distances from their foci and the pole P, as well as
must con,ess that such results appear to us inc: edible
4 Q
674
Meteoro¬
logy-
METEOROLOGY.
in their general gradations of flexure, will coincide, or
nearly so, with a series of isochromatic curves equidistant
in their orders of tint. Now, this latter series will divide
the meridians B P D and A P C, in a succession of
points distributed over them, not at equal differences of
distance from the pole P, nor alike in the two meridians,
but following a certain law of progression in each. Let
us enquire what this law is ; and to begin with the meri¬
dian P D, passing through the poles:—Take X=A L,
the latitude of L, then, for the values of 6, 8 corres¬
ponding to the point L, we have 0=90° — (c + X) and
O1 = 90°—(c — X), and therefore
T — r = sin. 6 . sin. 8=cos. (c + X). cos. (c — X)
==f'{ C°S" ^ c + cos’ ^ ^ j"
or, which comes to the same thing, putting y = 90—c
(== 75°, since c = 15° or thereabouts.)
T — r=a(cos. X—cos. y2) ... (1)
Now it is remarkable that this is precisely the form in
which Mayer endeavoured to express empirically the
decrement of temperature in proceeding from the equator
towards the pole, from such observations as could be ob¬
tained about the middle of the last century, and which
has been adopted by Kirwan and most other meteoro¬
logists since his time with various more or less successful
attempts to assign values to the constants a and a . cos. y
(regarded as a single co-efficient). M. Kamtz, who has
taken vast pains to combine by the method of least squares,
the mean temperatures on different meridians, so as to
afford the most probable value of the co-efficient of
Mayer’s formula a. cos. X2 + /3, assigns for the meridian
now under discussion, running from Melville Island
through the interior of the American continent, as the
centigrade reading of the mean temperature T = 56°'77 X
cos< y* — 21°.56, which it is obvious agrees with our
equation (1) by a proper assumption of a and r. On the
prolongation of this meridian on the other side of the
pole, the stations are too few in number and probably
too loosely determined to afford any satisfactory com¬
parison.
(194.) Let us next consider the meridian B D at right
angles to the former. Here we have for the point N, 6= 8,
and a . sin. ^ = T — t \ but we have also cos. 0 =
sin. X. cos. c, X being now the latitude B N reckoned on
this meridian ; so that our equation becomes in this case,
T — r = a. cos. c2 -j cos. X* -f- tan. c*. . . (2)
which again agrees in its form with Mayer’s formula.
Comparing this with the formula (1), it appears that the co¬
efficients of cos. X2 in the two meridians are to each other
in the proportion of 1 : cos. c2, or about 100:93. The
mean of the results obtained by Kamtz in the northern
portionso£t\iQ Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, compared with
that similarly derived for the opposite meridian, gives
100: 69 for the same ratio, which at least is so far satis¬
factory in the way of agreement, that the difference lies
in the right direction. It will, of course, be understood
that we have not the smallest intention of tracing any
physical analogy between the two sets of curves, our only
object being to point out the coincidence between them
(which we do not remember to have seen before noticed),
in respect of the arithmetical progression of temperature
in the one series corresponding to that of chromatic
sequence in the other, as something different from and
additional to a mere general resemblance of form.
(195.) Another consequence of the general causes pointed
out in arts. 37, 38 of the diffex-ent habitudes of land and
water as regards their reception and retention of heat, is
the general law which appears to prevail in respect of the
comparative severity of the winters and heat of the summers Meteoro-
inthe interior of the great continents of the northern hemi-
sphere and on their coasts, and of the general mildness of
climate on west coasts as compared with east, in the extra-
tropical latitudes. The former is a very obvious result,
and is strongly exemplified in the interior of Russian Asia.
Thus Tobolsk, Barnaoul, and Irkutsk, with summers in
which the thermometer for weeks together attains 86°
or 88° F., have winters in which the mean tempera¬
tures are from —0° to -f- 4° F. Thus, too, at Astrachan,
the mean summer temperature averages 70° F., allowing
the production of the most magnificent grapes in the
open air, with a mean annual temperature of only 48°,
that of London. At Kislar, at the mouth of the Terek,
in 44° N. latitude, that of the south of France, the ther¬
mometer sometimes falls in winter to—22° F. It is to
Leopold Van Buchthat we owe the first notice of this re¬
markable contrast of climates, the subject of which has
been extensively pursued by Humboldt, Schouw, and
others. The other consequence is not so obvious. Where
the prevalent winds (the anti-ti-ades) blow from the south¬
west, they carry with them an oceanic temperature and
an abundant supply of vapour (which, as we have seen,
tends to equalize the extremes of temperature) to coasts
having a westerly exposure, while, on the other hand, the
same winds arriving on eastern coasts after passing over
extensive continents, propagate forwards in that direction
the extreme climates of their interior. Again, those winds
which are incident on eastern coasts from the seaward side,
having mainly a north-eastern character, bring with them
the cold of a higher latitude. This latter effect is strongly
felt on the east coast of our island, while the extreme
mildness of the west coast of Ii'eland and the north-west
coast of Scotland equally testifies to the powerful influ¬
ence of the there prevalent south-westerly winds.
(196.) Before quitting the subject of temperature and
its variations, we must notice a conclusion which has been
supposed to be obtained by dividing the year into pen-
themers or portions of five days each (with one of six in
leap years), and calculating from extensive series of obser¬
vations the mean temperature of each penthemer. This
task has been executed by Ofverbom for a series of fifty
years’ observations taken at the Observatory of the Aca¬
demy of Sciences at Stockholm, and by Brandes lor a
great many other European stations from Petei'sburg to
Rome. The results go to indicate two rather remarkable
hesitations, or even slight retrogressions in the generally
regular increment of temperature from winter to summer,
viz., one about the 12th of February, the other between
the 4th and 14th of March, the date being later as the
station lies more to the south. Both would seem to be
attributable rather to northerly or north-easterly winds
setting in about those dates than to any general cause,
though some speculations would go to assign them a very
remote origin, and even to trace them up to a periodical
partial obscuration of the sun by flights of meteors (!)
(197.) Of the periodical fluctuations in the hygrometnc
state of the atmosphere, and of the distribution of aqueous
vapour on a large scale.—With exception of a few very
limited regions in which fogs are habitually prevalent,
and certain points here and there occurx-ing in which
rain is almost constantly falling, the general state of the
atmosphere is one of more or less hygrometi’ic dryness,
so that, as a rule, evaporation may be considered as
going on continually ovei’ the whole surface of the
globe, being only intei’rupted where that surface is dur¬
ing certain hours of the night cooled by x’adiation below
the dew-point. During these, the earth is actually ab¬
stracting moisture from the air, at all other times supply¬
ing it; but far more copiously during the day than the
METEOROLOGY
675
Meteoro¬
logy-
night. Meanwhile, the very highest regions of the
/ atmosphere being from time to time drained of their
moisture by precipitation, there is always a demand for
vapour upwards, which (in the view we have taken of
cloud, art. 107) is no way intercepted in its ascent by
the existence of a region where it assumes for a while a
visible form, and which can only be looked upon as a
temporary halting place, the upper surface of the cloud
evaporating while the cloud itself is renewed by conden¬
sation of the ascending vapour at the lower ; unless,
indeed, the radiation from the cloud itself should for a
time so far lower its temperature as to suspend for a
while or even reverse the process. (See art. 95.)
(198.) At the epoch of maximum cold, when the sur¬
face of the earth is at or near the dew-point, the hygro-
metric state of the air, to a considerable altitude, is near
saturation, and frequently either a stratus cloud rests on
the ground or exists at a much lower altitude than in the
day, and when this is not the case, still the whole column
of air, by reason of the general depression of temperature,
is much nearer to its point of saturation than in the day
time.
(199.) It is the practice of meteorologists to designate
by the expression “ humidity of the air,” the degree of
its approach to complete saturation with vapour, and
to give precision to this language by attributing to that
degree a numerical value, viz., the ratio of the quantity of
vapour actually present per cubic foot, as calculated from
the dew-point, or otherwise determined (art. 89), to that
which would exist per cubic foot were the air saturated,
or were the dew-point identical with the actual tempera¬
ture. Thus a scale of degrees of humidity is formed,
TOO being that of complete saturation, and 0 that of
absolute dryness. In this sense of the word it will, of
course, be readily understood that a low degree of
“humidity” is compatible with the presence of a large
quantity of aqueous vapour. It is not the vapour as
such (which, while it exists as a gas, is, like all other
gases, “ dry”), but its readiness to be deposited in a “ wet”
state on a surface but little lower in temperature, that is
intended to be expressed. To obviate the discordance
between this language and that of common parlance, the
terms “ relative humidity” and “ relative dryness” are
sometimes used.
(200.) As a general meteorological fact, however, there
is not merely a want of accordance, but an actual opposi¬
tion between both the diurnal and annual progress of the
“ degree of humidity,” or “ relative humidity ” of the
air and the “ tension of vapour,” as indicated by hygro-
metric observation—a seeming paradox, but one very
easily explained. To take the case in hand—the diurnal
variation—we have seen that at those epochs of the night
when the temperature has reached its lowest point, and
dew is either actually deposited or nearly so, the humidity
is at its maximum. But it is precisely at that moment
that the supply of vapour from the earth having been
for several hours cut off, or even a reverse process in
progress, while yet vapour has been diffusing itself into
the non-saturated regions aloft, and is still continuing to
do so, the actual amount of moisture per cubic foot is
small, and is still in process of diminution. This epoch
is usually a little before sunrise. As the day advances,
the temperature increases, and becomes more and more
in excess of the dew-point. The air, therefore, becomes
relatively drier, evaporation goes on more rapidly, the
lower strata become fuller of vapour, as measured by its
tension, which at length becomes such as to keep pace
with the upward diffusion, which now in its turn is
stimulated. Tho cloud-level, or vapour-plane, rises ; and
if the night has been clear, the air calm, the sun power¬
ful, and the soil wet, the appearance of cumuli soon Meteoro-
begins to render visible testimony to the nature of the pro- v j°gy-
cess in progress. When the heat of the day has reached
its maximum, this process is in its greatest activity.
The “ humidity ” has now reached its minimum, and the
evaporation, which is in the direct ratio of the temper¬
ature and relative dryness, its maximum. From this
epoch, however, the supply of vapour from below being
most copious, while the temperature no longer increases,
it is evident that the humidity must begin to increase,
while the tension also, for a longer or shorter time, will
do the same, until by the decline of the sun the increase
of humidity so far puts a stop to the evaporating process
as to render it barely competent to supply the expense
of upward diffusion, at which moment the tension becomes
a maximum, and from which it also decreases, and con¬
tinues to do so the humidity increasing, during the
remainder of the twenty-four hours until next sunrise,
when the same cycle of causes and effects will recur.
(201.) Such at least will be their succession in calm and
clear weather, and in a normal state of circumstances ;
and as regards the generally contrary march of the
relative humidity as compared with that of the temper¬
ature and the vapour-tension, such is really the course of
the phenomena. The epochs, however, and their order
of priority, are obviously very liable to be disturbed by
a variety of circumstances, among which the most influ¬
ential are rain, winds (especially such as recur in daily
periodicity, as sea and land breezes), and cloud which
cuts off the sunbeams from the soil, and puts a stop to
the increase of evaporation before the temperature has
attained its maximum, thereby tending to bring the
epoch of maximum tension towards coincidence with
that of maximum heat. We find, for example, on com¬
parison of the three elements in question, as derived from
six years two-hourly observations at the Royal Observa¬
tory at Greenwich (1842-1847), the following results:—
Maximum. Minimum.
Temperature, 55°-22 F. at Ih. 20m. p.m. 44°-85F.at4h. 10m. a.m.
Vapour-tension,0-345 in. at Ih. 20m. p.m. 0'303 in. at 3h. 40m. a.m.
Humidity, 0 938 in. at 4h. 30m. a.m. 0'753 in. at Ih. 20m. p.m.
Where it should be observed that the amount of cloud
at Greenwich is a maximum at 0 h. 20 m. p.m., at which
hour 73 per cent of the sky, on a general average, is
covered, and a minimum at 9 h. 44 m. p.m., when 60
per cent of cloud prevails, the general average of the year
being two-thirds cloudy. For other exemplifications of
the same law, the reader is referred to the table of normal
results in fixed observatories at the end of this article.
(202.) The annual march of humidity and vapour-
tension as compared with that of temperature depends
on the same principles, and is governed by the same
laws; the humidity, however (as is also the case with
the diurnal cycle), being much more regular in its pro¬
gress than the vapour-tension, and the limits between
which the latter element oscillates being much wider as
might be expected from the greater duration of the cycle,
and the consequently longer time given for the causes in
action to work out their full effect before removal. Thus
m Greenwich the annual maxima and minima, and their
approximate epochs, as appears from the series of
observations already referred to, are for the
Annual Maximum.
Temperature, 63°-37 F. in July.
Vapour-tension, 0'466 in. in July.
Humidity, 0-930 in. in Jan.
Annual Minimum.
34°-20 Jan.-Feb.
0"195in. Jan.
0'783 in. June.
(203.) Of the general distribution of moisture through,
the atmosphere.—-Lou&Wy and temporarily, nothing can
be more capricious than either the humidity or the
vapour-tension, as we ascend into the higher regions of
■ 11 ■   —  
676
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- t]ie a;r> Meteorologists, from Saussure and Deluc
downwards, have sought in vain for anything like a
regular law of decrement like that which at least
approximately prevails respecting temperature. Mr
Rush relates that in his sixteenth ascent to the height of
19440 feet in the Nassau balloon, June 29, 1850, Avith
Mr Green, they traversed a stratum of air 8600 feet in
thickness, in which absolute hygrometric dryness, the zero
of vapour-tension, existed. This must of course be
received with some reserve ^ but it suffices at least to
shoAV that in regions of the globe where cloud is the rule
and pure sky the exception, masses of air are occasionally
intermingled with the generally moist atmosphere, which
Avould seem to have been all but absolutely drained of their
moisture, either by long sojourn in the polar regions, or
in the highest and coldest strata of the atmosphere.
Meanwhile, at the ordinary levels, we know little at
present of the average or climatic distribution of vapour.
Of some things, however, we may be certain, viz., ls£,
That on the open ocean, far from land, the dew-point, in
the day time, can never be many degrees below the actual
temperature of the air, and at night must always be very
nearly identical with it. 2dly, That the mean vapour-
tension in hot climates must necessarily be greater than
in cold. 3e%, That, cceteris paribus, the relative humidity
of the air must be a maximum over the sea, and a minimum
in the interior of continents, especially Avhere there is
much sand, which allows the rain-water to sink, and which
speedily dries at the surface; or much bare rock, which,
never being more than superficially moistened, affords no
supply of vapour to the air. For it is obvious that in
such regions there must be less evaporation for an equal
incidence of sunbeams ; tha,t therefore less of their heat
will become latent, and their efficacy in heating the air
will be in consequence greater, so that the temperature
will rise in the day-time faster than the dew-point, and
that in an increasing ratio ; and, moreover, that from
the very combination of these causes, there will be less
tendency to the formation of cloud over such regions,
and therefore a greater amount of direct sunshine thrown
on the soil. Thus we have a system of mutually reacting
causes and consequences (no uncommon arrangement in
meteorology), all tending to exaggerate both the heat of
the climate and its relative dryness: the only counteracting
poAver being that of radiation, both diurnal and nocturnal,
but especially the latter. Where, in addition to all these
causes, those Avinds which blow from warmer regions
or from tropical seas, before arriving over the place in
question, haA’e to pass over lofty mountain ranges, and
have been chilled in so doing, and drained of their mois¬
ture, by the precipitation of siioav or rain, it may Avell be
imagined that a state of extreme relati\Te aridity will
prevail. Athly and lastly, We may be very sure that the
upper regions of the atmosphere (not only as being colder,
and therefore incapable of retaining without deposition a
quantity of vapour .equal to that of the lower, but for the
reasons assigned in art. 88) must be habitually, and on a
general average, both absolutely and relatively drier than
the lower, though the existence of cirrus cloud at very
high levels (certainly sometimes exceeding 30000 feet)
sufficiently proves that even at such altitudes saturation
with moisture occasionally takes place. During the
sojourn of Mr P. Smyth on the Peak of Teneriffe, the
aridity of the air Avas found to be always excessive. On
one occasion at Guajara (alt. 8843 feet) the depression
of the dew-point below the temperature of the air Avas
observed to be no less than 54° F., and on another, at
Alta Vista (10707 feet), 40°, the depression at the sea
level being habitually about 10° in the middle of the
dav.
(204.) In actual cloud (although in the earlier history Meteoro-
of hygrometry the fact Avas questioned, OAving to the
imperfection of the hygrometers used), both common
sense and observation go to prove that the extreme point
of humidity is attained, since where water is bodily present
in every cubic inch of air, and refuses to disappear hy
evaporation, a state of absolute saturation must exist,
just as in brine in which finely poAvdered salt is sus¬
pended without solution Ave conclude a state of saline
saturation. Hence we are led to some singular enough
conclusions with respect to the Iuav of decrement of
humidity, as distinct from vapour-tension.
(205.) In the day time, so long as the sky is cloudless
over any spot, it is evident that there is no point in the
aerial column above it at which the deAV point is surpassed,
so that the supply of moisture from below is carried off
by diffusion upAvards, and it Avill depend entirely on the
copiousness of this supply, and the rapidity with which
it ascends into the higher regions, Avhether, as the day
advances, the vapour-tension and humidity shall follow
a contrary or similar progression. If the supply be
abundant and borne up rapidly to a colder level, a cloud
will be formed, and it is obvious that for some time before
its actual visible appearance, the air in that region Avhere
it is about to be formed must be gradually approaching
saturation, and attain it at the moment of deposition of
the first molecule of water in a liquid state (and here wo
cannot help remarking, obiter, that it is utterly inconceiv¬
able how, under such circumstances, a vesicle should be
formed). From the ground, then, up to the vapour-
plane, wherever such plane exists, whatever be the Iuav
of vapour-tension, the humidity (perhaps with some
interruptions in respect of regularity) continuallyincreases
up to 1-000, its natural limit, which it maintains through
the whole thickness of the cloud stratum. This level
passed, the upper surface of the cloud performs, to all
intents and purposes, as regards the higher atmosphere, the
office of a lake or sea, being a thoroughly wet surface on
Avhich that atmosphere reposes. Henceforward, there¬
fore, the laAV of decrement of moisture Avill be the
same as it would be over the sea itself under the same
circumstances of temperature and pressure. Nor does
anything prevent (the sun striking on and evaporating it)
why a second layer of cloud should not be formed again
at a higher level, and so on—a phenomenon, in fact, of no
rare occurrence. In such a case, if we take the height
for an abscissa, as A B, the curA-e of humidity Avill be an
undulating one, such as E F G H I, attaining its maxi¬
mum, 1-000 (= B F or C H) at F or H, and having a
minimum between them as at G, while the curve of
tension P Q R S T folloAvs a progression totally different
—the relation betAveen any pair of their respective ordi¬
nates, C H, C S, being that Avhich subsists between the
M E T E 0 RO LOGY.
Meteoro- temperature, tension, and humidity generally, a rela-
tion expressible by the equation,
Y=«. 9 (t)
where Y is the vapour-tension, H the humidity, and <p (t)
the function of the temperature t, which expresses the
force of saturated vapour at that temperature (art. 92).
(206.) Dependency of atmospheric pressure, temperature,
and moisture on the direction of the wind. Dove’s general
views of this dependence.
There can be no doubt that by persevering and long-
continued observation, the same laws of diurnal and
annual periodicity will be found to be observed in the
direction and force of the wind as in the other meteoro¬
logical elements ; but they are so much more masked
by what we must at present term casual and accidental
causes, that, except in certain great features (such as
have already been described, art. 58, et seg.) and in cer¬
tain geographical situations, they cannot emerge from
the mass of overlying irregularities except in very long
periods. The extreme mobility of the air, the powerful
agencies at work to set it in motion, and the extensive
propagation and prolonged duration of movements
once communicated to an elastic fluid so constituted, all
go to mix up, at each particular spot and moment, into
one common resultant, motions which have originated
at many very remote points, and at very different epochs.
Along the coasts of heated continents, or even islands in
tropical regions, indeed, the diurnal alternation of sea
and land breezes is a result obvious enough of itself and
confirmed by observation ; and in the temperate zones,
the approach of the sun to their respective poles is masked
by a bias in the general direction of the wind towards an
easterly, and its recess by one towards a westerly direc¬
tion, the more marked the nearer the point of observa¬
tion is to the exterior limit of the trade winds. But as
regards the wind in general, it is found more advanta¬
geous to abandon this point of view, and to regard it, not
in its remote connection with the general cause of perio¬
dicity, but in its immediate relation to the other meteoro¬
logical elements with which it stands in more obvious
connection.
(207.) The winds, which are originally caused by the
equatorial heat and generation of aqueous vapour, or
by extensive local agencies of the same kind elsewhere
produced, act as their transporters from place to place,
and as their distributors over the globe. It is, therefore,
very obvious that a wind blowing with any degree of
continuance and force from a lower to a higher latitude
must bring with it to the latter both the superior tem¬
perature and moisture of the region it has left, and vice
versa. Thus in our latitude, a south-west wind is warm
and moist, a north-east cold and dry. The excess of
vapour in the former has a powerful tendency to form
cloud in coming into a colder climate, and to be deposited
in rain ; the latter arriving with a low vapour-tension
in a warmer region, absorbs both heat and moisture,
clearing the sky of cloud, and, while depressing the
temperature, gives that peculiar “ bracing ” quality which
is the effect of a cold, dry air, in contrast with the
“relaxing” influence of moist warmth. These effects
are familiar to every one, and have been remarked from
the earliest times. The general indication thus afforded
has been, however, pursued into minute detail by M.
Dove in his excellent work entitled Meteorologische TJnter-
suchungen (Berlin, 1832), in which he has succeeded in
exhibiting in a very distinct manner, by an extensive
induction from observations in almost every region
of the globe, the close and immediate dependence of all
the three great meteorological elements, temperature,
moisture, and atmospheric pressure, on the direction of
the wind, or the point of the compass from which it blows.
In other words, assuming 6 to represent the angle ■which
that direction makes with the meridian of the place
(reckoned from the north or south according to the deno¬
mination of the elevated pole), any one of these elements,
E, is found to be expressible, on an average or mean
value during a whole year or series of years, by the
equation of the form,
E = A + Bj. sin. (0 + Cj) + B2. sin. (2 $ + C2) + &c...(a)
(208.) The mode in which a law of this kind may
originate is not difficult to understand. Suppose, Isf,
the earth without diurnal rotation, and the sun to move
round it from east to west, and at any given spot (sup¬
pose in the northern hemisphere) let a wdnd blow direct
from the south with a certain force and during a certain
time, this will bring over the place of observation the
warmth and moisture of a latitude more southerly (sup¬
pose) by 10°. But now suppose a wind of the same
force to blow for the same time, not from the south, but
from the eastward or westward of south, at an angle f °
with the meridian : the atmosphere of a place 10° remote,
measured on a great circle, will be still transferred to
the place, but owing to the inclination of its path, only
10° X cos. 6 more south. If, therefore, the former wind
brought with it an accession of temperature or moisture,
represented by e, this will bring the accession e . cos. Q
proportional to the difference of latitude travelled over.
It may happen, however, from the circumstances of the
locality, that the warmest or moistest region in the neigh¬
bourhood may lie, not due south of the place, but in a
direction making an angle 90°—C with the meridian.
In this case, then, the extraneous temperature, or mois¬
ture so induced, will obviously be represented, not
simply by e. cos. 0, but by e . cos. (0 + C — 90°) or e . sin.
(0 + C).
(209.) The effect of the earth’s diurnal rotation is to
cause a wind setting in from the southward to veer more
and more westerly the longer it has continued to blow,
and from the northward more easterly, so that, to use
M. Dove’s expression, the direction of the wind belies
the region from which it has travelled. The wind,
therefore, which really reaches the spot in question from
the most southern region (and which brings the greatest
amount of extraneous heat and moisture) will not be a
south wind on its arrival, but one having more or less of
a westerly character, according to the latitude of the place
and other circumstances of local resistance, and vice
versa for the opposite influences. In so far, then, as the
great equatorial and polar system of wind-currents is
concerned, the general effect will be represented nearly
by the formula,
e. sin. (0+00
on a mean of every season and of every direction of the
wind ; and if to this be added the subordinate influences
which may be propagated to the locality in question from
regions nearer at hand than the equator, and which may
each and all of them give rise to similar effects, repre¬
sented by e'. sin. {6 + c'), e". sin. (0+ c"), the total effect,
being the sum of all these, will, as is easily seen, be
reducible to a single term of the general form, E. sin.
(6 + C).
(210.) .The effect of any wind in heating a place will
evidently be proportional not merely to its excess of
temperature, but to the quantity of air having that
excess which passes over the place, and which has
changed its latitude, that is to say, in the absence of any
information as to its velocity, to the degree of frequency
and duration of that particular wind. The co-efficient
677
Meteoro-
678
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- e, then, in the expression e. sin. (^+C) is dependent
logy- on this degree, which itself, in any given locality, is
dependent on 9, the north-east and south-west winds
being most frequent, and the other winds rarer, in some
definite relation to their duration. In other words, e
is a function of 9, having two maxima, viz., for 0 = 45°
and 225°, and two intermediate minima, not necessarily
at right angles to these, e, then, may be conceived as
generally capable of expression in some such form as
(g) +f . sin. (9 + g) + h . sin. (2 d + i), the combination
of which with sin. (0 + 45°), or sin. (0 + C), will give
rise to a set of terms containing the sines and cosines
of 9 and its multiples, with co-efficients depending on
(e),f, g, &c., and which are reducible, in their ultimate
expression, to the general form in art. 146.
(211.) The dependence of the barometric pressure on
0 in a similar form of expression is not so evident on
these principles. But it must be remembered that a warm
and moist atmosphere is lighter, bulk for bulk, than a
dry and cold one, and that as the effect of a surface wind
(at least of one of any continuance) is to transfer bodily
the lower strata of the atmosphere of one place to
another, so the barometer, apart from all other causes of
periodical fluctuation, will vary in inverse correspondence
with the temperature and moisture.
(212.) M. Dove, and after him Kamtz and others,
following out in greater detail this train of inquiry, have
come to very positive and distinct practical conclusions
on all these several heads. In fact, it appears, as a
general law, that in the “ wind-rose,” or compass-card,
there are two points not far from diametrically opposite
each other : the one in the neighbourhood of the NE.
point, the other in that of the SW., from which when
the wind blows, on the long average, both the temperature
and the vapour-tension have their maxima and minima,
the former at the NE., and the latter at the SW. The
same, or nearly the same, points or poles of the compass-
card indicate, reversely, the minimum and maximum of
barometric pressure. Particular localities show devia¬
tions from each other and from the general and normal
form of expression, both in respect of the precise situation
of these “ weather-poles ” on the compass-card, and in
their exact diametral opposition, as also in the situation
of the intermediate mean position. On the whole, how¬
ever, for each locality, and for each of the three elements
in question, it is found practicable to represent its vari¬
ation, in terms of the azimuth 9 of the direction of the
wind, by the expression,
E == A + Bx.sin. (0 +C,) + B2.sin. (2 0+C2)
in which Ci is very nearly the same angle for all of them,
and in which B2, the co-efficient of the term of the
second order, is found to be small in comparison of Bi,
that of the first. And it is evident that the total baro¬
metric pressure P-j-p, and the vapour-pressure p, having
both this form of expression, their difference P, or the
pressure of dry air, will admit of a similar one by a
proper determination of its co-efficients, which are easily
deduced from those of its component elements by putting
P0 + P,. sin. {9 + CO + P2. sin. (2 9 + C2)
+Po +Pi • sin. (9 + Cl) +p2. sin. (2 0 + c2)
— P'o+P'j-sin. (0+C'O+P^.sin. (20+C'2)
where P represents the mixed pressure, and the several
numbered and accented letters the respective co-efficients
of the general formula, and which, reduced by the usual
trigonometrical transformations, afford equations by
which any one set of these values may easily be derived
from the other two. It is evident, moreover, without
any calculation of this kind (as M. Dove observes), that
since the elastic power of the vapour has its maximum
at the SW. point, where the total barometric pressure
has its minimum, the dry pressure P must have its
minimum there also ; in other words, that ct being
approximately = Cx + 180°, C'j will be nearly identical
Meteoro-
with C.
(213.) Pursuing the inquiry still further, M. Dove
finds, as indeed might be expected, that these co-efficients
are severally and separately, like all meteorological local
elements, periodical functions of the season of the year,
or of the sun’s mean longitude ; and he has been enabled
to assign for several localities their spring, summer,
autumn, and winter values, his conclusions having been
completely established, in their general expression, by all
subsequent observation.
(214.) It is sufficiently obvious, from the principle with
which we set out (art. 208), that a similar series of rela¬
tions ought also to subsist in the southern hemisphere,
mutatis mutandis; that is to say, that the directions of
the maxima and minima, instead ofNE. andSW., will be
SE. and NW., in conformity with the general law of
the winds in the two hemispheres.
(215.) As an example of the results obtained in this
branch of meteorological enquiry, we shall here set down
the values of the co-efficients in the expression E = A
+ Bj. sin. (0 + + &c as calculated by Prof.
Johnson from the series of meteorological observations
made under his superintendence at the Radcliffe Observa¬
tory at Oxford. These are (Radcl. Ohs. 1854, p. xxvi.)
for the
Temperature T
Dry Pressure P
Vapour-Press, p
48q-60F.
29'404 inch.
0-307 inch.
2°-34
0-108 inch.
0'026 inch.
Ci
254035'
75 33
259 39
where it will be noticed, that 180o+75o33,=251° SS1, and
therefore, conformably to the theoretical views above deli¬
vered, the dry pressure has its minimum very nearly corre¬
sponding to the maximum of temperature and of vapour-
pressure. Whenever, as in this case, which is the most
common, the terms of the second and higher orders, are
insensible or nearly so, the co-efficient B1 determines the
maxima and minima, so that the respective values of 2 Bj
will express the total amount of fluctuation in tempera¬
ture, pressure, &c., at the stations which have their origin
in changes of wind.
(216.) It is very easy to perceive that with this depen¬
dence of the great elements of weather upon the direc¬
tion of the wind, the other features which stand to them
in the relation either of immediate consequences or proxi¬
mate causes, must go hand in hand—such as cloud, rain,
&c. For instance, at Karlsbad, from the calculations
of Eisenlohr, it appears that, during the prevalence of SW.
wind, 1 day outoflT^fi on an average only is free from
cloud, and during that of NE. 1 out of 3*04, the interme¬
diate winds being accompanied with intermediate degrees
of frequency. So also for rain : 1 day out of 2*75 during
SW., and one out of 11-92 NE.; the minimum of rain,
however, here occurring with an E. or ENE. wind;
stormy weather 1 out of 17*36 of SW., and 401*50 NE.,
clearly indicating the influence of the headlong down-rush
of the upper equatorial current of the anti-trades in the
manner indicated (art. 62.)
(217.) Not less distinctly marked is the degree of fre¬
quency of each particular direction of wind in connection
with the direction itself. Out of 40 places enumerated
by Dove in every part of Europe in which sufficiently
METEOROLOGY.
679
Meteoro- prolonged series of observations of the direction of the
logy- , wind had been collected by him, 21 have a very large and
decided predominance of days of west wind, 16 of SW., 2
only of NW., and only one (Kasan) SE. We have
already seen (art. 83) that the prevalent wind in Europe
generally is WSW. or thereabouts. After these, the
other or inferior maximum occurs at E. in 18 places,
NE. in 11, N. in 5, and SE. in 6, the average direction
of this maximum being about ENE. so that the position
advanced in art. 216 is fully borne out by obser¬
vation.
(218.) At the end of this essay the reader will find a
table containing the mean, the maximum, and the mini¬
mum values (with their epochs diurnal and annual) of the
principal meteorological elements obtained from the data
afforded by the best and most systematically conducted
series of observations, being for the most part those
which have been carried on since 1840, in the magnetic
and meteorological observations established by the British,
Russian, American, Belgian, and other governments, and
national and local institutions, on a concerted system of
hourly or bi-hourly observation. They afford numerous
and striking exemplifications of the laws explained above,
and clearly show their general applicability, especially
as regards the contrary march, both annual and diurnal,
of the humidity and vapour-tension ; the greater range
of the annual as compared with the diurnal fluctuations,
and the dependence of the average amount of vapour
present in the air, and the extent of both kinds of fluctu¬
ation on the latitude. It would have been easy to have
covered our pages, indeed to fill volumes with climato¬
logical records and statements, such as the reader will
find in Humboldt (Asie Centrale, vol. iii.), amassed by the
diligence of Mahlman ; in the more extensive collections
of the latter and Prof. Dove, in the 4th vol. of the Reper-
torium der Physik; and in the Reports of the Senate of
the University of New York to Congress; the Corre¬
spondence Meteorologique of the Russian observatories, &c.
Not only, however, do the limits allowed us forbid the
adoption of such a course, but we consider it more
instructive to concentrate attention upon a few carefully
determined and selected cases than to diffuse it over a
larger field of bewildering particulars.
Optical Phenomena of Meteorology—1. The Rainbow.
(219.) The explanation of the rainbow, suggested by
Roger Bacon, but only first clearly made out by Newton,
is so familiar an illustration of the laws of coloured refrac¬
tion in every treatise on optics, that we should not have
thought of introducing it into this essay but for the vague¬
ness of idea and misconception which are generally pre¬
valent respecting the origin of the “supernumerary
bows,” i.e., those coloured fringes which are often seen in
the interior of the primary rainbow, and more rarely (on
account of the comparative faintness of the whole pheno¬
menon) at the exterior of the secondary rainbow. They
have been explained by Dr Young on his fertile principle
of interferences, but his explanation {Phil. Trans. 1804)
is so obscurely expressed, or rather indicated, as to be
hardly intelligible, which is perhaps the reason why
Kamtz, the most exact and industrious of reporters in
matters of meteorological theory, while assembling all
the other explanations which from time to time had been
put forth by Pemberton, Yenturi, Brandes, and others
(some of them very absurd, and with none of which he
appears to feel satisfied), passes this, the only correct one,
in silence. Neither is it noticed by M. Pouillet in his
recent elaborate Elemens de Physique, who in place of
it, offers a surmise as to their origin which cannot be the
true one, and which is refuted by an experiment of M. Meteoro-
Babinet, which he cites in illustration. Mr Coddington, v _h>gy-
in his treatise on reflexion and refraction, explains only
the Newtonian Bows, his subject not extending to the
phenomena of interferences, while Dr Lloyd, in his
treatise on light and vision, contents himself with men¬
tioning the fact of their having been explained by Dr
Young, without giving the steps of the explanation. We
shall not, therefore, scruple to devote some small portion
of our allotted space to rescuing this very beautiful
illustration of the law of interference from unmerited
neglect.
(220). Let 6 be the angle of incidence of a solar ray
on the surface of a spherical drop of water {6 being 0°
when the ray enters at the vertex next the sun, and
passes diametrically through the drop, and 90° where it
just grazes its circumference), <p the corresponding angle
of refraction, and ^ the refractive index for a ray of any
given colour, being greatest for violet and least for red
rays. Then shall we have sin. & = y/. sin. <p, and the
deviation of the ray by refraction will be 6—<p. If
the ray be reflected internally after entering the drop,
it is easy to see, by tracing its course within the sphere,
that at each reflexion an additional deviation in the same
direction of 180°—2 <p will take place, and at its final
emergence a further deviation (still in the same direction)
equal to that at entering or = 9— <p, so that the total devi¬
ation after n reflections will amount to n. 18Oc> + 20 —
2 (n+1) tp, which is a function of 9 in virtue of the rela¬
tion sin. 9 = g/. sin. p; {a) Now this function, which
is n. 180° when 0 = 0, diminishes as 9 increases (since
/Jj being nearly |, 2{n+\)[i is necessarily greater than
2), and continues to diminish until it attains a minimum,
when its differential vanishes, or when d 9—{n+ 11) d<p,
which, by eliminating d<p \>y combining this with the
diffex*ential of equation (a), gives
’ _N/(n+l)2—1
and for the case of the primary bow, where n= 1, sin. 9
A pp
— ri --- -- in which substituting for /a the exact refractive
indices of the extreme red and violet rays for water,
we find for the red rays 9= 59° 32', <p = 40° 22', and
A (the deviation) = 137° 36/, and for the violet the cor¬
responding values 58° 46', 39° 30', 139p 32'. When
the deviation is a minimum, the rays incident more and
more remotely from the vertex of the drop, and which, up
to that point, were dispersed at their emergence by their
change of deviation, cease to be so, and emerge parallel.
An eye, then, properly situated with respect to the drop
will receive a parallel red pencil of rays in a direction
137° SO' remote from that of the sun, and one of violet
in a direction 139° 32^ remote from it; or, in other
words, at the angular distances 42° 24' and 40°28/ re¬
spectively, from the point of the heavens opposite to the
sun, which are therefore the angular radii of the
elementary red and violet rainbows.
(221.) So far the Newtonian explanation of the bow.
As regards the fringes, if we put D = 180° — A, it is
evident that D will represent the deviation of the
emergent ray, not from the direction in which the sun’s
rays proceed, but from that in which the sun is seen, and
will therefore express the dispersion outwards of the emer¬
gent ray from the latter direction, and will be a maximum
when A is a minimum. The parallel pencil of rays, there¬
fore, by which the rainbow is seen, has the maximum angle
of dispersion outwards from the sun, and all other rays at
their emergence will have a less, whether their points of
emergence be nearer to or farther from the vertex of the
METEOROLOGY.
680
Meteoro- drop. For every sucli point, then, more remote from the
logy, vertex, it will be possible to find a corresponding point less
remote, such that individual rays {not pencils) emerging
from both shall have the same angle of dispersion; and
which, of course, shall pursue parallel directions, and when
incident on the eye shall be collected on the same precise
point of the retina, and shall therefore be in a condition
to interfere with, and destroy or reinforce each other,
according to the difference of their total paths traversed
both within and without the drop, before reaching the eye.
(222.) Let A B D be a section of the drop through the
sun (in the direction C S from the centre C). Draw D E
perpendicular to C S; and taking the principal focus for
rays refracted at the convex surface E A D, let D G- F be
the caustic of the quadrant D A. Let S Q G g, be the
course of the pencil of rays which emerges parallel along
2 M (as the drop’s contribution to the rainbow), and taking
any point P between A and Q, draw P c H, touching the
caustic in H, and cutting the surface in c. Then will P c be
the course of the refracted ray before, and cp after reflexion,
and/) L its ultimate diversion on emergence. From c draw
c K R touching the caustic in R. This will be the direction
of another ray S R after refraction, and supposing c r to be
its reflected course, the incidences of the rays cp, c r, on the
one side of the sphere will be symmetrical to those of c P,
c R, on the other, and therefore P S and R S (regarded as
rays from c refracted outwards) beingparallel to each other,
r N and/)L, the courses of c r and cp after emergence, will
also be so ; and P, R will lie on opposite sides of Q, and
p, r of q, because as c approaches to G the point where
the caustic meets the sphere, H and K both do so also.
P and R approach and ultimately coincide at Q, and/) r
at q, the latter being the point at which contiguous rays
emerge parallel. Thus, for every point of emergence
p nearer the vertex than q, another r more remote has been
found, under the condition appropriate to the interference
of the emergent rays.
(223.) Thus we see that every ray emerging between
A and q will have a fellow ray emerging parallel to it
between q and E, and interfering with it by a difference
of undulations, determined by drawing/) m perpendicular
to r N, and r n a circle, having c for its centre ; for the
difference in question (3) will be expressed by —^7
v v1
where v, y' are the velocities of light in air and in water,
that is, since v1 :v :: 1: fi, by r ?n — fi . n p. It is not
necessary to go into any calculation of the value of
this; it is sufficient that it increases regularly from 0
(when r and p coincide with q) not merely because both r m
and np vanish there, but because at q and its neighbourhood
rm:np:: Uf\ 1, so that the parallel rays which form the
rainbow have no difference of phase, while as the inclina¬
tion of the emergent rays r N, p l, to the visual ray of the
rainbow q M increases, so does also their difference of Meteoro-
phases. ^logy.^
(224.) The larger the drop the greater are the linear
magnitudes of all the elements composing its form, and
therefore of r m and n p, and consequently L Hence, to
the same difference of angular directions between the
rainbow and any pair of interfering rays will correspond
a larger value of <5 the larger the drop, and therefore a
greater difference of phase and number of fringes; or,
in other words, the angular breadths of the successive
fringes are inversely as the diameters of the drops. If,
then, the drops differ much in diameter, and there be no
greatly prevalent average diameter, the fringes formed
by one drop will confuse those by another. It is only,
then, when owing to some existing condition in the for¬
mation of the rain, there is a large preponderance of
drops having very nearly the same diameter that these
fringes will be visible. They are especially well seen,
and the whole phenomenon of the primary bow is exhi¬
bited with peculiar distinctness, when on a sunny morning
the eye is held close to a gossamer covered with dew (in
perfectly distinct microscopic globules of nearly equal
magnitude), the back being turned to the sun and the
head so placed as to allow his light to fall laterally on
the net-work on which the globules are strung like beads.
Four or five internal fringes may be distinctly traced
within the bow formed by an even undisturbed gossamer.
(225.) The angle of dispersion D being a maximum
for rays forming the rainbow, it is obvious that no drop
outside of the bow can send to the eye any ray once
internally reflected from the sun. Hence the greater
apparent illumination of the ground of the sky inside of
the bow. The rainbow ray is, in fact, the asymptote of
the exterior caustic for rays twice refracted and once
reflected.
(226.) In reference to the formation of a rainbow
on cloud or fog in the entire absence of rain (art. 93),
Colonel Sykes, in his paper on the Meteorology of the
Deccan {Phil. Trans. 1835), relates a remarkable instance
of one seen by him from the top of a precipice from
2000 to 3000 feet in perpendicular height, forming the
north-west scarp of the hill fort of Hurrachandarghur,
among the Ghauts, overlooking the plains of the Concan
(Konkhun), densely covered with fog-cloud, rising some¬
what above the level of the precipice, but not covering
it. Under these circumstances, having the sun at a low
elevation at his back, he says, “A circular rainbow
appeared, quite perfect, of the most vivid colours, one
half above the level on which I stood, the other below
it. Shadows in distinct outline of myself, my horse, and
people, appeared in the centre of the circle, as in a
picture to which the bow formed a resplendent frame.”
“ From our proximity to the fog, I believe the diameter
of the circle at no time exceeded 50 or 60 feet. The
brilliant circle was accompanied with the usual outer
bow in fainter colours.” In the same paper, he also
records his observation of a white rainbow in a fog-bank
near Poonah, within which he was riding. “ Suddenly
I found myself emerge from the fog, which terminated
abruptly in a wall some hundred feet high. Shortly
after sunrise, I turned my horse’s head homewards, and
was surprised to discover in the mural termination of
the fog-bank a perfect rainbow, defined in its outline, but
destitute of prismatic colours.” “ Niehbuhr, in his
Voyage to Africa, describes a white rainbow, and Mr
St John, in his Lives of Celebrated Travellers (iii. 121),
mentions having seen one, on the 21st May 1830, in
Normandy, on ‘ the morning mist.’ ” On the other hand,
it should be mentioned that Mr Smyth, in his recent
sojourn on the Peak of Teneriffe, with a cloudless sky and
M E T E 0 K
Meteoro- perpetual sunshine above, and with a boundless sea of
cloud continually extended in all directions below him,
makes no mention of a rainbow being at any time formed
upon it.
(227.) Halos.—These are of two kinds : the first, large
circles of definite and constant diameters, one of 45p,
the other of 92°, and which are seldom both seen
together. The colours are very feeble, especially of the
larger, which is usually almost or quite white. The
formation of the lesser of these, as explained by Mariotte,
is due to the existence of minute prisms of ice floating
in the air, having refracting angles of 60°, and their
axes turned in all possible directions. If we take a tri¬
angular prism of glass, and turn it about in a sunbeam,
it will refract out from one of its angles a coloured beam,
whose deviation from the direction of the incident Imht
varies as the prism is turned, being at first very great,
but diminishing until at one point of the rotation the
deviated beam becomes for a while stationary, and then
(the rotation continuing in the same direction) begins
again to increase. There exists, then, for every refract-
ing angle of the prism a minimum angle of deviation,
dependent on the refractive density and the angle of the
prism. In ice, with a refracting angle of 60°, this devi¬
ation is about 23° for red light, and therefore, among an
infinite multitude of such prisms scattered through”the
air, a far greater number will throw out a refracted beam
23° inclined to the direct ray of the luminary than in
any other direction, since about the position of the maxi¬
mum a considerable amount of rotation of the prism
causes but a very trifling change in the direction of the
refracted ray. At the angular distance of 23°, then,
from the apparent place of the luminary, there will be
a much larger percentage of prisms in the visual line
capable of sending a refracted beam to the eye than at
any other, and a dim circle faintly coloured with red
internally, and better defined within than without, will
be seen.
# (228.) The halo of 928 diameter is accounted for in a
similar manner by refraction through the angle of 908,
at which the sides of hexagonal or triangular prisms
intersect their basis, and which in ice gives a minimum
deviation for red rays of about 468. Besides the agreement
of these angles assigned by theory with the measured semi¬
diameters of the halos, we have a direct proof, in the fact
observed by Arago, that their light is partially polarized
in a plane tangent to the circumference of their circles,
that they consist of refracted light. The light of the
rainbow, similarly examined, indicates reflexion as its
principal origin, being polarized in a plane at right angles
to the arc, or passing through the sun.
(229.) Besides these principal halos there are smaller
ones which are frequently seen encircling the moon, often
two, very rarely three, and which are sometimes called
coronas, a very proper distinction, their origin being quite
different from that of the large ones as well as their
colours, which are much more lively and inverse as to
their order, the red being outward and the violet inward.
When two or more are seen at once, the diameter of the
second is double that of the first—of the third triple.
But the diameter of the interior corona (the unit of the
scale) is not always the same, varying from 2° to 4°.
The succession of colours is approximately that of the
reflected series of thin plates, and they are obviously
interference fringes, and as such have been very satisfac¬
torily explained by Dr Young, who considers them to
arise from the interference of rays passing on either side
of minute globules, all (or a preponderant average) of
which have at the time very nearly the same size, assimi¬
lating them to the colours of fine even-stapled wool or
VOL. xiv.
OLOGY. 681
to lycoperdon dusted over glass, and held between a Meteoro-
candle and the eye. Dewed glass so held often exhibits lo^-
similar rings, and occasionally the cornea of the eye itself
becomes filmy by the diffusion over it of minute particles
which (such at least is our personal experience) exhibit
round a candle two or three beautiful coronas, the
second of 17° 57' in diameter, of vivid colours and most
perfect definition. The reason why coronas are seldom
seen round the sun is the dazzling brightness of that
luminary. If its light be enfeebled by reflection in
water, or by a coloured glass, they are often visible.
Newton observed three such on one occasion by this
means.
(230.) Interference colours are frequently seen irregu¬
larly distributed over cloud masses. We had the satis¬
faction of witnessing a fine display of them from the Col
du Mont Cervin on the occasion of an ascent of the Breit-
horn (Kleine Monte Rosa) in 1821, and since, in cirro-
stratus covering the sun, on Sept. 17, 1852, when the
pink, blue, and green colours of a mackarel’s skin were
visible in irregular patches. But the beautiful pheno¬
menon, which it was our good fortune to observe on the
14th July 1841, at 4h. 50m. p.m., being, so far as our
reading extends, unique in meteorology, appears to merit
a particular description. While riding on that occasion
near Hawkhurst, in Kent, with a companion, the attention
of both was attracted by the pale well-defined silvery disc
of the sun as seen through a very high cloud, of a cha¬
racter between cirro-stratus and cirro-cumulus—like a
high ii mackarel sky blotted by a remarkably uniform
fog. After a few moments we perceived the edges of
the cloud to be beautifully tinged with bands of colour,
not disposed in a circular form round the sun as a centre,
but following all the sinuosities of the outline of the cloud.
The colours, commencing from the white area forming
its interior and proceeding outward to the edge, were—
ls£, white ; 2d, very pale pink; 3d, blue-green, a stronger
colour; 4th (at the edge), purplish pink, considerably
intense; beyond which pure blue sky. At one place a
5th band of colour, blue-green (very different from the
blue of the sky) formed the edge; the line of demarca¬
tion between this and No. 4 distinctly running out at the
edge so as to cut the outline of the cloud. What, how¬
ever was especially remarkable, was that the same fringes
were observed bordering detached portions of neighbouring
clouds of similar character, the colours having obviously no
reference to more or less proximity to the sun, but depend¬
ing on the thickness of the cloud or the length of the path
within it traversed by the visible ray. After watching
this phenomenon for a quarter of an hour, the coloured
bands grew broader and the tints very strong, and a ten¬
dency to form a corona about the sun was perceived.
Probably with a darkening glass, one or more might have
been well made out. It seems impossible to regard these
colours otherwise than as the resultants of the super-posi¬
tion of a series of interference fringes following a regular
progression of breadth (due to a progressively increasing
size of the drops) from the exterior to the interior of the
cloud.
Parhelia and bands of light passing through the sun.
—A horizontal band of light is occasionally seen to pass
through the sun when at a low altitude, and to be pro-
longed into a circle parallel to the horizon. This is evi¬
dently what would result from reflection on, or refraction
t rough, the faces of innumerable ice prisms floating in
perfectly calm air with their axes vertical, but having their
lateral faces disposed equally in all azimuths. Minute
crystals, when formed by precipitation in a liquid at
rest, always arrange themselves with their axes parallel
as they sink, which may often be rendered sensible by a
682
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- silky appearance in the liquid produced by agitation (of
logy- which iodide of lead precipitated from a dilute solution
containing ether affords a beautiful example). Under
this condition, then, the dispersed light, which m the
halos is scattered in all planes equally, is here confined
to a horizontal one, resulting in a bright horizontal circle,
the parhelia being the intensified effects of a greater con¬
densation of the dispersed rays at the angles of minimum
dispersion, corresponding to the halo itself as the circle
does to the diffused illumination of the cloud on which
the halo is depicted. #
(232.) Any one who considers the complicated forms
of snow crystals (art. 120), and the various ways in which
refractions and reflections,both external and internal, may
take place among them, bearing in mind also that ice is
doubly refractive, and that at the planes of junction of
macled crystals, phenomena of coloration of an intricate
nature are presented, will not be surprised to find a gi eat
variety and complication of luminous arcs, more or less
coloured, and intersecting one another in such a way as to
form singular interlaced patterns, occasionally developed
under the influence of a bright sun, intense frost, and
generally clear sky, on the principles above explained;
such, for instance, as the superb exhibition witnessed by
Scheiner at Rome in 1629, and repeated in higher per¬
fection, and with fuller detail, for several days in
succession, at Moscow, when occupied by the French
army in 1812. This most striking phenomenon, which
is very seldom more than partially visible, consists of
two brilliant halos about the sun, cut diametrically across
by a horizontal circle continued all round the heavens,
with well-developed parhelia at their intersections, and
a third at a very large angular distance, more feeble, the
intersections also marked with parhelia. At the summits
of the two inner halos, and touching them externally,
other circles, as it were their reflected images, pass
upwards and include the zenith, that which touches the
inner halo having a parhelion at the point of contact
Circles of this description are clearly not phenomena of
interference, and can only admit of explanation by the
intervention of ice crystals. .
(233 ) Polarization of Shy Light. This is a very
mysterious and a very beautiful phenomenon, when
explored by the aid of a polariscope, consisting of a tour¬
maline plate, with a slice of Iceland crystal or nitre, cut
at right angles to its optic axis, and applied on the side
of the tourmaline farthest from the eye. In a cloudless
day, if the sky be explored in all parts by looking through
this compound plate, the polarized rings will be seen deve¬
loped with more or less intensity in every region but that
nearest the sun and that most distant from it—the maxi¬
mum of polarization taking place on a zone of the sky
90° from the sun, or in a great circle having the sun tor
one of its poles. The plane of polarization, whatever
the direction of the visual ray, passes throug1 t e syin’
so that the cause of polarization is evidently a reflexion
of the sun’s light on something. The question is, on
what? Were the angle of maximum polarization 76 ,
we should look to water or ice for the reflecting body,
however inconceivable the existence in a cloudless
atmosphere and a hot summer day of unevaporated
molecules of water. But though we were once of this
opinion (art. Light, Encycl. Metropol. § 1143), careful
observation has satisfied us that 90°, or thereabouts, is
the correct angle, and that therefore, whatever be the
body on which the light has been reflected, if polarized by Meteoro-
a single reflexion, the “ polarizing angle must be 45°,
and the index of refraction, which is the tangent of that
angle, unity ; in other words, the reflection would
require to be made in air upon air ! The only imagin¬
able way in which this could happen would be at the
plane of contact of two portions of air differently heated,
such as might be supposed to occur at almost every point
of the atmosphere in a bright sunny day; but against
this there seems to be an insuperable objection. The
polarization is most regular and complete, as we have
lately been able to satisfy ourselves under the most
favourable possible atmospheric conditions, after sunset,
in the bright twilight of a summer night, with the sun
some degrees below the horizon, and long after all the
tremors and turmoil of the air, due to irregular heating,
must have completely subsided. Even at midnight, the
moonlit sky1 exhibits the same phenomenon, bearing the
same reference to the moon’s position as to that of the
sun by day, the black cross of the polariscope being dis¬
tinctly perceptible. The difficulty, therefore, of conceiving
the polarization as operated by a single reflexion is veiy
great. On the other hand, if effected by several suc¬
cessive reflexions, what is to secure a large majority of
them being in one plane (in which case only their polar¬
izing effect would accumulate); and of those which
become ultimately effective, what is there to determine
an ultimate deviation of 90° as that of the maximum .
The more the subject is considered, the more it will be
found beset with difficulties; and its explanation, when
arrived at, will probably be found to carry with it that
of the blue colour of the sky itself, and of the great
quantity of light which (whether reflected, refracted, or
fluorescent) it actually does send down to us, and of
which we confess our inability to render any account less
unsatisfactory than that of Newton, who refers it to
reflexion on thin transparent particles. These cannot
be air, because there can be no reflexion upon an in
contact with air of the same density. And they cannot
be water, it being impossible to realize even in imagina¬
tion the existence of globules or bubbles of the requisite
dimensions maintaining themselves unevaporated for an
instant, when disseminated through the atmosphere of a
clear, dry, and sultry day, when through its whole
extent there is no doubt of the dew-point being far below
the actual temperature, that is to say, under conditions
where a sheet of wet paper would become dry in a few
minutes—over a sandy desert, for instance, where rain
never falls, and cloud is a rarity. We may observe, too,
that it is only where the purity of the blue sky is most
absolute that the polarization is developed in its highest
degree, and that where there is the slightest perceptible
tendency to cirrus it is materially impaired. Neither is
it in the upper regions only that it is effected. 1 e
polarized rings are formed, though much more feebly,
and under the same conditions of reference to the sun s
position below the limit of the visible horizon as above
it, provided only the visual ray have a mile or two of air
to traverse in full sunshine. .
(234.) Colours of Clouds.—Whether or no pure air be
an absorptive coloured medium, transmitting the blue
rays and absorbing the yellow, we may be very sure that
the terrestrial matter which, in the form of smoke, dus ,
and general undefinable impurity, defiles its lower
regions, does exercise an absorptive action of a contrary
i It did so on the night of the evening referred to. This was after a very hot day, and a series ^ Ylcre discerned, and tie skyfight,
observation the next lunation, after copious rains, no trace of the cross or polarized rings could e aT1^ Position Perhaps there was
examined by a doubly refracting prism" showed only a feeble partial polarization m the most favourable position, remap
unperceived cirrus.
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- nature, absorbing the violet end of the spectrum and
l°gy- letting pass the red. This is quite sufficient to account
for the red and golden hues of sunset, and of those clouds
which are high enough to catch the last rays of the de¬
clining sun after its disappearance from the horizon of the
spectator on the earth. The red, and sometimes greenish,
light thrown on the moon by the earth’s atmosphere
acting as a lens, and concentrating on it light which has
undergone its absorptive effect, sufficiently indicates the
nature of that absorption on a general average of the whole
atmosphere, which, however, is sometimes singularly
suspended, and even changed into one of an opposite
character, as in the instance of the blue sun seen at
Bermuda from 6 a.m. to 5^- p.m. August 13, two days
after the great hurricane of August 10, 1831, a pheno¬
menon which Arago has regarded as merely an effect of
contrast, but which, described as we happen to have it
very circumstantially in a letter from an eye-witness, we
must consider to have been an objective reality.
(235.) Professor Forbes, in a very curious paper pub¬
lished in the Edinburgh Phil. Trans., vol. xiv., has shown
that high pressure steam, in the act of expansion and while
still transparent, is highly absorptive of the violet, blue,
and a portion of the green rays of the spectrum ; and in a
second memoir in the same volume, suggests that without
supposing absorptive coloration in the air itself, it may
exist in a mixture of air and vapour, the latter being in
that peculiar intermediate absorptive state which his expe¬
riments have clearly shown under certain circumstances
(certainly very remote from atmospheric ones) to exist.
Whether the ruddy hues above alluded to in the lower
atmosphere be really owing to the presence of absorptive
steam, is doubtless a question which may be entertained
and more fully discussed; but if the sky be blue by
reason of absorption, that absorption must be of a directly
opposite character (i. e., most energetic on the red rays of
the spectrum).
(236.) Mirage.—When the surface of the soil is greatly
heated, the air in contact with it is dilated, and while
yet supporting the incumbent atmospheric pressure, its
elasticity being increased, does so with diminished
density. In such a case, rays of light coming from a
distant object at great obliquities, before they can reach
the ground, are bent upwards by refraction, and pursue
their further course as if reflected from the surface of
water. Thus, to a spectator receiving both these reflected
rays and those which, diverging from the same object,
reach his eye directly, having never passed into the
heated stratum, both the object and its reflected image will
be seen, the one direct, the other inverted, and joined by
their bases, as if rising out of a lake of still water, which
in arid deserts such a stratum of hot air exactly resem¬
bles. Under certain circumstances, on sea coasts, such
a layer of hot air (drifted probably from a shore of heated
sand) occupies a higher level, and in it, as if in a mirror
suspended in the air, the inverted images of ships, mast¬
head to mast-head with the direct, are seen ; and even in
some rarer cases, again, another repetition of the image
upright above both. Singular instances of this kind are
described by Professor Yince as seen at Ramsgate {Phil.
Trans, vol. Ixxxix.) M. Biot has given an elaborate
explanation of the theory of such phenomena, in a paper
in the Memoirs of the French Academy. The accounts of
arctic voyages are full of extraordinary exemplifications
of the same general principle, where the powerful radia¬
tion of an arctic summer sun acts on a surface loaded
with ice, and produces great contrasts of local tempera¬
ture.
(237.) When a cui*rent of heated air passes through a
body of air generally colder, a lateral mirage is some-
683
times, though rarely, produced. Thus, on the Lake of Meteoro-
G-eneva, the image of a boat sailing on it has been seen
reflected on such a vertical plane of demarcation. A
similar effect is sometimes produced by the sun striking
on a wall. We remember when walking on a hot sunny
day under the south wall of Kensington Gardens, the sun
shining full upon it, to have observed the distinct reflec¬
tion of persons walking on the same footway. A single
soldier for instance appeared as two; the shape and
colours of the uniform being visible in the reflected
image on the wall, which appeared invested with a
glassy, mirror-like coating.
(238.) Aurora Borealis.—As a meteorological agent,
electro-magnetism, to which department of physics this
phenomenon refers itself, has no claim to be regarded. So
far as has hitherto been proved, there is no meteorological
effect either as regards temperature, moisture, barometric
pressure, or wind, which is in the smallest perceptible
degree influenced by its most vivid displays. They
appear to be developed for the most part in a region of
the atmosphere too high, and of too great rarity to affect
either our instruments or (except on these occasions) our
senses, and the only interest they offer to the meteoro¬
logist otherwise than as brilliant spectacles, consists in
the evidence which they afford of the existence of some
matter of inconceivable tenuity no doubt, in those ele¬
vated regions capable of being thrown into a luminous
state by the passage through it of the electric discharge.
Whether electricity passing through an absolute vacuum
be luminous, we have no means of determining by experi¬
ment, since such a vacuum is beyond our power to pro¬
duce, though the experiments of Davy would appear to
indicate that beyond a certain degree of tenuity (already
very extreme) in the gaseous or vaporous medium filling
glass vessels admitting of inspection of what passes, the
electrical discharge between the poles of a battery not
only begins to be less luminous, but the conduction itself
is impaired. But in certain phases of an auroral display,
indications of a very unequivocal character are afforded
of a distribution of material substance in forms which,
could they be seen under ordinary circumstances, would
be called clouds. We allude to those luminous bands
extending across the horizon, and patches of auroral
light which are either stationary or nearly so in the sky,
but which, when attentively watched, are usually per¬
ceived to be slowly drifting southwards, and are gene¬
rally the precursors of a more active phase of the aurora
when it bursts into streamers. These perhaps belong to
comparatively less elevated regions, and possibly in some
cases to be identifiable with the very highest perceptible
cirrous cloud. But besides these, there are others pro¬
bably at a much greater elevation, and which become
perceptible only when traversed by those undulating
pulsations of light, converging to the magnetic zenith,
which constitute a marked feature of certain auroras.
As a flash of what is called sheet-lighting {i.e. the reflec¬
tion of an unseen flash on a distant back-ground of cloud)
will often disclose the outlines of intermediate cloud
otherwise unsuspected, so these pulsations when care¬
fully watched, will be seen to consist of waves of light
traversing regions of space, bounded by more or less
definite outlines, within which light is momentarily
developed by the passage of each pulse, and whose exis¬
tence as occupying place and having form, whatever else
their nature, is only revealed to us in those moments,
not as in the case just alluded to by their projection as
intercepting masses on a luminous ground, but as giving
off light out of their own substance.
(239.) The height of the auroral arch in that form in
which it stretches across the sky as a luminous band
684
METEOROLOGY.
Meteoro- at right angles to the magnetic meridian has been
JQg.y- . estimated on several occasions from its apparent zenith
distance as seen from different stations, variously
at from 50 to 300 miles above the earth. The most
unexceptionable determination seems to have been
that of an arch observed simultaneously at Gosport,
Keswick, and Newtown-Stewart in Scotland, on Oct. 17,
1819, which, by the calculations of Dalton, Phil. Trans.
1828, from the zenith distances observed, was 100 or 102,
miles above the earth. It has been suggested that such
measurements are inconclusive, on the ground that (as in
the case of the rainbow) each observer sees his own arch,
and that no one spectator sees the same arch as another.
But it is obvious that this applies only to an optical
image reflected or refracted from some original source of
light elsewhere situated, whereas no one can doubt that
the light of the aurora originates nowhere but in the
place where it is seen. A planet or comet might with
equal justice be considered as the image (formed on some
unknown reflector) of some other planet or comet not
seen. But the want of absolute fixity in the apparent
place of the arc itself is a great obstacle to exactness of
determination, as such observations are rarely made at
precisely noted and astronomically corrected moments of
time. There is very positive evidence, however, that
auroral light has been seen below the clouds (as in the
Polar Seas by Parry, Sherer, and Ross, on Jan. 27,1825 ;
near the chain of the Rocky Mountains in North
America on December 2, 1850, by Hardisty; and at
Alford in Scotland on Feb. 24, 1842, by Farquharson),
nay, even habitually seen as if hovering over the Coreen
Hills in the last mentioned neighbourhood, at a height
from 4000 to 6000 feet (Farquharson, Phil. Trans.
1839).
(240.) Meteors, Shooting Stars, &c.—The fall of a stone
or a shower of stones from the sky would seem at first
sight to be quite as fairly entitled to be regarded as a
meteorological phenomenon as that of a shower of hail;
nay, hailstones are said to have fallen, each containing a
nucleus of iron pyrites. At all events, falls of stony
masses accompanied with aerial detonations and lumi¬
nous appearances are too numerous and well authenti¬
cated to admit of doubt. But there is not the smallest
reason to believe that such can be formed in, or anyhow
collected from, disseminated particles scattered through
the air, and on the contrary, so great a mass of facts go
to connect “ shooting stars” with astronomical pheno¬
mena, that we cannot hesitate in assigning them to that
department of physics. This, however, does not apply
to a class of meteors of which the great one of August
18,1783, was an eminent example—great fiery globes, of
many hundreds, nay thousands of feet in diameter, evi¬
dently not of solid materials, being of fluctuating and
continually varying form, and giving out most intense
light, many of them being compared not merely to the
moon in illuminating power, but to the full light of day.
The name Bolis or Bolide has been applied to this class of
phenomena. That above mentioned traversed the whole
of Europe from the North Sea to Rome, at an altitude
tolerably well ascertained of about 50 miles, and with
a velocity of from 20 to 40 miles per second. Its diameter
could not have been less than 4000 feet, having been
seen under an angle equal to one-third of the moon’s
apparent diameter when vertically over the eastern coun¬
ties of England, from Edgeworthstown in Ireland, at a
distance of at least 300 miles. That it must have been
a body of extremely small density is evident from the fact
of its having made a sudden flexure in its course at a
certain point of its progress. There is so much that is
enigmatical about these bodies—the trains they leave
behind them, and which often remain long visible, and
change their aspect and form like luminous clouds; the
immense velocity of some, approaching to planetary (yet
far short of that of the electric spark), and the complete
apparent fixity of others ; and their tendency (alleged) to
affect the direction of the magnetic meridian (which that
of 1783 certainly did)—as to take them out of the domain
of exact science. In fact, no theory of their origin,
making the smallest approach to plausibility, has hitherto
been advanced, though the records of the observations
of such meteors would fill volumes, and may be found by
consulting the indices of almost every collection of scien¬
tific memoirs or notices, and every philosophical magazine
and journal. See especially the reports of luminous
meteors, from a.d. 338-1293, by Chasles (Comptes
Rendus, March 15,1841); the great collection of Chladni;
four reports by Prof. Powell to the British Association,
1848-51 ; two by M. Quetelet to the Royal Academy of
Brussels, 1839 and 1842; and Schmidt’s Resultate ans
10-jiihrigen Beobachtungen ilber Sternschuppen.
(241.) Whirlwinds, Waterspouts, Dust-storms.—When¬
ever two currents of air running in opposite directions
approach and graze one another, eddies will arise, the
air of which, forced into rotation, compressed by its own
impulse, and finding no escape downwards or laterally,
is driven upwards, and ascends with a vorticose motion,
which, as a necessary consequence of the dynamical prin¬
ciple of the “ conservation of areas,” becomes swifter the
nearer the indraughted air approaches the axis of the
eddy. Whirlwinds so generated differ widely from cy¬
clones, inasmuch as the ascensional movement is not the
cause, but the consequence of the indraught of air; they
are whirlwinds of compression, whereas cyclones are
whirlwinds of rarefaction. The greater part of those
violent and sudden whirlwinds which are confined to
limited and linear tracts of land, which carry up into the
air haystacks, unroof houses and scatter the materials
around, tear off branches of trees, upset boats, and com¬
mit other local havoc, are probably of this kind. In
such whirlwinds, the law of the direction of rotation
which the true cyclone obeys (art. 72) is not necessarily
observed, and their rotation may be indifferently direct
or retrograde according to the relative situation and
direction of the currents from which they originate.
They are often terminated by heavy falls of rain, a very
obvious consequence of the sudden transfer of a great
mass of air nearly saturated with vapour at the surface
of the earth to a much higher level (art. 110) ; for the
same reason, that is, that a fall of rain has been not
unfrequently observed to follow great natural conflagra¬
tions, as in the burning of forests or prairies in North
America, or in volcanic eruptions, nay, is even said to
have been brought on by fires kindled for that express
purpose.
(242.) Whirlwinds of this kind taking place at sea
give rise to waterspouts (trombes de mer), which are very
singular and sometimes dangerous phenomena. Tall
columns, apparently of cloud, and reaching from the sea
to the clouds, are seen moving majestically along, often
several at once, sometimes straight and vertical, at others
inclined and tortuous, but always when approached per¬
ceived to be in rapid rotation. At their bases the sea is
violently agitated, and heaped up with a leaping or
boiling motion. Indeed water would seem, at least in
some cases, to be actually carried up in considerable
quantity, and scattered round from a great height, as
solid bodies are on land. Hence they have been sup¬
posed by some to draw water from the sea by suction, a
thing obviously impossible. A notion is prevalent among
seamen that they may be cut asunder and dispersed by
Meteoro¬
logy-
METEOROLOGY.
Meteors- firing a cannon-shot through them, an effect for which no
g0°d reason can be rendered, and which certainly savours
of the marvellous. Appendages evidently in the nature
of imperfectly formed waterspouts are often seen descend¬
ing from the under surface of rainy clouds on land (we
have such a one before our eyes — August 5, 1857),
like long loose tapering tails floating in the air, but not
meeting the earth. Viewed through a telescope, they
are evidently seen to be hollow vaporous cylinders or
conoids—a light medial line or axis being clearly trace¬
able^ through their whole length, and the rotation per¬
ceptible on attending to the slight irregularities in their
outline (which is very definite.)
(243.) During the hot season, in parched and sandy
tracts of flat country, whirlwinds of an opposite character
arise from the ascent of the violently heated air in sheets
or streams, determined by accidents of local exposure or
by any slight elevation of the soil, up which gliding on
all sides, the superficial air becomes concentered for the
moment, as we see flames arise and divide themselves.
When this takes place on a large scale, a true cyclone
may be thus generated ; but if the ascensional movement
be broken up into numerous partial ascending columns,
the wind-flaws which sweep along the surface to feed
them, wherever they encounter one another, will from
that circumstance alone take on an eddying motion and
generate whirlwinds, carrying up with them clouds of
dust. These, in the African deserts, often appear as tall
columns of sand, revolving and advancing, suffocating
and actually overwhelming men and horses, and even
armies (as in the memorable expedition of Cambyses into
the Lybian desert).. That the heat of a wind thus loaded
with sand may be insupportable, or even deadly, will be
easily conceived when it is remembered that a sandy soil,
down to several inches in depth, when undisturbed, may
under a tropical sun attain a temperature perhaps
exceeding 200°F. (see art. 38), and when suddenly swept
up and mingled with air, itself already greatly heated,
will communicate its accumulated heat to the general
atmosphere, and impart to it, at the same time, a drying
power proportioned to its elevation of temperature and
absence of vapour. The destructive effects attributed to
the Simoom are readily explicable on this view of the
causes of its heat, without attributing to it any poisonous
quality ; and the Simoom itself is not improbably in the
nature of a cyclone so originating.
(244.) The “ dust whirlwinds ” of India, which are
very frequent in the district about Lahore and in the
1 unjab, are sometimes stationary for a long time, some¬
times advance with great rapidity. “ The sky is clear,
and not a breath moving; presently a low bank of clouds
is seen in the horizon, which you are surprised you did not
observe before ; a few.seconds have passed and the cloud
has half filled the hemisphere, and now there is no time
to lose it is a dust storm, and helter-skelter every one
rushes to get into the house in order to escape beino-
caught in it. a A broad wall of dust is observed ad vancino-
rapidly, apparently composed of a number of large ver¬
tical columns, each preserving its respective position in
the moving mass, and each column having a whirlino-
motion of its own.” “ Precisely the same phenomena in
kind are observable in all cases of dust storms, from
one of a few feet in diameter to those that extend for
fifty miles and upwards.” “Their rotatory action seems to
be continuous above as far as the eye can reach, and the
cloud of dust carried up by them, even at the height of some
thousand feet, to possess a gyratory motion.” “ Towards
685
the close of a storm of this kind a fall of rain suddenly takes Meteoro-
place.”—Baddeley on the Dust Storms and Whirlwinds of logy-
India. As might be expected from the powerful friction
of the dust on the earth when dragged along and in the
act of leaving it, the air in these columns is highly elec¬
trical. Mr Baddeley states that during the passage of
dust storms, he obtained vivid sparks, and in some cases
streams of electricity, from a wire suspended from an
insulated bamboo, which would instantly cease on the
fall of the terminating shower.
(245.) A vast quantity of solid matter is thus carried
up into the higher regions of the air, and no doubt con¬
veyed to great distances, where it sometimes falls, inter¬
mingled with rain. Along the west coast of Africa the
air is frequently loaded with drifted dust, which covers
the decks of ships far out of sight of land. Nay, even
on the Peak of Teneriffe, up to the height of 10700 feet,
Smyth relates that the air during his sojourn on
the mountain was very frequently rendered hazy by float¬
ing dust, of which there were often several strata, sepa¬
rated by perfectly clear intervals which could be distinctly
traced as projected on the distant mountain heights of
Palma, far above the uniform cloud-level (described in
art. Ill) and of such density as totally to obscure the sun
previous to his descent below the cloud-level. Showers
of fish, frogs, flannel (matted confervae), bread (edible
fungus), infusoria, and other unaccountable substances,
are among the more palpable evidences on record of the
elevating and transporting power of whirlwinds.
(246.) In conclusion of this essay, which has already
extended beyond the limits assigned us, we subjoin a
table of the mean values and annual and diurnal average
maxima and minima, at a few select stations, of the chief
meteorological elements of temperature, pressure, vapour-
tension, humidity, and cloud, not as embodying any
general climatological results, but in illustration of the
main features of meteorological action laid down in the
foregoing pages. In the table, to save room, the letters
1* H, C, R, are used to denote respectively
the total barometric pressure, that of dry air, and that of
aqueous vapour or the vapour-tension, the temperature of
the air, the degree of relative humidity, the amount of
cloud estimated in tenths of the hemisphere covered, and
the rain or other aqueous precipitation. Capital letters
are used to indicate the annual and monthly means, corre¬
sponding to the months of annual maxima and minima,
whether simple or multiple, the means for the whole
year being entered in the column marked a, and
those for the maxima and minima in their order of suc¬
cession and their epochs, in the subsequent columns /3, y,
<3, &c. Similarly for the diurnal march of the same quan¬
tities, these are represented by small letters : their
means (being identical with the annual means) are not
repeated, in col. a, but their daily maxima and minima,
with their epochs and hours of their occurrence, reckoned
from noon, occupy the subsequent columns. In the
monthly epochs, (1), (2), (3), &c., represent January,
February, &c. Where ^ occurs, whether in the indica-
. r *Y , 2 ill tile Iiiuica-
ion of the month or the hour, the average moment of
the maximum or minimum falls on or about the limit
between two consecutive months or hours. These epochs
are, however, only approximate. The barometric and
vaporous pressures are in English inches, the tempera¬
tures in degrees of Fahrenheit’s scale, and degrees of
humidity and cloud in hundredths of their respective
^kyS’ comP e^e satui'ation, and a totally clouded
METEOROLOGY
686
Meteoro-
Meteoro-
logy.
Royal Observatory, Greenwich.
ZaL + 51® 31'/ Long. 0°;
Alt. 155 feet.
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Toronto.
Lot. + 43* 40'; Long. 79° 21' W.;
AU. 108/e«t above Lake Ontario.
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Hobart Town.
Lat. — 42° 52'; Long. 147® 25' E.;
Alt. 105 feet.
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Longwood, St. Helena.
Lat. — 15° 57'; Long. 5° 41' W.;
Alt. 1105 feet.
27-763
29439
0-324
49-27
085
0-68
24-40
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Petersburg.
Lat. + 59® 57'; Long. 30® 28' E.;
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Catherineburg.
Lat. + 56® 50'; Long. 60® 44' E
METEOROLOGY
Meteoro¬
logy.
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Barnaoul.
Lat. + 53° 20'; Long. 84° 7' E. ;
a
29-593
29-404
0-189
32-45
0-77
10-5
29.928
29-882
0-440
66-65
090
29-603
29-440
0-209
40-53
0-84
29-232
28- 792
0046
2-79
0-61
29- 587
29-403
0-167
2540
0-68
(7)
m
(5)
4*
3
16
16
3
29593?
7£?
29-588
16?
Mag. and Met. Observatory,
Nertschinsk.
Lat. + 51° 18'; Long. 119° 46' E.;
27-783
27-622
0161
24-46
0-71
1600
28-001
27-986
0-451
64-35
083
4-4 +
27-798
27-661
0181
32-90
0-77
(1)
Si!
w
15
21
16
1
2
16
27-580
27-129
0015
-21-26
054
0-3 +
27-762
27-582
0-139
17-23
0-63
(?)
m
pi
H
3
16
17
3i
27-788
10£?
27-785
15?
Mag. and Met. Observatory, Pekin.
Lat. + 39° 54'; Long. 116tt 28' E. ;
Mag. and Met. Observatory, Sitka.
Lat. +57° 40'; Long. 135° 18' W.
29 946
29-629
0317
52-36
064
26-80
30-319
30-216
0-779
82-17
0-69?
9-8
30000
29-675
0-326
60-39
0-75
(12
Si!
Sir
21
20
1
2£
17
29533
28- 754
0-087
23-67
0-49
003
29- 900
29-581
0-316
4520
0-51
0-80
29-961
0-327
(8)
12
0-61
29-936
0293
(10*)
16
17
29884
29-642
0-238
41-24
0-83
87-90
30-101
0-361 ?
55-30
0-87
150 +
29-969
0-252
45-63
0-85
29.585
0-146?
26-51
074
1-2 +
29-959
0 224
39-91
0-75
(1)
Si!
(5§)?
irreg.
6
15
15
1
29.965
11*
29'957
16
Mag. and Met. Observatory, Tiflis.
Lat. + 41° 40'/ Long. 42° 50' E.;
28-542
28-237
0-305
54-78
0-69
19-90
28-727
28-581
0493
75-44
082
4-1+
28-564
28-264
0-314
62-26
0-80
(12)
(P*)
(7*)
(1*)
(7)
21
18
23
3
17
28-385
27- 893
0145
31-66
057
0-4+
28- 503
28198
0-294
48-85
054
28554
13?
28-549
16?
Royal Observatory, Brussels.
Lat. + 50° 51'; Long. 4° 22' E.;
Alt. feet.
29 745
29-421
0-324
50-41
0-81
062
28-62
29-844
0.490
64-78
0-91
0-74
315
29.754
0.329
0-92
0-67
(12)
(8)
(7)
0)
(1)
(8)
22
(1)
16
1
29662
0-190
3560
0-69
052
1-98
29-734
0-303
072
052
(4)
Si!
(5)
n
4
16
2
12
29-768
29.753
(7)
10
29-681
29-736
(9)
16
Mag. and Met. Observatory, Prague.1
Lat. + 50°5'; Long. 14® 25' E.
29-268
29-001
0267
48-17
0-75
0-62
14-91
29-363
29-214
0 426
67-19
0-84
0-78
2-29
29-284
53-24
S")
Si
Si!
(6)
21*
2*
29-211
28- 831
0141
2815
067
046
0-75
29- 250
4365
(4)
Si
S'l
8
4
18
29325
0.97
29 276
(9)
(11)
11*
29-238
0-52
29-273
(10)
(2)
16*
1 These results, deduced from the observations made at the Imperial Observatory, Prague, differ very materially from those given by
Herr Karl Fritsch as resulting from the discussion of observations taken in the University Observatory.—(Grundzuqe einen Meteorobgic
fur den Horizont von Frag.) v "
687
Meteoro-
METEOROLOGY
688
Meteoro-
Mag. and Met. Observatory, Bombay,
Lat. + 18° 58'; Long. 72° 56' E.;
a
29-800
29-002
0-798
79-40
0-79
0-36
7520
29-922
0-926
84- 25
084
0-71
29-857
29-046?
0-811
85- 00
0-96
0-42
29-635
0-617
74- 40
0-74
001
29-755
28-935
0-807
75- 00
088
0-28
(6)
S
(2
(1)
4
4
1
18
Oh
9i
29-800
0-820
10
4
29-772
0-770
16
17
Girard College, Philadelphia,
Zaf. + 31*56'; Long. 75° 12' W.;
29929
29573
0-356
51-53
0-61
37-25
30 024
0-645
73-27
0-77
7-8 +
29960
0-381
5833
(2)
(7)
(7)
(3)
(7|)
22
5
3
n
29-842
0-149
28- 77
0-45
10+
29- 897
0-334
4600
(5)
ill
(10)
4
16*
17
13*
29-997 (8) 29 906. (10*)
4-9+
29939
(11)
12
0-8 +
29-926
(2)
15
Meteoro¬
logy.
Observatory, U. S., Washington,
Lat. +38* 54'; Long. 77* 31' TF.;
30-051
29-582
0-469
5375
41-21
30-147
0-715
7510
4-5 +
(1)
(6)
(7)
(1)
29-953
0-224
31-23
2-6 +
(6)
(2)
(1)
(3)
30133
(10)
30060
40 ± (4) 2-9 ± (12)
(12)
Madrid.
Lat. + 40* 25'; Long. 3* 42' W. ;
27-815
27-686
0129
60-66
062
28-003
0-236
82-72
083
27-701
0-076
40-53
0-48
(5)
(11)
(12)
(8)
27907 (9) 27.624 (12)
Office of Ordnance Survey, Dublin.
Lot. +53® 22'; Long. 6° 5' IF.;
AU. 154/eet.
29-722
29-417'
0-305’
48-4
086
29-08
29-793
0-413
58-2
089
31 +
(5)
f?)
Ilf]
29-601
0229
40-5
081
1-5 +
(11)
Badcliffe Observatory, Oxford.
Lat. +51® 52'; Long. 1° 15' IF;
29-710
29-404
0-306
48-60
26'50
29-743
0-441
6F30
(5)
(7)
(7)
29-627
0-218
370
(11)
$
29-763
(12)
29-687
(2)
E. J. Lowe, Esq. (Beeston),
Nottingham.
Lat. +52® 57'; Long. 1* 8' IF;
AU. 17^ feet.
29-774
29473
0-301
479
0-82
26-40
29-846
0-438
605
088
(3)
A
(12)
29-764
0-211
384
0-76
29868
(9)
29 680
(1)
Sir T. M. Brisbane's Observatory,
Makerstotjn.
Lat. +55*35'; Long. 0*10' IF;
AU. 213/eel.
29-615
29-330
0-285
46-03
0-85
0-70
2635
29-718
29-436
0393
57-00
0-90
0-77
2-95
29623
29-344
0-301
5M9
092
n
$
(0*)
(7)
(10)
22
11*
1
2
15
29-634
29-241
0-198
36-05
0-79
0-61
1-36
29-608
29-311
0-267
42-07
0-75
29-737
29-438
29'622
(9)
(12)
29-547
29235
29-605
Si]
16
METEOEOLOGY.
689
(247.) The student who wishes to obtain a deeper insight into the subject of Meteorology than can be con- Heteoro-
veyed in the limited space we can devote to it, will find ample information in the following works :— logy.
j£j>inus de Distributione Caloris.
Albany Institute. Annual Reports of its Regents to the Senate—
Do., Report of the Committee for Term Observations, trans. ii.
Anderson. Description of an Atmometer, Ed. Phil. Jour., ii. 64.
Annales de TObservatoire Physique Centrale de Russie, publics par
1’ordre de sa Majeste Nicholas I.
Annuaire Magnetique et Meteorol. du Corps des Ingenieurs des
Mines de Russie.
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Meteoro-
l i -
METHODISTS.
691
Methodists. METHODISTS, a numerous religious body both in this
country and in America. They are divided into several
distinct sects; but from the minute shades by which these
are distinguished, and the extreme obscurity of some of
their numbers, it is difficult to furnish a perfectly accurate
account of them. We shall describe those which are best
known.
iu first in order of time, as well as in point of num-
ib o is . |)erg^ -g j.|ia£ \yesleyan Methodists. This body derives
■■ its name from its principal founder, the Rev. John Wesley.
Whilst a student at Christ Church College, Oxford, and
engaged in the pursuit of theology, as preparatory to his
entering into deacon’s orders, Wesley’s mind had become
, strongly imbued with that peculiar asceticism which colours
the writings of Thomas a Kempis, Fenelon, William Law,
and occasionally of Jeremy Taylor, of whose works he had
been a diligent and admiring student. On his assuming
the sacred office this tendency was increased rather than
diminished; and when, after officiating as curate to his
father, who was a clergyman in Lincolnshire, for about two
years, he returned to Oxford to resume his duties as a fel¬
low of Lincoln College, it was apparent that it had acquired
the complete ascendancy over his mind. His condition at
this time was distressing. He felt himself burdened under
a sense of guilt in the sight of God, and ignorant of the
only way in which that burden could be relieved. Sympathy
of feeling and unity of opinion led him to enter into an as¬
sociation which had been formed during his absence among
a few of his former friends, in whom a similar course of
discipline had produced similar effects. Of this society he
soon became the leader and most active member, employ¬
ing the resources of his comprehensive mind for the regu¬
lation of their meetings, and setting an example of diligence
in the discharge of every office, and of patience in the en¬
durance of every penance, which in their misguided zeal
they had instituted among them, in the hope of thereby
obtaining the Divine favour. The regulations which they
had adopted for the guidance of their conduct were unusually
severe: they were in the habit of partaking of the sacra¬
ment every week; they were abstemious in their diet, and
plain in their clothing; they had set hours for reading
Thomas a Kempis, with meditation and prayer, and for
musing on the Passion; they spent much of their time in
visiting the prisons and the hospitals ; they observed rigidly
all the fasts of the English Church, besides a constant ab¬
stinence on Wednesdays and Fridays ; and in several other
respects they exhibited the hold which a morbid asceticism
had acquired over their minds. By such conduct, while
they commanded the respect of a few, they became the
object of ridicule and derision to the many, and had to run
the usual gantlope of jokes and nicknames which is des¬
tined for all, especially at a university, who are audacious
enough to be guilty ot innovation either in politics or re¬
ligion. Of the various titles which the wits of the uni¬
versity devised for them, the only one that has adhered to
them is that by which they are now distinguished, viz.,
Methodists. The author of this appellative is said to have
been a fellow of Merton College, who, observing the regu¬
larity with which they divided their time among their dif¬
ferent pursuits, exclaimed, “ Here is a new sect of Metho¬
dists sprung up;” alluding to the ancient Methodici, or
College of Physicians, at Rome, of whom an account is
given by Celsus in the preface to his work De Medicina.
At this time their members amounted to fifteen, most of
whose names Wesley has preserved in his journal. Among
the rest are those of James Hervey, the author of the Me-
ditations; and George Whitefield, for some time the most
efficient assistant, and subsequently the most powerful rival,
of Wesley.
The regular formation of this society took place in the
year 1729. During the three following years it maintained
its ground under the energetic guidance of its head, and Methodists,
increased to the number of twenty-five. In the course of
the year 1733, however, Wesley being frequently absent
from Oxford, his associates began to lose heart, and
to shrink from the persecution which continued to assail
them; so that on his return from a visit he had paid to
Manchester and other places in that year, he found the
members reduced to five. Grieved, but not disheartened,
he immediately set himself to repair the loss, but with what
success does not appear. His exertions, however, were so
great, that, combined with his abstemiousness, they began
seriously to affect his health. It is probable that this, to¬
gether with other circumstances of a private nature, com¬
bined with his religious zeal to induce his acceptance of
an offer made to him by the trustees of the new colony of
Georgia to go out as one of the chaplains of that settle¬
ment. This offer was made about the middle of 1735, and
towards the close of that year he left England, accompa¬
nied by his brother Charles and two other of his Oxford
associates, in order to enter upon the duties of his office.
On his voyage out he became acquainted with David
Nitschman, a Moravian bishop, who, with a party of his
followers, was proceeding in the same vessel to join a co¬
lony of their brethren already established in the new set¬
tlement. From this individual he derived no small advan¬
tage in a religious point of view ; nor was the insight which
he thus obtained into the Moravian institutions and polity
without service to him, when in subsequent years he had
to assume the office of arranging and legislating for a party
of his own.
But Wesley’s connection with the Georgian colony was
not of long continuance. It was dissolved in 1737, and in
the month of February of the following year he arrived in
London, a wiser if not a better man than when he had set
out. A few months of irregular occupation followed his
return; but in September of that year he commenced that
course of life in which he persevered till his death, and in
the pursuit of which he visited personally the principal
places, not only in England, but also in Ireland and in Scot¬
land. The example of his friend Whitefield first induced
him to commence field-preaching; a practice which he fol¬
lowed ever afterwards with great success. His brother
Charles, who had followed him from America, became a
zealous and able coadjutor; and others were speedily added
to them. No systematic plan of itinerant preaching seems
to have been at first contemplated by them; but their
exertions in one place led to their visiting another, and
thus a regular course of occasional ministrations was gra¬
dually adopted. At first both Wesley and his brother were
decidedly opposed to lay-preaching; but the difficulty,
or rather the impossibility, of finding individuals who had
received orders to supply their rapidly increasing stations,
combined with the evidence furnished by one or two re¬
markable examples, of the possibility of successfully em¬
ploying individuals who had not been regularly educated
for the ministry in itinerant preaching, led to the ultimate
adoption of this as a part of their ecclesiastical machinery.
An extensive agency was thus called into operation by
which the Wesleys were enabled to bear in upon the mass
of the people throughout the country, and in consequence
very widely to diffuse their principles and augment the
number of their adherents. By what steps they advanced
it is impossible accurately to detail; but in a very few years
they had succeeded in overcoming the persecution by which
at first they wTere everywhere assailed, and in forming
societies in all the principal towns and larger villages of
England. Over all these Wesley maintained a vigilant
watchfulness; and though in general lenient and patient,
he yet visited w ith rigorous discipline those communities
or preachers by whom any flagrant departure from the
accredited doctrines or practices of the body had been com-
692
METHODISTS.
Methodists, mined. His influence among the societies was maintained
partly by frequent visitations, and partly by the power
which was concentrated in an annual convention of the
preachers, called the Conference, of which he was the
moving spring. The first meeting of conference was held
in 1744, and this body has regularly held its meetings ever
since*
Before Wesley’s death Methodism had obtained a consi¬
derable footing not only in England and Wales, but in Ire¬
land, America, the West Indies, and to a limited extent
also in Scotland. At the time of his death “ the number
of members in connection with him in Europe, America,
and the West India Islands, was 80,000.”1 Since that
time this denomination has been making a steadily in¬
creasing progress. The number of members in Great
Britain in 1853 was 270,265; and they have nearly 6000
chapels, containing accommodation for about a million and
a half of persons. The number of their ministers was in
1850, 1034. On census Sunday, 31st March 1851, the
attendance at their chapels was,—morning, 492,714; after¬
noon, 383,964; evening, 667,850. They raise annually
upwards of L.145,000 for the support of several religious
institutions connected with their body. They have exten¬
sive foreign missions on the continent of Europe, in India,
Africa, British America, the West Indies, and Polynesia.
The doctrines taught by Mr Wesley and his preachers
may be technically described as those of evangelical Ar-
minianism. In regard to all the positive doctrines of
Christianity he assented, with a few modifications, to the
standards of the Reformed churches. He maintained the
depravity of human nature ; the necessity of an atonement
for sin before it can be forgiven; the doctrine of a divine
influence to lead men to Christ; justification by faith alone ;
and the importance of good works, not as the ground of
acceptance with God, but as the evidence of faith, and the
measure of the final reward. He differed from the system
of Calvin chiefly in regard to the extent of the atonement,
which he maintained was for all men ; to the doctrine of a
common grace, which he supposed was given to all, though
in various degrees and in different ways;2 to the opinion
that a man who had once believed the gospel might relin¬
quish his belief, and so perish ; and to the notion that Chris¬
tians might obtain salvation from all sin, or entire sanc¬
tification, before death. He also held that repentance,
which he defined to be “ conviction of sin, producing real
desires and sincere resolutions of amendment,” and fruits
meet for repentance, preceded faith; and that the believer
has not only the testimony of his own consciousness to per¬
suade him that he is justified, but also the direct testimony
of the Spirit of God. . These opinions are still retained by
the Methodist body.3
Of the polity of Wesleyanism the fundamental principle
is, that all power is centred in the Conference, or annual
convention of the clergy. From this body all authority
emanates, and by them all regulations to be observed
throughout the society are devised and appointed. In
their name also are levied all the funds that are required for
carrying on the operations of the society, of appointing the
individuals who are to superintend the different sections
into which the denomination is divided, of assigning to each
preacher the station he is to occupy, and of suspending or
excluding any member of the community, whom a subor¬
dinate jurisdiction, entitled a “ Leader’s Meeting,” may have
found guilty of certain faults. All their deliberations being
carried on with closed doors, the people at large have no
check on their decisions, nor any means of controlling their
power: the results of their discussions, however, are pub¬
lished, after each meeting, under the title of Minutes. The Methodists,
management of the body is thus vested entirely in an oli- v *
garchy of clergymen, self-elected, and all but entirely un¬
controlled. The security of this system is perpetuated by
the careful gradation of rank which obtains throughout the
whole body of functionaries. The supreme power being
vested in Conference, the whole field of Methodism is
divided into distinct departments, to which is given the
name of Circuits. To each of these as many preachers are
appointed as its exigencies may require, and at their head
is placed one whose experience and reputation, but espe¬
cially his fidelity to the cause of Conferential supremacy,
entitle him to the distinction, and to whom, under the name
of superintendent, the charge of the whole circuit is com¬
mitted. The appointment of these functionaries is made
annually; and no preacher or superintendent can be re¬
appointed to the same place for more than three years suc¬
cessively. Besides these, each circuit has its local preachers,
who are generally persons engaged in secular business, but
who, having by zeal and ability obtained for themselves the
approbation of a local preacher’s meeting, are permitted
by the superintendent to preach, throughout the vicinity
of the place where they reside, in private houses and small
country chapels. Out of the number of these the regular
preachers are generally chosen, as they have been them¬
selves for the most part chosen from amongst the class-
leaders or superintendents of the portions into which each
congregation is divided. These classes consist generally of
twelve members; and it is the duty of the leader to visit,
instruct, and exhort them, as well as to collect their con¬
tributions to the funds of the society, and to watch oyer the
correctness of their general conduct. At the meetings of
these classes the members state their religious experience,
and confess their faults to one another. This, however, is
more particularly the object of another subdivision (con¬
nection with which, however, is not deemed imperative)
called Bands: the members of these are all of one condition
in life; that is, the married males meet in one band, the
married females in another, and so on. In these bands,
which are also under the charge of leaders, there is, in
consequence of this arrangement, more freedom of commu¬
nication, especially in regard to besetting sins and peculiar
temptations. Another portion of the members are engaged
in the duties of Sunday-school teachers, and are also under
the superintendence of a leader. Over all these different
agencies it is the duty of the circuit superintendent to
watch; and to all of them his word is law. An appeal,
indeed, lies from his decision to Conference; but experience
has so abundantly shown the uselessness of all such appeals,
except in cases of the most glaring nature, that they are
hardly ever made.
Whatever objection may be brought against the compli¬
cation of the machinery of Methodism as opposed to the
simplicity of the New Testament, this should not prevent
our doing justice to Wesley and his followers by admitting
the importance of the services which they have rendered
to the cause of religion, education, and morality, through¬
out the empire. By no denomination of Christians, per¬
haps, have greater benefits been conferred, in these respects,
on the nation at large, than by the Wesleyans. Impelled
by an undaunted zeal, they have visited the most aban¬
doned and instructed the most ignorant of the population.
Wherever they have gone they have carried the elements
of a renovated state of society with them, in the doctrines
they have taught and the duties they have inculcated.
In many parts of England, where before they commenced
their labours the truths of Christianity were as little known
1 Watson’s JAfe, of Wesley, p. 378.
* See this tenet defended at length in Watson’s Theological Institutes, vol. ii., p. 258-263.
8 Watson’s Life of Wesley, p. 168-199.
METHODISTS.
693
Methodists, as they are in heathen countries,1 they have succeeded in
raising large and active communities, amongst which the
effects of Christian teaching are apparent in the good con¬
duct, comfortable circumstances, and increasing respecta¬
bility of those by whom they are composed. Their zeal
has also operated beneficially on other denominations, and
has called forth energies that, but for the stimulus of their
example, might have continued to lie dormant. In short,
it must be confessed that England and America owe an
immense debt of gratitude to the illustrious founder of this
powerful society; and that the loss of Methodism would be
a loss to the world.
Oalvinistic Next in order to the Wesleyan Methodists are the Cal-
Methodists. mnistic Methodists. Under this term are included three
distinct connections, all of which, however, either arose
from, or were greatly strengthened by, the exertions of
Whitefield, the original companion of Wesley; and from that
circumstance they are sometimes ranked under the name of
Whitefieldians. Whitefield separated from Wesley shortly
after the time when the latter commenced his regular
labours as a preacher, upon his return from America. The
cause of their separation was their having espoused oppo¬
site sides of the Arminian and Calvinistic controversy;
Wesley ranking himself with the adherents of the former
class of opinions, and Whitefield with those of the latter.
This led to their carrying on their itinerant labours inde¬
pendently of each other, though without any attempt on
either side to interrupt the peace or the usefulness of the
other. Whilst Wesley, however, was skilfully availing
himself of his success for the purpose of forming a sect,
Whitefield, with less worldly wisdom, contented himself
with merely preaching from place to place, and associating
himself with any who would acknowledge him as a mi¬
nister of Christ. At several places, indeed, where he had
attracted much attention by his powerful and (to judge
from the effects) unparalleled eloquence, he erected chapels,
or tabernacles as he called them; but these he invariably
left to the care of any evangelical clergyman, whether in
the establishment or among the dissenters, whom he saw
raised up to occupy them. Since his death the members
of these congregations have been nominally, and only no¬
minally, classed together as a distinct body, under the
name of the Tabernacle Connection. In some of these
congregations the service is conducted according to the
ritual of the Church of England; whilst in others the order
of worship is more in accordance with that observed by
the Independents. They all, however, agree in this, that
whether there is a settled minister in the place or not, a
succession of supplies from the country is kept up through¬
out the year, each minister being engaged for a month or
six weeks at a time. Where there is no settled pastor,
the “ supply” for the time being discharges the whole duty
of the place; where there is a settled pastor the duties
are divided between them. The members of this con¬
nection have of late years been gradually verging towards
the Independents, and it is probable that in a short time
both bodies will coalesce.
Amongst the most zealous and devoted of Mr Whitefield’s
adherents was Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, in whose
family he at one time officiated as chaplain. After the
death of her husband she employed her ample resources in
the erection of chapels in different parts of the country, to
the occupation of which she invited at first none but regu¬
larly ordained clergymen of the Episcopal Church. Many
such accepted her invitation, and laboured in the places she
had erected; but finding the supply from this source not
adequate to the demand, she founded a college at Trevecca
in South Wales, for the education of pious young men of
talent for the university. By these means a distinct party Methodists,
was formed, which assumed her name, and is known as
Lady Huntingdon's Connection. They have upwards of
100 chapels, in all of which the service is conducted strictly
according to the ritual of the established church. The at¬
tendance on census Sunday was,—morning, 21,103; after¬
noon, 4380; evening, 19,159. The college has been re¬
moved since the death of its foundress to Cheshunt in
Hertfordshire, where it is now in a flourishing state.
Another body, which, though not founded by Mr White-
field, was much strengthened through his means, is that
denominated the Welsh Calvinistic Methodists. The ori¬
ginal founder of this body was Mr Howel Harris of Tre¬
vecca. This gentleman had intended to take orders in the
Church of England, but was turned from his purpose by
what he witnessed amongst the students at Oxford, who
seemed to him wholly given to folly and impiety. On his
return home he began to preach to his neighbours and in
the surrounding parishes. This took place in 1735, and
excited no small attention ; numbers collected in every
place where he preached, to hear him ; and ultimately so¬
cieties were formed, which were placed under the superin¬
tendence of experienced individuals. The preaching of
Mr Harris was not only successful among the people at
large, but was also followed by several clergymen, who at
length gave up their livings and united themselves with
him. To this party Mr Whitefield lent the aid of his power¬
ful eloquence, and in return received from it many of his
most zealous preachers. It was not, however, till the year
1785, when it was joined by the Rev. Thomas Charles of
Bala, that, owing mainly to the exertions of that individual,
it was organized into a regular body. Since that time its
numbers and resources have been steadily increasing both
in North and South Wales. It is said that there is hardly
a village in the principality where one of its chapels is not
to be found. The doctrines held by its members are those
of high or hyper-Calvinism. Their form of church govern¬
ment inclines to the Presbyterian, though many practices
are encouraged among them that Presbyterians in general
would condemn, such as the utterance of exclamations of
desire or exultation on the part of the audience during pub¬
lic prayer, jumping and throwing themselves into violent
postures under the excitement produced by the preacher’s
address, and others of a similar kind. They admit also of
lay-preaching, and some of their most popular orators are
of this class. The sermons of their preachers are generally
delivered in a slow recitative, interrupted by quick and start¬
ling appeals and interrogations. Even upon those who are
ignorant of the language in which the address is uttered,
this peculiar mode of delivery is productive of a powerful
sensation. It is not surprising, therefore, that on those by
whom the whole is understood, and who can enter fully into
the highly figurative and impassioned style of sentiment in
which the Welsh preachers generally indulge, the most
singular effects should be produced. It is no unusual thing
to see whole congregations convulsed, and thrown into the
most violent agitation, almost instantaneously, by some well-
managed appeal to their feelings on the part of the preacher ;
and this once accomplished, it is not very difficult to keep
up the excitement, until both speaker and hearers are ready
to sink to the ground from pure exhaustion. The preva¬
lence of this habit cannot but be regretted; but it is cha¬
racteristic of the people ; and though it is doubtless produc¬
tive of much that is injurious to true piety, it cannot be
questioned that upon the whole the labours of these
preachers have told most beneficially, as well as extensively,
upon the religious and moral improvement of their country-
The number of chapels belonging to this body is
men.
l “ He (Wesley) found thousands of his countrymen, though nominally Christians, yet as ignorant of true Christianity as infidels
heathens.’ (Bishop Coplestone, as quoted in Watson’s Life of Wesley, p. 313.) ° ^
I
694
MET
Methodists, upwards of 800. The attendance on census Sunday was,—
morning, 79,728 ; afternoon, 59,140 ; evening, 125,244.
The number of ministers in 1853 was 207 ; of lay-preachers,
234 ; and of communicants, 58,577.
Other The other classes of Methodists have been produced by
Methodists, secessions from the great body of Wesleyan Methodists.
The reason assigned for these secessions has been nearly
the same for all, viz., the arbitrary and unconstitutional power
assumed by the Conference. The only exception to this is
in the case of the Primitive Methodists, or Ranters, whose
ground of secession was, that the true spirit of Methodism
was no longer kept up in the body. By this they meant
that too much attention was paid to order and decorum in
the conduct of public worship ; and that sufficient zeal was
not manifested in obtruding religion upon the minds of the
people by street services, field-preaching, &c. They are less
obtrusive now in their methods than at first, but still they
occasionally parade the streets, singing hymns, and inviting
the populace to their places of worship. They admit of
laymen, and even females, being allowed to preach. The
number of their chapels in 1853 was 1789, to which are to be
added 3565 rooms rented for purposes of religious worship ;
the number of their preachers was—568 travelling preachers,
and 9594 local, besides 6767 class-leaders. The attendance
on census Sunday was, — morning, 98,001 ; afternoon,
172,684 ; evening, 229,646.
The first secession upon the ground of the unscriptural
power exercised by the Conference (and the earliest in
point of time of any of the secessions), was made by a party
in 1797, very soon after Mr Wesley’s death. At the con¬
ference held at Leeds that year delegates appeared from
many of the societies throughout the country, who were
instructed to request that the people might have a voice in
the formation of their own laws, the choice of their own
officers, and the distribution of their own property. These
reasonable demands having been refused, the petitioners
agreed to secede from the Conference connection, and to
form themselves into a distinct party upon a more liberal
basis. The person who took the largest share in prompting
and providing for this step was Mr Alexander Kilham, and
from him the body thus formed have received the name of
Kilhamites. They style themselves the New Connection
Methodists. Their doctrinal views are those of Wesley ;
but in their polity they seem to have followed in a good
measure the forms of Presbyterianism as exhibited in Scot¬
land. The people choose their officers, and appear by re¬
presentatives at all the synodical meetings of the denomi¬
nation. This party is not very numerous. In 1853 they
had 301 chapels, 95 circuits, 814 local preachers, and about
16,070 members.
Of late there have been several considerable secessions
from the general body of the Wesleyans. At least three
distinct parties have been formed within a few years. These
are—1. The Bible Christians, or Bryanites, so called from a
Mr Bryan, their founder. They differ vei'y slightly from the
original Wesleyans, excepting in the admission of the po¬
pular element in their scheme of church government. Their
ministers preach much in the open air; and females are occa¬
sionally allowed to be preachers. In 1852 they had 403
chapels, 113 itinerant ministers, 1059 local preachers, and
13,862 members. The attendance on census Sunday was,
morning, 14,902 ; afternoon, 24,345 ; evening, 34,612. 2.
The Wesleyan Methodist Association. This body was
formed in 1835 in consequence of the old objection to the
Conference, that it exercised tyrannical powers, and unjustly
excluded the laity from any share in the management of the
body. In 1852 this denomination possessed 329 chapels,
• 90itinerant preachers and missionaries, 1016 local preachers,
1353 class-leaders, and 19,411 members. The attendance on
census Sunday was,—morning, 32,308; 21,140;
evening, 40,655. 3. The Wesleyan Methodist Reformers.
MET
This should hardly perhaps be called a separate body ; they Methodius,
are rather a portion of the original Wesleyan Methodists,
who have assumed a position of protest against the over¬
bearing authority of the Conference, and ot the illegality of
their proceedings in the expulsion of certain parties who
had censured them. They number about 52,000, and have
2000 places of worship, 2800 preachers, and 3300 class-
leaders. On census Sunday the attendance was,—morning,
30,470 ; afternoon, 16,080 ; evening, 44,953.
See Southey’s Life of Wesley ; Watson’s Life of Wesley; Gillies s
Life of Whitefield,- Philip’s Life of Whitefield; The Jubilee of the
Methodist New Connection; Mann's Report on Religious Worship in
Great Britain; Bogue and Bennet’s History of Dissenters, vol. iii.;
and Buck’s Theological Dictionary, by Henderson. (w. L. A.)
METHODIUS, a famous missionary of the ninth cen¬
tury, was a native of Thessalonica, and was originally a
monk in the convent of St Basilius Cyrillus at Constanti¬
nople. About 861 he was summoned to Nicopolis by a
Christian princess, who was endeavouring to convert her
brother Bogoris, King of Bulgaria. That monarch learning
that Methodius was an adept in painting, commissioned him
to represent the “ Pleasures of the Chase.” The artist,
however, painted the “ Last Judgment ” with such terrible
effect that Bogoris was roused from his indifference, and
began to ponder seriously the admonitions he had formerly
received from his pious sister. A severe famine that ensued
deepened his impressions, and in 863 or 864 he was pub¬
licly baptized. Within a short time the majority of his sub¬
jects had followed his example. About this period Metho¬
dius and his brother Cyrillus went as missionaries to the
Sclavonic nation of the Moravians. They began their
labours in this new field by constructing a Sclavonic alpha¬
bet, and by translating the Scriptures into the Sclavonic
tongue. The truth, thus presented in a form that could be
received into the minds and hearts of the people, was rapidly
disseminated, and in no long time Methodius was conse¬
crated archbishop of the Moravians by Pope Hadrian I.
The zeal of Methodius, however, was too intense to be con¬
fined within any prescribed limits, and soon began to be
exerted in the neighbouring German provinces, which were
within the see of the Archbishop of Saltzburg. The Ger¬
man clergy, indignant that a Greek ecclesiastic should en¬
croach upon their jurisdiction, laid their complaint before
Pope John VIIL, along with a charge against Methodius
for using the Sclavonic language in divine worship. The
offender was accordingly summoned to Rome in 879 ; but
he pleaded his cause so ably, that the supreme pontiff was
convinced of the utility and orthodoxy of his practice, and
sent him home to his diocese in 880, with a commendatory
letter to Swatopluk, King of Moravia. These favours only
intensified the animosity of the German priesthood, and in
the following year Methodius again carried his case to the
pope. At this date he disappears altogether from history.
In after times he was ranked among the saints.
Methodius the Confessor, Patriarch of Constantino¬
ple, was born at Syracuse towards the end of the eighth
century, and entered into orders at Constantinople. The
patriarch of that city sent him on an embassy to Rome in
820. On his return he was intrusted by Pope Pashalis
with a letter upbraiding the Emperor Michael for his harsh
persecution of the image-worshippers. Stung by this re¬
buke, the emperor seized upon the unfortunate messenger,
condemned him to suffer 700 lashes, and threw him into a
noisome dungeon in one of the islands of the Propontis.
There he would have been starved to death had not a
poor fisherman contrived to relieve his daily wants. On
the accession of Theophilus to the imperial throne, Metho¬
dius was released, and raised to high honours in the state.
But his irrepressible zeal for image-worship subjected him
to a second scourging and a second incarceration in his
former dungeon. No sooner had he escaped from this
MET
MET
Methone
trouble than his private character was assailed by the foul¬
est and the most perilous calumnies. Outliving, however,
all these attacks, he was chosen patriarch of Constantinople
in 842 by the Empress Theodora, the great patroness of
image-worship. The rest of his life was occupied in
zealously transferring all the power of the iconoclasts to the
image-worshippers. He died in 846. Methodius the Con¬
fessor is the author of five orations in praise of monkery,
and a collection of Canones Pcenitentiales.
METHONE (Modon),a.n ancient city of Messenia, was
situated on the S.W. coast. It is called Pedasus in the
Iliad, and not until the Messenian wars is it mentioned in
history as Methone. At the close of the second of these
struggles it was given by the victorious LacedEemonians to
the exiled Nauplians, but was restored to its rightful owners
by Epaminondas. An unsuccessful attack was made upon
Methone by the Athenians in 413 b.c. It was made a free
city by the Emperor Trajan.
METIUS, Adrian, an eminent mathematician, was the
son of a military engineer, and was born at Alkmaar in
Holland in 1571. He studied practical mathematics under
his father, law and medicine at the university of Franeker,
and astronomy under Tycho Brahe. After visiting Ger¬
many, and delivering astronomical lectures there with great
success, he returned to Holland to assist his father in his
official duties. In 1598 he was promoted to the chair of
mathematics at Franeker, a position which he held durinti¬
the remainder of his life. The degree of M.D. was con¬
ferred upon him in 1625. Much of his time and money
was. latterly spent in the fruitless researches of alchemy.
Metius died in 1635. The following is a list of his works:
—Doclrince Sphericce, 8vo, Franeker, 1598; Universe
Astronomia Institution 8vo, Franeker, 1606; Arithmetics
libri duo, et Geometrice libri sex Practices, 4to, Frane¬
ker, 1611; Praxis Nova Geometrica per usum circini et
regular proportionalis, 4to, Franeker, 1623; De Gemino
Usu utriusque Globi, 4to, Amsterdam, 1611; Problemata
Astronomica Geometrice Delineata, 4to, Leyden, 1625; As-
trolabium, 8vo, Franeker, 1626; Calendarium Perpetuum
Articulis Digitorum Computandum, 8vo, Rotterdam, 1627;
and Opera Omnia Astronomica, 4to, Amsterdam, 1633
METON, an ancient astronomer, the inventor of tne
Metomc Cycle, was a Leuconian by birth, and flourished at
Athens in the fifth century before the Christian era. (See
Astronomy.)
METONYMY, the most various of the rhetorical tropes,
is the substitution of one word for another when the ob¬
jects are related as causes, effects, or adjuncts. Thus, in
the phrase, “ To bring down one’s gray hairs with sorrow to
t e gi ave, the effect is put for the cause; gray hairs are
put for old age. \\ e employ the same figure when we use
the author for his writings, the inventor for his invention
&c. This trope was included by Aristotle under the general
term metaphor.
METRONOME, from girpov, measure, and vd/ios, rule
a pendulum which marks the times of music by the slow¬
ness or quickness of its oscillations. An instrument of
this kind was contrived in France in 1698, and several
others followed ; but the one which has obtained the pre¬
ference was constructed in 1812 by the celebrated mechani¬
cian J. N. Maelzel, inventor of the panharmonicon, the
automaton-trumpeter, &c., and who died in America in
August 1838, aged sixty-six. The invention of the me¬
chanical principle of this metronome was publicly and suc¬
cessfully claimed by Winkel of Amsterdam; it being
proved that Maelzel had contrived only the scale of num¬
bers applied to the pendulum. The mechanism consists of
a vertical rod of steel, which is made to oscillate by clock¬
work, and of which the oscillations are rendered slower or
quicker by means of a weight that slides up and down upon
the rod. A scale of numbers, from 50 to 160, but with
695
omissions, e.g., 50, 52, 54, &c., is placed behind the rod or Mettrie.
pendulum; 50 representing the greatest degree of slow-
ness, and 160 the greatest degree of quickness of the oscil¬
lations in one minute of time. The number 60 will thus
represent 60 seconds, and all the other numbers, from 50
to 160, so many fractional parts of a minute; the minute
being the integer to which all these subdivisions must be
referred. 'Ihe sliding-weight is raised or lowered upon the
rod, so that the oscillations of the pendulum may corres¬
pond with this or that number indicated upon the scale ;
each audible beat or tick of the pendulum forming a frac¬
tional part of the minute, but not the two beats produced
by the pendulum’s motion from one side to the other. The
musical notes used in manuscript or printed music, along
with the numbers of the metronome scale, to indicate the
time of a piece of music, are in general a quaver for
an adagio movement, a crotchet for an andante, a minim
for an allegro, a semibreve for a presto. For example:
adagio, Maelzel’s metronome £ = 60. It is very desirable
that composers should always affix metronome numbers to
their compositions. In the latest metronomes the scale
ranges from 40 to 208. (See Movement.) (g. f. g.)
MET. TRIE, Julien Offray de la, a materialistic
writer, was the son of a wealthy merchant, and was born at
St Malo in 1709. After he had received his classical edu¬
cation at Paris he began his medical studies at Rheims, and
finished them under the celebrated Boerhaave at Leyden.
In 1742, the Due de Grammont, colonel of the French
guards, appointed him surgeon to his regiment. It was while
present in this capacity at the siege of Fribourg, that being
attacked with a dangerous sickness, and feeling that his
body and mind were enfeebled simultaneously, he drew the
inference that the soul must perish along with the organic
structure with which it is connected. On his recovery in
1745 he divulged this doctrine in his Histoire Naturelle
de VAme, a book full of the grossest materialism and im¬
piety. The death of his patron at the battle of Fontenoy,
in the same year, left him exposed to the storm of indigna¬
tion that his vagaries had raised. He was expelled from
his situation in the guards, and on daring to attack his pro¬
fessional brethren in his Penelope, ou le Machiavel en
Medecine, 12mo, 1748, he was driven from his native
country. Scarcely had he taken refuge in Leyden when the
publication of his revolting opinions in a book entitled
Homme Machine, 12mo, 1748, subjected him once more to
persecution. The work was publicly burnt, and its author
was glad to avail himself of an opportune invitation from
Frederick the Great to fix his residence at Berlin. The
society of wits and philosophers from all parts of Europe,
whom the Prussian monarch entertained at Potsdam, re¬
ceived Mettrie with all the distinction and respect due
to a victim of intolerance. A pension, the title of reader '
to the king, and a place in the academy, were conferred
upon him. He was admitted to the most intimate fami¬
liarity with his master. When he was tired he lounged
upon the royal sofas, and when he was over-heated he un¬
buttoned his vest and threw his peruke upon the floor. At
length, however, the brilliant yet no less galling slavery
under which the literary dependants of Frederick lived
became intolerable to Mettrie. He besought Voltaire
with all the passionate weeping of a child, to obtain for him
trom the french government leave to return to France;
but before that request had time to be granted he was
attacked by a severe fit of indigestion. The disorder was
aggravated by the absurd treatment he used, and he died
in November 1751, deriving no consolation from his own
p u osop ly, or from the maxims of his irreligious associates.
After his death his friend Voltaire gave no friendly estimate
either of ^ his intellectual or moral character. “ Mettrie,”
said he, was a fool that never wrote except when intoxi-
696 MET
Metz, cated.” The collected works of Mettrie were published
in 2 vols., Berlin, 1751.
METZ, a town of France, capital of an arrondissement
of the same name, and of the department of Moselle, is
situated on both sides of the Moselle, at its confluence with
the Seille, 180 miles E.N.E. of Paris, and 80 W.N.W. of
Strasburg. The houses are for the most part well built,
but the streets are generally narrow, steep, and irregularly
laid out. The rivers are lined with quays, and crossed by
no less than seventeen bridges. Metz is very well forti¬
fied, being the chief defence of the frontier between the
Meuse and the Rhine, and, next to Strasbourg, the strongest
town in France. The fortifications were constructed by
Vauban and Belle-Isle; and the principal forts are Belle
Croix, which protects the town on the E., and La Double
Couronne on the N. The city is surrounded by walls, in
■which there are nine gates, only six, however, being actually
used. Some of the gates are of great antiquity, having
remains of the machinery for raising and lowering the port¬
cullis. The principal building in Metz is the cathedral, a
Gothic structure which was begun in the eleventh, but
not completed till the sixteenth century ; it is in the form
of a cross, and is much admired for the boldness and light¬
ness of its architecture. It is about 380 feet in length, and
has an elegant spire nearly 400 feet high, from which an
extensive and beautiful view may be obtained. Besides
this, the church of Notre Dame de la Ronde, and that of
the abbey of St Vincent, are remarkable for their anti¬
quity ; and the former possesses an ancient episcopal throne
and other interesting remains. The military hospital is
a large building, erected in the reign of Louis XV., capa¬
ble of accommodating 1500 patients. Metz contains the
largest school of artillery and engineering in France, the
pupils of which are chosen from the Flcole Polytechnique
of Paris. The town has also a town-hall, court-house con¬
taining a large public library, market-house, theatre, bar¬
racks, arsenal, &c. The manufactures of Metz consist of
woollen and cotton stuffs, hosiery, plush, linen, paper,
leather, glue, hardware, cutlery, See. There is a large gun¬
powder factory, one of the first in France, on an island in
the Moselle. Metz has also a large cannon foundry, the
machinery of which is moved by water-power. T. he trade
consists of the articles of manufacture, together with wines,
brandy, confectionaries, groceries, Sec. Metz is the see of
a bishop, and has a court of appeal and tribunals of first
instance and commerce. Metz is an ancient town.1 In the
time of Caesar it was called Divodurum, and was the capi¬
tal of the Gallic nation of the Mediomatrici, from whom, in
the fifth century, it took the name of Mettis, whence its mo¬
dern appellation. It is remarkable in ancient history for a
massacre of the unsuspecting inhabitants, in a time of peace,
by the army of Vitellius, in the year 70 a.d. In the fifth
century Metz was destroyed by the Huns. No Roman re¬
mains have been discovered in the town; but a short dis¬
tance to the S. an amphitheatre, baths, and other ruins have
been found, which seem to point out this as the exact site
of the ancient Divodurum. There are also some remains of
the aqueduct by which the town was in ancient times sup¬
plied w'ith water. In the middle ages Metz was the capi¬
tal of the kingdom of Austrasia, but was - made by the
Emperor Otho II. a free imperial city, and thereafter used
by the German emperors as a barrier against France. It
was besieged by Charles VII. in 1444, and could only
preserve its freedom by the payment of 100,000 crowns.
At length Henri II. obtained possession of Metz in 1552 ;
and although it was besieged by Charles V. with an army
of 100,000 men, his efforts were completely baffled by
the skill and energy of the Duke of Guise, and by the
courage and constancy of the townsmen ; so that the
French continued in possession of the town till it, along
with those of Toul and Verdun, was formally secured to
M E U
them by the peace of Westphalia in 1648. Pop. (1851) Metzen-
43 484.* seifen
METZENSEIFEN (Ober and Enter), two adjacent MeJsiugi
villages of Hungary, in the county of .Abaujvar, in the ter- . ‘
ritory of Kaschau, and 18 miles W. of that town. The /~mm^
inhabitants are of German origin, and are noted for their
industry throughout the country. They are chiefly em¬
ployed in iron mines and iron works in the vicinity. Pop.
(Ober), 1938 ; (Enter), 3421: total, 5359.
METZINGEN, a town of Wiirtemberg, circle of the
Black Forest, on the Erms, 17 miles S.S.E. of Stuttgart.
Wine is produced in large quantities in the neighbourhood ;
and the town has manufactures of linen and woollen stuffs,
leather, Sec. A considerable trade in horses, cattle, and
agricultural produce is carried on. Pop. 4532.
METZE, Gabriel, a celebrated Dutch painter, was
born at Leyden in 1615. His life seems to have been
spent in the unwearied prosecution of his art, and to have
been chequered by no more striking events than the suc¬
cessive publications of his numerous pictures. There are
indications in his works of a close study of Terburg, Gerard
Dou, and Francis Mieris. In the latter part of his life he
caught some of the vivacity in execution of his convivial
and talented friend Jan Steen. Metzu is generally re¬
presented to have died at Amsterdam in 1658 ; yet some
of his well-authenticated pictures bear the dates 1661 and
1667. Asa mere imitator of nature, Gabriel Metzu was
unsurpassed. His paintings are harmonious combinations
of the various qualities of correct design, delicate pencilling,
rich and harmonious colouring, and masterly perspective.
Conversation-pieces were his favourite subjects. His pic¬
tures of sick or fainting ladies, musical parties, letter-writers,
morning visits of fashionable gallants, and other scenes in
genteel life, are executed with the most refined taste. The
same delicate sense of propriety preserves him from all
coarseness when he represents a hsh-market, a maid-servant
sitting in a kitchen with a tabby cat beside her, or a cava¬
lier drinking his beer and smoking his pipe at a cabaret.
Very high prices have been given for some of the pictures
of Metzu. Some of the most valuable are found in the
Leavre, and in the galleries of Berlin, Dresden, and the
Hermitage of St Petersburg.
MEERSIES, or De Metjrs, John, a celebrated anti¬
quary, was born in the year 1579 at Losdun, a town near
the Hague. His father, having embraced the Reformed
doctrines* took refuge in 1569 at the Hague, and some time
afterwards obtained the pastoral charge of Losdun. He
taught his son the principles of the Latin language, and
then sent him to study at Leyden, where he made so rapid
progress, that at the age of twelve he composed harangues
in Latin, and at thirteen, verses in Greek. His taste hav¬
ing led him to cultivate philology, he particularly directed
his attention to Lycophron, the most obscure of all the
Greek authors, whom he undertook to illustrate; and at
the age of sixteen he completed his commentary on that
difficult writer, a work which astonished the greatest scho¬
lars and critics of the time. When he had finished his
course of study, the grand pensionary Barneveld confided
to him the education of his sons ; and he was also appointed
to accompany them to the different courts of Em ope. He
turned his travels to account by availing himself of the op¬
portunities which they afforded for extending his know¬
ledge ; and in passing through Orleans in 1608 he was
honoured with the degree of Doctor of Laws. On his return
to Holland in 1610 he was appointed professor of history
in the academy of Leyden ; and the following year he was
promoted to the chair of Greek, which he filled with great
distinction. The states of Holland conferred on him the
title of historiographer, and honoured him with other marks
of their esteem; but after the execution of Barneveld in
1619, Meursius was innocently subjected to much perse-
M E U
Meurthe. cution from his connection with that unfortunate man. But
the King of Denmark came to his relief in 1625, and offered
him the chair of history in the university of Sora, together
with the place of historiographer, a situation which he at
once accepted. The remainder of his life was divided be¬
tween his official duties and literary pursuits; and he died
on the 20th of September 1639, at the age of sixty.
The memory of Meursius has suffered by his being some¬
times represented as the author of the infamous dialogues
De Arcanis Amoris et Veneris. This licentious work, it
is now well known, was the production of one Chorier, an
advocate of Grenoble, who probably prefixed to it the name
of Meursius for the purpose of throwing ridicule on the
grave and learned professor. His son John was a scholar of
considerable eminence, and produced some works evincing
erudition and research.
Meursius rendered a most valuable service to letters by
the numerous annotated editions which he published of the
Greek authors. The principal works which he edited are,—
the Poems of Lycophron ; the Tactics of the Emperor Leo;
the Opuscula of Hesychius; the Elements of Music by
Aristoxenes; the of Philostratus; \he Historia Lau-
siaca of Pallades ; the Annals of Manasses; the History
of Theodosius Metochites ; the Tactics of Constantine Por-
phyrogennetes ; the Marvellous Histories of Phlegon Tral-
lianus, Antigonus Carystius, and Appollonius Dyscoles; and
the works of Porphyry, Procopius, Gaza, and others. The
works of Meursius were collected by Lami, Florence, 1741-
1763, in 12 volumes folio. This collection is rare and
much prized. In the Memoires of Niceron (tom. xii. and
xx.) will be found a list of all the productions of this inde¬
fatigable writer, in number sixty-seven ; but we shall here
only indicate those which are most deserving of the atten¬
tion of the curious. Glossarium Grceco-Barbarum, Leyden,
1614, in 4to ; a work which, in regard to the Greek writers
of the Lower Empire, holds the same place as the Glossary
of Du Cange does for the writers of the corresponding age
of Latinity. Various treatises on different departments of
• Greek and Roman antiquities, for the most part reprinted in
the Thesaurus of Grsevius. Rerum Belgicarum Liber Pri¬
mus. Leyden, 1612; Historia Danica, Copenhagen, 1630.
MEURTHE, a department of France, bounded on the
N. by that of Moselle, E. by that of Bas Rhin, S. by that
of Vosges, and W. by that of Meuse. It lies between Lat.
48. 20. and 49. N., Long. 5. 40. and 7. 20. W.; having a
length of 70 miles, an average breadth of 35, and an area
of 2353 square miles. The eastern part of the department
is occupied by the Vosges Mountains, which rise to the
height of 1148 feet; and the x’est of the surface is diversi¬
fied and undulating, being traversed by numerous low
spurs of the same mountain range.
The principal river is the Moselle, which traverses the
department in an irregular course from S. to N., and is
joined near Nancy by the Meurthe, from which the depart¬
ment takes its name. The former of these rivers is navi¬
gable in this department for 21 miles, and the latter for 6.
The department is also watered by the Seille and the Sarre,
smaller tributaries of the Moselle; and it contains several
lakes of small size. The nature of the soil is very various
in different parts ; but it is in general of great fertility, espe¬
cially in the valley of the Seille. Of the whole area of
1,505,928 acres, 750,000 acres consist of arable land;
175,000of pasturage; 40,000 of vineyards; 290,000 of wood;
15,000 of waste land; &c. The quantity of wheat annually
raised is about 3,240,000 bushels; and the amount of wine
produced in ordinary years is 20,064,000 gallons, but its
quality is by no means so remarkable as its quantity.
Potatoes also, and leguminous plants, thrive well here; flax
and rape are cultivated largely ; and the hay furnished by
the meadows of this department is of great excellence. The
horses and cattle of Meurthe are not remarkable for the
VOL. XIV.
M E U 697
excellence of their breed; but pigs are reared in large num- Meurthe
bers and with considerable success. The number of horses II
is about 75,000; of cattle, 92,000 ; of sheep, 180,000; and v Meuse-
of pigs, 110,000; large numbers of which are exported.
The mineral productions are not of much importance.
They consist principally in rock-salt and salt springs, from
which upwards of 44,000 tons of salt and nearly 1000
tons of soda are annually obtained. There are also nu¬
merous quarries of marble, granite, limestone, slate, &c.,
and a small amount of iron ore has been found, but not
so much as to render the working of iron mines a pro¬
fitable undertaking. The principal branches of industry
prosecuted here are the manufacture of iron and glass ; but
those of lace, cotton and woollen stuffs, paper, glue, &c.,
are also carried on. The manufactures were formerly in a
very low condition, but of late years they have increased
greatly in prosperity. The commerce of the department
consists chiefly in the productions of the agricultural and
manufacturing industry of the inhabitants. The people of
Meurthe are partly of French and partly of German origin,
and the German language is still spoken in the east of the
department.
The railway from Paris to Strasbourg runs through the
department for a distance of more than 80 miles. Meurthe
is divided into five arrondissements, as follows :—
Cantons. Communes. Pop. (1851.)
Nancy  8 187 147,978
Chateau-Salins  5 147 68,634
Lun6ville    6 145 88,978
Sarrebourg   5 116 76,667
Toul  5 119 68,166
Total 29 714 450,423
The total population in 1856 was 424,373. The capital is
Nancy.
Meurthe, a river of France, rises near Mount Bon-
homme, a summit of the Vosges range, in the depart¬
ment of Vosges, flows N. and N.W. through that depart¬
ment and the adjoining one of Meurthe, and after a course
of 100 miles, falls into the Moselle below Nancy. It re¬
ceives the Vezouze and the Mortagne ; and is navigable as
far up as Nancy, about 6 miles from its confluence with the
Moselle. It frequently overflows its banks, and thus con¬
tributes greatly to the fertility of the surrounding country.
Large quantities of timber are floated down this river. The
chief towns on its banks are St Die, Raon 1’Etape, Lune-
ville, and Nancy.
MEUSE, a department of France, bounded on the N.
by Belgium and the department of Ardennes, E. by those
of Moselle and Meurthe, S. by those of Vosges and Haute-
Marne, and W. by those of Marne and Ardennes; lies
between 48. 25. and 49. 35. N. Lat., and between 4. 54.
and 5. 50. E. Long.; having a length of 83 miles, a breadth
of 40, and an area of 2436 square miles. The department
is traversed by two ranges of mountains at no great dis¬
tance from each other, which extend from the Faucilles in
the S. to the hills of Ardennes in the N. The highest
summit of these ranges does not exceed 1600 feet; and
between the two lies the valley traversed by the Meuse,
from which the department takes its name. The other
parts of the department present a great variety of hills,
valleys, and plains. Besides the Meuse, it is watered by
the Aisne and its tributary the Aire; by the Ornain anil
the Saulx, which join the Marne; by the Madine and
Orne, tributaries of the Moselle ; and by the Chiers, which
falls into the Meuse. The nature of the soil is as varied
as that of the surface of the country; and in some parts,
especially in the valleys, it is rich and fertile, but in the
hills and plains it is in general thin and poor. Of the whole
area, 875,000 acres consist of arable land ; 325,000 of wood ;
125,000 of meadow land ; 35,000 of vineyards; &c. The
4 x
698 M E U
Meuse quantity of grain produced is more than enough for the
II. supply of the inhabitants ; potatoes, pease, beans, flax, &c.,
Mexico. are a|so }arge]y cultivated, and with great success. The
fruits are excellent; gooseberries in particular are raised
with much care; and the wines of Meuse, especially those
of the valley of the Ornain, are highly prized. The pas¬
turage is very good ; and the cattle are superior to those of
the neighbouring country. The horses are weak and small;
but the rearing of pigs is attended to with much care. It
is computed that the department contains 60,000 horses,
96,000 cattle, 214,000 sheep, 98,000 pigs, &c. The prin¬
cipal minerals in the department are iron, good building
stone, potters’ clay, and slate. The inhabitants are em¬
ployed to a great extent in iron mines, forges, lime-kilns,
glassworks, potteries, cotton factories, paper-mills, &c.;
and the trade consists of iron, timber, wines, cotton stuffs,
salt provisions, &c. The railway from Paris to Strasbourg
runs through this department for a distance of 42 miles.
Meuse is divided into four arrondissements, as follows:—
Cantons. Communes. Pop. (1851.)
Bar-le-Duc   8 128 86,358
Commercy    7 180 87,664
Montmedy    6 131 69,096
Verdun    7 149 85,539
Total  28 588 328,657
In 1856 the total population was 305,727. The capital is
Bar-le-Duc.
Meuse (anciently Mosa, Flemish Maes, Dutch Maas),
a river of Europe, which takes its rise in the plateau of
Langres, being formed by the union of two small streams
above the village of Meuse, in the department of Haute-
Marne. It flows northward in a narrow valley across the
departments of Vosges, Meuse, and Ardennes, till it enters
Belgium. At Namur it takes a N.E. direction ; then
separates Dutch from Belgian Limburg, and enters Hol¬
land ; then turns to the N.W., and afterwards to the W. At
a short distance below Gorcum it divides into two arms, the
northern of winch gets the name of Merwe, and again
divides into the Maas and the Oude-Maas, or Old Meuse,
inclosing between them the island of Ysselmonde, and
falling among shoals and quicksands into the German Ocean.
The other arm of the Meuse, flowing farther to the S., also
separates into two smaller streams, one of which, called
Haring-Vliet or Herring Stream, and afterwards Flakkee,
separates the islands of Voorn and Over-Flakkee, and falls
M E X
by a wide estuary into the ocean ; and the other enters the Meusel
sea farther S., between the islands of Over-Flakkee and j|
Schouwen, communicating also by a smaller branch with Mexico,
the estuary of the Schelde. The whole length of the
Meuse is about 550 miles ; but a direct line from its source
to its mouth would not exceed 230 miles in length. It is
navigable as far as Verdun, a distance from the sea of 430
miles, of which nearly 300 are in Holland and Belgium.
In the upper part of its course the river flows through a
narrow valley, where the scenery is wild and picturesque,
the precipitous cliffs sometimes leaving only a narrow de¬
file, through which the river flows. In the lower part the
appearance of the country is of a very different nature.
Here there stretch large plains, which were originally under
water, but have been recovered by the laborious and per¬
severing efforts of the Dutch. The delta formed by the
Meuse is greater than that of any other river in Europe.
The Meuse receives in France the Mouzon, the Vair, and
the Chiers; in Belgium the Sambre, the Lesse, and the
Ourthe ; in Holland the Roer, the Niers, and the Rhine, by
its three branches the Waal, the Leek, and the Yssel.
The principal towns on the Meuse are,—Neufchateau, Ver¬
dun, Sedan, Charlemont, and Givet, in France; Namur
and Liege in Belgium; and Maestricht, Venloo, Grave,
Gorcum, Willemstad, and Rotterdam, in Flolland.
MEUSEL, Johann Georg, was born in 1743 atEyrich-
shof, near Bamberg in Bavaria. After having received
his education at Coburg, he went to the university of Got¬
tingen, where he was appointed a member of the historical
institute and of the philological seminary. Professor
Klotz being appointed to a chair in Halle, invited Meusel
thither, and there he remained till he obtained the chair
of history at Erfurt in 1769. In 1780 he was appointed
to the same chair in Erlangen, where he remained till his
death in 1820. He is chiefly famous for his industry and
accuracy in the collection of facts; but his histories are
rather inferior productions, as he seems to have been
oppressed with the weight of his extensive learning and
the vast amount of his materials. His principal works
are,—Gelehrtes Deutschland, Lemgo, 1796—1806, in 12
volumes; Lexicon dervon 1750—1800 Verstorbenen Schrift-
steller, Leipsic, 1812-1816, in 15 volumes ; Anleitung zur
Kenntniss der Europaischen Staaten Historic, Leipsic,
1816; Literatur der Statistik, Leipsic, 1806-7, in 2
volumes; and Lekrbuch der Statistik, Leipsic, 1805.
M E XIC O.
I.—HISTORY OF MEXICO FROM THE EARLIEST ACCOUNTS
TILL ITS SUBJECTION TO SPAIN.
Mexico, a republic of North America, is situated between
16. and 33. N. Lat., and between 86. and 117. W. Long.;
being nearly 2000 miles in length, and 1100 miles in great¬
est breadth.
Toltecans The Toltecans are the most ancient Mexican nation
inhabf w^c^1 we know anything. They were expelled from
tants. their own country, which is supposed to have been Tollan,
to the northward of Mexico, in the year a.d. 472. After-
leading a wandering life for 104 years, they reached a
place about 50 miles to the eastward of the city of Mexico,
where they settled for 20 years, giving to their new re¬
sidence the name of Tollantzinco. From thence they pro¬
ceeded about 40 miles farther to the west, where they
built a city, called, from the name of their country, Tollan
or Tula.
After the final settlement of the Toltecans, the govern¬
ment became monarchical. Their first king began his
reign in 667, and their monarchy lasted 384 years. Dur¬
ing this time they reckon only eight princes, as it was a
custom amongst them to continue the name of each king for
fifty-two years from the time when he ascended the throne.
If he died within that period, the government was carried on
in his name by regency ; and if he survived, he was obliged
to resign his authority. During the four centuries that the
monarchy continued the Toltecans increased very consider¬
ably in number, and built many cities; but when in the
height of prosperity almost the whole nation was destroyed
by a famine occasioned by drought and a pestilence. The
few who survived abandoned the country of Tula about 1051.
A century later they wrere succeeded by the Chichemecas, Succeeded
a much more barbarous people, who came from an unknown by the Chl*
country called Amaquemecan, where they had for a long c loraecas-
time resided. The motive of the Chichemecas for leaving
their own country is not known. They were eighteen months
on their journey, and took possession of the desolate country
of the Toltecans about 100 years after the famine. Though
much more uncivilized than the Toltecans, they had a re¬
gular form of monarchical government, and in other
respects were less disgusting in their manners than some
MEXICO.
699
History.
New inha¬
bitants.
Dominions
of Xolotl
divided.
Nopaltzin,
the second
king.
Quinatzin.
Disturban-
ces in vari¬
ous parts.
of the neighbouring nations. Their king, Xolotl, chose for
1 his capital Tenayuca, about 6 miles to the northward of
die city of Mexico, and distributed his people in the neigh¬
bouring territory; but as most of them went to the north¬
ward, that part obtained the name of the country of the
Chichemecas, in contradistinction to the rest. Xolotl
finding himself peacefully settled in his new dominion,
sent one of his officers to explore the sources of some of the
rivers of the country. Whilst performing this task he
came to the habitations of some Toltecans, who, it seems,
had still kept together, and were likely once more to be¬
come a nation. As these people were not inclined to war,
and were greatly esteemed for their knowledge and skill in
the arts, the Chichemecas entered into a strict alliance with
them, and Nopaltzin, the son of Xolotl, married a Tolte-
can princess. The consequence of this alliance was the
introduction of the arts and knowledge of the Toltecans
amongst the Chichemecas.
When Xolotl had reigned about eight years in his newr
territories, an embassy of six persons arrived from a distant
country not far from Amaquemecan, expressing a desire of
coming with their people to reside in the country of the Chi¬
chemecas. The king gave them a very gracious reception,
and assigned them a district; and, in a few years after¬
wards, three other princes, wdth a great army of Acolhuans,
who were likewise neighbours of Amaquemecan, made
their appearance. These, also, Xolotl allowed to settle in
his country, and gave in marriage his two daughters to two
of the kings, and a noble virgin of Chaleo to the third. As
the Acolhuans were the more civilized nation of the two,
the name of Chichemecas began to be appropriated to the
more rude and barbarous portion, who preferred hunting
to agriculture, or a life of savage liberty in the moun¬
tains to the restraints of social laws. These barbarians
associated with the Otomies, another savage nation who
lived to the northward; and by their descendants the
Spaniards were harassed for many years after the conquest
of Mexico.
As soon as the nuptial rejoicings were over, Xolotl as¬
signed a portion of his territories to each of the three
princes. Acolhuatzin, who had married his eldest daugh¬
ter, had Azcopazalco, 18 miles to the westward of Tez-
cuco; Chiconquauhtli, who had married the other, received
a territory named Xaltocan; and Tzontecomatl, who mar¬
ried the lady of inferior rank, obtained one named Coatli-
chan. The country continued for some time to flourish,
population increased greatly, and with it the civilization
of the people; but as these advanced, the vices of luxury
and ambition increased in proportion. Xolotl died in the
fortieth year of his reign, at a very advanced age.
Xolotl was succeeded by his son Nopaltzin, who at the
time of his accession is supposed to have been about sixty
years of age. In his time the tranquillity of the kingdom,
which had begun to suffer disturbance under his father,
experienced much more violent shocks, and civil wars took
place. The whole province of Tollantzinco rebelled, and
the king himself was obliged to take the field. As the rebels
were very numerous, the royal army was at first defeated,
but at length the insurgents were overcome, and their
ringleaders severely punished. The king did not long
survive the restoration of tranquillity to his dominions.
He died in the thirty-second year of his reign and ninety-
second of his age, leaving the throne to his eldest son
Tlotzin, who was an excellent prince, and reigned thirty-
six years.
Quinatzin, the son and successor of Tlotzin, was vain and
luxurious. His reign, though tranquil at first, was soon
disturbed by dangerous revolts and rebellions. These first
broke out in two states, named Maztillen and Totopec,
situated amongst the northern mountains. The king hav¬
ing collected a great army, marched without delay against
the rebels, and after frequent engagements for the space of History,
forty days, gained a complete victory, and punished the
ringleaders of the defection with great severity. Tran¬
quillity, however, was not yet restored; the rebellion spread
to such a degree that the king was obliged not only to
take the field in person, but to employ six other armies,
under the command of faithful and experienced generals,
in order to reduce the rebels. These proved so successful
in their enterprises, that in a short time the rebellious cities
were reduced to obedience, and the kingdom enjoyed the
blessings of peace during the long reign of Quinatzin, who
is said to have sat upon the throne for no less than sixty
years. He was succeeded by his son Techotlatla; but as the
affairs of the Acolhuans had now begun to be connected
with those of the Mexicans, it will be proper to give some
account of that people.
The nation of the Aztecas, which comprised the Mexi- Migrations
cans, dwelt till the year 1160 in a country called Aztlan, of the
situated to the N. of the Gulf of California, as appears by Mexicans>
the route they pursued in their journey, but how far to the A'D‘1160'
northward we are not certainly informed. Betancourt makes
it no less than 2700 miles, and Boturini says it was a pro¬
vince of Asia. The Aztecas, when they left their original
habitations, were divided into six tribes; but at Culiacan the
Mexicans were left with their god (a wooden image), while
the five tribes of Xochimilcas, Tepanecas, Chalcese, Tlahui-
cas, and Tlascalans, continued their march. The remaining
tribe was divided into two violent factions, which persecuted
one another, but always travelled together in order to enjoy
the company of their god. At every place where they
stopped an altar was erected to him ; and at their departure
they left behind them all their sick, and probably also all
that were not willing to endure the fatigue of such journeys.
They stopped in Tula nine years, and eleven more in the
neighbouring parts. At last, in 1216, they arrived at Zum-
panco, a considerable city in the valley of Mexico, and were
received in a hospitable manner by the lord of the district.
He not only assigned them proper habitations, but even
demanded from amongst them a wife for his son Ilhuicatl.
This request was complied with, and from this marriage all
the Mexican kings descended.
The Mexicans continued to migrate from one place to Persecu-
another along the Lake of Tezcuco. Xolotl, who was then tion of the
on the throne of the Acolhuans or Chichemecas, allowed Mex*cans>
them to settle in whatsoever places of his dominions they A,D'
thought proper ; but some of them finding themselves ha¬
rassed by a neighbouring lord, were obliged in the year 1245
to retire to Chapoltepec, a mountain on the western borders
of the lake, scarcely two miles distant from the site of Mex¬
ico. This took place in the reign of Nopaltzin, when dis¬
turbances began to take place in the Acolhuan dominions.
The Mexicans, however, did not find themselves any more
secure in their new place of residence than formerly. They
were persecuted by the neighbouring lords, and obliged to
take refuge in a number of small islands, named Acocolco,
at the southern extremity of the Lake of Mexico. Here for
fifty-two years they lived in the most miserable manner,
subsisting on fish, insects, roots, &c., and clothing themselves
with the leaves of the amoxtli, which abounds in that lake.
In this miserable plight the Mexicans continued till the year
1314, when they were reduced to a state of the most abso¬
lute slavery by the king of a petty state named Colhuacan.
After some years a war broke out between the Colhuans
and Xochimilcas, in which the latter gained such advan¬
tages that the former were obliged to employ their slaves
to assist them. Ihe Mexicans, armed with long staves
having their points hardened in the fire, with knives of the
stone itztli, and with shields of reeds woven together, ha¬
rassed the enemy so much by not making any prisoners, but
by uniformly cutting off the ear, that the Colhuans gained a
complete victory. Notwithstanding, it does not appear that
700
History.
MEXICO.
City of
Mexico
founded,
a.d.1325.
Acamapit-
zin, the first
king of
Mexico,
a.d. 1352.
the haughty masters were in the least inclined to afford their
slaves easier terms than before. On a certain day, which
the Mexicans had set apart for sacrificing to their god, the
Colhuan prince attended with his nobility, not with a view
to do honour to the festival, but to make a mockery. Their
derision, however, was soon changed into horror, when the
Mexicans, after a solemn dance, brought forth four Xochi-
milcan prisoners; and after having made them dance, cut
open their breasts with a knife, and plucking out their hearts,
offered them, whilst yet palpitating with life, to their san-
guinary idol. 1 his had such an effect upon the spectatoi s,
that both the king and his subjects desired the Mexicans
immediately to quit their territories and go where they
pleased. This order was instantly obeyed. Ihe whole
nation took their route towards the north until they came
to a place named Iztacalco, near the site of Mexico.
The city of Mexico was founded in 1325 on a small
island named Tenochtitlan, in the middle of a great lake,
without ground to cultivate for subsistence, or even room
sufficient to build habitations, lo enlarge the boundaries
of their island, they drove palisades into those parts of the
water which were most shallow, terracing them with stones
and turf, and uniting to their principal island several other
smaller ones which lay in the neighbourhood. The greatest
effort of their industry, however, was the construction of
floating gardens, by means of bushes and of the mud of the
lake ; and these they brought to so much perfection that they
produced maize, pepper, chia, French beans, and gourds.
During the thirteen years that the Mexicans had to struggle
with extreme difficulty they remained at peace; but no
sooner did they begin to prosper and live comfortably, than
the inveterate enmity between the two factions broke out
in all its fury. This produced a separation ; and one of the
parties took up their residence on a small island at a little
distance to the northward, which, from a heap of sand found
there, they at first named Xaltilolco, but afterwards Tlctte-
lolco, from a terrace constructed by themselves. I his
island was afterwards united to that of fenochtitlan. About
this time the Mexicans divided their city into four parts,
each quarter having now its tutelar saint, as it had formerly
had its tutelar god. In the midst of their city was the
sanctuary of their great god Mexitli, whom they constantly
preferred to all the rest. To him they daily performed acts
of adoration ; but instead of making any progress in human¬
ity, they seem to have daily improved in the most horrible
barbarities, at least in their religion.
In the year 1352 the Mexican government was changed
from an aristocracy to a monarchy. At first the people were
governed by twenty lords, of whom one had an authority
superior to the rest. This naturally suggested the idea of
monarchy; and to this change they were also induced by
the contemptible state in w'hich their nation still continued,
thinking that the royal dignity would confer upon it a de¬
gree of splendour which otherwise it could not enjoy, and
that by having one leader, they would be better able to
oppose their enemies. Proceeding, therefore, to elect a
king, the choice fell upon Acamapitzin, a man held in great
estimation amongst them, and descended from Opoclitli, a
noble Aztecan, and a princess of the royal family of Colhu-
acan. As he was yet a bachelor, they negotiated a mar¬
riage with the daughter of Acolmiztli, lord of Coatlichan,
and the nuptials were celebrated with great rejoicings. In
the meantime the Tlatelolcos, the natural rivals of the
Mexicans, likewise chose a king. Not thinking proper,
however, to choose him from amongst themselves, they ap¬
plied to the king of the Tepanecos, who readily sent them
his son ; and he was crowned first king of Tlatelolco in
1353. In this the Tlatelolcos seem to have had a design
of humbling their rivals, as well as of rendering themselves
more respectable; and therefore it is very probable that they
had represented the Mexicans as wanting in that respect
due to the Tepanecan monarch, from having elected a king History,
without his leave, though at the same time they were tri-
butaries to him. The consequence of this was, that he
doubled their tribute, and imposed upon them many whim¬
sical tasks. They freed themselves, however, from all their
difficulties by vigorous exertions, absurdly ascribing to the
malevolent being whom they worshipped all the glory of
every deliverance. Acamapitzin governed this city, which
at that time comprehended the whole ot his dominions, for
thirty-seven years in peace.
Acamapitzan died in the year 1389, lamented by the Mexi- Huiteih-
cans, and his death was followed by an interregnum of four
months. As the deceased monarch had formally resigned king, A D<
his authority into the hands of his nobles, it was necessary isgg,
that a new election should take place; and the choice fell
upon Huitzilihuitl, the son of Acamapitzin. The new
monarch began his reign by espousing the daughter of the
King of Azcapozalco. Though this princess brought him a
son the first year of their marriage, the king, in order to
strengthen himself by fresh alliances, married also the
daughter of another prince, by whom he had Montezuma
Ilhuicamina, the most celebrated of all the Mexican kings.
As the Mexicans advanced in wealth and power so did
their rivals the inhabitants of Tlatelolco. I heir first king
died in 1399, leaving his subjects greatly improved in civi¬
lization, and the city much enlarged and beautified.. The
rivalship which subsisted between the two cities had indeed
greatly contributed to the aggrandizement of both. The
Mexicans had formed so many alliances by marriage with
the neighbouring nations, had so much improved their agri¬
culture and floating gardens on the lake, and had built so
many more vessels to supply their extended commerce and
fishing, that they were enabled to celebrate their secular
year, answering to the year 1402 of our era, with far greater
magnificence than they had ever done since they lefi._ their
original country of Atztlan. In 1406 lechotlala, King of
Acolhuacan, died, after a tranquil reign of thirty years. No
sooner had his son Ixtlilxochitl succeeded him than the
Kings of Mexico, Azcapozalco, and Tlatelolco abjured their
allegiance. After a disastrous contest of three years, the
rebels, designing to accomplish by treachery what they
had been unable to effect by force, sued for peace and ob¬
tained it.
In 1409 died Huitzilihuitl, King of Mexrco, who left the Chimilpo-
right of electing a successor to the nobility. They made poca> thnfi
choice of his brother Chimilpopoca ; and hence it became
an established law to choose one of the brothers of the de- a ^ -^09.
ceased king, or, if he had no brothers, to elect one of his
grandsons. Whilst the new prince was endeavouring to
secure himself on the throne, the treacherous Tezozomoc,
King of Azcapozalco, employed all the means in his power
to strengthen the party he had formed against the King of
Acolhuacan. In this he had such success, that the unfor¬
tunate prince found himself reduced to the necessity of
wandering amongst the neighbouring mountains, at the head
of a small army, accompanied by the lords of Huexotla and
Coatlichan,.who remained faithful to him. The 1 epanecans,
by intercepting his provisions, distressed him to such a de¬
gree that he was forced to beg them of his enemies. t
length they killed him, after they had treacherously persuaded
him to hold a conference with two of their captains, i us
perfidious act was committed in sight ot the royal aim},
who were too weak to revenge it. The royal corpse u as
saved with difficulty ; and Nezahualcojotl, the hen-apparent
to the crown, was obliged to shelter himself amongst t ie
bushes from the fury of his enemies. .
Tezozomoc having now in a great measure gained his Acolhua-
point, proceeded to pour down Ins troops upon those cities
and districts which had remained faithful to the late unfor- ^ezozQm
tunate monarch. The people made a desperate defence, moCi
and killed great numbers of their enemies ; but at last be-
MEXICO.
History, ing reduced by the calamities of war, and in danger of total
extermination, they were obliged to quit their habitations
and flee to other countries. The tyrant then gave Tezcuco
to Chimilpopoca, King of Mexico, and Huexotla to Tlaca-
cotl, King of Tlatelolco ; at the same time placing faithful
governors in others places, and appointing Azcapozalco, the
capital of his own territory, the royal residence and capital
of Acolhuacan. All the rest of the Acolhuacan empire
submitted ; and Nezahualcojotl saw himself for the present
deprived of all hopes of obtaining the crown. Tezozomoc
had now attained the summit of his ambition. But instead
of conciliating the minds of his new subjects, he oppressed
them with fresh taxes; and being conscious of the pre¬
carious situation in which he stood, and tormented with
remorse on account of his crimes, he fell into melancholy,
and at length expired in the year 1422, leaving the crown
to his son Tajatzin.
The throne Tezezomoc was no sooner dead than Maxtlaton, one of
usurped by his other sons, without paying the least regard to his father’s
Maxtlaton, will, began to exercise the functions of sovereign, and com-
a.d. 1422. peiieci his brother Tajatzin to retire to Chimilpopoca, King
of Mexico. This monarch, agreeably to the character of
that age and people, advised him to invite his brother to an
entertainment, and then to murder him. Unluckily for
both, this discourse was overheard by a servant, who, in
expectation of a reward, informed the tyrant of what he had
heard. Maxtlaton therefore determined to rid himself of
his brother without delay. This he soon accomplished in
the very same way that had been projected against himself.
Tajatzin, along with the Kings of Mexico, Tlatelolco, and
several other feudatory princes, were invited by Maxtlaton
to an entertainment. The King of Mexico prudently ex¬
cused himself, but the unsuspecting Tajatzin came to the
place of entertainment, and was instantly put to death. The
company were greatly alarmed, but nevertheless pro¬
claimed Maxtlaton king, being in this, no doubt, much more
influenced by fear than by affection. The King of Mexico
escaped a sudden death by his absence at this time, only
to perish in a manner more slow and ignominious. His
revengeful foe Maxtlaton, not content with heaping insults
upon him, decoyed his favourite wife into his hands, and
sent her home dishonoured. Chimilpopoca was so much
affected by this misfortune that he resolved to offer himself
up as a sacrifice to his god ; but before the resolution could
be executed Maxtlaton sent a body of troops, who, enter¬
ing Mexico without resistance, carried oft' the king alive.
Chimilpopoca was imprisoned at Azcapozalco in a strong
wooden cage, the common prison for criminals.
Itzcoatl In the meantime the Mexicans raised to the throne Iz-
raised to coatl, the son of Acamapitzin. His election was no less
the throne pleasing to Nezahualcojotl and his party than it was offen-
of Mexico, give to Maxtlaton. An alliance was'quickly concluded be¬
tween the exiled prince and the King of Mexico ; and when
the former commenced hostilities against the tyrant of Az¬
capozalco, the latter agreed to assist him. Maxtlaton ac¬
cordingly prepared to wage war with the Mexicans. The
Mexican populace, terrified at engaging so powerful an ene¬
my, demanded that their king should submit and sue for a
peace. But Montezuma, the brave son of Huitzilihuitl,
persuaded them to agree to a commencement of hostilities.
Conditions of peace, however, were first sent to Maxtlaton by
the hands of Montezuma. They were rejected, and theMexi-
can ambassador forthwith went through the ceremony of
declaring war. The Mexican populace were again thrown
into the utmost consternation by the news that war was in¬
evitable ; and they now requested the king to allow them
to retire from their city, of which they supposed the ruin
to be certain. The king encouraged them with the hopes
of victory. “ But if we are conquered,” replied they, “ what
will become of us ?” “ If that happen,” answered the king,
“ we are that moment bound to deliver ourselves into your
hands, to be made sacrifices at your pleasure.” Prince Ne
zahualcojotl was forthwith summoned to repair to Mexico
with his army. On the day after his arrival the allied
forces encountered the Tepanecan troops under a general
named Mazatl. After an obstinate and bloody contest, which
lasted till night, the Tepanecan general fell by the sword
of Montezuma, and his forces were driven into their capital
city. On the following day their defeat was even more sig¬
nal, and resulted in the capture of Azcapozalco. Maxtlaton
attempted to hide himself, but being quickly discovered,
he was beaten to death with sticks and stones. The city
was plundered, the inhabitants were butchered, and the
houses destroyed by the victors. This victory proved de¬
cisive in favour of the confederates. Every other place of
strength in the country was quickly reduced, until the Te-
panecans, finding themselves upon the verge of destruction,
sent an humble embassy to the King of Mexico, requesting
to be taken under his protection, and to become tributaries
to him. Itzcoatl received them graciously, but threatened
them with total extirpation if they violated the fidelity they
had sworn to him.
Itzcoatl, now finding himself firmly seated on the throne
of Mexico, set about performing his engagements to the
Acolhuacan prince. Nezahualcojotl was accordingly seated
upon the throne of Acolhuacan. Having thus accomplished
the conquest of Cojohuacan, a great part of the Tepanecan
country, with the title of King of Tacuba, was given by Itz¬
coatl to Totoquihatzin, a grandson of Tezozomoc. An al¬
liance was then formed between the Kings of Mexico, Acol¬
huacan, and Tepaneca. The conditions were, that they
should assist each other in war, and should divide all plun¬
der amongst themselves according to certain specified pro¬
portions. About this time the Xochimilcas, fearing lest the
Mexicans should now turn their victorious arms against
them, determined to commence hostilities against that ris¬
ing state, before it should become more formidable by new
conquests. Itzcoatl was no sooner informed of this deter¬
mination, than he sent Montezuma with a great army against
them. The Xochimilcas met him with one still more nu¬
merous ; but being worse disciplined they were quickly
defeated, and their city taken a short time afterwards.
Izcoatl died in 1436, at a very advanced age, in the
height of prosperity, and was succeeded by Montezuma I.,
the greatest monarch that ever sat on the Mexican throne.
Scarcely had he been crowned when his aid was solicited
by the Tezcucans against the Chalcese. The latter were
almost annihilated in one desperate battle, and their city
was levelled with the ground. Montezuma, on his return,
found himself obliged to encounter an enemy more formid¬
able, on account of his vicinity, than enemies more powerful
at a distance. This was the King of Tlatelolco, who had
formerly conspired against the life of Itzcoatl, and finding
himself disappointed in this, had tried to reduce his power
by entering into a confederacy with some of the neighbour¬
ing lords. At that time his designs proved abortive, but
he resumed them in the time of Montezuma; the conse¬
quence was, that he was defeated and killed. One Moqui-
huix was chosen in his stead ; and in the election of that
chief it is probable that Montezuma had a considerable
share. This was followed by conquests of a much more
important nature. He added to his dominions the province
of Cuihixcas, situated to the southward, and comprehend¬
ing a tract of country more than 150 miles in breadth.
I hen, turning to the westward, he conquered another pro¬
vince named 1 zompahuacan. Ihis success, however, w'as
for a short time interrupted by a war with Atonaltzin, lord
of a territory in the country of the Mixtacas. Against this
potentate Montezuma sent a considerable army, but had
the mortification to be informed of its defeat. Chagrined
at this first check, he determined to command his next
army in person ; but before he could call together another,
701
History.
Nezahual-
cojotl made
king of Al-
colhuacan.
Montezu¬
ma I., king
of Mexico,
a.d. 1436.
702
MEXICO.
History. Atonaltzin had formed a confederacy with the Huexotzincas
and Tlascalans, who were glad of the opportunity, as they
supposed, of reducing the power of the Mexicans. 1 heir
numbers, however, availed them but little t as Montezuma
in the first engagement totally defeated the confederate
Mexican army. By this victory the Mexican monarch became mas-
dominions ter not only of the dominions of Atonaltzin, but of those of
Changed, many other neighbouring princes, against whom he had made
a.d. 1457. war Qn account of their having put to death some Mexican
merchants or couriers without any just cause. The con¬
quest of Cuetlachtan or Cotasta, however, which he at¬
tempted in 1457, proved a much more difficult task. This
province is situated on the coast of the Mexican Gulf, and
had formerly been inhabited by the Olmecans, whom the
Tlascalans had driven out. The inhabitants were very nu¬
merous ; but dreading the power of Montezuma, called in
to their assistance those of Tlascala, together with the
Huexotzincas and the Cholulans. Montezuma sent against
them an excellently equipped army, which, however, he did
not on this occasion command in person. The Cotastese
fought with great valour, but were unable to resist the royal
forces ; and their allies were almost totally destroyed. Six
thousand two hundred of them were taken prisoners, and
soon afterwards sacrificed to the Mexican god of war in the
barbarous manner already described.
Inundation During the reign of this great monarch a violent inunda-
and famine tion happened in Mexico. The lake, swollen by the ex-
at Mexico, cgggive r&ms which fell in 1446, poured its waters into the
a.d. 1446. cj£y wj^}1 such violence, that many houses were destroyed,
and the streets inundated to such a degree that boats were
everywhere made use of. The inundation was soon followed
by a famine. This was occasioned by the partial failure
of the crop of maize in 1448, the ears whilst young and
tender having been destroyed by frost. In 1450 the crop
was totally lost for want of water ; and in 1451, besides the
unfavourable seasons, there was a scarcity of seed. Hence
in 1452 the necessities of the people became so great, that
they were actually obliged to sell themselves as slaves in
order to procure subsistence. Montezuma opened the pub¬
lic granaries for the relief of the lower classes ; but nothing
could arrest the progress of the famine.
Axayacatl Montezuma was succeeded by Axayacatl, who, like his
succeeds predecessor, instantly commenced a war, for no other reason
Montezu- than t}iat he might obtain prisoners to sacrifice at his coro-
ma- nation. He pursued Montezuma’s plan of conquest, in
which, however, he was not very successful; many of the
provinces reduced by that monarch having revolted after
his death, so that it was necessary to reconquer them. The
Mexicans sustained an irreparable loss in 1469 and 1470
by the death of their allies the Kings of I acuba and Acol-
huacan. The King of Tacuba was succeeded by his son
Chimilpopoca, and the Acolhuacan monarch by his son
Nezahualpilli. A short time after the accession of the lat¬
ter the war broke out between the Tlatelocos and Mexi¬
cans, which ended in the destruction of the former. Mo-
. quihuix, King of the Tlatelocos, had entered into an alli¬
ance with a great number of the neighbouring states, in
order to reduce the Mexican power. He then prepared
for war with many horrid ceremonies, of which the drink¬
ing of human blood was one. A day was appointed for
attacking Mexico. At the set time the attack began and
lasted until night, when the Tlatelolcos were obliged to
retire. During the night Axayacatl disposed of his troops
in all the roads which led to Tlatelolco, appointing them to
meet in the market-place. The Tlatelolcos, finding them¬
selves attacked upon all sides, retired gradually before the
Mexicans, until at last they were forced into the market¬
place. During the tumult which ensued Moquihuix was
killed, and his army was compelled to submit. The Tlate¬
lolcos being thus reduced, Axayacatl next set out on an
expedition against the Matlazineas, a tribe in the valley of
Toluca, who still refused to submit to the Mexican yoke* History.
Having proved successful in this expedition, he undertook
to subdue Xiquipilco, a considerable city and state of the
Otomies. Encountering the chief of that people in single
combat, he was overmatched, and received a violent wound
in the thigh. Notwithstanding this disaster, his army gained
a complete victory, carrying off more than eleven thousand
prisoners, amongst whom was the chief of the Otomies
himself.
Axayacatl was succeeded by his elder brother, called Tizoc, Tizoc and
who was shortly afterwards murdered in a conspiracy of his Ahuitzotl.
subjects. During the reign of Tizoc the Acolhuacans made
war upon the Huexotzincas, ruined their city, and con¬
quered their territory. Ahuitzotl, the brother of Tizoc,
succeeded him in the kingdom of Mexico. His first object
was to finish the great temple begun by his predecessor;
and so great was the number of workmen employed that it
was completed in four years. During the time it was
building the king employed himself in making war with
different nations, reserving all the prisoners he took for
victims at the dedication of the temple. The number of
prisoners sacrificed at this dedication in 1486 is said by
Torquemada to have been 72,324, and by other historians
is estimated at 64,060. In 1487 there happened a violent
earthquake ; and Chimilpopoca, King of Acolhuacan, having
died, was succeeded by Totoquihuatzin II. Ahuitzotl died
in the year 1502 of a disorder produced by a contusion in
the head. At the time of his death the Mexican empire
had reached its utmost extent.
His successor, Montezuma Xocojotzin, or Montezuma Montezu-
the younger, was a person of great bravery, and was like- ma,, a.d.
wise a priest, and held in great estimation on account oflo02>
the gravity and dignity of his deportment. But no sooner
was the ceremony of his coronation terminated, than
Montezuma began to discover a pride which nobody had
before suspected. He deprived all the commoners ot the
offices they held about the court, declaring them incapable
of holding any for the future. All the royal servants were
now people of rank. Besides those who lived in the palace,
six hundred feudatory lords and nobles came to pay court
to him. In every respect he kept up, as far as was pos¬
sible, an extravagant appearance of dignity, splendour, and
luxury. But in no long time his prodigality rendered him
very disagreeable to a great number of his subjects, though
others w^ere pleased with the readiness he showed to relieve
the necessities of individuals, and his generosity in reward¬
ing his generals and ministers. The reign of Montezuma,
even before the arrival of the Spaniards, was far from being
so glorious as those of his predecessors had been. He
attempted to extort tribute from Tlascala, a small republic
at no great distance from the capital; but the inhabitants
had already inclosed all the lands of the republic with in-
trenchments, to which they now added a wall six miles
in length on the west side, where an invasion was most to
be apprehended. Behind these fortifications so well did
they defend themselves, that though they were frequently
attacked by the neighbouring states in alliance with Mex¬
ico, or subject to it, they were still able to maintain their
ground. Montezuma’s reign was also disturbed by disas¬
trous losses and evil omens. In 1508 an expedition
against a very distant region, named Amatla, completely
failed. A great part of the soldiers perished under the in¬
clemency of the weather, and the rest were killed in battle.
By this and other calamities, together with the appearance
of a comet, Montezuma wras so terrified that he applied to
the King of Alcohuacan, who was reported to be very skilful
in divination. Nezahualpilli told him that the comet pre¬
saged the arrival of a new people; but this being unsatis¬
factory to the emperor, he conferred with a celebrated
astrologer, who confirmed the interpretation of Nezahual¬
pilli.
MEXICO.
History. Mexico was first discovered by Hernandez de Cordova,
who in ]517, in sailing towards the Bahamas, was driven
Conquest by a succession of severe storms on the coast of Yucatan
°f Mexico On the 10th of February 1519 Hernando Cortez set sail
iTcortez01' t,he concluest of Mexico from the Havannah, and, after
a.d. 1518.’ touc*lin& at ^ ucatan, arrived in Passion-week of the same
5 ear at the harbour of St Juan de Ulua. Here he was met
by two Mexican canoes, which carried two ambassadors
from the emperor of that country, and showed the greatest
signs of peace and amity. Their language was translated
into the Yucatan tongue by a female prisoner, whom they
lad lecently captured; after which a Spaniard named
Jerom de Aguilar interpreted the meaning in Spanish.
I his slave was afterwards named Donna Marina and
proved very useful in their conferences with the natives
By means of his two interpreters, Cortez learned that the
other part of the embassy was to inquire what his intentions
were in visiting these coasts. He accordingly informed the
ambassadors that he came to propose matters of the utmost
consequence to the welfare of the prince and his kingdom.
.ext morning, without waiting for any answer, he landed
his troops, horses, and artillery, and began to erect huts for
his men, and to fortify his camp. The day following the
ambassadors had a formal audience, at which Cortez ac¬
quainted them that he came from Don Carlos of Austria
king of Castile, the greatest monarch of the East, and was
intrusted with propositions of such moment that he would
impart them to none but the emperor himself, and therefore
required to be conducted immediately to the capital. This
demand produced the greatest uneasiness, and the ambassa¬
dors did all in their power to dissuade Cortez from his de¬
sign, endeavouring to conciliate his good will by the presents
sent him by Montezuma. But Cortez insisted on beino-
admitted to a personal interview with their sovereign3
During this conversation some painters in the retinue of the
Mexican chiefs had been diligently employed in delineatine-
upon white cotton cloths, figures of the ships, horses, artil¬
lery, soldiers, and whatever else attracted their eyes as sin¬
gular. 1 hese sketches were then despatched to Montezuma
by trained couriers posted at proper stations along the road.
In a few days messengers arrived from the royal residence
with many rich presents to Cortez, but at the same time
with the intelligence that Montezuma would not give his
consent that foreign troops should approach nearer to his
mmio °r eV6n all°VV them t0 continue longer in his do-
Montezu- In a short time a deputy named Teutile arrived with
ma com- another present from Montezuma, and together with it de
^ers of that monafch to depan £
W* ™ "S/"1 >, and when -COTtez> i"stead of
703
his domi- f    , emu wuen Torrez, instead of
nions, a.d. c ruplyuig with his demands, renewed his request of
1519. audience, the Mexican immediately left the camp with
strong marks of surprise and resentment. Next mornino-
none of the natives appeared; all friendly correspondence
seemed to be at an end, and hostilities were expected to
commence every moment. Cortez, without allowing his
men time for reflection, immediately set about carrying his
designs into execution. In order to give a beginning to a
colony, he assembled the principal persons in his army and
by their suffrages elected a council and magistrates in
whom the government was to be vested. The new settle¬
ment received the name of Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz
that is, “ the rich town of the true cross.”
The go- Before this court of his own making, Cortez did not he-
vernment sitate to resign all his authority, and was immediately
Ofthe new re-elected chief-justice of the colony, and captain-gene-
vested in m 0t llIS army> with an ample commission, in the king’s
Cortez. ”arri1e’ to continue in force till the royal pleasure should be
further known. The soldiers eagerly ratified their choice
by loud acclamations; and Cortez, now considering him¬
self as no longer accountable to any subject, began to as¬
sume a much greater degree of dignity, and to exercise History,
more extensive powers than he had hitherto done. Hav- v-—
mg strengthened himself still further by an alliance with
one of Montezuma’s own tributaries, tbe petty prince of
Cempoalla, he resolved to advance into the country.
Yet, as he had thrown off all dependence on Velasquez
the governor of Cuba, who was his lawful superior, he was
apprehensive of his interest at court, and thought proper, be¬
fore he set out on his intended expedition, to take the most
effectual measures against the impending danger. With this
view, he persuaded the magistrates of his colony to ad-
diess a letter to the king, containing a pompous account
of their own services, of the country they had discovered,
and of the motives which had induced them to throw off
their allegiance to the governor of Cuba, and to settle a
colony dependent on the crown alone, in which the supreme
power, civil as well as military, had been vested in Cortez;
humbly requesting their sovereign to ratify what had been
done under his royal authority. Some soldiers and sailors, Con-
however, secretly disaffected to Cortez, formed a design spiracy.
of seizing one of the brigantines, and making their escape
to Cuba, in order to give such intelligence to the governor
as might enable him to intercept the vessel which was to
carry the treasure and despatches to Spain. But before
this conspiracy was ready for execution, the secret was
discovered by one of the associates. To prevent such
plots in future, Cortez, without any hesitation, burned
his fleet, and thus rendered it necessary for his troops to
follow wherever he chose to lead. He then began his
march into the interior, with 500 infantry, 15 horse* and 6
held-pieces ; and with a reinforcement furnished by the
onn1Cr °l ^ei^P®a^a’ consisting of 400 regular troops and
-00 of those Indians called Tamanes, whose office was to
carry burdens and perform all manner of servile labour.
Nothing memorable happened till the Spaniards arrived Cortez en
on the confines of the republic of Tlascala. As the inha- gages in
oitants of that province were implacable enemies of Mon- war with
tezuma, Cortez hoped that it would be an easy matterthe rePul)-
for him to procure their friendship ; but his ambassadors lic,of Tlas'
were detained, a circumstance which led him to infer that Cala‘
the flascalans were hostile. He accordingly approached
the city, and soon found that his small force was surrounded
by an army of 50,000 men. In the battle which ensued
the discipline and equipments of the Europeans overcame
this immense host. The loss of three other battles effec¬
tually subdued the valour of the natives, and at last peace
was concluded to the great satisfaction of both parties. The
1 lascalans yielded themselves as vassals to the crown of
Castile, and engaged to assist Cortez in all his operations,
in return for the protection which he guaranteed to extend
to their republic.
As soon as his troops were fit for service, Cortez resolved Cortez n™
to continue Ins march towards Mexico, notwithstanding the secutes his
remonstiances of the I lascalans, who looked upon his de- enterprise,
struction as inevitable if he put himself into the power of
such a faithless prince as Montezuma. But the emperor
had informed Cortez that he agreed to receive his visit, and
that he had given orders for his friendly reception at Cho-
lula, the next place of any consequence on the road to Mex-
hm rnm ieCeived wit\ much seeming cordiality;
but 6000 I lascalan troops who accompanied him were
obliged to remain without the town, as the Cholulans re¬
fused to admit their ancient enemies within their precincts
In a short time Donna Marina, the interpreter,^fved
information from an Indian woman of distinction, whose
confidence she had gained, that the destruction of the
lSavarnnnrdSrf 5 that a body of Mexican troops
ay concealed near the town ; that some of the streets were
arricaded, whilst m others deep pits or trenches were dug,
^ will y ^overecI over, as traps into which the horse
miB i a , that stones and missile weapons were collected
704
MEXICO.
History, upon the tops of the temples ; and that the fatal hour was
'—V—' already at hand. Cortez, alarmed at this news resolved
to anticipate his enemies. On a ^gnal given, his troops
rushed out and attacked the mult.tude in front, the Tlas-
calans at the same time assailing them in the rear, the
streets were filled with slaughter, and the temples, which
afforded a retreat to the priests and some leading men, were
set on fire, in consequence of which they perished in the
flames. At length the carnage ceased, after the slaughter
of 6000 Cholulans, without the loss of a single Spaniard.
From Cholula Cortez continued his march to Mexico
with o-reat circumspection and the strictest discipline,
though without seeming to suspect the prince whom he
was about to visit. . ,
Meeting: of When the Spaniards drew near the city, abou 1000 per-
Cortezand SOns of distinction came forth to meet them, and announce
Montezu- approach of the emperor himself. Preceded by all the
pomp and pageantry of an oriental monarch, Montezuma
appeared in a chair or litter richly ornamented with gold
and feathers of various colours, surmounted by a canopy of
curious workmanship. When he drew near, Cortez, dis¬
mounting, accosted him with profound reverence, after the
European fashion. He returned the salutation, according
to the mode of his country, by touching the earth with his
hand, and then kissing it. Nothing material passed at this
first interview. Montezuma conducted Cortez to the quar¬
ters which had been prepared for his reception, and imme¬
diately took leave of him with a politeness not unworthy of
a more refined court. The first care of Cortez was to take
precautions for his security, by planting the artillery so as to
command the different avenues which led to his quarters,
and by appointing a large division of his troops to be always
on guard. The three subsequent days were employed m
viewing the city, the appearance of which, so far superior in
the order of its buildings and the number of its inhabitants
t to any place the Spaniards had beheld in America, and yet
so little resembling the structure of a European city, fille
them with surprise and admiration.
The access to the city of Mexico or Tenochtitlan was
by artificial causeways or streets, formed of stones and
earth, about 30 feet in breadth. As the waters of the
lake during the rainy season overflowed the level coun¬
try, these causeways were of considerable length; that of
Tacuba, on the W., being a mile and a half; that of lez-
cuco on the N.W., 3 miles; and that of Cuoyacan, to¬
wards the S., 6 miles. On the E. there was no cause-
way, and the city could be approached only by canoes.
As the approaches to the city were singular, so its con¬
struction was remarkable. Not only the temples of t len
gods, but the houses belonging to the monarch and to
persons of distinction, were of such dimensions that, in
comparison with any other buildings which had been dis¬
covered in America, they might even be termed magni -
cent. The habitations of the common people were mean,
resembling the huts of other Indians; but they weie a
placed in a regular manner on the banks of the canals,
which passed through the city in some of its districts, or
on the sides of the streets which intersected it in other
quarters. In this city, the pride of the New World, and
the noblest monument of the industry and the art of man
whilst unacquainted with the use of iron, the Spaniards
reckon that there were at least 60,000 inhabitants.
As soon as Cortez had entered Mexico, he had become
sensible that, from an excess of confidence in the superior
valour and discipline of his troops, he had pushed forward
into a situation where it was difficult to continue, and from
which it was dangerous to retire. At the same time he
knew that the countenance of his own sovereign was to
be obtained only by a series of victories. He therefore
fixed upon a plan no less extraordinary than daring. He
determined to seize Montezuma in his palace, and to carry
him as a prisoner to the Spanish quarters. At his usual History,
hour of visiting Montezuma, Cortez went to the palace ac- ^ v ^
companied by Alvarado, Sandoval, Lugo, Velasquez de (jortez re-
Leon, and Davila, five of his principal ofiiceis, and with as solves to
many trusty soldiers, "thirty chosen men followed, not ’n te^unfaTn
regular order, but sauntering at some distance, as if t‘iey jjjs paiace<
had no object but curiosity; small parties were posted at
proper intervals in all the streets leading from the Spanish
quarters to the court; and the remainder of his troops, with
the Tlascalan allies, were under arms, ready to sally out
upon the first alarm. Cortez and his attendants were ad¬
mitted without suspicion; the Mexicans retiring, as usual,
out of respect. He addressed the monarch in a tone veiy
different from that which he had employed in former con¬
ferences, reproaching him bitterly as the author of a violent
assault made upon the Spaniards at Cempoalla by one of
his officers. Montezuma, confounded at this unexpected
accusation, asserted his own innocence with great earnest-
and, as a proof of it, gave orders instantly to bring
The city of
Mexico.
the culprit to Mexico. Cortez replied that a declaration
so respectable left no doubt remaining in his own mm ;
but that his followers would never be convinced that Mon¬
tezuma did not harbour hostile intentions against them,
unless he removed from his own palace and took up his
residence in the Spanish quarters. The first mention of so
strange a proposal deprived Montezuma of speech, and al¬
most of motion. At length he haughtily answered, that
persons of his rank were not accustomed to give them¬
selves up voluntarily as prisoners. At length, after he had
been alternately coaxed and intimidated for the space ot
three hours, he complied with their request, and was carried
oft' in silent pomp to the Spanish quarters.
In a short time Cortez had entirely gained the ascendant Cortez^
over the unhappy monarch; and he took care to improve e
his opportunity to the utmost. He sent his emissaries into A ^ im
different parts of the kingdom, accompanied with Mexicans
of distinction, who might serve them both as guides and
protectors. He urged Montezuma to acknowledge himselt
a vassal of the crown of Castile; to hold his crown ot him
as superior; and to subject his dominions to the payment
of an annual tribute. With this requisition, humiliating as it
was, Montezuma complied. He then, at the request of
Cortez, accompanied this profession of fealty with a magni¬
ficent present to his new sovereign ; and, after his exaniple,
his subjects brought in very liberal contributions. " a et,
although often importuned, he obstinately refused to change
his religion, or abolish the superstitious rites which had
been for so long a time practised throughout his domi¬
nions. In an ebullition of zeal, Cortez led out his sol¬
diers in order to throw down by force the idols in the
great temple; but the priests taking arms in defence ot
their altars, and the people crowding with great ardour to
support them, the prudence of Cortez overruled his zeal,
and induced him to desist from his rash attempt, after
dislodging the idols from one of the shrines and placing in
their stead an image of the Virgin Mary. Scarcely had
he escaped from this danger when he was startled by the
news that an armament sent by Velasquez, the governor o
Cuba, had arrived at Vera Cruz. He afterwards learned that
it consisted of 18 ships and 900 men, under a brave officer
named Pamphilo de Narvaez, and that their instructions
were, to seize Cortez and his principal officers, to send
them prisoners to Velasquez, and then to complete the
discovery and conquest of the country in his name.
After attempting in vain to induce Narvaez to share wit h® a t
him the glory and gain of subduing the country, Cortez ^ c U
resolved to trust his fate to the issue of a war. He tl e against
fore left 150 men under the command of Pedro de Alvar-Cortez de-
ado, to guard the capital and the captive emperor; ancifeated.
marched with the remainder to meet his formidable oppo¬
nent, who had taken possession of Cempoalla. Even at'
MEXICO.
iards left
at Mexico
History, being reinforced by Sandoval, the governor of Vera Cruz,
die force of Cortez did not exceed two hundred and fifty
men. He hoped for success chiefly from the rapidity of
his movements and the possibility of surprising his enemies ;
and as he chiefly dreaded their cavalry, he armed his sol¬
diers with long spears, accustoming them to that deep,
compact, and solid order in which the use of these wea¬
pons becomes most formidable. At last he attacked Nar¬
vaez in the night-time, and having entirely defeated and
taken him prisoner, obliged all his troops to own allegiance
to himself.
Dangerous A short time after the defeat of Narvaez a courier arrived
situation of from Mexico with the disagreeable intelligence that the
t le Span- Mexicans had taken arms, and having seized and destroyed
the two brigantines which he had built in order to secure
the command of the lake, had attacked the Spaniards in
their quarters, and had carried on hostilities with such fury
that Alvarado and his men must either have been cut off
by famine or overpowered by the multitude of their ene¬
mies. 1 his revolt had been excited by motives which
rendered it still more alarming. On the departure of
Cortez for Cempoalla, the Mexicans had held a consultation
for restoring their sovereign to liberty, and driving out the
Spaniards. The Spaniards in the city suspected and dreaded
these machinations ; but Alvarado, instead of attempting to
soothe or cajole the Mexicans, waited the return of one of
their solemn festivals, fell upon them, unarmed and un¬
suspicious of danger, and massacred six hundred in cold
blood. An action so cruel and so treacherous, filled not
only the city, but the whole empire, with rage and indig¬
nation.
Cortez advanced with the utmost celerity to the relief of
his distressed companions, and entered the" capital without
opposition. But by this time indignation and success had
so intoxicated him that he refused, with strong words of
contempt, a personal interview with Montezuma. His
expressions being reported amongst the Mexicans, they
suddenly flew to arms, and made such a violent and sudden
attack, that all the valour and skill of Cortez were scarcely
sufficient to repel them. After exerting his utmost efforts
for a whole day, he was obliged to retire with the loss of
twelve killed and upwards of sixty wounded. When the
Mexicans approached the next morning to renew the assault,
Montezuma, who was still at the mercy of the Spaniards’
advanced to the battlements in his royal robes, and addressed
his subjects in favour of the Spaniards. But they testified
their resentment with loud murmurings, and at length broke
forth with such fury that they wounded him with two
arrows, and struck him to the ground with a stone. The
unhappy monarch now obstinately refused all nourishment,
and in a short time ended his days. Upon the death of
Montezuma, Cortez having lost all hope of bringing the
Mexicans to any terms of peace, prepared for retreat. ° But
his antagonists having taken possession of a high tower in
the great temple, which overlooked the Spanish quarters,
and placed there a garrison of their principal warriors, the
Spaniards were so much exposed to their missile weapons,
that none of them could stir without imminent danger. In
an attempt to capture this post Juan de Escobar, with a
large detachment of chosen soldiers, was thrice repulsed.
Cortez then caused a buckler to be tied to his arm, as he
could not manage it from a wound which he had received
in the hand, and rushed with his drawn sword amongst the
thickest of the combatants. Encouraged by the presence
of their general, the Spaniards returned to the charge with
such vigour that they gradually forced their way up the
steps, and drove the Mexicans to the platform at the top
of the tower. There a desperate hand-to-hand struggle
raged for three hours, when all the Mexicans were either
slain or hurled from the battlements. As soon as the
Spaniards became masters of the tower, they set fire to it,
VOL. XIV.
705
Cortez re¬
turns to
Mexico,
but is at¬
tacked by
the natives
and, without further molestation, continued the prepara- History,
tions for their retreat. v j
. Awards midnight, they began their march in three di- Retreat of
visions. But they had not proceeded far before they Cortez,
ueie suddenly alarmed with the sound of warlike instru¬
ments, and found themselves assaulted on all sides by an
innumerable multitude of their enemies. The Spaniards
advanced with precipitation. At last, overborne with the
numbers of the enemy, they began to give way, and in
a moment the confusion was universal. More than four
hundred Spanish soldiers perished, together with many
officers of distinction. All the artillery, ammunition, and
baggage were lost; the greater part of the horses, and above
two thousands Tlascalans were killed, and only a very small
part of their treasure was saved. The first care of the
Spanish general, after he had succeeded in escaping from
the city, was to find some shelter for his small shattered
army. At last he discovered a temple seated on an emi¬
nence, in which he found not only the shelter he wanted,
but also some provisions. For six days afterwards the
Spaniards continued their march through a barren, ill-
cultivated, and thinly-peopled country, where they were
often obliged to feed on berries, roots, and the stalks of
green maize ; at the same time they were harrassed without
intermission by large parties of Mexicans, who attacked
them on all sides. On the sixth day they reached Otumba,
not far from the road between Mexico and Tlascala. Early
next morning, when they reached the summit of an emi¬
nence before them, a spacious valley opened to their view,
covered with a vast army of Mexicans as far as the eye
could reach. At the sight of this incredible multitude the
Spaniards were astonished, and even the boldest amongst
them began to despair. But Cortez, without allowing time
for the slightest hesitation, led them instantly to the charge.
W ith little difficulty the small compact band pierced and
shattered the mighty mass of their foes ; but the broken bat¬
talions, after each successive repulse, re-formed and returned
to the conflict, until the Spaniards were ready to sink under
their repeated efforts, without seeing any end to their toil,
or any hope of victory. At this crisis Cortez, along with
four desperate cavaliers, cut his way through the chosen
body of nobles that guarded the standard of the empire,
bore down the Mexican general with his lance, and snatched
the imperial ensign. The moment that their leader fell,
and the standard, towards which all directed their eyes,
had disappeared, a universal panic struck the Mexicans;
every ensign was lowered, and each soldier, throwing away
his vveapons, fled with precipitation to the mountains.
The day after this important action, which was fought on \rPn01,-„o
the 8th of July 1520, the Spaniards entered the TIascalan adopted by
territories, where they were received with the most cordial Cortez,
friendship. Cortez now set himself assiduously to prepare
for a second invasion of Mexico. He drew a small supply of
ammunition, and two or three field-pieces, from his stores at
Vera Cruz. He despatched an officer with four ships of
Narvaez’s fleet to Hispaniola and Jamaica, to engage adven¬
turers, and to purchase horses, gunpowder, and other mili¬
tary stores; and as he knew that it would be in vain to
attempt the reduction of Mexico unless he could secure the
command of the lake, he gave orders to prepare, in the
mountains of Ilascala, materials for building twelve brffian-
tines, so that they might be carried to the water in pieces
ready to be put together and launched when he stood in
need of their service. Without giving his soldiers an oppor¬
tunity of caballing, he daily led them against the people of the
neighbouring provinces, who had cut off some detachments
of Spaniards during his misfortunes at Mexico ; and as he
was constant y attended with success, his men soon resumed
their wonted sense of superiority. About this period an
armament fitted out by brancisco de Garajq governor of
amaica, who had long aimed at dividing with Cortez the
4 u
706 M E X
History, glory and the gain of annexing the empire of Mexico to the
crown of Castile, arrived at Vera Cruz, and were soon pei-
suaded to throw off their allegiance to their master, and to
enlist with Cortez. About the same time a ship arrived
from Spain, freighted by some private adventurers, with
military stores; and the cargo was eagerly purchased by
Cortez, whilst the crew, following the example of the rest,
joined him at Tlascala. From these various quarters the
army of Cortez was reinforced with one hundred and eighty
men and twenty horses, by which means he was enabled to
dismiss such of the soldiers of Narvaez as were most trouble¬
some and discontented; after the departure of whom he
still mustered upwards of five hundred infantry, of whom
eighty were armed with muskets or cross-bows, forty horse¬
men, and nine pieces of artillery. At the head of these,
with ten thousand Tlascalans and other friendly Indians, he
began his march towards Mexico on the 28th of December,
six months after his fatal retreat from that city.
Second ad- As soon as Cortez entered the enemy’s territories, he
vance on discovered various preparations to obstruct his progress.
Mexico. But his troops forced 'their way with little difficulty, and
took possession of Tezcuco, the second city of the empire,
situated upon the banks of the lake, about 20 miles from
Mexico. For three months part of his troops were engaged
in building brigantines, and the other part in reducing the
towns situated round the lake. Meanwhile several of the
cities tributary to Mexico were induced, through hatred to
their oppressors, to make common cause with the invaders,
and not only to acknowledge the King of Castile as their
sovereign, but to supply the Spanish camp with provisions,
and to strengthen his army with auxiliary troops. At length
intelligence arrived that the materials for building the
brigantines were completely finished, and waited only for a
body of Spaniards to conduct them to Tezcuco. The com¬
mand of this convoy, consisting of two hundred foot soldiers,
fifteen horsemen, and two field-pieces, was given to San¬
doval. This brave soldier proved worthy of the confi¬
dence reposed in him, and conducted his charge safely to
Tezcuco.
Mexico be- Cortez determined to attack the city from three different
sieged, A.n. quarters ; from Tezcuco on the E. side of the lake, from
1521. Tacuba on the W., and from Cuayocan towards the S.
These towns were situated on the principal causeways
which led to the capital, and were intended for their de¬
fence. He appointed Sandoval to command in the first,
Pedro de Alvarado in the second, and Christoval de Olid
in the third. He formed the brigantines into three divi¬
sions, allotting one to each station, with orders to second
the operations of the officer who commanded there. From
all the three stations he pushed on the attack against the
city with equal vigour, but in a manner very different from
that in which sieges are conducted in regular war. Each
morning his troops assaulted the barricades which the enemy
had erected on the causeways, forced their way over the
trenches which they had dug, and penetrated into the heart
of the city, in hopes of obtaining some decisive advantage ;
but when the obstinate valour of the Mexicans had ren¬
dered the efforts of the day ineffectual, the Spaniards retired
in the evening to their former quarters. After this plan
of attack had been followed for a month without any success,
Cortez resolved to give it one trial more, and if unsuccessful,
to relinquish it altogether. With this view he sent instruc¬
tions to Alvarado and Sandoval to advance with their divi¬
sions to a general assault, and took the command in person
of that which was posted on the causeway of Cuayocan.
Animated by his presence and the expectation of some
decisive event, the Spaniards pushed forward with irre¬
sistible impetuosity; broke through one barricade after
another ; forced their way over the ditches and canals, and
having entered the city, gained ground incessantly, in spite
of the multitude and ferocity of their opponents. But
ICO.
Guatimozin commanded the troops posted in the front, to History,
slacken their efforts, in order to allure the Spaniards to -
push forward. On a signal given by him, the priests in
the great temple struck the great drum consecrated to the
god of war; and no sooner did the Mexicans hear its solemn
sound than they rushed upon the enemy with frantic rage.
The Spaniards, unable to resist the fury ot the onset by
men maddened by religious zeal, began to retire, at first
leisurely and in order, but as the enemy pressed on, and
their own impatience to escape increased, the terror and
confusion became general. Cortez himself would have
been carried away captive by six Mexican captains, had
not two of his officers sacrificed their own lives to save
him. Above sixty Spaniards perished in the rout; and
what rendered the disaster more afflicting, forty of these
fell alive into the hands of the enemy, and were doomed
to have their quivering hearts torn from their bosoms
and offered up with barbarous rites to hideous idols. But
the Mexicans did not rely on the efforts of their own arms
alone. They sent the heads of the Spaniards whom they
had sacrificed to the leading men in the adjacent pro¬
vinces, and assured them that the god of war had declared
that in eight days these hated enemies should be finally
destroyed. This prediction gained universal credit amongst
a people prone to superstition. The Indian auxiliaries of
Cortez abandoned the Spaniards as a race of men devoted
to destruction, and the Spanish troops were left almost alone
in their stations. Cortez, however, resolved to falsify the
prophecy ; and accordingly suspended all military operations
during the period marked out by the oracle. I he fatal
term thus expired without any disaster. His allies, ashamed
of their own credulity, now returned to their station. Other
tribes joined his standard; and such was the changeable¬
ness of a simple people, moved by every slight impression,
that in a short time Cortez saw himself, if we may believe
his own account, at the head of 150,000 Indians.
Even with such a numerous army he found it necessary The cap-
to adopt a new and more cautious system of operations. ^re.of
He made his advances slowly and cautiously, levelling the exic0-
houses and filling up the canals as he advanced, and gra¬
dually contracting the retreat of the enemy. At length all
the three divisions penetrated into the great square in the
centre of the city, and made a secure lodgment there.
Three-fourths of the city were now reduced and laid in
ruins; and the remaining quarter was wasting fast before
the attacks of famine and pestilence. At this crisis the
brave Guatimozin resolved to proceed in person to rouse
the distant provinces of the empire to arms. With this
intent he embarked in a canoe, and was speeding swiftly
over the lake when he was captured by a brigantine, and
delivered into the hands of Cortez. As soon as the fate of
their sovereign was known, the resistance of the Mexicans
ceased, and Cortez took possession of that small part of
the capital which yet remained undestroyed. Thus ter¬
minated, after it had continued for seventy-five days, the
siege of Mexico, the most memorable event in the con¬
quest of America. The exultation of the Spaniards was
quickly damped by the disappointment of those hopes which
had animated them amidst so many hardships and dangers.
Instead of the inexhaustible wealth which they expected,
their rapacity could collect only an inconsiderable booty
amidst ruins and desolation. Guatimozin, aware of his im¬
pending fate, had ordered vrhat remained of the riches
amassed by his ancestors to be thrown into the lake. The
Spaniards, thus deprived of their expected reward, fell into
a state of uncontrollable discontent. Some accused Cortez
and his confidants of having secretly appropriated to their
own use a large portion of the riches which should have
been brought into the common stock. Others blamed
Guatimozin for obstinacy in refusing to discover the place
where he had hidden his treasure. To quiet this universal
MEXICO.
History.
Guatimo-
zin tor¬
tured.
The Span¬
iards be¬
come mas¬
ters of the
Mexican
empire.
Govern¬
ment of
Spanish
Mexico.
murmur, Cortez was driven to subject Guatimozin to tor-
' ture, in order to force from him a discovery of the royal
treasures, which it was supposed he had concealed. The
unfortunate monarch bore the most refined cruelty with
the invincible fortitude of an American warrior, until Cortez,
ashamed of a scene so horrid, rescued him from the hands
of his torturers.
The fate of the capital, as both parties had foreseen, de¬
cided that of the empire. The provinces one after another
submitted to the conquerors. Small detachments of Span¬
iards, marching through them without interruption, pene-
trated" in different quarters to the great Southern Ocean,
which, according to the ideas of Columbus, they imagined
would open a short and easy passage to the East Indies,
and thus secure to the crown of Castile all the envied
wealth of those fertile regions; and the active mind of
Cortez began already to form plans for attempting this im¬
portant discovery. In his subsequent schemes, however,
he was disappointed; but from this time until the revolu¬
tionary spirit broke out in the New World, not long after
the commencement of the present century, Mexico re¬
mained in the hands of the Spaniards.
707
Municipal
corpora¬
tions.
II.—HISTORY OF MEXICO FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE
REVOLUTION TO THE PRESENT TIME.
For nearly three centuries after the conquest of Cortez,
Mexico remained quietly subject to the Spanish yoke; but
the internal tranquillity thus enjoyed ceased with the inva¬
sion of Old Spain by the armies of Napoleon. But before
proceeding to narrate the events which have terminated in
the separation of Mexico from the mother country, it will
be necessary briefly to review the system of colonial policy
by which it was so long governed, and to point out the
causes which ultimately led to the assertion of independ¬
ence. It is to the complication of abuses, to which the old
system gave rise, that we must mainly attribute those events
which have changed the destiny of the New World.
The Spanish viceroy in Mexico was endowed with the
prerogatives of royalty. He was commander-in-chief of
the troops, and he regulated the military operations, and
filled up all vacancies. All sentences of every description
bore his signature, nor was there any appeal from his de¬
cision. The only checks which interposed between him
and despotic sovereignty were the residencia, or legal in¬
vestigation of his conduct, to which the king might subject
him on his return to Spain, a measure which was seldom or
never enforced ; and the Audiencia, or the court of appeal
in j . resort. This body possessed considerable power
and influence. It had control over all other tribunals,
ecclesiastical as well as civil, in every case where the value
of the subject in litigation did not exceed ten thousand
dollars. It likewise enjoyed the privilege of corresponding
directly with the sovereign and with the Council of the
Indies, a board at which the king was supposed constantly
to preside in person, and whose sanction it was necessary
to obtain before orders, decrees, or projects of reform,
although emanating from the crown, could acquire the force
of law. This privilege might have rendered this body an
efficient check upon the conduct of the viceroy if the latter
had not possessed such inordinate power. He was himself
honorary president of the body, and had thus every oppor¬
tunity of conciliating the members, and attaching them to
his interests and those of the Europeans. They were more
easily swayed in this direction, as they were always exclu¬
sively natives of old Spain.
Besides the boards already noticed, the municipal corpo¬
rations, called sometimes the Cabildo, sometimes the Ayun-
tamiento, and sometimes the City, had a considerable share
of influence. Their members, called regidors, their pre¬
sident, the corregidor, and their executive officers, the History.
syndics, were chosen from the people, and originally by the v—v-^-<
people. But in a short time the situations of alcalde and re-
gidor were disposed of to the highest bidder, the purchaser
having the power of relinquishing them in favour of rela¬
tives or friends. These functionaries, however, uniformly
proved the friends of the Creoles; for they were con¬
nected with them by numerous ties, and by a community
of interest.
The Recopilacion de las Leyes de las Indias, or general state of
collection oi the laws of the Indies, was the name given to the laws,
that chaotic mass of contradictory statutes by which the
decisions of the tribunals were supposed to be determined.
These statutes were originally merely decrees upon dif¬
ferent subjects, emanating from the king or from the Council
of the Indies. But it was not long before many of these
decrees were annulled by others subsequently issued, so
that it was scarcely possible to know which statutes were
in force, and which had fallen into disuse or been suspended.
An appeal to judicial authority had thus in it all the uncer¬
tainty and hazard of a game of chance; and this was fur¬
ther increased by different professions and corporate bodies
enjoying various special privileges ovfueros. Each of these
exempted the persons who chose to plead it from the juris¬
diction of the ordinary authorities, and made them amen¬
able in all civil and criminal causes to the tribunal of the
head of the body to which they belonged. It thus hap¬
pened that the native American was generally the sufferer
in cases]in which his opponent was a European; for the
difficulty of obtaining redress in any dispute was augmented
by the circumstance of the latter enjoying a double or
triple fuero, as a merchant, a government officer, a dig¬
nitary of the church, or at least as holding some rank in the
militia.
To complete the outline of that mighty fabric by which Ecdesias-
the authority of Spain in the New World was so long sup- Gcal esta-
ported, it is necessary briefly to advert to ecclesiastical blishments.
establishments. These were altogether independent of the
see of Rome, and the pope could neither fulminate bulls
nor hold any sort of intercourse with Spanish America,
unless through the medium of the court of Madrid and the
Council of the Indies. As might have been expected under
such circumstances, a traffic in bulls became an important
branch of the royal revenue. The king bought of the Holy
See indulgences and dispensations of all kinds, and retailed
them to his American subjects at an enormous profit. The
business was managed with as much strictness and regu¬
larity as an ordinary commercial transaction, the monopoly
of tobacco, for example; and so jealous was the king of his
right, that the most severe penalties were not only enacted,
but enforced against ecclesiastics who dared to infringe the
regulations.
Such is the general view of the colonial system of Spain ; Evils of the
and when we consider that all the great offices of state, not®PaiGsb
excepting the viceregal dignity itkelf, were open alike tocolonial
Americans and Europeans, every subject of the crown be-SyStem’
ing eligible, its defects, in theory at least, are scarcely so
glaring as they are sometimes represented. The evils
many and grievous, consisted in the practice and in the
maintenance of a system of laws by which the colonies were
sacrificed to the mother country. Every situation, from the
highest to the lowest, was bestowed upon Europeans. In¬
deed, the colonial offices were disposed of in Madrid to the
highest bidder; and at one time the proceeds, like the
tiaffic in bulls, formed a not inconsiderable item of the
royal revenues Of the fifty viceroys who governed Mexico
from 153o to 1808, only one was an American, and even
he was born m Peru. But as the exclusive enjoyment of
these privileges could only be preserved to the Spaniards
y t e ignorance of the natives, almost every species of
earning was not only discouraged, but prohibited, and pains
,1
708 M E X
History, and penalties were annexed to the infringement oi the laws
V—v—^ relating to it. The Latin grammar, the philosophy of the
schools, and civil and ecclesiastical jurisprudence, were the
only subjects which the Inquisition allowed to be taught.
No book could circulate among the people until it had been
thoroughly tested and sanctioned by the monks. But
whilst ignorance was ranked amongst the virtues, some
branches of industry were degraded into crimes. The
Americans were prohibited, under severe penalties, from
raising flax, hemp, or saffron, and growing tobacco was a
o-overnment monopoly. The cultivation of the olive, the
mulberry, and the vine, was also frustrated by the same
blind policy; and even the growth of the more precious
articles of what we term colonial produce, such as cacao,
coffee, and indigo, was only tolerated under certain limita¬
tions, and in such quantities as the mother country might
require annually to import, d he colonists were also for¬
bidden to manufacture anything which could be supplied
by the mother country. Even foreign trade was for a long
time prohibited on pain of death. At the same time licenses
were granted for the introduction of any article of foreign
produce during a limited period. For these enormous sums
were paid by the leading commercial houses; and a share
in the profits accruing from the speculation commenced
with the viceroy, and extended to the meanest offices. But
the exclusion of foreign vessels from the Mexican ports was
not all that the rapacity of Spain laid claim to. Even ships
in distress were by a royal ordinance ordered to be seized
as prizes, and their crews thrown into prison. Nothwith-
standing all the efforts of Spain, the exclusion of foreign
vessels from her colonies gave rise to one of the most ex¬
traordinary systems of organized smuggling which the world
ever witnessed. This was known under the name of the
contraband or forced trade, and was carried on in armed
vessels which often bade defiance to the coast blockades of
Spain, and, fighting their way to the American ports, landed
great quantities of European goods.
Other evils Such was the colonial system of Spain, which on all
of the Spa- hands is admitted to have been worse even than that of the
nish colo- portUguese or of the Dutch; and such were the evils to
nial sys- ^oh’it gave rise. When, therefore, in connection with
these evils we further consider that the civil, fiscal, and
criminal administration was tyrannical, unjust, or partial;
that exactions in the shape of taxes, duties, and tithes, were
levied with unexampled severity; that amongst the taxes
was one which has justly been called “ the horrible alca-
vala,” and pressed heavily on all classes, being levied m
infinitum on every transfer of goods ; that nothing escaped
tithes, and that every individual was compelled to purchase
annually a certain number of the papal bulls, under a pen¬
alty of forfeiting various important advantages ; that every
stage of legal procedure was in the most corrupt and de¬
plorable state, and that the administration of justice had
scarcely any existence whatever; that imprisonment was
the grand recipe for every malady; that in the most hor¬
rible dungeons ill diet, filth, infectious diseases, and cor¬
poral punishment, including occasional torture, all com¬
bined to unhumanize the fettered victim; and, finally, that
the Inquisition bound in chains of darkness the minds of all
classes of the community from the viceroy downwards ;—he
would be a bold theorist who should venture to affirm that
Spain did not deserve that fate which eventually befel her
possessions in the New World.
Events in How long an indisposition upon the part of the Creoles to
Spain; assert their rights might have continued, had not the events
their effect of the year 1808 occurred, it is impossible to say; but it is
in America, generally admitted that the insurrection of Aranjuez, which
1810 ^ie dismissal of Godoy, Prince of the Peace, and to the
abdication of Charles VI., gave the first shock to the royal
authority in America. Authentic intelligence of the resig¬
nation of the Spanish monarch arrived in Mexico on the
I C 0.
loth of July 1808. The inhabitants were thrown into a History,
ferment of indignation. Crowds eagerly assembled in the
squares and public walks, and threats of vengeance against
France were mingled with strong expressions of adherence
to the cause of the deposed monarch. The municipality
and the popular party demanded the immediate creation of
a junta in imitation of the mother country, composed of re¬
presentatives of the different corporations of the kingdom.
The Audiencia were adverse to such a course; and rinding
that the viceroy, Don Jose Iturrigaray, was inclined to
favour their opponents, they contrived to arrest him and
throw him into prison. For the time their plans proved
completely successful. Iturrigaray, after remaining a short
time in the dungeons of the Inquisition, was conveyed to
Vera Cruz, and sent a prisoner to Cadiz charged with a de¬
sign to establish himself upon an independent throne, and
with having acted independently of the authority of the
central junta. Not a few influential members of the Ca-
bildo, who had voted for a Mexican junta, were arrested
and either banished or otherwise disposed of. The vice¬
regal authority was for the time confided to the Archbishop
Lizana. In 1809, however, the archbishop was replaced
by the Audiencia, to whom the central junta transferred the
reins of government. The violent and contemptuous con¬
duct of this body only served to bring matters more speedily
to a crisis. A general feeling of hostility towards the
Spaniards spread throughout the country, and on the morn¬
ing of the 16th September 1810 the standard of revolt and
independence was publicly unfurled by Don Miguel Hidalgo
y Costilla, curate of the village of Dolores, in the province
of Guanajuato. Seven Europeans, resident in Dolores, be¬
came the first victims of the revolutionary movement. 1 hey
were thrown into prison, and their property seized and distri¬
buted amongst Hidalgo’s followers. The news of this first
exploit spread throughout the country with the rapidity of
lightning, and was everywhere hailed as a propitious omen.
His force increased so suddenly, that on the 18th he found
himself in possession of two towns, each containing 16,000
inhabitants, in both of which places the confiscated pro¬
perty of the Europeans enabled him to reward his partizans
as well as to add to their numbers.
His next object was Guanajuato, the capital of the pro- Capture 0f
vince, and also the emporium of the Spanish treasures in Guannjua-
that part of the country. Little opposition was offered to to, a.d.
the entrance of his troops, who were immediately joined by 1810.
the whole population of the town, and carried all before
them. The town was given up to pillage; the Europeans
were butchered without mercy; their property was eagerly
seized ; and before next morning there was not left stand¬
ing a single house which had belonged to a Spaniard. An
enormous quantity of money, estimated at five millions of
dollars, was found in the alhondiga or granary, to which the
inhabitants had transported their most valuable effects.
During his stay at Guanajuato, Hidalgo established a sort
of government, a mint with all the appurtenances for coining
money, and a foundry for casting cannon.
The intelligence of the fall of Guanajuato, whilst it gave proceed-
celebrity to the name of Hidalgo, created great consterna- ings of the
tion amongst the Spaniards of the capital. I he new vice-new vice¬
roy, however, Don Francisco Xavier Venegas, by hisjudg- roy-
ment and firmness, preserved public tranquillity in the capi¬
tal. Don Felix Maria Calleja, who headed a brigade of
troops stationed at San Luis Potosi, was intrusted with a
command, and ordered to pursue Hidalgo. Nor was the
superstition of the people overlooked ; for some doubts^
having arisen with respect to the justice of the sentence of
excommunication which had been pronounced against the
leader of the insurgents, it was confirmed by Lizana and
by the Inquisition. After remaining at Guanajuato until
the 10th of October, Hidalgo, at the head of his army, ad¬
vanced upon Valladolid, which was quietly taken possession
M E X
History, of on the 17th of the same month. His army was now
about sixty thousand strong, a force which he considered
as sufficient to conquer the capital, and thus, by one deci¬
sive blow, to terminate the revolutionary struggle. He ac¬
cordingly left Valladolid on the 19th; and at Las Cruces
encountered a corps of observation under the command of
Colonel Truxillo, assisted by Don Augustin Iturbide, then a
lieutenant in the service of Spain. After a sanguinary con¬
test, the royalists were defeated, and compelled to fall back
upon the capital. Alarmed at the recent success and the
near approach of the insurgents, Venegas drew upon the
superstition of the people in support of the Spanish cause.
1 he famous image of the Virgin of Remedies was brought
and placed in the cathedral of Mexico. Thither the vice¬
roy went in full uniform, and with all due pomp; and after
imploring the Virgin to take the government into her own
hands, he wound up his appeal by laying his staff of com¬
mand at the feet of her image. But the aid of the Virgin
was not required, for Hidalgo, after appearing before the
city, to the astonishment of every one, withdrew his troops
without striking a blow, and retreated towards Gruanajuato.
On the 7th November he came in contact with the outposts
of the royal army at Aculco. A sanguinary action ensued,
in which, from the superiority of their discipline and arms, the
royal forces gained a complete victory. Hidalgo retreated
to Valladolid, and then proceeded to Guadalaxara, where
he was received with the greatest pomp and enthusiasm.
Capture At Guadalaxara Hidalgo proceeded with his usual activity
cuticmof t0 rePlenisl1 llis stores, recruit his forces, and bring cannon
Hidalgo, from San BlaS) tlle principal Spanish arsenal on the western
a.d. 1811. coast. He then advanced to the bridge of Calderon, which
is 16 miles from Guadalaxara, and having fortified himself
in a strong position, he awaited the approach of the royalists.
On the 16th January 1811 the two armies were once more
in sight of each other, and on the following day a general
action took place. After various attacks, which the Mexicans
repulsed with spirit, Calleja at last succeeded in carrying all
their batteries ; and Hidalgo w'as forced to withdraw them
from the field. He withdrew to Saltillo, followed by about
4000 men. But on the 21st of March 1811 he was cap¬
tured while setting out to the United States for the pur¬
pose of collecting arms and other necessaries. After a pro¬
tracted trial he was shot on the 27th of July.
National After the death of Hidalgo, a guerilla war was carried on
junta. in various parts of the country; but as the leaders acted
without concert, and no general engagement took place, it
is unnecessary to follow it in its irregular course. Rayon
being now left in command of the insurgent troops at Saltillo,
retreated first ^to Zacatecas, and afterwards to Zitacuaro in
the state of Valladolid, which he entered about the end of
May 1811. At this period in the history of the revolu¬
tion disaffection towards the Spaniards had become very
general. Armed bands of insurgents overran the open coun¬
try, and hardly a day passed without being signalized by a
skirmish. Meanwhile Rayon was busily employed in fur¬
thering the scheme of a national junta, and on the 10th of
September 1811 he accomplished his purpose. A junta, or
central government, was installed, consisting of five mem¬
bers, who were elected by the ayuntamiento, in conjunction
with the principal inhabitants of the town and district.
Amongst the principles adopted by this new junta was the
acknowledgment of Ferdinand VII. as sovereign of Mexico,
provided he would quit his European dominions. But from
documents published after the struggle for independence
had terminated, we learn that these professions of adherence
had no deeper origin than expediency. The intelligence
of the formation of the junta of Zitacuaro excited enthu¬
siastic hopes throughout Mexico ; and from the first mo¬
ment of its establishment, the Spaniards considered it as
their most formidable enemy. Accordingly, towards the
end of the year Calleja marched with all his forces against
ICO. 709
Zitacuaro, and arrived before it on the 1st of January 1812. History.
On the following day he captured the town, and drove the ^
junta to Sultepec, where it established a new seat of go¬
vernment; but Calleja inflicted signal vengeance on that
place for affording shelter to the fugitives. He ordered
the inhabitants to be decimated, the town to be burned,
and the walls of the buildings to be levelled with the soil,
the churches and convents alone being spared. By forced
marches the royal forces now proceeded to Mexico, where
they were anxiously expected by the viceroy, in order to
check the progress of the curate Don Jose Maria Morelos.
In October 1810 Morelos had been appointed captain-Exploits of
general of the provinces of the south-western coast, and had Morelos,
entered upon his duties at t he head of about 1000 men. Ad¬
vancing with this force upon Acapulco, he surprised and
routed a well-appointed body of troops under Don Francisco
Paris, the commandant of the district. By this brilliant
exploit Morelos obtained so much celebrity, that numbers
from every quarter flocked to his standard, and amongst
others, Galeana, Matamoros, and three persons of the name
of Bravo, one of whom, Don Nicolas, afterwards became
so famous. The whole of the year 1811 was spent in a
series of skilful manoeuvres and petty engagements, in which
the insurgents were generally successful.
Meanwhile intelligence reach Morelos of the arrival of
the victorious royalists under Calleja; but nothing daunted
by the circumstance, he determined to await the attack at
Cuautla Amilpas, which is distant about 22 leagues from
the city of Mexico. On the 19th of February Calleja
made a general attack upon that town, but after a conflict
which lasted eight hours, he was compelled to retreat, leav¬
ing five hundred dead behind him. From this day he aban¬
doned all thought of risking another general assault; but
erected batteries, and began to cannonade and bombard the
town. Disease and severe famine soon began to diminish
the numbers of the besieged, so that the commander-in-
chief formed the resolution of retreating; and this he suc¬
ceeded in accomplishing, with equal ability and success, on
the night of the 2d of May. Calleja entered Cuautla some
hours after his opponent had left it, and there, as usual, he
perpetrated barbarities which will for ever leave a stain
upon his reputation.
The bravery and resources which Morelos had displayed Subsequent
at the siege of Cuautla extorted admiration even from his proceed,
enemies, whilst they became the theme of universal praise *n£s J^°"
amongst his countrymen. Leaving Izucar, he proceeded
to I ehuacan, into which he made a triumphal entry on the
16th of September 1812, having defeated three divisions of
the Spanish army on his way. In the beginning of No¬
vember he began to execute his design of conquering the
whole province, and accomplished it by the capture of Aca¬
pulco in August of the following year.
During the absence of Morelos everything had been Declara.
prepared by Matamoros for the meeting of the National tion of in-
Congress, which took place accordingly on the 13th of Sep- dePend«»ce
tember 1813 in the town of Chilpanzingo. This assembly A,D’ 1813‘
consisted of the original members of the junta of Zitacuaro
the deputies elected by the province of Oaxaca, and others
again selected by them as representatives for the provinces in
the possession of the royal troops. Exactly a month after
the opening of the session, an act was published, declaring
the absolute independence of Mexico.
Besides the a-chieyements already recorded, the years Morelos de-
lol^ and 1813 had been distinguished by several other feate(b A-D*
victories gained by the insurgent generals, Don Nicolas
Bravo and Matamoros. But the time had now arrived for
Morelos attempting a more decisive blow than any which
lad yet been struck. With seven thousand men and a
large tiain of artillery, he left Chilpanzingo on the 8th of
November, and after sustaining incredible fatigue and pri¬
vations, arrived before Valladolid on the 23d of December.
710
History.
MEXICO.
Further re¬
verses, and
death of
Morelos,
A.D. 1814-
1815.
The affairs
of the in¬
surgents
fall into
confusion,
A.D. 1815-
1817.
Thi^ place was defended by a formidable force under Bri¬
gadier Llano and Colonel Iturbide. Confident of success,
Morelos ordered his troops immediately to advance to the
attack, but they were driven back with loss. Next morn¬
ing, during a general review which took place within half
a mile of Idle walls, Tturbide made a sudden attack upon
the Mexicans, and succeeded in totally routing the whole
army, which lost its best regiments, and all its artillery.
Morelos • retired to Puruaran, where he was again com¬
pletely defeated by Iturbide, on the 6th of January 1814.
Here a number of prisoners were taken by the royalists,
and amongst the rest Matamoros. Some Spaniards who
had been taken in former engagements were offered by
Morelos in exchange for him ; but Calleja, who on the 4th
of March 1813 had superseded Venegas as viceroy, refused
to accede to any such proposal. Matamoros was accord¬
ingly shot, and by way of reprisal the Mexicans put to
death all the prisoners in their hands.
Morelos now withdrew to the southern coast, and there
began to recruit his forces with his characteristic activity
and resolution. But his cause was destined to experience
defeat upon defeat. Oaxaca fell into the hands of the
royalists on the 28th of March 1814; whilst the Congress
itself, expelled from Chilpanzingo, was forced to take refuge
in the woods of Apatzingan, where it continued its labours,
and on the 22d of October sanctioned the constitution
known by that name. Morelos resolved to undertake an
expedition to Tehuacan, where Teran had assembled a con¬
siderable force, for the purpose of placing it in greater
safety. With only five hundred followers he commenced
a journey of 60 leagues through a country occupied by
several divisions of the royalists. He was surprised by two
parties of Spaniards under Concha on the 5th of Novem¬
ber 1815. He ordered Bravo immediately to continue his
march with the main body, whilst he with a few men en¬
deavoured to check the advance of the enemy. Most of
his fifty followers abandoned him when the firing became
warm ; but not until only one man remained by his side did
the royalists venture to advance upon one so far-famed for his
personal courage. He was taken prisoner, and transferred
to the capital after experiencing the most brutal treatment
at the hands of the Spanish soldiery. After a trial, he was
condemned to be shot, which sentence was carried int
effect on the 22d of December 1815. He walked to the
place of execution with the most perfect serenity; and
after pronouncing this short prayer, “ Lord, if I have done
well, thou knowest it—if ill, to thy infinite mercy I com¬
mend my soul,” he bound a handkerchief about his eyes,
and met death with as much composure as he had ever
shown when facing it on the field of battle.
The loss of Morelos was irreparable, for he was the only
patriot chief who could maintain unity of plan, concentra¬
tion of purpose, and combination of movement. For seve¬
ral years, therefore, the history of the revolution consists
only of disjointed details of a wide-spread guerilla war, in
which success on either side led to no important results.
The Congress, which had escaped under the protection of
Don Nicolas Bravo to Tehuacan, was dissolved by General
Teran in December 1815. This step has been generally
blamed as at least precipitate. There can be no doubt that
it was attended by disastrous circumstances ; for from that
moment confusion became worse confounded; Victoria,
Guerrero, Bravo, Rayon, and Teran, confining themselves
each to his own separate circle, where they were crushed
in succession by the superiority of the common enemy.
Teran attempted to establish a government himself, but none
would acknowledge it. Rayon, after he had commanded
with great success in the mountainous parts of Valladolid,
was taken prisoner, and confined in the capital until 1821.
The fate of Don Nicolas Bravo was exactly similar to
that of Rayon. Guerrero occupied the western coast, and
here he maintained himself in the fastnesses of the Sierra History.
Madre until 1821, when he joined Iturbide. Guadalupe ^
Victoria was driven from his strongholds in his province of
Vera Cruz, was deserted by all his followers, and was forced
to skulk in the forest like a wild beast. For several years
he lurked in the wildest recesses, never seeing the face of
man, and living on the raw fruits of the earth and the
bones of putrefying animals. When every one had thought
him dead, he appeared in 1821, covered with hair and
emaciated almost to a skeleton.
Some facts relative to the state of the country require to State of the
be mentioned. The cause of independence had been gra- country,
dually gaining ground amongst the people, particularly since
1812, when the constitution, which was sanctioned by the
Cortes of Cadiz, was extended to the transatlantic domi¬
nions of the crown. By the new constitution several impor¬
tant privileges had been conceded to the natives; amongst
the rest, the right of electing the members of the Cabildo
and the deputies to the Cortes. In law, also, matters un¬
derwent so complete a reform, that a Creole might now
hope for a favourable decision, provided his cause was a
good one. Thus by the new constitution the reverses sus¬
tained by the Creole leaders in the field were more than
counterbalanced. Under the mild sway of Admiral Apo-
daca, who succeeded Calleja in the viceregal authority, all
was done that could be done to secure the allegiance of the
natives. The arrival of fresh troops from the Peninsula
enabled him to extend his military ramifications throughout
the whole country, and enforce obedience even at the most
distant points. Thus, as we have seen, the revolutionary
chiefs were successively crushed; and the facilities afforded
to all who had embarked in the enterprise for reconciling
themselves with the government by accepting pardon, re¬
duced the number of those actually in arms in 1816, and
the three following years, to a very inconsiderable amount.
After her last patriotic chiefs had quitted the open field, Career of
and sought refuge in the mazes of the forests, a deep gloom Mina, a.d.
hung over the affairs of Mexico, which remained for a long iyi7-
time unbroken save by the sudden inroad of Mina.1 This
remarkable individual landed in Mexico on the 15th of April
1817. With about 200 men he left Soto la Marina, the
place of his landing; and pushing forward to the confines
of the table-land, defeated a body of 400 royalist cavalry.
About the middle of June 1817 he reached the Hacienda de
Peotillos; and on a little eminence which commanded the
plain he cut to pieces a royal army 2000 strong with a force
of only 172 men. On the 24 th of June he reached Sombrero,
having in thirty days traversed a tract of country 220 leagues
in extent, and been three times engaged with an enemy greatly
superior in numbers. In conjunction with the advanced
guard of the insurgents and some recruits, he advanced
upon San Juan de los Llanos, and on the 29th ot June
totally defeated the royalists under General Castanon. On
the 24th of October, at nightfall, he took Guanajuato by
storm, and penetrated into the very centre of the town.
At this critical moment his troops refused to advance a step
farther; and time being thus allowed the garrison to arm
themselves, they attacked the insurgents, who, by the
general’s orders, dispersed with the utmost precipitation.
Mina himself was taken prisoner three days afterwards, and
sent to the head-quarters of General Linan, and there he wa.s
executed on the 11th of November, in his twenty-eighth
year. Not long after his death the insurgent chiefs were
driven off the field, and gradually disappeared; so that in
July 1819 not one remained of those who had taken any
lead in the revolution.
1 Don Xavier Mina, a famous Spanish guerilla chief, still more
celebrated in Old Spain for his patriotic efforts to create a rising
in favour of the Cortes at Pampeluna, subsequently to the dissolu¬
tion of that assembly by the king.
MEXICO.
History.
The cause of Mexican independence seemed now to have
¥ sunk to such a low ebb, that the viceroy wrote in great con¬
state of the fidence to the court of Madrid, representing the country as
independ- so tranquil and submissive to the royal authority, that he
ent cause, would answer for its safety without the assistance of a single
l82i s.oldier from Europe. But the appearances on which he re¬
lied proved altogether fallacious. 1 he disbanded insurgents,
mingling freely in the ranks of the Creoles, made proselytes
to the principles of the revolution even in the royal camp
itself. In piivate the bulk of the people were as warmly
attached to them as ever. About the middle of 1820 ac¬
counts arrived in Mexico of the revolution in Spain, occa¬
sioned by the revolt of the army in the Isla de Leon; and
it soon became public that orders had been sent to Apodaca
to proclaim the constitution which Ferdinand YU. had been
compelled to adopt. The era of 1812 was revived, and the
public mind thrown into a ferment, which the viceroy, from
his restricted powers, found it impossible to allay. Besides,
the Mexicans were divided amongst themselves, one party
professing a sincere adherence to the constitution, whilst
another class was as strongly attached to the old system.
Necessity of course compelled the viceroy to take the oath
to the constitution; but he favoured those who were op¬
posed to it, and took secret measures for effecting its sub¬
version. General Armigo, who was partial to the consti¬
tution, was dismissed from the command of the army sta-
tioned between the capital and Acapulco, and his place
offered to Don Augustin Iturbide, a native Mexican, to
whom allusion has already been made. The proposal was
accepted, and Iturbide left the capital in February 1821
with half a million of dollars, destined for embarkation at
Acapulco, but with intentions very different from those by
which the viceroy supposed him to be actuated.
Second Having arrived at a town called Iguala, situated about
Mexican 120 miles from the capital, Iturbide took possession of the
revolution, money; and on the 24th of February he commenced the
a..d. second Mexican revolution by proposing a new govern¬
ment, which is well known under the title of “ the plan of
Iguala. ’ His force of 800 men unanimously took the oath
of fidelity to the “ plan,” whilst a copy was transmitted to
the viceroy and to all the governors of provinces. This
celebrated document consisted of twenty-four articles, the
principal points embodied in which were,—a declaration of
Mexican independence; the recognition of the Catholic
religion as the national creed; the establishment of a con¬
stitutional monarchy; the formation of a junta of govern¬
ment ; an offer of the crown to Ferdinand VII., and in the
event of his refusal, to the Infantes Don Carlos and Don
r rancisco de Paula, provided any of them would consent
to occupy the throne in person; an abolition of castes and
ot the despotism of military commandants; the formation
of an army for the support of religion, independence, and
union, and lor guaranteeing these three principles, whence
it was to be called the army of the three guarantees • a
general amnesty to all who should give in their adhesion to
the plan ; and other provisions of less importance.
When the viceroy learned the defection of Iturbide he
concentrated a force upon the capital for the purpose of
defending it; but hesitating to put himself at the head of
the troops, the Europeans deposed him, and placed at the
head of affairs Novella, an officer of artillery. By this un¬
wise. proceeding a schism was created in the capital, which
afforded Iturbide time for prosecuting his scheme. He
effected a junction with General Guerrero, and from this
moment his success became certain. On his route to the
Baxio, great numbers of men and officers joined his stand¬
ard. Before the month of July, the whole country had re¬
cognised his authority, with the exception of the capital.
On his march to invest the city of Mexico, intelligence
reached Iturbide that the new constitutional viceroy and
711
Success of
Iturbide.
political chief, O’Donoju, had arrived at Vera Cruz. He History,
immediately requested an interview with this functionary,
and allowed him to advance as far as Cordova, where a
meeting took place. O’Donoju agreed to the plan of Iguala,
and in the name of his master he recognised the independ¬
ence of Mexico. Such was the treaty of Cordova, which
was signed by Iturbide, “ as the depository of the will of
t le Mexican people,” and by O’Donoju, as the represen¬
tative of Spain, on the 24th of August 1821. By virtue of
t ns treaty Iturbide obtained possession of the capital, which
e entered in triumph on the 27th of September. A pro-
visional junta of thirty-six persons then elected a regency
of five, with Iturbide at their head. He was at the same
time created generalissimo and lord high admiral, and had
assigned to him a yearly salary of L.24,000.
Ihe career of Iturbide had hitherto been triumphant; Usurpation
but scarcely had the first Mexican Cortes met on the 24th °f Iturbide,
of February 1822, when its members split into three dis- A-Di IS-2.
tinct parties: first, the Bourbonists, or those who wished to
establish a constitutional monarchy with a prince of the
House of Bourbon at its head; secondly, the Iturbidists,
who aimed at elevating Iturbide himself to the throne ; and,
thirdly, the republicans, who desired a central or federal
lepublic. The Bourbonists soon ceased to exist, the Cortes
of Madrid having declared the treaty of Cordova “ to be ille¬
gal, null, and void, in as far as the Spanish government and
its subjects were concerned.” A protracted contest ensued
between the two remaining factions, and resulted in the
defeat of the Iturbidists. Nevertheless, the republican party
wei e forced to yield to the wishes of the mob and the army,
and to declare Iturbide emperor on the 19th May 1822.
The new monarch assumed the title of Augustin I.
Iturbide began his reign by demanding the right of ap- Conduct of
pointing and removing at pleasure the judges of the supreme the new
court; he claimed a veto upon all laws, not excepting the emPeror-
articles of the constitution then under discussion; and he
i commended the establishment of a military tribunal in the
capital, with powers very little inferior to those exercised
bv the Spanish commandants during the revolution. This
attack upon their liberties the Congress indignantly re¬
pulsed. Such decisive conduct led at once to an open
rupture. Upon the night of the 26th of August, fourteen
deputies of liberal principles were, by the emperor’s orders,
arrested and thrown into prison. This bold step was fol¬
lowed by a series of reclamations and remonstrances on the
part of the Congress; but Iturbide sent an officer to the
hall of the Congress with a simple notification that the as¬
sembly had ceased to exist, and an order to dissolve it by
force should any resistance be offered to his authority.
But no compulsion was required. The deputies dissolved
their sessions at once, and the doors of the chamber were
closed by the officer. This took place on the 30th of Oc¬
tober 1822. On the same day a proclamation appointed
a new legislative assembly, called the Instituent Junta, con¬
sisting of forty-five members, selected by Iturbide himself.
1 his assembly, however, never possessed any influence in the
country; and the tranquillity which Iturbide enjoyed proved
of short duration. Matters were brought to a crisis by the
defection of General Santa Anna, governor of Vera Cruz
towards the close of the year 1822. The far-famed Victoria!
quitting his hiding-place in the mountains, was invested by
the rebels with the chief command, and rallied the natives
m great numbers round his standard. General Echavari.
who had been despatched by the emperor to invest Vera
andlZed c,omm?n1caus« "'iA the garrison of that city,
and tnJuced his whole army t0 fo||o)v ^ e ,e ^
hv whIf d ^ ,3 ,the act of Casa-Mata wJs signed,
eLhf t, *! T1? P ed?ed "'emselves to effect the re-
i? Is 0 the national representative assembly.
Bravo, Guerrero, and Negrete now joined the republican
712
MEXICO.
History.
His death,
a.d. ]824.
Form of
govern¬
ment.
Subsequent
disorders
and revolu¬
tions.
Pedraza
elected pre¬
sident, A.D,
1828.
army, and the defection became so general that Iturbide
tendered his resignation on the 19th ol March, and stated
at the same time his intention of quitting the country.
The Congress refused to accept of the abdication, as that
would have implied that he had legal right to the crown;
but they willingly allowed him to quit the kingdom with
his family, and assigned him a yearly pension of about
L.5000. He set sail in a ship freighted by government to
convey him to Leghorn.
The old Congress was immediately convoked; a provi¬
sional government was established ; and an executive, com¬
posed of Generals Victoria, Bravo, and Negrete, was
appointed. They conducted the affairs of the country
until a new Congress was assembled in August 1823; and
in October 1824 the federal constitution was definitively
settled by the latter. Meanwhile Iturbide, the ex-emperor,
had proceeded to Leghorn, had subsequently visited Lon¬
don, and on the 11th of May 1824 had embarked with his
family for Mexico. Disregarding the sentence of the
Congress which had outlawed him, he landed about the
middle of July at Soto la Marina, where he introduced him¬
self in disguise and under a feigned name. But he was ap¬
prehended by General Garza, and shot a few days afterwards.
The form of government adopted by the representatives
of Mexico was that of a federal republic, upon the plan of
that of the United States, with a few unimportant devia¬
tions. The confederation, consisting of nineteen states and
four territories, was cemented into one body politic by cer¬
tain general laws and obligations, contained in the federal
constitution of the 4th of October 1824, of which an outline
will be afterwards given. Each state and territory, how¬
ever, retained the uncontrolled management of its own in¬
ternal affairs. Victoria was elected president and Bravo
vice-president.
But the hopes which had been formed regarding the peace
and prosperity of Mexico proved altogether fallacious. Re¬
peated revolutions continued to disturb and agitate the
country. From the moment at which the war of inde¬
pendence commenced the nation became divided into two
parties,—natives and Guachupines, or European Spaniards.
The former consisted of those who wished to establish
the independence of Mexico; the latter were warmly
attached to the dominion of Spain. To these two parties
succeeded the Imperialists and Republicans; and, lastly,
came the Centralists and Federalists, which went under
the sobriquets of Escosses and Yorkinos, appellations
derived from two masonic societies, and synonymous with
aristocrats and democrats.
The time was now approaching when it became neces¬
sary to find a successor to Victoria as president of the
republic; and General Gomez Pedraza, a very efficient
member of the Mexican cabinet, was brought forward as
a candidate by the Escosses party. After an arduous con¬
test, he was elected president by a majority of two votes
over Guerrero, the representative of the Yorkinos. But
the disappointed party was loud in its denunciation of the
successful candidate. His friends were accused of bribery
and corruption, and even charged with procuring the in¬
terference of the military in some of the states. By a
singular anomaly in the constitution of Mexico, a period of
nearly seven months is allowed to elapse before the pre¬
sident who has been elected can take possession of the
government; so that time was thus afforded the defeated
party to collect its strength, and prepare for a vigorous
effort to annul the election by an appeal to arms. It was
at this time that General Santa Anna set out from Jalapa
at the head of about 800 men, and took possession of Perote.
There he published a manifesto charging Pedraza with
having succeeded in his election by fraudulent means. He
further proposed that the people and army should annul
the election of Pedraza; that the Spanish residents should
be banished as the primary cause of the grievances from History,
which the Mexicans suffered, and that Guerrero should be
declared president. This audacious “ plan” was vigorously
protested against by Victoria; and addresses reprobating
the conduct of Santa Anna poured in from all quarters.
The mass of the population, however, remained undisturbed,
and Guerrero himself resolved quietly to await the course
of events.
From a feeling of hostility towards the natives of Spain, Expulsion
which prevailed pretty generally throughout Mexico,of tll6
matters were very speedily brought to a crisis. On the
night of the 30th November 1828, a battalion of militia, A'I>'
headed by the ex-Marquis of Cadena, and assisted by a
regiment under Colonel Garcia, took possession of the
artillery barracks at the Acordada, surprised the guard,
and seized the guns and ammunition. Next morning the
insurgents were joined by General Lobato a partizan in
the revolutionary war, Zavala the ex-governor of Mexico,
the Yorkino deputy Cerecero, a party of militia, and a
number of officers. By the 2d of December the insurrection
had made alarming progress, and a sanguinary contest en¬
sued, which ended on the 4th in the overthrow of the govern¬
ment troops. The city was then given up to be pillaged.
Vengeance was chiefly directed against the Spaniards;
but all who were supposed to possess wealth fell victims to
the rapacity of an unbridled mob. These disgraceful scenes
continued for two days, and property to a very great amount
was destroyed or changed owners. Pedraza formally re¬
signed his office, and was allowed to quit the territories of
the republic. At a new Congress, assembled on the 1st
January 1829, Guerrero was declared duly elected, and Ge¬
neral Anastasio Bustamante, a distinguished Yorkino leader,
was associated with him as vice-president. Santa Anna was
invested with the supreme military command of the republic.
The first event which disturbed the country after the invasion of
elevation of Guerrero, was the arrival of an invading force Barradas,
from Cuba, under Barradas, in the summer of 1829. Santa an(i abdica-
Anna, however, routed the invaders, and took Barradas Q°gr”ero
himself prisoner. But Guerrero was now destined to taste j^D pgog.
the cup which he had mixed for his predecessor. Early in
December 1829 Bustamante, the vice-president, flew to
arms, and having placed himself at the head of the army
of Mexico, which was stationed in the state of Veia Cruz,
he advanced upon the capital, everywhere denouncing the
abuses and usurpations of Guerrero. Guerrero appealed to
the Congress for support; but it was all in vain: he was
ultimately compelled to abdicate. The army then elected
Bustamante as his successor; whilst Santa Anna, following
the example of Guerrero, retired to his estates, and tran¬
quillity was soon restored.
At this period it required no great gift of prophecy to Fan0f BUSr
predict that even the shadow of the constitution of 1824 tamante;
would not long survive. Mexico was now beyond all doubt election
subjected to a military despotism; and a pretext or cause
for prostrating Bustamante in his turn could not long be jg1^’ ‘
wanting. It was enough that the daring, crafty, and cruel
Santa Anna was living in retirement and hatching new
schemes of revolt. From that period Mexico has presented
a kaleidoscopic exhibition of factions and parties. It would
require volumes to detail the series of manoeuvres, of gntos
and insurrections, which seated Santa Anna ultimately in
power, and made him the representative of that amalgam
of all parties which has been designated by a cant term in
which the most incongruous ideas are jumbled together. In
July 1832 the Ayuntamiento and people of San Felipe de
Austin unanimously gave in their adherence to the plan
of Vera Cruz, and to the principles of the republican
party, headed by General Santa Anna. Ihis example
was followed by other states; and Santa Anna assumed the
reins of government. In April following he expelled
the Congress; and in 1835 Gomez Farias, who had been
M E X I C 0.
History, elected vice-president, was driven into exile. Santa Anna
was a^so successful in bis new “ plan and centralism, with
a^ de facto dictatorsliip, succeeded to the federal republic.
I he states were converted into departments, and the legis¬
latures cut down to a council of five. This new order of
things was acknowledged by the whole country, with the ex¬
ception of Texas, which was warmly attached to federalism.
It will appear, however, from the sequel, that the disaffec¬
tion of this lately settled territory led to important results.
Proposed At a meeting of the people of Texas in 1833 a constitu-
Sfr^rah1°-I|I tion had been drawn up in which, amongst other important
and Texas3 rriatt;er.s’ they pointed out the necessity of a separation from
a.d. 1833/ tA>ahuila. Ihe chief reasons assigned for the contemplated
disunion were, the dissimilarity between Coahuila and
Texas, in soil, climate, and productions, in common in¬
terests, and partly in population, so that laws happily con¬
structed for the benefit of Coahuila, and conducive to its
best interests, might be ruinous to Texas. The seat of
government was also stated to be too remote, being fixed
at Saltillo, and the inhabitants of that, part of the state were
almost exclusively of Spanish descent. Colonel Austin,
who had for many years been member of Congress for
Texas, was charged with the duty of submitting to the
general government in Mexico the new constitution which
had been formed; but finding it difficult or impossible to
effect his object, he wrote a letter to some of his friends in
1 exas, in which he did not conceal his sentiments as to
the necessity of Texas taking matters into her own hands,
and doing herself justice. This letter was intercepted, and
first awakened the jealousy of the Mexican government.
Causes of But before proceeding to narrate the leading incidents
the rupture of the struggle with Mexico it is necessary to premise, that
with Mexi- tiie unappropriated lands, although state property, could not
be granted to any one without the sanction of the general
government. At this time a great rage for land specula¬
tion existed, not only in Mexico, but in the United States,
and an extensive system of fraud was the consequence. In
1834 a company of speculators, many of whom belonged
to or had come from the latter country, induced the legis¬
lature of Coahuila and Texas to grant them 400 square
leagues of public land for the sum of 20,000 dollars. The
transaction was disavowed, and the grant annulled, by the
Mexican government; and it led to the dispersion of the
local legislature, and the temporary imprisonment of the
governor Viesca.
About the same time an attempt to establish customs
was forcibly resisted by the colonists. This, together with
a demand for the persons of those who had been concerned
in the grant of the 400 leagues of land, were the imme¬
diate pi ecursors of hostilities. Viesca issued proclamations
and addresses calling the inhabitants of the state to arms
against the encroachments of that military power which
threatened, he said, their very existence, not only as a state,
but as a people. Santa Anna was stigmatized as a dic¬
tator, and death was denounced against all his supporters
vvho should enter Texas. Taxes were refused; the cus¬
tom-house officers were expelled ; and the laws of Mexico
were set at defiance. In these circumstances Santa Anna,
who had succeeded in gaining all the other states of the
republic, found it necessary to turn his attention to Texas.
Hostilities; In September 1835 General Cos, the confidential friend
declaration and brother-in-law of the central chief, landed at Compano
Of inde- at the head of 400 men destined to reinforce the garrison
pendence, of San Antonio de Bejar. But he was foiled in his at-
1A-183- tempt to defend that city against the Texians, and was
0 • forced to retire from the province in October. Early in
March 1836 a convention of delegates from the various
settlements of Texas, having assembled at Washington,
, issued a formal declaration of independence, setting forth
the grievances which impelled the people to take that step.
This declaration was signed by forty-four delegates, of
YOL. XIV.
ri3f
whom only three or four were Mexicans by birth. When History
this decisive step was taken, the people of Texas undoubt-
edly supposed that the internal divisions of the country
would afford sufficient employment for the arms of Santa
Anna; forgetting that there existed in Mexico an inveterate
prejudice against the United States colonists, which might
induce them to overlook for a time all minor differences,
and unite as against a common enemy. Hence the defeat
of Cos actually extended the influence of Santa Anna, and
he was thus enabled to bring nearly the whole resources
of Mexico to bear upon Texas. Early in February 1836
he established his head-quarters on the Nueces, to the
eastward of the Rio del Norte. By his plan of operations
he proposed to advance in two columns, one directed against
San Antonio, and the other against La Bahia, which place
was lower down the coast; intending by this means to in¬
tercept all communication between the Americans and the
Gulf. His troops in the first of these enterprises were re¬
pulsed ; in the second they were successful, but disgraced
their triumph by massacring 500 captives in cold blood.
This military execution caused much excitement, and ex- Total do_
asperated the Texians in the highest degree. They sud-feat of the
denly ceased to retreat, and General Houston, having rapidly xMexican
counter-marched a distance of about 60 miles, came up with army, a.d.
Santa Anna. On the 21st of April, near the banks of the San •L836-
Jacinto, a fierce and sanguinary conflict took place, in which
the Mexicans were defeated with great slaughter, and above
700 taken prisoners, amongst whom was the commander-
in-chief himself. This unexpected event totally changed
the aspect of affairs ; and the success of the Texians stimu¬
lated their zeal and activity. Many of the more pacific of
the colonists had sought refuge in the neighbouring states ;
but their place was speedily supplied by numerous adven¬
turers from the United States. On the 15th of Maya
convention was held at Velasco in Texas, where it was sti¬
pulated that hostilities should cease; that the Mexican
army should quit Texas; and that Santa Anna should be,
sent to Vera Cruz, upon condition of his agreeing neither
to take up arms against the Texians, nor to exercise any
influence to cause them to be taken up during the stnmgle
for independence.
The inhabitants of Texas now set themselves to assert The Texi-
their distinct nationality, by electing their own officers, ans assert
equipping their own army and navy, and guarding their their dis¬
own frontiers. At the same time their independence was tmet na-
publicly recognised by Great Britain, France, and the tionalify-
United States, bor several years Mexico was too much
engrossed with internal disturbances, and with the political
contests of her magnates, to attempt to reconquer her lost
province. At length, in 1844, the commencement of nego¬
tiations for engrafting Texas on the American Union
roused her from her lethargy. She protested loudly against
the unjust attempt of the United States to rob her of part
of her dominions. The president Herrera attempted, at
the request of the American government, to settle the diffi¬
culty by negotiation ; but so violent was the popular in¬
dignation against such lenient measures, that on the 30th
December 1845 he was forced to resign the presidential
chair to General Paredes, the darling of the Mexican mob.
Jhe new president began his sway by raising monev Hostilities
and levying troops for the invasion of Texas. To General between
Ampudia was intrusted the protection of the northern fron- Mexico and
tiers. Accordingly, on the 11th April 1846 he settledthe
down with a large force at Matamoros on the Rio Grande States> A'D*
and confronted an American army stationed, under Gene- 1846-47-
r. laylor, on the opposite bank of the river. In a short
time skirmishes between these two bodies of troops began
the war, and were the signal to the United States for de-
spatching a large force against Mexico. “An army of
tie est and an “army of the Centre” were organized
undei the lespective commands of Generals Kearney and
4 x
714
MEXICO.
History. Wool. Commodore Conner in the Gulf of Mexico, and
Commodores Stockton and Sloat in the Pacific, wei e 01 dei ed
to co-operate with the land forces. Meanwhile General
Taylor had occupied Matamoros on the 18th May, and was
actively engaged in levying recruits and in establishing a
base line of operations along the Rio Grande. He then ad¬
vanced southward along the main highway into the interior,
and sat down before the strong city of Monterey, the key
of the northern provinces of Mexico. After a desperate
assault, which lasted two days, his force of 7000 strong cap¬
tured the town from nearly 10,000 Mexicans on the 24th of
September. By this time Santa Anna, with the connivance
of the American Congress, had returned to Mexico, and had
supplanted General Paredes in the chief power. But con¬
trary to the expectation of the United States, he allowed
himself to be swayed by the popular feeling, and began
to muster the full strength of the nation for the war. Ad¬
vancing northward towards the close of 1846, he concen¬
trated a force of 20,000 at San Luis Potosi, with the evi¬
dent intent of attacking Taylor’s extended base of opera¬
tions in the valley of the Rio Grande. It w as not long there¬
fore before he set out with his entire army along the road to
Saltillo. On the 22d of February 1847 he came up to Tay¬
lor’s army of 5000, closely drawn up in the narrow gorge of
Angostura, and ready to_dispute his advance. A desperate
attempt to outflank the 'American army was immediately
made, and was successfully repulsed. On the morrow the
mighty force of Santa Anna shattered itself by vain efforts to
force the pass, and towards evening commenced a retreat to
San Luis Potosi. Shortly before this California had been
finally wrested from Mexico by Captain Fremont and Com¬
modore Stockton. New Mexico had also been subdued in
the preceding year by General Kearney.
Capture of In the meantime the American Congress, intent upon
the city of striking a blow at the heart of Mexico, had intrusted the
Mexico, command of an expedition against the Mexican capital to
and conclu- General Scott. With the most patient foresight, that emi-
sion of the nent comman(3er occupied a considerable time in mustering
mrA’s.’ a11 the available strength of his country, and in providing
resources against every possible emergency. At length,
on the 9th of March 1847, he landed near Vera Cruz, and
invested that city both by sea and land. After a close
bombardment of eight days the besieged garrison were
forced to capitulate. Scott then pressed forward towards
the capital, and, as he approached Jalapa, found the army
of Santa Anna entrenched within an elaborate line of de¬
fences on the wild road at Cerro Gordo. After a hard-
fought assault of two days the Mexican troops were cut to
pieces, and driven in a headlong flight towards the metio-
polis. The American general advanced without further
opposition to La Puebla. I here he lay for some time re¬
cruiting his forces and concerting his plans lor the assault
upon the city of Mexico. On the 7th of August he was
again on the march. After overwhelming several attempts
to check his advance at Contreras, Churubusco, El Molino
del Rey, La Casa Mata, and Chapultepec, he began the
final assault upon the capital on the 12th of September,
and penetrated within the walls on the following day. By
retreating during the night, the Mexican army left the fate
of their country in the power of the Americans. On the
2d of February 1848 the war was closed, and New Mexico
and Upper California were ceded to the United States by
the peace of Guadalupe Hidalgo.
Soon after the conclusion of this treaty, Santa Anna, see¬
ing that his power was on the wane, sought an asylum in
Jamaica. General Herrera was elected president of the
republic. But both under him and under his successor,
General Arista, the country continued in a state of the
wildest anarchy. At length, in 1852, it had become a pre¬
valent opinion among the Mexicans that a strong central
government alone could save them from ruin. Santa Anna
was allowed to be the fit instrument for effecting the desired statistics,
change. Accordingly, in the same year, that dexterous
politician and able general was recalled from exile by com¬
mon consent. In December 1853 he was elected perpe¬
tual president, with the authority ol dictator, and the title
of Most Serene Highness. But the extraordinary powers
with which he was invested failed to harmonize those dis¬
cordant feelings which sprung from difference of political
opinion on the one hand, and difference of race on the other.
On the 22d of January 1854 a revolution, under General
Juan Alvarez, broke out at Acapulco, absorbed within its
ranks malcontents of every description, and spread with
resistless rapidity through several states in the direction of
the capital. Force and policy were alike unable to check
it, and at length, on the 9th of August 1855, Santa Anna
abdicated and retired to Havanna. In September Juan
Alvarez was raised to the provisional presidency, but re¬
signed in December in favour of Ignacio Comonfort, who
received the title of president-substitute. Scarcely had the
new potentate formed his ministry, when he was assailed
bv conspiracy. Early in 1856 an insurrection, headed by
Haro y Tamariz, enlisted in its cause a formidable number
of the clergy, magistrates, and destitute workmen. It was
suppressed, however, by Comonfort on the 22d of March.
III.—STATISTICS OF MEXICO.
Mexico is bounded on the N. by California, New Mexico,
and Texas; E. by the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean
Sea; S.E. by British Honduras and Guatemala ; and S.W.
and W. by the Pacific Ocean. Its greatest length in a N.W.
and S.E. direction, from San Diego to the extreme S. part
of Chiapas, is about 1987 miles, and its greatest breadth
about 1128 miles. Tts area is estimated at 829,900 English
square miles, and it has a coast line of about 5830 miles in
length. A great portion of Mexico is occupied by the Cor¬
dilleras, which run through its whole length, rendering the
surface extremely varied. On entering this country from
the S. the chain divides into two great branches, the west¬
ern extending along the coast of the Pacific, and the eastern
along that of the Gulf of Mexico, and afterwards subsiding
into the plains of Texas. The vast tract of country between
these branches, comprising about three-fifths of the entire
area of the territory, consists of a central table-land called
the plateau of Anahuac, 6000 to 8000 feet in general ele¬
vation ; and hence its climate, though mostly within the
tropics, is decidedly temperate. This region is crossed in
various directions, or divided into sub-plateaus by numerous
chains of mountains, some of which rise to the height of
17,000 feet above the level of the sea. The surface, how¬
ever, is not broken by many transverse valleys, and in some,
parts there are extensive districts quite destitute either of
depressions or elevations. Some of the peaks rise to a
great elevation, towering far above the central plateau: the
principal of these are P opocatepetl, 1 7,735; Orizava, 17,38b;
Yxtaccihuatl, 15,700 feet above the sea-level. These and
many others of the Mexican mountains are volcanoes;
the first is continually burning, but for centuries has ceased
to eject from its crater anything but smoke and ashes.
Luminous exhalations constantly irradiate the summit of
Orizava. In 1545 an irruption took place, and the crater
continued to burn for twenty years. In the same province
(Vera Cruz) is the volcano of Tuxtla, in which a consider¬
able irruption took place in 1793, the ashes of which were
carried as far as Perote, a distance of 57 leagues. On the
western side of the city of Mexico are the volcanoes of
Jorulla and Calima, the latter of which throws up smoke
and ashes, but has not been known to discharge lava. Jo¬
rulla, which is situated between Calima and the city of
Mexico, is of much more recent origin than any of the
others. It was thrown up en masse from a fertile plain
MEXICO. 715
Statistics, having an elevation of 2890 feet, to the height of 4149 feet
v'—above the sea-level.
Geology. While in the Old World granite, gneiss, mica schist, and
clay-slate often form the central ridges of the mountain
chains; these rocks seldom appear at the surface of the Cor¬
dilleras of America, being there covered by masses of por-
phyry, greenstone, amygdaloid, basalt, obsidian, and other
rocks of the same class. The granite, which here generally
forms the lowest stratum, appears at the surface in the little
chain that borders the Pacific Ocean, and which on the side
of Acapulco is separated from the mass of high country by
the valley of Peregrino. The beautiful port of Acapulco
is a natural excavation in granitic rocks. As we ascend
towards the table-land of Mexico, we see it rise through
the porphyry for the last time, between Zumpango and So-
pilote. Farther to the east, the mountains of Mixteca and
of Zapateca, in the province of Oaxaca, are formed of the
same rock, which is there traversed by veins of auriferous
quartz. The great central plateau of Anahuac, between
the fourteenth and twenty-first degrees of latitude, ap¬
pears like an enormous dyke of porphyritic rocks, dis¬
tinguished from those of Europe by the constant presence
of hornblende and by the absence of quartz. These
rocks contain immense deposits of gold and silver. Basalt,
amygdaloid, trap,gypsum, and primitive limestone, however,
form the predominating rocks. The strata succeed each
other here in the same order as in Europe, excepting that
syenite alternates with serpentine. The secondary rocks
equally resemble those of the Old World ; but hitherto no
considerable beds of rock-salt or of coal have been dis¬
covered in the plateau of Mexico. In some parts the
porphyry presents itself in gigantic masses, which assume
extraordinary shapes, resembling ruined walls, bastions,
towers, and the like. The porphyritic traps which termi¬
nate the mountains of Jacal and Oyamel appear in columns,
and are crowned with pine trees and oak, which materially
add to their picturesque appearance. It is from these
mountains that the ancient Mexicans obtained the obsidian,
of which they formed their sharp-edged instruments. The
Cobre de Perote is a porphyritic mountain, resembling an
ancient sarcophagus surmounted by a pyramid at one end.
I he basalts of La* Regia, of which the prismatic columns,
100 feet in height, have their central parts harder than the
rest, form the native decorations of a very beautiful cascade.
Mines. The mines of Mexico were wrought long before the
arrival of the Spaniards; the natives of Mexico, like those of
Peru, being well acquainted with the use of metals. Nor
were they contented with such specimens as they found
scattered on the surface of the earth or in the ravines of
mountain torrents, but had also learned to dig for them, and
to trace the metallic veins in the interiors of the mountains.
Gold and silver vases, and other specimens of jewelry,
made in Mexico, were sent to Spain by the first conquerors
as evidence of the mineral wealth of the country. The
dependent tribes paid their tributes to the sovereign in a
species of metallic currency, which, though not stamped,
was yet the representative of a standard value. The mines
of Mexico are nearly all on the top or on the western slope
of the great Cordillera, and the mining region occupies
an area of about 12,000 square leagues. On the country
becoming settled after the revolutionary disturbances, espe¬
cially about the year 1825, the Mexican mines were eagerly
seized as objects of speculation by British and American
capitalists. In consequence, however, of bad management,
or the wild spirit of gambling which assumed the place of
prudent commercial enterprise, the holders of stock were
disappointed in their expectations, and sometimes ruined.
The enormous cost of transporting heavy materials in a
country where there are no navigable rivers extending into
the interior, and where the usual mode of carriage is on the
backs of mules, by wretched roads, over mountains, and
through ravines, has often absorbed large portions of the Statistics,
original capital before the proprietors could even commence i ^ >
the working of their mines. Many of the first British and
American speculators were thus ruined; but their suc¬
cessors are beginning to reap the benefit of their expendi¬
ture, and throughout the republic steam-engines and the
best hydraulic apparatus are now employed. The annual
average produce of the mines before the revolution was
estimated at about L.5,000,000, and between the revolution
and the year 1825 at nearly L.2,300,000. The annual
produce of silver alone is now estimated at about L.7,000,000,
and of gold about L.6,500,000. There are also some
twenty-five quicksilver mines, yielding from 250,000 to
300,000 lbs. of metal annually. Besides the precious
metals, Mexico abounds in other ores. Iron is plentiful in
the states of Valladolid, Zatatecas, and Jalisco, but has
hitherto been little worked. Copper is found in a native
state in Valladolid, and also to some extent in Guanajuato.
Tin, though obtained in mines, is principally extracted from
the water-carried earth found in the deep ravines. A com¬
bination of these two metals was used by the ancient Mexi¬
cans to form their tools and weapons; and they had acquired
the art of tempering them so as to render them equal in
utility to iron, or even to steel. Lead is found, but the
mines are very little worked. Zinc, antimony, and arsenic
also exist; but neither cobalt nor manganese have as yet
been discovered.
Mexico is singularly deficient in large rivers. The Rio Rivers.
Grande del Norte, which forms its N.E. boundary, is the
largest, having a length of about 1800 miles. The principal
affluents of the Rio Grande are the Conchas, the Salado
and Sabinas, and the San Juan rivers. The Santander,
Tampico, Panuco, and Usumasinta, are the chief of those
flowing into the Gulf of Mexico; while the Rio Yompex,
the Balsas or Zacatula, the Aztla, Santiago, Culiacan, and
the Rio del Fuerta, fall into the Pacific. A small portion
of the lower course of the Colorado is in this territory.
The lakes of Mexico are numerous, and some of them are Lakes,
of considerable size. Lake Chapala in Jalisco covers an
area of 1300 square miles, and Lake Terminos, which, how¬
ever, is more properly an arm of the sea, has an area of
about 2200 square miles. Lakes Pascuara in Michoacan,
and those of Mextitlan, Cayman, and Parras, are all of large
size. The valley of Mexico contains five lakes, into which
the various streams of the district flow. These cover an
area of 160 square miles, and are drained by a canal cut
through rock 12 miles in length, 150 feet deep, and 300
feet wide, having its embouchure in the Rio Panuco.
Mexico, as regards climate, is usually divided into the Climate.
tierras calienles, tierras templadas, and tierras frias. The
first, or hot regions, include the low grounds, or those under
2000 feet elevation, on the east and west coasts. The
tierras calientes of the west are less extensive than those
of the east, as the western arm of the Cordilleras approaches
nearer to the sea. The mean temperature of this region
may be estimated at 77° Fahr. It is especially suited for
the growth and cultivation of sugar, indigo, cotton, and
bananas. The tierras templadas, or temperate regions, are
of comparatively limited extent, and occupy the slope of the
mountain chains which bound on either side the central
table-land. They extend from about 2500 miles to 5000
feej: in elevation, and the mean temperature is from 68° to
70° Fahr.^ Extremes of heat and cold are there equally un¬
known. The Mexican oak, and most of the fruits and cereals
of Europe, flourish in this genial climate, thehumidity of which
produces great beauty and strength of vegetation. The
tierras frias, or cold regions, include all the vast plateau
elevated 5000 feet and upward above the sea, and have a
mean temperature of about 62° Fahr. In the city of
Mexico, at an elevation of 7400 feet, the thermometer has
sometimes, though rarely, fallen below the freezing point.
MEXICO.
Statistics. In the coldest season the mean temperatuie of the day
v-*'' varies from 45° to 50° Fahr., while in summer the thermo¬
meter seldom rises above i5 Fahr. At a gi eater elevation
than 8000 feet the. climate is severe and disagreeable.
Under the parallel of Mexico the line of perpetual snow
varies from 14,000 to 15,000 feet above the sea-level.
Vegetation here is not so vigorous as in the other two regions,
and the plants of Europe do not succeed so well as in the
tierras templadas. In the tropical regions, and as far north
as 28° N. Lat., there are only two seasons; that of rain,
lasting from June or July to September or October, and
the dry season, continuing from October to the end of
May. From the parallel of 24° to that of 30° the rain falls
less frequently, and continues a shorter time, but the
deficiency is compensated by the snow, which, from the
26th degree of latitude northwards, is deposited in con¬
siderable quantities.
The climate of the provinces denominated internets, and
which are situated within the temperate zone, is distinguished
by a striking inequality in the temperature of the different
seasons; the winters being very cold, whilst the summers
are comparatively very warm. 1 o this, as well as to other
local causes, must be attributed the aridity which charac¬
terizes a considerable portion of the plateau of Anahuac.
There are few springs in the mountains; and the water, in¬
stead of collecting in little subterranean basins, filters
through the earth or porous rocks, and loses itself in cre-
' vices formed by volcanic eruptions. The evils arising from
aridity have increased since the Europeans first took pos¬
session of Mexico. The conquerors not only destroyed
trees without supplying their place by young plants, but by
artificially drying up extensive tracts of country, they occa¬
sioned a still more important evil. The muriates of soda
and of lime, the nitrate of potass, and other saline sub¬
stances, cover the surface of the soil. Still a great part of
Mexico may be classed with the most fertile countries of
the earth, for there every species of vegetable production is
found, or may be successfully cultivated. On the ascent
from Vera Cruz, climates, to use an expression of Hum¬
boldt’s, succeed each other in layers; and the traveller
passes in review, in the course of two days, the whole scale
of vegetation, from the parasitic plants of the tropics to the
pines of the arctic regions. In some parts, however, the
climate is very insalubrious. The humidity of the coasts
favouring the putrefaction of a prodigious mass of organic
substances, originates diseases which attack Europeans and
others not familiarized to the climate; indeed, under the
burning sun of the tropics, the unhealthiness of the air is
almost invariably a sure indication of extraordinary fertility
in the soil. Nevertheless, excepting the seaports and some
of the deeper valleys, where intermittent fever is very pre¬
valent, Mexico ought, upon the whole, to be considered as
a healthy country.
Zoology. The zoology of this interesting country has only hitherto
been partially explored, and what is known relates chiefly
to ornithology. Of one hundred and thirteen species of
land birds ascertained to be natives of Mexico, sixty-eight
seem to be peculiar to that country, eleven likewise natives
of South America, and thirty-four of other parts of North
America. The water birds that have been examined pre¬
sent no novelty, as all can be identified with the species
distributed generally over North America. Among the
wading birds are two beautiful species of tiger bitterns,
formerly unknown to naturalists. The quadrupeds, insects,
&c., are as yet little known. Deer and several varieties of
antelopes are found on the table-lands, and the bison ranges
in vast herds through various parts of Mexico. The do¬
mestic animals introduced by the Spaniards have increased
to such a degree, that immense numbers of them run wild
through the country. 4 he wool of the sheep is of inferior
quality; but this is attributable more to neglect and mis¬
management than to any peculiarity in the climate. Mules Statistics,
are very abundant, especially in the mining districts.
From the great range of climate in Mexico, the vegetable Agricul-
produCtions must necessarily be very varied. “ Indeed,” ture.
says Humboldt, “ there is scarcely a plant in the rest of the
world which is not susceptible of cultivation in one or other
part of Mexico ; nor would it be an easy matter for the
botanist to obtain even a tolerable acquaintance with the
multitudes of plants, scattered over the mountains, or crowded
together in the vast forests at the foot of the Cordilleras.”
The soil is in many parts of extraordinary fertility, and,
where well watered, produces abundant crops with very
little labour. The most important of the agricultural pro¬
ductions is maize or Indian corn, which constitutes the
principal food of the inhabitants as well as of most of, the
domestic animals. This valuable grain is almost every¬
where cultivated with success, and in some favourable spots
its fecundity is very remarkable; eight hundred fanegas
for one of seed having occasionally been obtained. Where
irrigation is practicable, from three to four hundred for one
is the ordinary ratio of increase; but where the crop de¬
pends upon the season it is more variable, and in some parts
one good year in ten is all that is expected, the intervening
years producing only forty or fifty bushels for one sown.
Oats are little cultivated in Mexico, but the wheat and
barley of Europe have been naturalized here. The former
succeeds well throughout the table-land; but both in the
tierras calientes and on the eastern and western slope of the
Cordilleras, the ear does not form. The success of the
crop on the table-land depends almost entirely upon the
timely commencement of the rainy season; for if the dry
weather continue beyond the middle of June, unless the
grounds can be watered by artificial means, the crops of
wheat, barley, and maize are destroyed by drought. Irri¬
gation is therefore the great object of the Mexican farmer ;
and in the formation of reservoirs, canals, and the like, vast
sums have been expended on the principal estates. The
average annual produce of the whole of the corn lands of
Mexico is estimated at twenty-five bushels for one; while in
certain parts of the country, during favourable years and
where the irrigation is good, from sixty to eighty bushels for
one have been produced. At Chilula, near Puebla, the in¬
crease is stated at forty for one; and at Zelaya, Salamanca,
and Santiago further N., in average years, from thirty-five
to forty are produced. Rye and barley are raised at higher
elevations than wheat, as they are less liable to be injured
by cold. The potato is much cultivated in Mexico. It is
not an indigenous plant, but wras introduced from the moun¬
tainous parts of Peru at a very early period after the con¬
quest of that country by the Spaniards. It grows to a large
size, some of those found by Humboldt having measured
from 12 to 13 inches in circumference. The banana, which
flourishes up to the point where the mean temperature is
75° Fahr., produces more nutritious substance in a less space
than any other plant. Humboldt calculates that an acre of
ground planted with bananas is sufficient to support fifty
men, whilst the same extent of land in wheat would barely
supply the wants of three. It is propagated by cuttings,
and requires no labour in cultivation, except that of cutting
off the stems when the fruit is ripe, and occasionally digging
round the roots. The same temperature necessary to the
development of the banana produces also the manioc or
cassava, which is also abundantly productive of aliment.
Its cultivation requires more care than that of the banana,
and in some measure resembles that of the potato : it arrives
at maturity about eight months after the slips have been
planted. Of the manioc there are two kinds, the sweet and
the bitter; both are made into bread, but the consumption
is not considerable. Rice is but little cultivated, and not
very generally known. Before the year 1810 the cultivation
of the olive was prohibited lest the interest of the mother
MEXICO.
Statistics, country should thereby be injured. During the revolution,
however, a great number of olive trees were planted, and
at present there are several large plantations in the country.
The vine was also a prohibited plant, but now flourishes in
many parts. Among the other vegetable productions of
Mexico are the yam, which is confined to the tierras
cahentes; the capsicum, which is extensively cultivated,
and universally used for seasoning food; and the sarsaparilla,
tomato, pine-apple, pomegranate, guava, orange, lemon,
melon, pear, apple, peach, &e. One of the most valuable
plants of the country is the maguey, a species of aloe,
which is by Humboldt designated the vine of Mexico.
It furnishes a spirituous liquor called pulque, which is
the chief beverage of all classes of the people. The ma¬
guey plantations are principally in the states of La Pue¬
bla, Mexico, Guanajuato, and a small portion of Valla¬
dolid. The most celebrated are those in the vicinity of
Cholula, and in the Plains of Epam and in the valley of
Toluca; but in general the plant is found wild in every
part of Mexico. 1 he plants in the plantations are arranged
in rows, with an interval of 2 or 3 yards between each, and
when arrived at maturity the leaves are from 5 to 8 feet
in length, and the stem frequently attains a height of 20
or even of 30 feet. The maguey, however, often delays
florescence for many years, when it pushes up its flowering
spike with extraordinary rapidity. At the flowering season
the exact time is watched when the stem of the flower is about
to shoot up ; the top is then cut off, and a hole scooped
in the stalk forVbe reception of the sap, which is regularly
drawn off, generally two or three times in a day. The plants
are extremely productive ; a vigorous one will yield as many
as 150 gallons in a season of four or five months. The sap
is placed in a situation to ferment, an operation which takes
place in a few days, when it becomes fit to be drunk. Its
taste is said to resemble that of cider, but its smell is dis¬
agreeable. A kind of brandy, called mexical, very much re¬
sembling whiskey, is produced by the distillation of pulque.
The maguey plant is useful in other respects ; its fibres fur¬
nish the inhabitants with a thread called pita, and is also
employed in making ropes and paper; its juice is used as
a caustic application for wounds; and its prickles serve for
pins and needles. The soil of Mexico is in many parts re¬
markably favourable to the production of sugar, which has
become one of the most valuable products of the republic.
A considerable quantity of rum is annually distilled from
molasses. The Mexican soil has also been found well adapted
for the cultivation of coffee, extensive plantations of which
exist near Orizava and Cordova. The average produce of
each plant is estimated at about two and a half pounds weight
throughout all parts of the country where the berry is cul¬
tivated, though there are districts in Mexico in which it is
said three or four pounds are yielded. The slope of the
eastern Cordillera is supposed to be best adapted for coffee
estates. Tobacco is a government monopoly, and grows
well in a small district near Orizava and Cordova; but the
best quality comes from Simojovel in the state of Chiapas,
and from some districts of Oajaca. In Yucatan and Ta¬
basco the plant is also successfully cultivated, and produces
a mild and fragrant leaf, which is not included in the national
monopoly. A large portion, however, of the tobacco sold in
the country is contraband. Indigo was known and cultivated
by the Mexicans previous to the conquest. It is found in
Yucatan, Chiapas, and about Tehuantepec, in the state of
Oajaca, and grows wild in some of the very warm districts in
Tabasco. Cotton was among the indigenous products of
Mexico at the time of its invasion, and formed almost the
only clothing of the natives. The Aztecs possessed the art of
spinning it to a very high degree of fineness, and of imparting
to it beautiful and brilliant colours ; but these arts have been
lost. The hot regions are remarkably favourable to the
growth of the plant, and it requires but little attention from
717
the proprietor. The quantity of cotton produced in the whole Statistics,
country is estimated at about seven millions of pounds,
Vanilla, yielding the highly esteemed spice of that name,
grows wild along the eastern coast and in other parts of the
republic. The cultivation, however, of this valuable pro¬
duct is left almost entirely in the hands of the Indians.
Jalap, whose roots furnish a valuable medicine, is a native
of Mexico, and grows plentifully in the neighbourhood of
Jalapa, whence its name. The opuntia, or Indian fig, a
species of cactus, supports here an insect from whose body
the well-known cochineal is made. The female alone pro¬
duces the dye; and the process of rearing is complicated,
and attended with much difficulty. The plantations of the
cochineal cactus are confined to the state of Oajaca. Soon
after the independence of Mexico was secured, the culti¬
vation of the mulberry tree was attempted, for the purpose
of feeding silk-worms, but without success. In 1841 an
association was formed for the encouragement of silk cul¬
ture, and the mulberry tree was extensively introduced, but
has been found to prosper only in certain localities. The
state of Oajaca is said to be exceedingly well adapted for
its culture. Flax and hemp have also been introduced into
the country.
The chief exports from Mexico are cochineal and the Trade,
precious metals. Of the latter of these products it is esti¬
mated that the one-half is remitted to England, and that
the other is divided equally between the United States and
the continental states of Europe. The greater portion of
the silver is shipped from Tampico, which is the nearest
port for the mineral productions of Guanajuato, Zacatecas,
San Luis Potosi, and the principal mining districts of
Northern Mexico. Large quantities are also sent from
Vera Cruz, as well as from Mazatlan, on the Pacific coast.
In 1845, before the war with the United States broke out,
and when the Mexican trade was in its ordinary condition, the
value of the precious metals, coined and uncoined, shipped
from these ports through the regular channels amounted
to L.2,279,187. We have, however, no means of esti¬
mating the contraband exportation; but it may be safely
said that at least one million sterling more found its way
clandestinely to Europe and the United States. The value
of cochineal exported is estimated at about L.200,000.
The other exports are principally dyewoods, vanilla, sar¬
saparilla, jalap, hides, horns, and a small quantity of pepper
indigo, and coffee. The imports consist chiefly of linen,
cotton, woollen, and silk goods, paper, glassware, ironware,
quicksilver, cocoa, wine, brandy, and gin. The aggre¬
gate value of the exports and imports does not exceed
L.5,000,000. For the year ending 30th June 1850 the
duties on importations amounted to L.1,090,227, and on
exportations to L.125,780. The total shipping in 1850
amounted to 256,692 tons. Of the vessels that arrived at
the various ports 68 belonged to Mexico, 435 to the United
States, 108 to England, 69 to France, 60 to Spain, 13 to
Hamburgh, and 24 to Peru.
The manufactures of Mexico chiefly consist of woollen, Manufac-
cotton, and silk goods, glass, paper, sugar, oil, wine, and tares,
brandy. In 1850 there were in the republic 4 glass factories,
8 paper mills, 72 large cotton factories, 6 large woollen fac¬
tories, and upwards of 70 machines worked by the hand in
the manufacture of silk. In the cotton manufacture there
were also a number of hand machines for making rebosos or
long cotton shawls, bed-coverings, &c. The woollen manu¬
factures likewise employ numerous small establishments in
tie country, where coarse cloths are made. In the larger mills
fine cloths, carpets, flannels, &c., are produced. The annual
value of the manufactures is estimated ataboutL.20,000,000.
I he Indians excel in working jewelry, carving, sculpture,
and indeed in all the ornamental arts ; they are likewise
good masons, painters, and musicians. They make beau¬
tiful vases, somewhat similar in form to the Etruscan,
718
MEXICO.
Revenue.
Govern
ment.
Religion.
Statistics as well as toys of all kinds, wax figures, ornamental cloths
of great value, and the like.
The revenue of the republic for the year ending 30th
June 1852 amounted to L.1,683,000, and the expenditure
to L.2,405,000. The public debt, which has been steadily
increasing since the year 1827, amounted in 1854 to
L.24,600,000, of which sum nearly a half was owing to
foreign bondholders, these consisting principally of Eng¬
lish and Americans. This wretched state of the public
money is naturally owing to the long dissensions among
the political parties, and the peculations of many of their
leaders. The armed force is fixed by law at 26,353 men
in the regular service, and 64,946 militia in actual service ;
but in 1855 not more than half of these were organized.
The navy consists only of 9 small vessels, having in all 35
guns, and manned by about 300 men.
The government of Mexico is a representative federal
republic. The legislative power is vested in a Congress
consisting of a Senate and Chamber of Deputies. The De¬
puties are chosen every two years by the citizens of the
states, in the ratio of one for every 50,000 souls, or for any
fraction above 25,000. The Senate is composed of two
members from each state and the federal district, while a
number equal to that of all the states is elected by the Senate,
Deputies, and Judges of the supreme court conjointly, the
Deputies deciding the election in the case of the candidate
not receiving a majority of all the votes. The executive
power is vested in a president elected for four years. Ju¬
dicial power resides in the supreme court of justice, and in
circuit and district courts. Each state government is inde¬
pendent within its local jurisdiction, and, like the federal
government, is composed of executive, legislative, and ju¬
dicial departments.
The Roman Catholic religion was established here by
the Spaniards, and is still maintained with the utmost rigour.
At the time of the revolution the pope actively espoused
the cause of Spain, and anathematized the revolutionists;
but on the petition of the new government they were re¬
admitted into the bosom of the Catholic Church. I he
constitution of 1847 declares that “ the religion of the
Mexican nation is and shall be perpetually the Roman Ca¬
tholic Apostolic. The nation protects it by wise and just
laws, and prohibits the exercise of any other whatsoever.”
The ecclesiastical government is under the jurisdiction of
an archbishop and eleven bishops. The dioceses contain
184 prebends and 1229 parishes, with 3223 ecclesiastics;
there are besides 146 monasteries, with 1130 inmates; 59
nunneries, with 3160 inmates; and 8 colleges of the Pro¬
paganda, with 238 inmates. The revenue of the church is
estimated at L.4,000,000.
Education is still at a very low ebb, though of late years
some progress has been made. Several of the states have
established primary schools, and many higher schools and
private seminaries have been opened in the cities. In the
city of Mexico, in 1850, there were 129 primary schools,
attended by 7151 scholars. The other educational institu¬
tions are,—First, seminaries sustained and directed by the
clergy; second, national colleges in the capital, sustained
partly by their own funds and partly by government aid ;
and third, colleges and institutions in the states supported
by local funds. Of the first class there are 10 distri¬
buted in the capitals of the several dioceses, and in 1850
these contained 3024 students ; of the second class there
are six, viz., the college of San Ildefonso, San Gregorio,
and San Juan de Letran, the School of Medicine, the
Military Academy, and the College of Mining; and of
the third class there are 20, including six preparatory
schools.
The republic of Mexico comprises 21 states, 1 federal
district, and 3 territories. It has 85 cities and towns, 193
villages, 4709 hamlets, 119 communities and missions,
Education.
VIZ haciendas or estates, and 6092 farms. According to Statistics,
the census of 1850, it contained a population of 7,661,919, v>—'
and an estimate in 1854 gives it at 7,853,395, showing an
increase of 191,476 persons within these years.
States.
Population
in 1851.
Chiapas,  144,070
Chihuahua  147,600
Cohahuila   75,340
Durango  162,218
Guanajuato  713,583
Guerrero  270,000
Jalisco  774,461
Mexico  973,697
Mechoacan  491,679
Nuevo-Leon  133,361
Oajaca  525,101
Puebla   580,000
Queretaro  184,161
San Luis Potosi  368,120
Sinaloa  160,000
Sonora  139,374
Tabasco  63,580
Taumaulipas   100,064
Vera Cruz    264,725
Yucatan  680,948
Zacatecas  356,024
Federal District  200,000
California, Lower Territory 12,000
Colima Territory  61,243
Tlaxcala Territory  80,171
Area in
Square miles.
18,680
97,015
56,671
48,489
12,618
32,003
48,590
19,535
22,993
16,688
31,823
13,043
2,445
29,486
33,721
123,467
15,609
30,335
27,595
52,947
30,507
90
60,662
3,020
1,984
Popula¬
tion.
Total,  7,661,520 829,916
Of the total population, it is estimated that only about
1,000,000 are pure whites, 4,000,000 Indians, and 6000
negroes; the remainder consisting of Mestizos, Zambos,
Mulattoes, Quadroons, Quinteroons, and other mixed races.
The whites in Mexico are divided into two classes—Creoles,
or those born in the country, and Gachupines, or native
Spaniards. The Spanish population in this country still
forms a numerous and important body, though the Spaniard
no longer holds his former rank in the social scale. The
Creole or native Mexican is commonly proud, indolent, and
often vicious. An aristocratic feeling, founded on their
complexion, which gives them distinction, prevents them
from pursuing those kinds of labour which are deemed de¬
grading to gentlemen. The consequence is, that their
poverty is often even greater than that of the Indians;
whilst from indolence, added to pride, they are prevented
from following any employment beyond that of the gaming¬
table, or becoming the flatterers of the richer members of
their own class. Throughout Mexico there is a universal
predisposition to dependence upon others, or a blind reliance
upon chance. The Indians form the next class of the Mexi¬
can population. They are the unmixed descendants of
the aboriginal inhabitants, and consist of various tribes, re¬
sembling each other in colour, and in some general charac¬
teristics which seem to announce a common origin, although
differing entirely in language, manners, and dress. No less
than twenty languages are known to be spoken in the Mexi¬
can territory, and many of these are not dialects which
may be traced to a common root, but differ as much as the
languages of Sclavonic and Teutonic origin in Europe.
Some possess letters which do not exist in others, and in
most there is a difference of sound which strikes even the
most unpractised ear. In colour the Indians of Mexico ai e
darker than those of South America, although they live in
a climate of lower temperature. I hey have more beai d.
and more hair on other parts of their body than those of
the southern continent, while almost all are free fiom per¬
sonal deformity. The different tribes are scattered over
the greater part of the country, and are mostly cultivators
of the soil. A number of them, however, find employment
in the mines ; some are engaged in the manufacture of cei-
tain elegant fabrics of wool and cotton ; and some in the
MEXICO. 719
Statistics, formation of articles for domestic use. The Indian is re-
Vs—markable for his patient endurance of fatigue and pain, and
is exceedingly tenacious of old customs. After three cen¬
turies of constant intercourse with Europeans, he still keeps
aloof from theforeigner,andcontinues to live in his native vil¬
lage. He speaks his hereditary language, delights in his old
pastimes, and, according to the report of reliable travellers,
occasionally worships in private his ancestral idols. Though
the Mexican laws prohibit slavery, yet upon the plantations
the Indians are in reality slaves. The tenacity with which
he adheres to old habits and customs, and the strong attach¬
ment which he manifests for the place of his birth, render
migration to another state or district never a voluntary act
on his part. So helpless is the Indian, if placed beyond the
limits of his habitual neighbourhood or accustomed haunts,
that he feels himself perfectly lost and miserable if com¬
pelled to change either his residence or occupation. The
Mexican planter can inflict no greater punishment on his
Indian serf than to expel him from the estates on which he
and his ancestors have worked from time immemorial. The
Indian is also frequently mortgaged to the landed proprie¬
tor. The extravagant and licentious outbursts in which
lie occasionally indulges bring him under pecuniary obliga¬
tions, leading him to sell himself for a number of years, or
even for life, to the landholder; and this condition the latter
is ever ready and willing to bring about.
The middle races have, in process of time, become a very
important part of the population of Mexico. In a country
where rank depends more on the complexion than on those
endowments which in other countries confer distinction, it
is not surprising that almost every shade has its limits de¬
fined by terms which, though apparently only expressing the
colour, do in reality signify the rank of the individual.
The son of a white, whether Creole or European, by an In¬
dian female, is called Mestizo. His colour is almost a pure
white, and his skin is of a peculiar transparency. The small
hands and feet, and a certain obliquity of the eyes, are more
frequent indications of the admixture of Indian blood than the
nature of the hair. If a Mestizo marry a white man, the next
generation scarcely differs in anything from the European
race. They are, however, generally accounted of a more
mild character than the Mulattoes descended from whites
and Negresses, who are distinguished by the violence of
their passions, and the singular volubility of their tongues.
The issue of Negroes by Indian females bear in Mexico the
singular name of Chinos, or Chinese in common language,
although by law they are denominated Zambos. The
term Zambo, however, is generally applied to the de¬
scendants of a Negro and a female Mulatto, or of a Negro
and a female Chinese. Another gradation, called Zamho
prieto, or blackish Zambo, is the offspring of a Negro and
female Zambo. From the union of a white man and a
Mulatto woman the class of Quadroons is derived. When a
female Quadroon marries a white man, the children are
denominated Quinteroons. The issue of a white man by a
female Quinteroon is considered a white. Next to the pure
Indians the Mestizos are the most numerous caste. It is,
however, impossible to ascertain the exact proportion which
they bear to the whole population, many of them being in¬
cluded amongst the pure whites. The proportion of the
other mixed breeds to the whole population is equally
uncertain.
It was the policy of Spain to foster a spirit of rivalry be¬
tween the different classes of inhabitants, by creating little
imaginary shades of superiority amongst them, which pre¬
vented any two from having a common interest. White¬
ness of skin was the patent of nobility; and even the Creole,
whom the Spaniard despised, looked with the contempt of
a European upon the rest of his countrymen. The revolu¬
tion, however, put an end to castes, the differences of which
were all swallowed up in the grand distinction of Ameri¬
cans and Europeans. The Creoles were compelled to court Statistics,
the allegiance of the mixed classes, without whom they
could make no effectual head against the Spaniards. Many
of the most distinguished characters of the revolutionary
war belonged to the mixed breeds; and under the system
now established, all are equally entitled to the rights of
citizenship, and equally capable of holding the highest dig¬
nities of the state. There is neither a pure African popu¬
lation nor a slave in the republic of Mexico.
Of the ancient inhabitants of Mexico some very interest-,Ant;qUi|.ieg
ing monuments remain. The work of Humboldt on New and ancient
Spain first excited the curiosity of Europeans, and rescued inhabitants
the antiquities of Mexico from the oblivion to which they
had so long been consigned ; but it was not until recently,
that their value as works of art, and as indications of a con¬
siderable advance in civilization, was fully appreciated.
Pyramids having even a larger base, and being otherwise
scarcely inferior in magnitude to those of Egypt, are found
in many parts of Mexico. Amongst the most celebrated is
that of Cholula, the base of which is 1423 feet on each side,
and the height 177 feet. It consists of eight graduated
square towers, each rising above the other, and terminating
in a species of sanctuary. Here vestiges of noble sculpture
are visible, as well as at Otumba, Oajaca, Mitlan, Tlascola,
and Palenque. The ruins of the latter, in particular, have
attracted a considerable degree of attention, and are worthy
of description. They extend, says Colonel Galindo, of whose
description we shall avail ourselves, for more than 20 miles
along the summit of the ridge which separates the country
of the wild Maya Indians from the state of Chiapas, and
must anciently have embraced a city and its suburbs. The
principal buildings are erected on the most prominent
heights; and several of them, if not all, have been provided
with stone stairs. The principal edifice, which has been
sometimes styled the palace, is built in several squares; but
the main halls or galleries run in a direction from the
N.N.E. to the S.S.W.; and this position has been observed
in all the edifices hitherto examined, be their situation what
it may. The houses have all been substantially built of
stone, cemented with mortar; but symmetry has been little
studied in their construction, it is supposed less from ignor¬
ance than from design. Other ruins of considerable magni¬
tude, and distinguished by numerous sculptures, are found
upon the neighbouring hills. In the vicinity there is one
building in particular, apparently a religious edifice, which
deserves notice. Two galleries constitute its foundation;
the front one occupying its whole length, whilst the back
one is divided into three compartments. Of these, the
eastern has the appearance of a dungeon ; the western is a
small room with a chapel ornamented with elegant relievos.
These consist of representations of the human figure, in
various attitudes, and adorned generally with boughs and
feathers. There are other very interesting ruins in this
part of Mexico, but they have not as yet been sufficiently
described.
The Mountain of Tezcoca is nearly covered with ruins
of ancient buildings. At Mitlan there are the remains of a
large palace, the architecture of which possesses a stately
grandeur, and melancholy beauty of a peculiar character.
The roof of the portico is supported by plain cylindrical
columns, and the facade of the palace is covered with a
beautiful matwork, or basket scroll, such as is found in
•^'&yp^an sepulchral chambers. Many of the statues found
at Otumba, Mitlan, Jochichalo, and the magnificent flower-
temple of Oajaca, are sculptured in a purely classical style;
whilst vases rivalling those of Egypt and Etruria have been
discovered in sepulchral excavations. Roads are to be met
with, not only in the vicinity of great cities, but at a vast
distance from them, artificially constructed, like the Roman
military roads, of large squared blocks of stone. These
roads present a continued level, and may be called viaducts, in
720 M E X
Statistics, contradistinction to aqueducts, which were also constructed
v'—by the ancient inhabitants of Mexico. Where they traverse
acclivities, they are parapeted; and the indications may
still be observed, both of regular posting stations at certain
intervals, and of the regular division of the distances,
upon the principle of the milestones of our turnpike roads.
Bridges constructed of the same durable materials, and
thrown across torrents, are also to be found. In these
bridges there is occasionally an approximation to the
principle of the arch and keystone; but in general they
only display the primitive and obvious form of archi¬
traves of stone superimposed on two or more piers of
the same massy character and durable materials. Every
feature of these structures is at once singular, ingenious,
and colossal.
With regard to the period at which these remarkable edi¬
fices were constructed, and the people to whom the labour
is to be attributed, the learned are as yet not agreed. One
point, however, seems pretty generally admitted, viz., that
their erection must be traced to a race who inhabited the
country prior to the invasion of the Mexicans, and who had
attained to a considerable degree of civilization. An attempt
has been made to prove that this people lived at a time prior
even to the Toltecans, who preceded the Mexicans by 600
years; and a close analogy between the antiquities of Mexi¬
co and those of Egypt has been shown to exist. The hy¬
pothesis advanced regarding the people is, that they were
a branch of the Anakim or Cyclopean family of Syria, the
shepherd kings of Egypt, the Oscans of Etruria, and the
Pelasgians of Greece, the Titans or giants of classical
romance, and who are recorded to have been severally ex¬
pelled from Egypt and Syria.
In reference to these questions, an able waiter observes:
—“ The first and strongest conviction which will flash on
the mind of every ripe antiquarian, whilst surveying the
long series of Mexican and Toltecan monuments, pre¬
served in the various works to which we have alluded,
is the similarity which the ancient monuments of New
Spain bear to the monumental records of ancient Egypt.
Whilst surveying them, the glance falls with familiar re¬
cognition on similar graduated pyramids; on similar marks
of the same primeval Ophite worship; on vestiges of the
same triune and solar deity; on planispheres and temples,
w hich, though characterized by some distinctions entirely
American, are not less worthy of the notice of the Egyp¬
tian antiquarian; on relics of palaces at once noble in
their architecture and beautiful in their proportions and
decorations; on monuments sepulchral, domestic, religious,
or warlike, which deserve the designation of Cyclopean as
much as any that are now extant in Italy or Greece; on
idols and sculptures, some of rude and some of finished
workmanship, exhibiting different eras of civilization, and
often presenting the most striking analogy in posture and
gesture to the monumental style of sculpture, and of statu¬
ary pre-eminently called Egyptian. Lastly, the eye of the
antiquarian cannot fail to be both attracted and fixed by
evidences of the existence of two great branches of the
hieroglyphical language ; both having striking affinities with
the Egyptian, and yet distinguished from it by character¬
istics perfectly American. One is the picture-writing
peculiar to the Mexicans, and which displays several strik¬
ing traits of assimilation to the anaglyphs, and the historical
tablets of the Egyptian temples. The second is a pure
hieroglyphical language, to which little attention has been
hitherto paid, which appears to have been peculiar to the
Toltecans, or some still more ancient nation, that preceded
the Mexicans, which was as complete as the Egyptian in its
double constituency of a symbolic and phonetic alphabet,
and which, as far as we can judge, appears to have rivalled
the Egyptian in its completeness, whilst, in some respects,
it excelled it in its regularity and beauty.”
ICO.
“ The pyramid of Cholulas,” says the same writer, “ ex- Statistics,
hibits a most singular identity w ith the model of the temple
of Belus, described by Herodotus, and which, by many
scholars, has been considered to be the Scriptural tower of
Babel. But in the internal economy of the pyramids, the
analogy between those of Egypt and Mexico is still more
remarkable. In both, descending galleries, at a particular
astronomical angle of declination, lead to central chambers,
either for the purpose of mystery or sepulture. Amongst
other marks of architectural identity may be mentioned
those traced amongst the ruins of Palenque, where the well-
known Cyclopean arch, consisting of receding steps of stone
in a triangular form, is seen, and where a rectangular square
is surrounded by cloisters built in this manner, and lighted
by windows bearing the exact form of the Egyptian face.
With regard to the personal characteristics and costume,
the sculptures bring to light a people of a very remarkable
appearance. Their physiognomy is unlike that of any of
the various families of mankind that at present inhabit the
globe, or have been rendered familiar to us by ancient
sculptures. Their receding forehead, their low facial angle,
and the conical form of their heads, is quite unique; and
the large long nose, the facial line receding in the same
singular manner from the base of the nostrils to the termi¬
nation of the chin, grotesquely broken off by an unsightly
protrusion of the under lip, present a physiognomical out¬
line revolting to the European standard of beauty. The
costume shows some striking analogies with that of the
Egyptians; but there are at the same time differences from
it as remarkable. The Egyptian apron, for instance, was
different. It was generally of striped cotton, and folded in
a peculiar manner; a portion of it forming a girdle, and
passing between the legs, resembling a similar article of
dress w’orn by the East Indians at the present day. But
the Toltecan apron resembles the Roman military apron or
the Scotch philabeg. It descends from the waist and covers
the thigh down to the knee; it is, however, distinguished
by one Egyptian appendage, namely, by the mimic tail of
an animal, which appears to have adorned the Toltecan
hero as it adorned the Egyptian demigod. The apron is
supported by a baldric, which descends from the right
shoulder to the left side, and joins the girdle at the waist.
The dress of the military and superior class of Egypt is not
to be found in the Toltecan costume, but the following
strong resemblances exist:—The breast-plate and collar of
the Toltecans were sometimes decorated with a symbol of
the sun; the armlets, bracelets, and anklets, are strikingly
analogous to those of the Egyptian. The legs of the Tol¬
tecan heroes, however, are invested with sandals, some of
them reaching above the ankle, others like greaves, cover¬
ing the leg to the knee; whilst others in every respect
resemble the Highland sandal. All these parts of dress
wrould appear to have been richly ornamented; and the
whole dress, it is said, may be safely described as at once
gorgeous and elegant, and in these respects nowise inferior
to the Egyptian. The head-dresses, however, are in gene¬
ral extravagantly grotesque, without regularity or taste,
although, like the Egyptian, constructed out of certain
combinations of symbols.”
With respect to the religion and religious rites of this
ancient race, a striking analogy with those of Egypt has like¬
wise been traced. The gods of the Toltecans appear
sculptured, as usual in bas-relief, in the dark inner rooms
of temples. He who would appear to be the chief-god is
portrayed on the inner wall of the adytum of one of the
sanctuaries belonging to the great temple of Palenque, and
is worshipped symbolically under other forms and in other
localities. He is supposed to be identical with the Osiris
of Egypt and the Adonis of Syria, or the well-known clas¬
sical combination of both divinities, the ancient god Adoni-
Siris. The manner in which he is enthroned, the cushion
Statistics, on which he reposes, the cap, the symbols, and various ap-
purtenances, show an analogy with the Egyptian deity.
But there is a column affixed to the cap which is not found
on any Egyptian head-dress; it was, however, an unques¬
tionable symbol of Osiris. “ Various characteristics of the
worship of Osiris and Adonis are complete in the sculp¬
tured tablets of Mexico. A priestess kneels before the
1 oltecan god in the attitude of adoration, and offers him a
pot of flowers, not the mint offered to Osiris, but the blood¬
stained hand-plant or manitas, which all the monuments
attest was anciently held sacred throughout Mexico. On
the sculptured tablet over the head of the divinity appear,
precisely in the Egyptian fashion, the phonetic characters
of his name, in an oblong square, which in Egypt was de¬
voted to the names of gods. Of the phonetic or symbolic
character, however, nothing as yet is known. The same
divinity is represented on one of the walls at Palenque, not
in a human, but in an animal form. Instead of the hawk
of Egypt, however, the Toltecans chose as their sacred bird
the rainbow-coloured pheasant of Central America, which
is perched on the Toltecan cross, resembling the Christian,
and with its lower extremity terminating in a heart-formed
spade. The subject of the sculpture shows the simplicity
of the worship. Two Toltecan heroes, chiefs, or priests,
stand beside the sacred bird; one of them supports an
infant in his arms, probably for baptism, which was a rite
practised by the votaries of Adonis, and at other places
there are indications of a similar ceremony.”
P/ the t.emPles we have already given a cursory notice.
I heir architecture has a theological character like that of
Egypt and of Greece; and although their forms are peculiar
to the country, the original type of them is extant in Syria,
l alestine, and Judaea. Like those of the Egyptians, they
are all distinguished by architectural peculiarities, exclu¬
sively appertaining to the people by whom they were
erected. A high-place of three successive terraces or steps
generally constitutes the platform of the temple. The ter¬
races are distinguished by that sloping form which the
-^Sypban architects peculiarly affected, and they are gene¬
rally constructed of large blocks of stone, covered with
stucco equally hard and durable. On the top of the high-
place was an oblong rectangular court; and in the centre
of this court stood the temple, divided, like the rock tem¬
ples of Nubia, into three dark rooms built of stone, and
laving an ark or barn-shaped roof. The innermost of these
rooms constitutes the sanctuary. The apartments are oc¬
casionally decorated with painted sculptures. Sometimes
the staircase ascends the high-place in front, traversing the
curvilinear terraces in a straight line to the door of the
temple. Occasional variety was given to the square form
of the area, and to the triple form of the terraces, by stair¬
cases ascending to the sanctuary from each of the cardinal
points. I he high-place has sometimes a circular instead
of a square ground-plan, and in that case, it may remind
antiquarians of the well-known Tepes, or high-places of
Syria, which is a presumptive proof of the Syrian origin of
these structures.
The writer already quoted thus speaks of Palenque:—
It may be appropriately termed an ecclesiastical city
rather than a temple. It seems to be the locality of the
chief cathedral church of the Toltecan religion. Within
its vast precincts there appear to be contained a pyramidal
tower ; various sanctuaries ; sepulchres ; a small and large
quadrangular court, one surrounded, as we have said, by
cloisters ; subterranean initiatory galleries beneath ; oracles,
courts of justice, high-places, and cells or dwellings for the
various orders of the priests. The whole combination of
the buildings is encircled by a quadrilateral pilastered por¬
tico, embracing a quadrangular area, and resting on a ter¬
raced platform. This platform externally exhibits the same
architectural modebwhich we have described as characteriz-
VOL. XIV.
MEXICO.
721
ing the single temples. It is composed of three graduated
stucco terraces, sloping inwards, at an angle of about
seventy degrees, in the form of a truncated pyramid. Four
central staircases, one facing each of the cardinal points,
ascend these terraces in the middle of each lateral facade
of the quadrangle ; and four gates, fronting the same cardi¬
nal points, conduct from the top of each staircase into the
body of the building, or into the great court. The great
entrance, through a pilastered gateway, fronts the east ;
and descends by a second flight of steps into the cloistered
court. On the various pilasters of the upper terrace are
the metopes, with the singular sculptures we have de¬
scribed. On descending the second staircase into the
cloistered court, on one side appears the triple pyramidal
towers, which may be inferred, from the curious distribution
of little cells which surround the central roomof each storey,
to have been employed as a place of royal or private sepul¬
ture. On another side of the same cloistered court is the
detached temple of the chief god, to whom the whole re¬
ligious building appears to have been devoted, whom we
have described as bearing all the characteristics of the
Syrian god Adoni-Siris, and who appears to have been
the great and only god of the nations who worshipped in
this temple. Beneath the cloisters, entered by well-stair¬
cases from above, are what we believe to be the initiatory
galleries. These opened into rooms, one of which has a
stone couch in it, and others are distinguished by unintelligi¬
ble apparatus carved in stone. The only symbol described
as found within these sacred haunts is, however, perfectly
Asiatic and perfectly intelligible; we mean two contend¬
ing serpents. The remnant of an altar, or high-place, oc¬
cupies the centre of the cloistered quadrangle. The rest of
the edifice is taken up with courts, palaces, detached tem¬
ples, open divans, baths, and streets of priestly cells or
houses in a greater or less degree of dilapidation.”
It appears that the creed of this ancient people was a
form of deism, which permitted some varieties of symbolic
representation. From the few records of their religious
rites which have come down to us, and which are princi¬
pally derived from the extraordinary rolls of American
papyrus, formed of the prepared fibres of the maguey, on
which their beautiful hieroglyphical system is preserved, we
learn that they were as simple as their creed. No human
or even animal sacrifices appear to have been offered up to
the presiding divinity of their temples; nothing, indeed,
but fruits and flowers. Such a religious system was there¬
fore quite different from the hideous idols and sanguinary
sacrifices which were in use amongst the Mexican people.
IV.—POLITICAL DIVISIONS.
Political
divisions.
The republic of Mexico, as has already been stated, is Mexico
divided into twenty-one states, a federal district, and three
territories, each of which we shall now proceed to give a
short account of. Mexico, the most populous of the whole
and which also contains the metropolitan city and the federal
district, extends from 18. 30. to 21. 57. of N. Lat., and from
98. to 101. W. Long., and includes an area of about 19 535
square miles. It is bounded on the W. bv the statP nf
Michoacan, S.W. by the state of Guerrero, N. by that of
Queretaro, E. by Puebla, and N.E. by Vera Cruz This
state is situated on the high lands of the interior,’and its
surface is almost entirely mountainous. Only one of its
peaks however attains the height of perpetual snow,
amt y, a ° 0 uca> upwards of 15,000 feet above sea-
Jeveh I he climate is necessarily cool and salubrious.
I his upland region embraces a large proportion of valuable
mines, lo the N. and N.E. of the ceAtral valley of the
state are the great silver-mining districts of Real del Monte,
Moian, and Atotonilco el Chico. Iron, lead, and carbonate
of soda are also found in the state. But rich as the mines
4 Y
722
MEXICO.
Political 0f this country are, the fertility of its soil is even moie re-
divisions. ma^able, producing every variety of plant with rapidity,
^ and in the greatest luxuriance. The most valuable land,
however, is what is called the Valley of Mexico, a splendid
region variegated with extensive lakes, and surrounded by
high volcanic peaks. Its general figure is an oval of about
200 miles in circumference, and forms the very centre of
the great table-land of Anahuac, elevated from 6000 to 8000
feet above the level of the ocean. .
The most interesting object in the Valley of Mexico is
the vast system of drainage by which the capital is pro¬
tected against the periodical inundations of the Lake of
Tezcocofwhich, during the first two centuries after the con-
(inest, threatened it repeatedly with destruction. The Valley
of Mexico serves as a receptacle for the water which filters
from every part of the lofty ridge of mountains by which it
is environed. Only one stream issues from it, whilst it re¬
ceives the waters of several rivers, which, accumulating in the
immense basin, form respectively the great lakes Tezcoco,
Zumpango, San Cristobal, Chaleo, and Jochimilco. I he
city being situated on a lower level than some of these sheets
of water, particularly that called Zumpango, during the
rainy season they occasionally burst the dykes which in¬
close them, and rush towards the capital, filling the lower
parts of the city with water. A rapid succession of misfor¬
tunes arising from these inundations compelled the Spanish
government to adopt measures for averting the dangei.
Hydraulic works of immense magnitude were begun in
1607; canals were cut; and other artificial means were
adopted to convey the waters of the lakes in another direc¬
tion. The desague, or great canal which was constructed
to carry off the waters of the Lake of Zumpango, is of
stupendous dimensions, being 12 miles in length, 300 feet
in breadth, 150 in depth, and for a distance of 1000 yards
cut through the solid rock. During the revolution these
works were much neglected ; nor have they yet been pi o-
perly finished or put in a good state of repair. In the Lake
of Chaleo there are a number of chinampas, or what have
sometimes been called floating gardens. Ihey aie artificial
islands, about 50 or 60 yards long, and not more than 4 or
5 wide, on which the finest culinary vegetables, fruits, and
flowers are raised, and from which the markets of the capi¬
tal are amply supplied.
In the centre of this valley stands Mexico City, capital ot
the republic and of the federal district. Tenochtitlan, the
ancient capital of the Aztecs, was built on several islands in
the Lake of Tezcoco, and connected with the land by four
long causeways ; but the drainage of the marshes and the
removal of the forests, combined with other causes, have pro¬
duced a great diminution in the water of the lake ; so that
the modern city of Mexico, which is believed to occupy the
same site, is removed from its shores by a distance of Si¬
miles, although in the rainy season of the year the easteily
winds occasionally cause the water to overflow the outskirts
of the city, which is protected from such incursions by dykes.
The city is generally reputed by travellers to be the most
beautiful on the American continent, and never fails to ex¬
cite the admiration of those who view it for the first time.
It is regularly built in the form of a square, with its streets,
which are both long and wide, intersecting each other at
right angles. They are well paved, but not lighted, and
often very imperfectly cleaned, though the town is well
supplied with water brought by splendid aqueducts from
the neighbouring hills. The houses, built of hewn stone,
have a massive and sometimes rather forbidding appearance.
They generally inclose an open court, round which the
different apartments are situated, the entrance being by an
iron gate in front. Opposite to this is placed the staircase
by which access is gained to the upper storeys and to the
roof, which is flat, surrounded by iron balustrades, and
sometimes ornamented with bronze and mosaic work of
glazed porcelain. The style of architecture in the city re- Political
sembles that of southern Europe; and the public buildings divisions^
are in many instances very imposing in their appearance.
Mexico contains several squares, the principal of which,
the Plaza Mayor, which occupies the centre of the town,
is of very large extent, and is surrounded by the chief
public buildings. The centre of this square was formerly
occupied by a large statue in bronze of Lharles IV.,
but this has been removed to the quadrangle of the uni¬
versity. On the north side of the Plaza Mayor is the
cathedral, which stands on the alleged site of the ancient
teocalli, or temple of the Aztec war god Mexitli, from
whom the city derives its name. 1 he cathedral is 500 feet
in length and 420 in breadth; and though the style is irre¬
gular,°and not in strict accordance with any architectural
order, its appearance, especially in the interior, is very im¬
posing. I he front is profusely ornamented with carving ;
and is partly in an inferior Gothic style and partly in the
Italian. There are also two lofty towers, adorned with
pilasters and statues. In the outside wall of the building is
the Kellenda, a circular stone of basaltic porphyry, covered
with hieroglyphical representations of the months of the
year, which is supposed to have been used by the Aztecs
as a calendar. The interior is very richly decorated with
carved work, columns, statues, shrines, pictures, &c., but
these are distinguished rather for their rich and gorgeous
character than for elegance or beauty. The high altar is
laden with a vast number of candlesticks, crosses, and reli¬
gious reliques of gold and silver, and surmounted by an
image of the Virgin so richly adorned with jewels as to
be valued at more than half a million sterling. From the
sacrist}', extending round the choir for about two hundred
feet, runs a railing, between four and five feet high, com¬
posed of the precious metals, very slightly alloyed with cop¬
per. It is said to be worth its weight in silver. The east
side of the great square is occupied by the National Palace
or Government House, formerly the residence of the vice¬
roy, but now that of the president. It is a large quadran¬
gular building with four interior courts, and contains, be¬
sides the apartments of the president, the public offices,
the Senate-house, the two Chambers of Deputies, the mint,
two barracks, two prisons, several shops, and a botanic gar¬
den. This edifice is believed to occupy the site of the
ancient palace of Axayacatl, which was allotted by Monte¬
zuma to Cortez as his residence. The remaining sides of
the square are formed by private dwellings, with the ex¬
ception of the south-eastern corner, which is occupied by
the City Hall, part of which is used as an exchange. The
university ot Mexico is situated near the squaie, and con¬
tains the National Museum ; opposite which is the exten¬
sive market constructed in 1842. The Mineria, or School
of Mines, in which occasional lectures are given, is an ele¬
gant building situated a little to the west of the square.
These institutions, however, as well as the Academy of
Fine Arts and the public library, have been very much
neo-lected since the revolution, and are now in a de¬
clining condition. The Acordada, or public prison, is an
edifice of great size and strength, capable of containing
1200 prisoners; and there is a large and well-built artillery
barracks, which was formerly used as an hospital. Besides
the cathedral, Mexico is said to contain between fifty and
sixty churches and convents, most of them in a mixed style
of architecture, and remarkable chiefly for the richness of
their ornaments. The church of San Domingo is light and
elegant, with a spire and dome ; and near it is situated the
buildinp- formerly occupied by the Inquisition, which was
abolished here in 1822. The largest and most wealthy
convents are those of the Franciscans and of the Domini¬
cans ; and these, along with the convents of St Augustine
and La Merced, are the most remarkable edifices of that
sort in Mexico. There is also a handsome theatre, and a
MEXICO. 723
Political large circular arena for the exhibition of bull-fights, called
divisions. t]ie p]aza de Toros, which has accommodation for 2000 or
3000 spectators. At the west end of the town there is a
park called the Alameda, which is a great place of public
resort, and has an area of 10 or 12 acres, laid out in walks
and labyrinths, and adorned with numerous fine trees.
There are also two other promenades or paseos, as they are
called, one on the E. and the other on the W. of the
city. These consist of the roads leading from the town,
which are raised several feet above the surrounding country,
and lined with double rows of fine trees, thus affording
delightful promenades, which are frequented by great
multitudes of the inhabitants. The one which leads to
the east, called the Paseo de la Viga, skirts the Lake
Chaleo Canal, which adds much to the appearance of the
promenade. In the city also there are several covered
colonnades or arcades, which form a favourite place of re¬
sort in the evening, and are often crowded long after the
other promenades are deserted. The city is supplied with
water by means of two aqueducts; one of which, 11,155
yards in length, extends from Santa Fe to the Alameda,
and is carried for one-third of its course on arches of stone
and brick. This aqueduct supplies the city with water of
an excellent quality ; while the suburbs to the S. are sup¬
plied by that of Chapoltepec, which is 3608 yards in length.
The manufactures earned on in Mexico are remarkable
neither for quantity nor for quality; the most important
being those of tobacco and plate, together with that of gold
and silver lace, which is well made, and sold at a very cheap
rate. Jewelry, upholstery, coachmaking, as well as the
manufacture of soap, and woollen and cotton stuffs, are also
carried on in Mexico; but the demand for manufactured
goods is chiefly supplied by the importation from Europe of
articles of all sorts, and of silks from China. These consti¬
tute the staple of the import trade ; and the products of the
mines are the chief articles of export; indeed, the commer¬
cial as well as the manufacturing industry of Mexico is very
small, and the city derives its importance almost exclusively
from its being the capital of the confederation and the re¬
sidence of the president. The markets are supplied with
provisions by small boats, which bring them over the Lake
of Tezcoco, or over the Lake and through the Canal of
Chaleo.
The inhabitants of Mexico City are of several different
races and characters. They consist of Creoles or descend¬
ants of the Spaniards, of Mestizos or half-castes, of copper-
coloured natives, of Mulattoes, and of Europeans. Of the
higher classes, many have acquired considerable wealth;
but the great bulk of the people are very poor; and the
lower orders, in their idleness and dirty habits, as well as in
their general character, have a striking resemblance to the
lazzaroni of Naples. Pop. (1850) estimated at 170,000.
There are a number of other towns in the state of Mexico.
Acapulco, on the S.W. coast, was once celebrated for its
wealth, and is described as a very fine seaport. It was
from this place that the richly-freighted Spanish galleons
took their departure to distribute the spoils of the Western
over the Eastern Hemisphere. It has since sunk into com¬
parative insignificance, and now contains only about 4000
inhabitants. Zacatula is likewise a good port on the same
shore, but has little trade. Toluca, the nominal capital, is a
considerable town, situated at the foot of two steep barren
hills, about 27 miles S.W. from the federal metropolis. It
has considerable soap and candle factories, and is noted for
its hams and sausages. Tezcoco, on the eastern shore of
the lake of that name, 12 miles from Mexico, is now almost
desolate, and only interesting for its historical associations
and ancient remains. Amongst other small towns may be
mentioned Otumba, once large and flourishing, but now a
mere village; Lerma, which is surrounded by an extensive
morass, traversed by fine raised causeways; Chaleo, a pretty
large town, situated in a lake of the same name, about 20 Political
miles S.E. of the metropolis ; San Augustin, at which a divisions,
great annual fair is held, frequented by vast multitudes '■'■""“v'—
from Mexico ; Tacubaya, a village about four miles from the
gates of the capital, and formerly the country residence of
the Bishop of Mexico; Pachuca and Cuyoacan. Besides
these places there are a number of farm-hamlets, of which
Chapingo is considered as one of the finest specimens in
Mexico. It is distant about a league from Tezcoco ; and
the lands around it are exceedingly rich and well irrigated.
The buildings erected to receive the grain are on a mag¬
nificent scale ; while the vicinity of the capital, in affording
a ready market for the crops, renders the estate one of great
value. About 60 miles from the metropolis is Cuernavaca,
a place of no importance in itself, but deriving interest from
the richness of the surrounding district. In the neighbour¬
ing valley of Cuautla stands the town of Cuautla Amil-
pas, where Morelos made so noble a stand against the royal
army. In the neighbourhood of Cuernavaca is the vil¬
lage of Acapantzingo, entirely inhabited by Indians, who
have ever kept themselves apart from the Spanish popu¬
lation.
Queretaro.—To the N.W. of Mexico is the small state Queretaro.
of Queretaro, the territories of which were formerly com¬
prehended in the neighbouring intendancies of Mexico, La
Puebla, and Guanajuato. They are now divided into
the six partidos or districts of Amealco, Cadereyta, San
Juan del Rio, San Pedro Tollman, Queretaro, and Jalpam.
Queretaro lies entirely on the central plateau of the Cor¬
dillera, and is intersected by numerous mountain spurs
and elevated hills, some of which are entirely bare, while
others are covered with forests of various kinds of wood.
The agricultural portions of the state are chiefly confined to
the valleys, in which the soil is frequently of great fertility.
The chief mining district, and the only one of any note in
the state, is that of El Doctor, in the district of Cadereyta.
The inhabitants, with the exception of those of the capital,
are mostly employed in agriculture. The wool of the sheep
is highly prized; but agriculture here is not so important a
speculation as it is in other parts of the republic. Quere¬
taro, the capital, is a finely-situated and well-built town,
with about 50,000 inhabitants. It contains some fine
churches and convents, particularly that of Santa Clara,
which is an immense building, said to resemble a little
town in the interior, being regularly laid out in streets and
plazas. This place has quite the air of a manufacturing
town. More than half the houses contain shops ; and the
population is engaged either in small trades, or in the wool
manufactories, which are very extensive. The town is well
supplied with water by means of an aqueduct about 6 miles
in length, for 2 of which it is elevated on arches 90 feet
high. The only other towns of importance are San Juan
del Rio, San Pedro de la Canada, and Cadereyta.
Guanajuato.—To the westward of Queretaro is Gua- Guanajua-
najuato, the smallest state in the republic, with the excep- to.
tion of Queretaro, but at the same time having proportionally
the greatest number of inhabitants. Large portions of the
soil are of great fertility, especially the magnificent plains of
the Bajio, in the southern part of the state, which extends
for more than 100 miles from Apasco to beyond Leon ;
and in the N., where the splendid plains or llanos of San
Felipe spread far and wide. The only river of any size is
the Lerma or Tolotlan ; and the only lake is that of Yurira-
pundaro, about twelve miles in length by two in width.
I he state contains three cities, four market-towns, and
thirty-seven villages. I he manufactures of wool and cot¬
ton, which formerly abounded in many of the towns,
have recently much declined. Mining and agriculture
now constitute the chief sources of wealth. The mineral
productions are very valuable. The town of Guanajuato,
in the vicinity of which the principal mines are situ-
724
Political
divisions.
Jalisco.
Mecheacm
MEXICO.
ated, contains numerous splendid memorials of the former
wealth of its inhabitants. Many of the private dwellings
are magnificent, as are the churches, chapels, and other
religious edifices. The town contains a cathedral, two
chapels, several monasteries and nunneries, a college, a
theatre, barrack, mint, university, gymnasium, and about
50,000 inhabitants. Celaya City is a considerable town,
containing about 15,000 inhabitants. The town of Irapuato
has a population of about 16,000 souls, and contains some
fine public buildings, particularly the nunnery called De
la Ensenanza. There are a few cotton-spinners and weavers,
but the bulk of its population consists of agriculturists,
who reside in the town, and have estates in the vicinity.
Salamanca is likewise a considerable place, situated in a
rich part of the country, and has a population of about
15,000. San Miguel Allende, formerly San Miguel el
Grande, is a pleasantly situated town on the river De la
Laja, and contains about 5000 inhabitants.
Jalisco or Guadalajara.—To the westward of Guana¬
juato, and stretching along the Pacific for 480 miles, is the
large state of Jalisco, formerly Guadalajara. It is divided into
eight districts, viz., Guadalajara, Lagos, La Barca, Sayula,
Etzatlan, Autlan, Tepic, and Colotlan; and these, again,
are subdivided into 26 departments, containing in all 318
pueblos, 387 haciendas, and 2534 ranchos. The greater
part of Jalisco lies on the western slope of the Cordillera;
and its table-lands, which resemble those of the great pla¬
teau of Mexico, are somewhat broken up by mountain
ranges. The upper regions are consequently comparatively
sterile, while the low lands are rich and fruitful. The
sierras of Bajona, in the N.E. of the state, are its most re¬
markable mountain ranges. The principal stream is the
Rio Grande de Santiago; but during the six months of the
dry season its waters are either extremely shallow or dis¬
appear altogether. The Lake of Chapala, about 45 miles
from the city of Guadalajara, is about 100 miles in length
by 15 to 25 in breadth. The city of Guadalajara, capital
of Jalisco, is situated upon an extensive plain about 450
miles from Mexico. It is built with great regularity, the
streets running at right angles, being well paved, and hav¬
ing raised pathways on each side. The houses, with the
exception of those in the suburbs, are finely built. There
are fourteen squares, twelve fountains, and a number of
convents and churches, the principal of which, the cathedral,
is still a magnificent building, although it suffered severely
in an earthquake which occurred in 1818. The Alameda,
or public walk, is very prettily laid out, with a fountain in
the centre, and a stream of water all round. Within the
town the Portales de Comercio, erected on every side of
those immense squares of houses, are the principal rendez¬
vous ; as, besides a number of handsome shops well pro¬
vided with European and East Indian manufactures, they
contain a number of stalls covered with a great variety of
domestic productions. Considerable quantities of shawls of
striped calico were formerly made here; but these home
manufactures have been superseded by importations from
the United States. Jalisco derives little benefit from its
foreign trade, San Bias, the only seaport which it pos¬
sesses, being nearly abandoned. Foreign goods are intro¬
duced overland from San Luis or Mexico. The popula¬
tion of the capital amounts to about 50,000 souls. The
town of San Juan de los Lagos, situated in a deep ravine
upon a river of the same name, is noted for an annual fair
held here, which lasts for eight days, commencing on the
5th December. I he town of Lepic is, next to the capital,
the finest and most populous town in the state, and has a
population of about 15,000. 1 he only mining region of
any note in this state is that of Bolanos.
i. IVIechoacan. Die state of Mechoacan is bounded on
the N. by Guanajuato, N.E. by Queretaro, S.E. by Mexico,
W. by Jalisco, and S.W., for a short distance, by the Pacific!
It lies chiefly on the western slope of the Cordillera, and Political
its surface is considerably broken by mountains and valleys, divisions.
The land is abundantly watered by streams and rivers, and
incloses a great number of lakes. This state contains 2 cities,
3 tow ns, 256 pueblos, 333 haciendas, and 1356 ranchos, and
is distributed into 83 parishes and 21 districts. The former
riches of the state consisted almost entirely in its agricultural
produce, the most ordinary manufactures being introduced
from the neighbouring towns of the Bajio. But the agri¬
cultural interest is by no means in so flourishing a condition
as it once was, nor are the mines remarkable either for their
extent or their value. The whole western declivity of the
Sierra Madre, comprehended within the province of Me¬
choacan, is noted for its insalubrity; and the sea-coast, as
might be expected, is likewise very unhealthy. The tierra
caliente, at the foot of the Cordillera, which is fertilized in
part by the Rio Balsas, is rich in all the ordinary produc¬
tions of the tropics; and even in the more elevated valleys
sugar was grown to a very considerable extent before the
revolution. The best sugar lands are now about 36 miles
S. of Pasquaro, the ancient capital of the Indians. At the
foot of the Mountain of Jorullo there are plantations of
cocoa and indigo ; and in several parts of the state the various
productions of the table-land can be raised in abundance.
The mining districts of the state are Tlalpujahua, An-
gangueo, and Ozumatlan. Mechoacan has been called the
cradle of the revolution, from which it suffered severely.
Morelia, the capital of the state, formerly called Val¬
ladolid de Mechoacan, is delightfully situated at the height
of 6300 feet above the level of the sea. It consists chiefly
of one long, broad street, well paved, and kept in good order.
The plaza is remarkable as having broad piazzas on three
of its sides, and the fine cathedral, isolated from all other
buildings, bounding it on the east. Here there is a crowded
market, where the venders display their goods, as is the
general custom throughout the republic, beneath the shade
of rude mat umbrellas. All the houses have flat roofs, with
long water-spouts projecting most incommodiously over the
streets. Besides the cathedral, which is crowded with a
profusion of ornaments, there are several other churches,
two nunneries, and four monasteries, for all which, besides
an hospital and other public edifices, the inhabitants are
indebted to the munificence of the bishops of the see. The
population has been estimated at 25,000.
Guerrero.—This state was created by virtue of the Guerrero. |
4th article of the Acta de Reformas, passed in May 1847,
amending the constitution of 1847. By this article it was
agreed that the state of Guerrero should be formed of the
districts of Acapulco, Chilupa, Tasco, and Tlapa, and the
municipality of Coyucan,—the first three of which belonged
to the state of Mexico, the fourth to Puebla, and the fifth
to Mechoacan. The physical character and productions of
this state correspond with those of the three states to which
this region originally belonged. Its capital is Tixtla, and
contains about 4000 inhabitants.
La Puebla.—The state of La Puebla, which is situated La Puebla,
to the E. of that of Mexico, and stretches nearly across the
continent, is divided into 25 districts, and possesses 5 cities
and towns, 126 parishes, 590 villages, 412 haciendas, and 875
ranchos or farms. The territory of the state extends beyond
the western ridge of the Sierra Madre, and down to the shores
of the Pacific; consequently it produces in abundance the
fruits either of the tierras calientes, or those common to the
rest of the table-land. There are, however, no mines which
uniformly create a home market; and as the foreign trade
is comparatively of but little importance, the agricultural
interest is in a depressed condition. Manufactures of wool
and cotton are carried on to some extent in the state.
Some parts of the state, particularly the plains of Apam,
are remarkable for their fertility. La Puebla contains Po¬
pocatepetl, the loftiest mountain in North America, situ-
Tlascala.
Oajaca.
Political ated near its S.W. boundary. The capital and largest
divisions, city of this state is Puebla de los Angelos, the seat of°the
richest bishopric in the country, and that of the most ex¬
tensive manufactures of cotton, earthenware, and wool.
Glass and soap are also made ; the latter to a considerable
extent. The streets, like those of Mexico, are rectangular
spacious, airy, and paved with large stones in a highly orna¬
mental manner. In the centre of the town is a large well-
paved public square surrounded by portales. The houses
are low, but commodious, and the apartments are mostly
paved with porcelain, and adorned with paintings in fresco.
There are a great number of churches and convents, reli¬
gious colleges, and a magnificent cathedral, richly orna¬
mented, and held in high veneration, in consequence of a
tradition that it owes its origin to divine interference. The
principal other towns in the state are Cholula, Atlixco,
Guauchmango, Tehuacan de las Granadas, Tepeaca, and
Huajocingo. La Puebla City contains about 71,600 inha¬
bitants.
Tlascala, which was declared a federal territory in 1847
has an area of about 2000 square miles, and contains 1 city’
109 villages, 18 settlements, 168 haciendas, and 94 ranchos!
It is divided into 3 partidos or districts, called Tlaxco,
xiuamantla, and Tlascala. Its soil is of considerable fer-
tdity, and its climate mild and genial. Its productions are
chiefly of a cereal character. The capital, of the same name,
is situated on the Rio Atoyac or Papagallo, the only stream
of importance in the territory. It is well and regularly built;
and has a town-hall, bishop’s palace, a tastefully-built church,
and a Franciscan convent. Manyrelics and ruins of its former
glory are still to be found in the town and vicinity. At pre¬
sent it contains probably not more than 5000 inhabitants.
Oajaca.—Oajaca is a very fine state, the southern boun¬
dary of which extends along the coast of the Pacific Ocean
a distance of about 360 miles, from La Puebla to Gua¬
temala. Agriculture is highly favoured by the fertilitv of
the soil and the salubrity of the climate. The Cordillera
which here forms two branches, one extending along the
shores of the Pacific, the other along those of the Gulf of
Mexico, incloses the beautiful and fertile region termed the
Valley of Oajaca, which constitutes a great part of this state.
1 le staple productions are,—corn, chile, agave, cotton, cof¬
fee, sugar, cocoa, vanilla, tobacco, cochineal, wax, honey, and
indigo; while gold, silver, copper, quicksilver, iron, rock-salt
limestone, gypsum, &c., are found in the state. In the two
mountain regions separated by the valley have dwelt two
Indian races from the earliest periods, known as the Mix-
tecas and Zapotecas, the former of which is characterized
by activity, intelligence, and industry. This state is divided
into 8 departments and 23 cantons, and contains 1 citv
8 towns, 913 villages, 137 haciendas, and 235 ranchos. In
ancient times this state was the seat of two independent king¬
doms viz those of Mixteca and Zapoteca. Oaiaca, the
capital, called Antequera at the time of the conquest is a
flourishing place, although it suffered severely during the
revolution. It contains about 25,000 inhabitants. The
best seaport in the state is Tehuantepec. About 30 miles
from the capital, on the road leading to Tehuantepec, are
the remains of what antiquarians have styled the sepulchral
palaces of Mitla, lying in the midst of a rocky granitic re¬
gion, and surrounded by sad and sombre scenery. Accord¬
ing to tradition, they were erected by the Zapotecas as pa¬
laces or tombs for their princes. They consist of three
edifices symmetrically arranged, the principal and finest hav¬
ing a front of nearly 150 feet. The walls are covered with
figures and ornaments. The stones that compose the build¬
ing are of immense size,—one of them, above one of the
principal entrances, is said to be 19 feet 4 inches lono-, 4 feet
10£ inches broad, and 3 feet 9 inches thick, and there are
others of similar dimensions. About 90 miles N. of the
capital, near the village of Quiotepec, is an eminence covered
MEXICO.
725
in almost every direction with remains of military works of Political
a defensive character. divisions.
Vera Cruz.—Vera Cruz comprises a narrow strip of land
stretching along the Gulf of Mexico from the state of San Vera Cruz.
Imis 1 otosi to that of Tabasco, a distance of about 400 miles,
wlnlst its breadth on an average does not exceed 50 or 60
miles. The eastern part of the state is generally level, low
and sandy ; but it gradually rises inland until the country
is broken into an uninterrupted series of lofty mountains and
beautiful valleys. The coasts are rich in rivers, streams,
inlets, and lagoons, but unfortunately they are of little prac¬
tical use in navigation. There are several mineral springs
in the state; and at Atotonilco, near Calcahualco, in the
uistnct of Cordova, there are warm baths celebrated for
their efficacy in nervous and rheumatic complaints. The
state is divided into four departments, viz., Vera Cruz
Jalapa, Onzava, and Acayucam.
The productions of this state are rich and varied; the
differences m its altitude render it capable of yielding fruits
and grains both of the temperate and torrid zone. Tobacco
coffee, sugar, cotton, corn, barley, wheat, jalap, sarsaparilla!
vanilla, oranges, citrons, pine-apples, lemons, pomegranates
bananas, grapes, peaches, apricots, pears, plums, tamarinds,
mahogany, ebony, cedar, oak, dyewoods, and numerous
other trees, plants, and shrubs, spring almost spontaneously
from the soil, and render the labour of man almost unne¬
cessary. As the traveller ascends from the sandy tract on
the sea-shore, he beholds on every side magnificent forests
filled with majestic trees, and adorned by the splendid co¬
lours of flowers and blossoms. In the midst of these are
farms and plantations, which gleam with the freshest ver¬
dure of cane or corn; while over the levels roam innu¬
merable herds of cattle. There are numerous ancient re¬
mains m this state.
The city of Vera Cruz, the capital of the state, is situated
on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, in Lat. 19. 11. 52 N
and Long. 96. 8. 45. W. It is well and handsomely built
of madrepore; and its red and white cupolas, towers, and
battlements have a splendid effect when viewed from the
sea. Many of the houses are large, being built in the
ueiug ouin in t
Moorish or old Spanish style, and generally inclosing a
square court, with covered galleries. They have flat roofs
glass windows, and are well adapted to the climate. There
is a tolerably good square, of which the Government House
forms one side, and the principal church another. There
are other churches, as well as monasteries and nunneries.
Opposite the town, at the distance of about 800 vards is
a small island containing the strong castle of San Juan’de
Ulloa, which commands the town. The harbour lies be¬
tween the town and the castle, and is very insecure. Vera
Cruz is extremely unhealthy at all times; and durino- the
warm season Europeans are exceedingly liable to be?ome
tfie victims of the vomito prieto, or black vomit. The citv
is surrounded by sand-hills and ponds of stagnant water^
t lere is neither garden nor mill near it; and the only water
fit for use is that which falls from the clouds. The trade
36 mTes r.heTr01’^ "ft Alvam‘'0’ a Port “bout
00 miles to the S.E., and which constituted the seat of
mant'me commerce during the revolution, is built upon ,he
left bunk of a river of the same name/at the mouth of
to “r:
riL“"Setnradye„bfM0atled,0r unload«> ^ means Tf
to” its „id channel „f “Sed bvTam^ either reVe“ed
has risen into importance within these ”5 years' "it'f
S'o aoT ° “a? sf-N-W- of Cm* in Lat
from Mexico.'* The^Lati ving ^bout 312 miles
about 8000. P Pulatl0n of Vera Cr»z amounts to
Another town in this state is Jalapa, from which a well.
726
MEXICO.
Political known drug takes its name. Formerly it was the great
divisions. mart 0p ^ew gpain for European goods, as the unhealthi¬
ness of Vera Cruz compelled traders to transfer their mer¬
chandise at once to this city, where a great annual fair was
held. It has now, however, little commerce of its own, and
is only a sort of resting-place between Vera Cruz and
Mexico. Jalapa is indebted to the peculiarity of its posi¬
tion for the extreme mildness of its climate. The town
stands upon a little platform 4500 feet above the level of
the sea, and is protected from the N.W. winds by a ridge
of mountains. The height is exactly that at which there
is a continual humidity in the atmosphere; but this only
imparts a balmy feeling to the air, whilst it gives a delight¬
ful freshness to the face of nature. The town is neatly
built, although the streets are irregular; and the houses,
without being remarkable for their size, are of a superior
order. Jalapa is the seat of government for the state of
Vera Cruz, and here a large garrison is kept. The popu¬
lation is about 16,000.
San Luis San Luis Potosi.—To the N.W. ot Vera Cruz lies the
t'otosi. state 0f gan Luis Potosi, under which name, as a Spanish
intendancy, were included Cohahuilaand lexas, New Leon,
Tamaulipas, and San Luis. The western portion of the
state is quite mountainous, but towards Tamaulipas the
Cordillera is somewhat broken, and a lower hilly country
stretches out towards the S.E. The Panuco and the San¬
tander are the only rivers, and the lagoons ot Chariel and
Chila the only two lakes of importance in the state. The
climate of the mountain region and table-land is cold ; while
that of the lower elevations and flats towards the eastern
boundary is much warmer, and at certain seasons very
unhealthy. Maize, wheat, barley, and fodder are the prin¬
cipal agricultural productions ot this state. Cattle are raised
in large quantities. Wool and cotton fabrics, glass, leather,
pottery, and hard wares are manufactured here to a consider¬
able extent. The state of San Luis Potosi is divided into four
departments, ten cantons,and fifty-two municipalities. In this
state there are a number of rich mines, particularly those
of Catorce, where a metalliferous ridge of mountains ex¬
tends for many miles. Recently a profitable quicksilver
mine was discovered in the jurisdiction of the hacienda
of Villela, S. of the capital. ' With the exception of the
capital, which bears the same name, it possesses no large
town. San Luis, including the suburbs, contains about
35,000 inhabitants. It is well built, and contains a num¬
ber of churches, monasteries, and public buildings. 4 he
exterior architecture of the sacred edifices is generally
heavy, being overloaded with carved ornaments and ill-
executed statues of saints; yet at a short distance they
give a magnificent appearance to the town. I he pala-
cio, now the house of the provincial Congress, forms one
side of the Plaza de los Armas, which has an excellent
fountain of water in the centre. The parroquia, or cathe¬
dral, occupies a portion of the opposite side, and on its
right are the soldiers’ quarters. The two other sides are
filled with shops and dwelling-houses. San Luis derives
great advantage from its situation, as the natural depot for
the trade of Tampico with the northern and western states.
Zacatecas, Durango, and other states receive through this
channel a large proportion of their foreign imports; and
since the building of the new town of Tamaulipas, which,
from being on a more elevated spot than the old town
(^pueblo viejo) of Tampico, is less subject to the vomito,
there is every appearance of a rapid increase in this branch
of commercial intercourse.
Zacatecas. Zacatecas.— To the W. and N.W. of San Luis Potosi
is situated Zacatecas, a state divided into eleven districts,
viz., Zacatecas, Aguas Calientes, Sombrerete, Tlaltenango,
Villanueva, Fresnillo, Jerez, Mazapil, Nieves, Pinos, and
Juchilipa. Zacatecas is a mountain country of the high
plateau of Mexico, cut up by spurs of the Cordillera, and
mostly arid and inhospitable. The region between San
Luis Potosi and Sombrerete, and Mazapil and Zacatecas, is ^
a broad plain, interspersed with a few swelling knolls and
an occasional group of hills or small mountains. There are
no rivers of any7 size in this state, and the country is un¬
usually dry; water-tanks, draw-wells, and reservoirs are
established on all the estates. The country, however, is
particularly rich in its mineral productions, which consti¬
tute almost its sole wealth. Manufactures there are none,
excepting in the capital, where there are a few cotton-spin¬
ners, as also at Aguas Calientes.
Zacatecas, the capital, is situated at the foot of an abrupt
and picturesque porphyritic mountain, upon the rugged
summit of which is perched a neat church and a small
fortress. From the inequalities of the ground on which it
stands the streets are short and crooked. Besides a very
noble cathedral, it contains a number ot churches and con¬
vents. Amongst the public buildings worthy ot notice
may be mentioned the mint, the finest in Mexico, and La
Casa del Ayuntamiento, a magnificent edifice, where all the
public offices are established, and where the Congress ot
the state assembles. This town contains about 25,000
inhabitants; and Veta Grande, a village in its immediate
vicinity, numbers about 6000. Aguas Calientes is a small
town situated on the banks of a stream of the same name,
in a broad and fertile valley, 75 miles S. ot Zacatecas.
It is celebrated for its woollen manufactures; and in the
neighbourhood are several thermal springs.
Yucatan.—The state of Yucatan occupies the greater
portion of the peninsula which separates the Gulf of Mexico
from the Caribbean Sea. It is a vast alluvial plain, inter¬
sected by a mountain ridge which does not exceed 4000 feet
in height. Upon some parts of this extensive territory maize,
frholes, rice, cotton, pepper, tobacco, and the sugai-cane
are produced, besides dyewood, hides, and other articles.
In the central parts the want of water is a very serious
drawback to agriculture: the rainy season is very uncer¬
tain, and in many parts not even a stream is known to
exist; so that in unfavourable years the inhabitants are
compelled to have recourse for subsistence to the roots
which the woods supply. I his state contains numerous
remains of ancient cities, which have been recently visited
and described by Mr John L. Stephens and Mr Cathei wood.
’The capital of Yucatan is Merida, situated on an aiid
plain 40 miles from the coast. It enjoys little trade, and
contains only about 12,000 inhabitants. Campeachy is the
principal commercial town; and here the logwood, which
goes by the same name, attains its greatest perfection. The
town contains about 9000 inhabitants.
Tabasco.—Adjoining Yucatan is Tabasco, one of the
smallest in the confederation, and previous to the re¬
volution a province of the intendancy of Vera Cruz. A
great portion of the state is extremely flat, and during the
rainy season is laid under water, so that intercom se be¬
tween the villages has to be carried on by canoes. The
state is watered by numerous streams; but they aie gene¬
rally short and shallow, and have their mouths obstructed
by bars. On the eastern boundary of labasco is the
Laguna de Terminos, which is 45 miles long by 30 broad,
and contains several large and beautiful islands. I he
climate of this state is exceedingly hot. Cacao, coffee, pepper,
sugar, tamarinds, arrowroot, and some tobacco are culti¬
vated ; while indigo and vanilla grow wild in the forests.
Game is very abundant, and the streams are well
with excellent fish. The capital, San Juan Bautista or V ilia
Hermosa de Tabasco, lies on the left bank ot the labasco
River, 70 miles from its mouth, and contains about 7000
inhabitants. Vessels ot light draught can reach it rovn
the sea; but its chief intercourse is carried on with the
adjacent states and Guatemala.
I.as Chiapas.—Between Tabasco and Guatemala is
Political
divisions.
Yucatan.
Tabasco.
Las Chia¬
pas.
MEXICO. 727
Political situated the state of Las Chiapas, which formerly belonged
divisions, to Guatemala, but which in 1833 joined the Mexican confe-
deration. Comprehending the northern slopes of the table¬
lands of Guatemala, Las Chiapas is, throughout a consider¬
able part of its territory, cut up into successions of ridges
and valleys, which are rich in many of the finest tropical
productions. It is divided into four departments and nine
districts. The most important of the numerous rivers
flowing from the mountains near the state of Tabasco to
the Gulf of Mexico, are the Tabasco River, the San Pedro,
the Usumasinta, and the Pacaitun. The climate of Las
Chiapas is mild and temperate ; and the chief productions
are corn, cacao, sugar, tobacco, figs, apricots, and other fruits
and vegetables; but a great part of the state is uncultivated
and unexplored. The state is divided into four depart¬
ments, and the capital is Ciudad Real, or San Cristoval de
los Llanos, a handsome town, containing a cathedral, two
chapels, four monasteries, a nunnery, and an hospital; with
a population of 6000. The state of Las Chiapas, like that
of Yucatan, contains many ancient remains.
Durango. Durango.—The state of Durango is bounded on the
N. by Chihuahua, W. by Sinaloa, E. by Coahuila, and S.
by Zacatecas and Jalisco. The main branch of the Great
Cordillera runs through this state in a N.W. direction.
The north-eastern portion of the state slopes gradually
downwards towards the waters of the Rio Grande, while
the south-western part consists chiefly of lofty table-lands
and mountain spurs. The climate is healthy and cool;
and its agricultural productions are similar to those of the
other states in like circumstances. The chief rivers are
the Rio Nasas, Rio Guanavas, and the Rio Florida; and
the lagoons of Cayman and Parras are on its borders.
Immense quantities of horses, mules, sheep, and cattle are
reared in this state; indeed, its cattle and minerals consti¬
tute its chief wealth. Iron, silver, gold, lead, and other
minerals are likewise abundant.
Durango, or, as it is often called, Victoria, the capital of
the state, is situated 180 miles to the N.W. of Zacatecas,
in the midst of a vast plain. Both the city of Victoria
and most of the other towns of Durango, as Tamasula,
Sianori, Mapimi, San Dimas, Canelas, Cuencame, and
others, take their origin from the mines. Before the dis¬
covery of those of Guarisamey, Victoria was a mere village,
and in 1783 it contained only 8000 inhabitants. Its popu¬
lation now amounts to about 22,000. The principal streets,
the Plaza Mayor, the theatre, and most of the public edi¬
fices, were built by Zambrano, a wealthy proprietor, who
is supposed to have drawn from his mines at San Dimas
and Guarisamey upwards of 30,000,000 of dollars. The
towns of Villa del Nombre de Dios, San Juan del Rio, and
Cinco Senores de Nazas are almost the only considerable
places in the state unconnected with the mines. The great
mineral wealth of this state holds out the most encouraging
prospect of ample remuneration to those who engage in
mining speculations; and there can be little doubt that
ere long the advantages which Durango possesses will
be duly appreciated by foreign or native associations of
capitalists.
Chihuahua. Chihuahua.—The state immediately adjoining Durango
to the N. is that of Chihuahua. The great mountain
chain of Mexico, which forms the connecting link between
the Rocky Mountains of the north and the Andes of the
south, is here known as the Sierra Madre, and occupies chiefly
the western part of the state, where its elevation attains a
great height, and at length descends abruptly till it is
lost in the plains of Sonora and Sinaloa. The highest point
of the Sierra Madre is said to be 8441 feet above the level
of the sea. The greater portion of the state consequently
lies on the plateau of Mexico, and only a small part of it
on the western slope of the Sierra Madre. It is watered
by a considerable number of rivers and streams ; and the
principal of its lakes or lagoons are those ot San Martin, Political
Guzman, Patos or Candelaria, Encinillas, and Castilla. divisi°r18-
Large numbers of the aborigines still occupy the lonelier
portions of this state, and frequently annoy the peaceful
settler. Chihuahua possesses a mild and temperate cli¬
mate, a fertile soil, and vast mineral resources. Agricul¬
tural operations are not much carried on here, the chief
source of its wealth being the mines and cattle. The gold,
silver, and copper mines are exceedingly productive. Veins
of iron, cinnabar, lead, sulphur, coal, and nitre have been
found and explored, but owing to the disturbed and inse¬
cure condition of the state, are altogether abandoned. (For
an account of Chihuahua, the capital, see the article
under that head.)
Sinaloa The state of Sinaloa is bounded on the S. Sinaloa.
by Jalisco, E. by Durango, S.W. by Chihuahua, N. by
Sonora, and W. by the Pacific and the Gulf of California,
along the shores of which it extends for about 200 leagues.
The River Canas divides it from Jalisco, and the River
Mayo from Sonora. It is about 540 miles in length
from S.E. to N.W., and has a breadth of about 150 miles.
The surface is partly mountainous and partly level coast
land. The coast region is little cultivated and thinly in¬
habited, being scorched by a burning sun ; the central and
eastern parts contain numerous table-lands and valleys;
while the slopes of the mountains are thickly wooded with
excellent timber. In the interior the air is mild and genial:
in those parts where irrigation is practised abundant crops
of grain are raised. Wheat, Indian corn, and barley, with
cotton, sugar, and tobacco, are its chief agricultural produc¬
tions. This state is also rich in minerals. The principal
town is Mazatlan, a seaport-town and a place of consider¬
able trade. It contains about 6000 inhabitants.
Sonora is situated on the Gulf of California to the N. Som ra.
of Sinaloa. The western and southern portions of the
state are generally flat. The eastern portion is mountain¬
ous, but contains many fine and productive valleys; this
portion of the state is likewise rich in valuable mineral de¬
posits. In the S., between the Rivers Mayo and Yaqui
and the Presidio of Buena Vista, there is a fruitful region,
which is also enhanced by a number of small lakes which
form in different parts during the rainy season, and which
are turned to good account by the agriculturists in the irri¬
gation of their farms. The climate is warm throughout
the year, but in spring is subject to rapid changes in tem¬
perature. A great portion of this state is still in the pos¬
session of the Indians, most of whom are still in a wild and
savage state. The trade of Sonora is principally carried on
at Guyamas, which is situated in a healthy region, and pos¬
sesses one of the best harbours in Mexico. It contains
about 3000 inhabitants. Petic, about 120 miles N.N.E
from Guyamas, is a larger town, containing about 8000 in¬
habitants. It is the depot for goods imported at the Guy¬
amas, and designed for the northern district of Mexico.
Tamaulipas.—This state extends along the shores ofTamauli-
the Gulf of Mexico, southward from the Rio Grande del pas.
Norte, which separates it from the North American state
of Texas. It has a coast-line of about 350 miles, and its
breadth varies from 50 to about 160 miles. The coast is
low and sandy, and fringed with lagoons varying from 4 to
18 miles in width, and divided from the gulf by banks of
sand. The shallowness of the shores, and the dangerous bars
which obstruct the mouths of the rivers, render navigation
difficult and dangerous. In the northern part of the state,
in the neighbourhood of the Rio Grande, the country is’
comparatively level. South of this, however, and at some
distance from the coast, the surface is varied by a succes¬
sion of mountains, hills, and valleys, which gradually slope
westwardly to the flats and sands of the sea-coast. The
Cerro de Martinez, the Cerro de Jeres, the Cerro del Co-
ronel, and the Sierras de la Palma and del Carico, are the
723
Political
divisions.
New Leon.
Colima.
Cohabuila
MEXICO.
most remarkable elevations. The territory is in general
well watered; and fine valleys extend along the Rio
Grande, the Tigre, Borbon, Pannco, and Dolores. On the
coast are the lagoons of La Madre, Morales, and Tam¬
pico. The climate of the interior is mild and healthy, but
on the coast an intense heat prevails during the greater
part of the year, which, combined with the rank vegetation
and moisture, renders this region very unhealthy. The
principal ports are Tampico de Tamaulipas and Metamoros,
where a large coasting and foreign commerce is carried on
to supply the middle and northern states of the republic.
Matamoros is situated on the right bank of the Rio Grande,
aboutSOmiles from its mouth, andcontains about 12,000 in¬
habitants. Tampico stands on the northern bank of the
Panuco, about 5 miles from its mouth. The capital of the
state is Victoria, formerly Santander, and contains about
12,000 inhabitants. Numerous remains of ancient edifices,
&c., exist in this state.
New Leon.—To the westward of Tamaulipas lies the
state of Nuevo Leon, which was colonized in the end of the
sixteenth century by the Viceroy Monterey, who bestowed
upon it the proud title of El Nuevo Reyno de Leon, or the
New Kingdom of Leon. It lies among the first spurs or
ridges of the Sierra Madre, and is interspersed with wide
plains and fruitful valleys. The principal rivers, all of
which flow easterly towards the Gulf of Mexico, are the
Rio Tigre, San Juan, Rio Blanco or Borbon, and the
Sabinas. The climate, except among the higher mountain
ranges, is warm but salubrious. Agriculture has not been
much practised in the state, the chief occupation of the
landholders being the grazing of cattle. Lead and silver
are said to he abundant; but mining operations are only
carried on at two places, Cerralvo and Vallecillo. Salt is
made at the salt mines on the banks of the Tigre. The
capital of the state is Monterey, estimated to contain about
13,000 inhabitants.
Colima.—This territory lies along the shores of the Pa¬
cific, and is hounded on the other sides by Jalisco and
Mechoacan. Its surface is generally level, and here and
there broken by ranges of hills. On the N.E. corner of
the territory is the Mountain of Colima, the most western
of the Mexican volcanoes, and which rises to the height of
9200 feet above the level of the sea. The climate is warm,
and on the coast hot, but not unhealthy. Cotton, sugar,
tobacco, and cacao are its chief agricultural productions ;
while on the coast large quantities of salt are made from
sea-water. Rich iron deposits have recently been found
here. The chief town is Colima, about 6 miles S. of the
volcano, and containing about 20,000 inhabitants. Man¬
zanillo, the port of Colima, is about 17 leagues W. of the
capital, and a place of some trade.
Cohahuila.—Adjoining to New Leon and Tamaulipas is
Cohahuila, which is generally elevated, and being well shel¬
tered from the N.W. winds, possesses a healthy climate. A
considerable mountain chain stretches across the state in a
north-westerly direction, and its surface is most luxuriantly
irrigated by the numberless springs and streams which,
bursting from these ridges, become tributaries to the Rio
del Norte. Its pastures are clothed with rich natural
grasses, and are admirably calculated for breeding, rearing,
and fattening cattle; whilst its forests furnish abundance
of wood, which is well calculated for every kind of con- Political
struction. There are mines of saltpetre, copperas, alum, divisions,
lead, tin, and copper, besides some silver in Santa Rosa, and
gold in Sacramento. These mineral treasures, for want of
population and of capital, have been rather ascertained than
explored. The inhabitants are almost wholly of the white
race, or with such slight mixture of the Indian blood as
to make no distinction in colour worthy of notice. The
native tribes within the province have been extinguished ;
but on the borders towards the N. and W. are several war¬
like tribes of Indians. In these parts also there are droves
of wild cattle and horses, and herds of buffaloes. The
capital of the state is Leona Vicario, or Saltillo, a large
town containing about 20,000 inhabitants. It is situ¬
ated upon the side of a hill branching off from the Sierra
Madre, which in this quarter presents nothing but barren
rocks; whilst the intervening valleys or plains are all nearly
destitute of vegetation. The inhabitants are chiefly occu¬
pied in agriculture, and produce excellent wheat and barley,
and great variety of fruits. The vines cultivated here make
wine of very excellent flavour, and considerable strength.
Lower California.—The territory of Lower Califor¬
nia comprehends that long narrow strip of land which ex¬
tends from the northern boundary of the republic south¬
ward to Cape St Lucas, having on the E. the Gulf of Mex¬
ico and on the W. the Pacific. It is about 700 miles in
length, and varies in breadth from 30 to 100 miles. The
surface consists of an irregular chain of rocks, hills, and
mountains, which run through its entire length, and which
attain a height of nearly 5000 feet. Amid these ridges
there are occasionally found a few sheltered spots of pro¬
ductive land; but it is for the most part a barren, dreary
waste, and is one of the most unattractive countries in the
warm or temperate regions. There are few streams or
springs, few trees of any size; and the heavy rains, falling on
the central ridges, carry down the sloping sides of the pe¬
ninsula almost all the cultivable soil. Valuable mines of
gold, silver, copper, and lead are known to exist in the
peninsula, but only a few of these are worked, and that
in a rude manner. The salt mines on the island of Car¬
men, in the Gulf of Mexico, are very productive. Among
the islands of the gulf immense numbers of seals are con¬
stantly found, and the whaling grounds on the Pacific
coast are of great value. During the sixteenth century
the pearl fishery in the gulf produced a valuable revenue,
but it has now dwindled into insignificance. The coasts
of Lower California are flat, sandy, and irregular, fre¬
quently indented by coves, inlets, and bays; while many
islands lie near and border them in the gulf. The cli¬
mate is regarded as not unhealthy ; the winter is short, and
frost and ice are unknown. The heat of summer, how¬
ever, is intense, parching the thin soil, and rendering life
almost insupportable in the most exposed regions, or in the
narrow and confined glens. The principal ports on the
W. coast are San Quentin, which is said to afford a secure
anchorage for the largest vessels, and Magdalena, which is
much resorted to by whalers during the winter season.
The only towns of importance in the peninsula are Lo¬
reto and La Paz ; the latter the capital and seat of go¬
vernment. The population is almost entirely Indian or
of a mixed race.
Mexico,
New.
MEXICO, New, one of the territorial governments of
the United States of America, is situated between Lat.
^ 31. 20. and 38. N., and Long. 103. and 117. W., and has a
length from E. to W. of 700 miles, and an average breadth
of 400. It is immediately S. of the territories of Utah and
Kansas, W. of 1 exas and the Indian territories, and has
the Mexican States to the S., and California to the W.,
separating it from the Pacific Ocean. Its area, including a
late addition, is 234,507 square miles, being five times the
extent of the state of New York.
The Rocky Mountains cross the New Mexican terri¬
tory from N. to S. The mountains of Guadalupe, Sacra¬
mento, Organ, Sierra Blanca, &c., are diverging ranges
from the main chain of the Rocky Mountains. Among
the Sierra Madre Mountains a height of 10,000 feet is
reached above thejfigh table-lands of the Rio Grande.
This river, formerly called Rio Bravo del Norte, is the
largest in the territory, draining the great valleys of the
Sierra Madre and the Jumanes, &c. The Pecos River
drains the eastern slope of these mountains; the Gila runs di¬
rectly westward to the Colorado from its source on the Sierra
Madre. The other rivers are,—the Puerco, the Canadian,
Salinas, San Pedro, San Francisco, Colorado; none possessing
much importance for navigation, except, perhaps, the Co¬
lorado. The Rio Grande, after it enters Texas, may be
navigated many hundred miles by steamers. From the
great elevation of New Mexico, it has a temperate climate.
Some of the mountain-peaks are crowned with perpetual
snow. Rains fall between July and October; but the
countiy is too much parched, with the exception of a few
favoured valleys, to hope for much agricultural develop¬
ment. More thorough explorations are, however, needed
to pronounce absolutely in regard to it. In 1846 a mili¬
tary reconnoissance was made of it by Major Emory of
the United States army, which is published among the
official reports of the government. The notes are very
full and interesting, and the following is a digest from
them :— °
The country to-day is rolling, almost mountainous.
Grass begins to show itself; the soil is good enough appar-
ently, but vegetation is stunted. Our eyes for the first time
are greeted with waving corn ; all the intermediate country is
broken and covered with a dense growth of pine, pinon, and
cedar. The hills rise 1000 feet above the road. Found ex-
^raSL °n t^le ^ecos’ M°untains rise from 1000 to
2000 feet above the road. Scenery wild; granitic sands and
rocks in abundance on the road to Santa Fe. Cedar and
pines are crowded together. Halted in a valley covered
with some grama and the native potato in full bloom.
On leaving the narrow valley of the Santa Fe, the country
presents nothing but barren hills, utterly incapable, both
from soil and climate, of producing anything useful ” Re-
ff ri«g t0 the Rio del Norte The river impinges close to
the hills below La Joya; two sand-hill spurs, overlaid with
fragments of lava and trap, close the valley, just leaving
space in the river to pass between. On either side is ex¬
cellent grass, shaded by large cotton woods. The whole
prairie is the loveliest I have seen in New Mexico. The val¬
ley of the Del Norte, as we advance, loses what little capacity
for agriculture it possessed. The plants of New Mexico
are,—Cacti of endless abundance and gigantic size, the dis-
agreeable Luttco, nicxiccmct^ Obine cancsccji,v, Tesscivio,
borealis, Diotis lanata, Fransena acanthocarpa, varieties
of mezquite, a species of Malva Convolvulus, an unknown
shrub found in the bed of all deserted rivers, large grama
nearly equal to oats, and Dalea formosa, a branched shrub,
3 feet high, with beautiful purple flowers. The table¬
lands to the west are covered with sand and large round
pebbles. The soil of New Mexico is in general barren, but
in many places adapted to the culture of the grape. On
the whole, however, this territory may be regarded as an
VOL. XIV.
MEXICO, NEW.
important military possession of the United State-. Where-
ever the eye wanders huge mountains are seen, of black
volcanic formation, of very compact argillaceous limestone,
tinged at times with scarlet from the quantities of red fel¬
spar. Through these the Gila has cut its way with infinite
labour, assisted by the influx of the Prieto, the Azul, and
San Carlos rivers. The Prieto is said to flow down from
t le mountains freighted with gold, its sands being impreg¬
nated with the precious metal. The Gila now presents an
inhospitable look; the mountains of trap, granite, and red
sandstone cluster together in irregular and confused strata.
1 he valley, not more than 300 feet from base to base of
these perpendicular mountains, is deep and well grown with
willow, cotton-wood, and mezquite. The Gila and San
edro meet in a deep bottom overgrown with cotton-wood,
mezquite, chamiza, willow, and black willow. There is
little or no grass; and the formation along the river is a
conglomerate of sandstone, lime, and pebbles, with deep
caverns. The precipices are of granite and limestone,
with seams of basalt and trap ; vast boulders of pure quartz
at times obstruct the way. The whole of North Mexico
embracing New Mexico, Sonora, &c., as far north as the
Sacramento, is the same in physical character, and differs
ittle m climate or products. Nowhere can fertilizing showers
be relied upon to any extent for the cultivation of the soil.
1 lie earth is destitute of trees, and in great part of any ve¬
getation. A few feeble streams flow in different directions
from the great mountains that traverse this region. These
streams are separated by mountains, or by plains without
water or vegetation, and, so far as they are useful to man,
may be called deserts. Culture is therefore confined to
those narrow stripes of land which are capable of irriga¬
tion, and is conducted only on the sternest principles of
coercion.”
The whole of the New Mexican territorv probably abounds
in mineral wealth, which will doubtless be rapidly developed.
Gold is found frequently on the Rio Grande and the Colo¬
rado, and mines have been worked in different localities.
Copper iron, and gypsum are found, and also coal and
lead. A mining company in New Mexico (1857) reports
as follows:—
We are progressing well in our explorations and ope¬
rations. The Aravaca rancho lately purchased for the
company contains many silver mines of rich ores, besides
some gold placers and copper and lead mines. We have
lately discovered and occupied ten veins of silver ore near
the Ceno Colorado, between Sopiri and La Aravaca, of
promising richness. The principal vein, named in honour
of our old friend and president ‘ The Heintzleman Mine ’
yields upon assay thirty marcos to the carga of 300 lb*
or nearly L.20 in silver to the 100 lb. ore. The ore is
abundant, and we have a force of Mexican miners employed
m A® extraction, but have no bellows or means of smeltimr
and refining.” b
When the census of 1850 was taken, it appeared that
there were 3/50 farming interests in New Mexico con¬
taining 166,201 acres of improved, and 124,370 acres of
unimproved land ; the farms were valued at L.350 000 and
the implements at L.16,200; the average value* of these
interests being but L 96 or ^th the value of those in
/u1Sey’ and the value of those in Louisiana
The following were the leading agricultural products-—
sheeneS’3"yS27ia"h T !3,733 5 nent cattle’ 32.977;
3S?4n i'J’f ‘ fUSheiwl,eat’ 196-316; Indian corn
S 423fi ini! lay’ 3/3 ‘0nSi 15’688 bushels Peas
lb wool llflf l?Sm0 aSSeS!n?467lb- tobacco 32>901
' “ 236t3 Kallons »™. Total value of pronertv in
the territory, L.1,000,000. i i J
T iimnCapital ,nve.St,ed in manufactures in 1850 was
L.!3,000; raw material used, L.23,000 ; product, L.52,000.
I he particulars are not published.
4 7,
729
Mexico,
New.
730
M E Y
M E Y
Meyer.
The commerce of New Mexico amounts to very little,
and the annual imports for the United States were said to
reach in 1846, L. 100,000. This commerce constituted
what was called the Santa Fe trade, and was conducted
overland from Missouri in waggons. The most of the
waggons, however, continued on their way to the Mexi¬
can “provinces of Sonora and Chihuahua; and the whole
extent of the commerce reached several millions of dol¬
lars. Much of it is now conducted by the way of Texas
and the Rio Grande. Santa Fe, the chief town, had in
1850 a population of 4846, and San Miguel, 2008. Major
Emory considered the inhabitants as the poorest in the
territory, and says that the houses are built of mud or
bricks, and in the Spanish style, generally of one storey, but
very comfortable within. The thick walls make them warm
in winter and cool in summer. The city is dependent upon
the distant hills for wood. Every description of produce is
In 1850 there were 73 churches in the territory, all Ro¬
man Catholic, possessing property to nearly the value of
L.20,000, and having accommodation for 28,160 persons.
The number receiving education was 466; and 25,089
persons over twenty years of age, or 61 per cent, of persons
of that age in the territory, could neither read nor write.
Two newspapers were published, circulating annually 38,800
copies Pop. (1850) exclusive of Indians,—whites, 61,525;
free coloured, 22; total, 61,547. The number of dwellings
was 13,453. Ofthe total population, 58,415 were born in
the territory, 772 in other parts of the United States, about
370 in Great Britain, and 215 in Germany ; total foreign,
2063. The Indian population was 45,000 or 50,000.
The government of New Mexico consists of a governor
appointed by the president of the United States, who is also
superintendent of Indian affairs ; a council of 13 members,
elected every two years; and an assembly of 26 membeis,
elected annually. The judiciary are appointed by the pre¬
sident.
Scattered throughout this extensive territory are many
curious and extensive ruins, the relics of an advanced
population of Indian or Aztec origin long since passed
away. It constituted a Mexican province until conquered
and purchased by the United States. In 1850 the terri¬
torial government was created ; and in four years afterwards
its dimensions were increased by the purchase of what is
called the Wessilla Valley, embracing about 27,000 square
miles. The territory has been making but small advances
in population or wealth, and it will be long before it can
take an important place in the affairs of the nation.
MEYER, Felix, a landscape painter, was born in 1653
at Winterthur, canton of Zurich, Switzerland. After re¬
ceiving lessons in his art from a painter at Nuremberg,
he studied under Ermels, whose style he adopted. He then
visited Italy for a short time, but finding that the climate
did not agree with his health, he returned to Switzerland, and
found free scope for the exercise of his genius in depicting
the sublime scenery of his native country. He was remark¬
able for the ease and rapidity with which he executed his de¬
signs ; and these qualities on one occasion were the means
of extending his fame beyond the limits of his own country.
Having arrived in the course of his travels at the Abbey of
St Florian in Austria, he was requested by the abbot to give
his advice about two large rooms which he wished to have
painted in fresco ; a work which the artist he had employed
seemed unable to perform. Meyer immediately began to
describe the designs he would recommend ; and as he went
on, with a piece of charcoal in his hand, rapidly sketching
the various objects of the landscape, he excited the admi¬
ration of the abbot to such a degree that he engaged him
to paint the whole. Although the landscapes of this artist
are deservedly famous, he was not so successful in painting
figures ; and in some of his pictures those parts have been
done by Melchior, Roos, and Philip Rugendas. Meyer Meyer
died in *1T13
Meyer, Johann Heinrich, a German artist, was born in Meynek.
1759 at Stafa, on the Lake of Zurich, in Switzerland. He '
studied at Zurich under Fiissly for some time ; and in 1784
went to Italy. At Rome he met Goethe, with whom he
formed a friendship so close, that the artist generally went
by the name of “ Goethe-Meyer.” He also visited Naples,
Venice, and other places, and returned to Switzeiland in
1787. In 1792 he went to Goethe at Weimar, where he
was made professor in the School of Design ; and in 1 /95
he visited Italy again, and lived in Naples and Florence
till 1797, when he returned through Switzerland to Wei-
Here he lived for many years in close and familiar
mar.
intercourse with Goethe, whom he assisted in many of his
works on art. Meyer was appointed in 1807 director of
the academy of Weimar ; and died at Jena in 1832. His
paintings are few. The most important are an allegorical
frieze in the palace of Weimar, and some drawings and
water-colour sketches of ancient remains and the woiks of
the old masters. He is chiefly famous as a writer on ait,
and his principal work is entitled Geschichte der Bildenden
Kiinste bei den Griechen, Dresden, 2 vols., 1824. A third
and a posthumous volume, in continuation of the history
of art, especially in Rome, was edited by Reimer, and P11^"
lished at Dresden in 1836. He also edited the works of
Winckelmann in 8 volumes.
Meyer, Jacques, a historian, was born in 1491 at Vle-
teren, near Bailleul in Flanders. After receiving his educa¬
tion at Paris he entered the church, and subsequently
established a school at Ypres, by which he acquired con¬
siderable renown, and which he afterwards removed to
Bruges when appointed to the church of St Donatien
there. This school he finally gave up when he became
curate of Blankenburg, where he died in 1552. His prin¬
cipal works are,—Flandricarum Rerum Decas, Bruges,
1531; scad Annales Rerum Flandricarum, Antwerp, lobl.
MEYRICK, Sir Samuel Rush, K.H., an eminent anti¬
quary, descended from the ancient family of the Meyneks
of Bodorgan in Anglesea, was born on the 26th August
1783. After taking his bachelor’s degree at Queens
College, Oxford, at the age of twenty he made what
his father considered an imprudent marriage, which led to
his being disinherited. Meyriek practised law for many
vears in connexion with the Ecclesiastical and Admira ty
courts. In 1810 he published his first work, the History
and Antiquities of the County of Cardigan, when he was
chosen a fellow of the Society of Antiquaries; andm
1814 he produced, in conjunction with Captain U. 11.
Smith, a work on the Costume of the Original Inhabitants
of the British Islands. But the great work on which his
fame as an antiquary particularly rests is his Arms and Ar¬
mour, published in 3 vols. 4to, 1824, under the title of A
Critical Inquiry into Ancient Armour as it exl?ted ™
Europe, but more particularly in England from the Nor-
man Conquest to the reign of King Charles 1L-, with a
Glossarxj of Military Terms of the Middle Ages. After
having rendered material assistance in 1826 in airan n
the arms and armour of the Tower, and of the Solle(lt10
at Windsor, Meyrick had the honour of receiving from
William IV. in 1832 the Hanoverian order, and was shortly
afterwards made a knight-bachelor. In 18rf h®
Goodrich Court on the Wye, arranged sPfeclf J,
display of his collection of ancient armour, of which Joseph
Skelton in 1830 gave an account in his Engraved Ulus
trations of Ancient Armour. Mey nek’s last work of any
importance was Lewis Dwnne's Heraldic
UT/fes, completed in 1846. Besides assisting in
pilation of Fosbroke’s Encyclopedia of Antiquities, and
writing the descriptive matter of Shaw’s Specimens of An¬
cient Furniture, Sir Samuel R. Meyrick was a frequent con-
M E Y
Meywar tributor to the Archceologia, the Gentleman’s Magazine,
jlN the Analyst, the Cambridge Quarterly Magazine, and the
^ ezieres^ Cambrian Arclueological Journal. He died on the 2d
April 1848, in his sixty-fifth year.
MEYWAR. See Oodeypore.
MiCZE, a seaport-town of France, in the department of
Herault, is situated on the lagoon of Thau, 19 miles S.E.
of Montpellier, and 5 N.W. of Cette. The harbour, which
is protected by moles, is capable of receiving vessels of
60 tons. The inhabitants are employed to a considerable
extent in the manufacture of brandy and salt; and the
trade in these and in corn, wine, &c., is of some impor¬
tance. In the neighbourhood of Meze is the old abbey
of Vallemagne, of which the church and cloisters, built in
the thirteenth century, are still in perfect preservation,
and are considered equal to any similar edifice in France.
Pop. 4986.
MEZERAI, Francois Eudes de, an eminent French
historian, the son of Isaac Eudes, a surgeon, was born at
Rye in Lower Normandy in 1610, and took the surname
of Mezerai from a hamlet near Rye. After completing
his studies at Caen he proceeded to Paris, where he pro¬
cured the place of commissary at war, which he held dur¬
ing two campaigns. He then shut himself up in the col¬
lege of St Barbe, in the midst of books and manuscripts ;
and in 1643 published the first volume of the Histoire de
France, which he completed in 1651. This work surpassed
all previous histories of France, and its author was re¬
warded by the king with a pension of four thousand
livres. In 1668 he published an abridgment of his History
of France in 3 vols. quarto, which was well received by
the public; but he inserted in that work the origin of most
of the taxes, with very free reflections, which led to the
withdrawal of his pension. Annoyed at this treatment, he
resolved to write on subjects which could not expose him
to such disappointments ; and accordingly he composed his
treatise on the origin of the French, which added greatly
to his fame. He was elected perpetual secretary to the
French Academy ; and died in the year 1683. He is said
to have been so extremely negligent of his person, that
one morning he was actually seized by the archers despau-
vres, or parish officers, a mistake at which he was highly di¬
verted. He used to study and write by candle-light at noon¬
day in summer; and even lighted his visitors to the door.
Having during his life affected a sort of religious scepticism,
he recanted on his deathbed, and told his friends to “ re¬
member that Mezerai dying was more to be believed than
Mezerai living.” His merits as a writer are not of the highest
order; but his works, whilst often coarse in style, are gener¬
ally clear, direct, and forcible. In addition to the works
already referred to, Mezerai published,—line Traduction
de VHistoire des Turcs de Chalcondyle, Paris, 1662 ; Une
Traduction Francaise du Traite de Jean de Salisbury,
intitule “La Vanite de la Cour,” Paris, 1640 ; Traite de la
Vente de la Religion Chretienne, translated from the
Latin of Grotius, Paris, 1644; Histoire de la Mere et du
Fils, that is, of Mary of Medicis and Louis XIII., Amster¬
dam, 1730.
MEZIERES, a town of France, capital of the depart¬
ment of Ardennes, is situated on the Meuse, which here,
making a bend in its course, nearly surrounds the town ;
120 miles N.E. of Paris, and 80 N.W. of Metz. The town
is ill built. Its chief importance is derived from the strength
of its position and fortifications, which consist of walls, a
citadel, and other defences, by Vauban. The principal
building is a Gothic church of the fifteenth century, re¬
markable for its handsome portals and curious bas-reliefs.
There are also several other churches, an hospital, town-
hall, theatre, arsenal, and other buildings. The manufac¬
tures consist of leather and cutlery; and the trade, which
is inconsiderable, is chiefly in linen and woollen stuffs,
M E Z 731
and leather. Mezieres was besieged in 1521 by Charles Mezo-
V. with 20,000 men, and was about to be abandoned and Bereny
destroyed by Francis I. when the Chevalier Bayard II
offered to take the command, and to hold the town against ^^i°*
the emperor. His offer having been accepted, with only v ' ,
2000 men he successfully resisted for six weeks the army ” v
of Charles. Bombs are said to have been first used in this
siege. In 1815 Mezieres held out for two months against
the Prussians, but was at length obliged to capitulate. Pop.
(1851) 3970.
MEZO-BERENY, a town of Hungary, in the county of
Bekes, and 7 miles N.W. of the town of that name. The
inhabitants are chiefly employed in the cultivation of the
vine and olive, and in the rearing of cattle. Pop. 7900.
Mezo-Hegyes, a village of Hungary, in the county of
Csanad, 33 miles E. of Szegedin. This village is only re¬
markable for the large stud of 3000 horses established here
by Joseph II. in 1785. The horses are of great excellence,
and the stables are large and handsome buildings. This
establishment annually furnishes, in time of peace, 1000
horses to the Austrian army. Pop. 149.
Mezo-Kovesd, a market-town of Hungary, in the county
of Borsod, 7 miles E. of Erlau. The town contains two
churches, a school, and barracks for cavalry. Four fairs are
held here annually. Pop. 6570.
Mezo-Tur , a market-town of Hungary, in the county of
Heves, on the right bank of the Beretyo, 24 miles S.E. of
Szolnok. It has three churches, considerable manufactures
of pottery, an annual fair, and some trade. Pop. 15,673.
MEZZOFANTI, Joseph Caspar, Cardinal, son of
Francis Mezzofanti and Gesualda dall’ Olmo, was born at
Bologna, September 17,1774. His father, who was a car¬
penter, and who designed him for the same handicraft,
placed him, while a mere child, at a dame’s school, from
which he was soon removed to one of the free schools of
the city under the care of the brethren of the Oratory.
Father Respighi, a learned and benevolent priest of that
congregation, perceiving the extraordinary talents of the
boy, prevailed upon his father to place him at a school of a
higher class conducted by the Abate Cicotti, and eventu¬
ally at one of the celebrated “ Scuole Pie,” from which so
many eminent Italian scholars have been produced. Several
of the teachers in this school were foreign ex-Jesuits,—
Spanish, Portuguese, Mexican, German, and Swedish;
and it was from this early opportunity of intercourse with
foreigners, and of familiarity with foreign languages, that
Mezzofanti’s love of linguistic studies received its first im¬
pulse. He early evinced a disposition to embrace the ec¬
clesiastical state; and though his father at first opposed
this resolution, he consented in the end, and the youth
entered the pontifical seminary of Bologna, probably in
the year 1786. An illness, however, with which he was
seized about his fifteenth year, caused a considerable inter¬
ruption of his studies, and his theological course was not
completed till the year 1797. Of his scholastic and col¬
legiate studies few details, beyond the names of his pre¬
ceptors, are preserved; and the only notable indication of his
future eminence that has been recorded is the prodigious
quickness and tenacity of his memory. On one occasion
he repeated verbatim a folio page of Chrysostom after a
single reading; and (although little is known of the circum¬
stances under which some of them are acquired) it is ascer¬
tained that, before he completed his collegiate studies, he
had mastered not only the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew lan¬
guages, but also Arabic and Coptic, together with Spanish,
French, German, and Swedish.
In September 1795 Mezzofanti was promoted to priest’s
orders, having just completed his twenty-third year. A few
weeks previously he had been appointed professor of Arabic
in the university, and he commenced his lectures in the fol¬
lowing December. This office, however, he held but a short
732 MEZZO
Mezzo- time. On the annexation of Bologna to the Cisalpine Re-
fanti. public, an oath of adhesion to the new government was ten-
dered to all officials, civil as well as military. Mezzofanti de¬
clined to take this oath ; and although an offer was made to
him to dispense with the oath, provided he would but present
himself at one of the semi-public reunions in the Palazzo
del Governo, he persisted in his refusal, and was in con¬
sequence deprived of his chair. For many years from this
time his circumstances were exceedingly straitened, as his
parents, now advanced in years, and his only sister and her
numerous family, depended almost entirely upon him for sup¬
port, and his only resource was the precarious income de¬
rived from private tuition, chiefly in languages. In the be¬
ginning of 1803, however, he was appointed assistant lib¬
rarian of the Institute of Bologna; and in the November
of the same year he was reinstated in his former professor¬
ship ; or rather was reappointed, with the more comprehen¬
sive title, “ professor of oriental languages and of Greek
but, in the manifold political vicissitudes of the period, he
was again doomed to a disappointment similar to that which
had before befallen him. The professorship of oriental
languages was suppressed by a decree of the viceroy of the
kingdom of Italy in the year 1808; and Mezzofanti was
once more thrown upon the precarious occupation of a pri¬
vate teacher for support until the year 1812, when he was
appointed assistant librarian of the university. On the
restoration of Pius VII. in 1814, he was again installed
in his professorship; and in the following year was named
chief librarian of the university,—an office which he con¬
tinued to hold in conjunction with his professorship as long
as he remained in Bologna.
Meanwhile, his progress in languages during these years
had been rapid and untiring. His sacred duties as volun¬
teer chaplain in the hospitals, which at this time were con¬
stantly crowded with wounded or invalid soldiers of the
various armies which the revolutionary war brought to¬
gether in Northern Italy, placed him in communication
with natives of almost every country of Europe,—French,
Spaniards, Germans, Poles, Hungarians, Bohemians, Croats,
Russians, Swedes, &c. Religious zeal and charity, there¬
fore, no less than the love of learning, became for him
a motive of study; and in an incredibly short space of
time he was able to master all the leading peculiarities of
each new language that presented itself. In 1804 he sent
to the celebrated orientalist John Bernard de Rossi of
Parma a series of compositions in twelve languages; and
as these were most probably learned languages, it may be
fairly supposed that this number by no means represented
the full extent of his acquirements at that date. He himself
relates that his pastime was to turn every opportunity of
study to account. The hotel-keepers used to give him
notice of the arrival of all st angers at Bologna, and whenever
the new arrival promised to bring a new language, or any
special opportunity of improvement in an old one, within his
reach, he “ made no scruple about calling on them, interro¬
gating them, making notes of their communications, asking
instruction in the pronunciation of their respective lan¬
guages.” His study of books kept pace with his cultivation
of living instructors. He made it a rule to learn every new
grammar, and to apply himself to the vocabulary of every
strange dictionary, which came in his way. And, as his
memory was not only singularly quick, but tenacious almost
to a miracle, and as his fatuity of analyzing and appropriat¬
ing the grammatical structure of languages was all but intui¬
tive, an instinct rather than an intellectual effort,—it will
easily be understood that, even with the scanty opportuni¬
ties of practice which an inland city like Bologna afforded,
his power of acquiring foreign languages was quickened or
developed in the very exercise.
Accordingly, when the peace of 1815 again opened Italy
to travellers, visitors from the various countries of Europe
F A N T I. ' :
were amazed, as they arrived in Bologna, to find a pro- Mezzo-
vincial abbate, who had never quitted his native province, fantL
speak indiscriminately not only English, French, German,
Russian, Polish, and all the leading European languages,
but Turkish, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Persian, and the
other languages of the East. When Mr Stewart Rose
visited him, in 1817, he “ never once, during long and
repeated conversations in English, misapplied the sign of a
tense—that fearful stumbling-block to Scotch and Irish.”
A Smyrniote servant who accompanied Mr Rose “ declared
that he might have passed for a Greek or Turk in the
dominions of the Grand Seignior.” With Baron Zach, the
celebrated astronomer and editor of the Correspondance
Astronomique, in 1820, he spoke in German, “ first in good
Saxon (the crusea of the German), and afterwards in the
Austrian and Swabian dialects, with a correctness of accent
that amazed him to the last degree.” In the same inter¬
view he spoke to the baron in Hungarian “ with a com¬
pliment so well turned, and in such excellent Magyar, that
he was taken completely by surprise.” He spoke Polish
and Russian with equal fluency to one of the baron’s com¬
panions, Prince Yolkonski; and at a subsequent meeting he
added two much more uncommon languages, Wallachian
and Zingari. Captain (now Admiral) Smyth, who was also
of the party, still survives to confirm the literal truth of
these statements. Lord Byron, Lady Morgan, the Count¬
ess of Blessington, and several other English tourists, who
followed in the track of Mr Stewart Rose, speak of Mezzo¬
fanti in terms equally extraordinary. With M. Molbech,
a Danish traveller (still librarian of the Royal Library of
Copenhagen), he conversed during a long visit in Danish,
which he “ spoke with almost entire correctness.” With
Dr Tholuck, the celebrated orientalist of Halle, he spoke
in Arabic and in Persian, “ slowly, but with great propriety
and exactnessand he even wrote impromptu for him a
Persian distich after the manner of Hafiz, which Dr Iho-
luck praises for the elegance of its sentiment and the pro¬
priety of its language and rhythmical structure.
A reputation so extraordinary procured for him the offer
of many eligible appointments in several of the capitals of
Europe. He was invited to Paris in 1805, to Naples about
1810, to Rome in 1814, to Vienna in 1815, to Florence
on several occasions ; but he declined all these flattering
and advantageous offers, and remained in comparative po¬
verty at Bologna till 1831, when having been sent to
Rome as one of a deputation to the newly-elected Pope
Gregory XVI., after the suppression of the Bolognese re¬
volution, he at last yielded to the earnest solicitation of that
pontiff, and transferred his residence to the papal capital.
He was appointed a domestic prelate of the pope and canon
of the church of St Mary Major on his arrival; and in 1833,
when Angelo Mai was transferred from the Vatican Library
to the post of secretary of the Propaganda, Mezzofanti was
installed chief keeper of the Vatican. He was at this time in
his sixtieth year, but his energy had not yet undergone the
slightest diminution. Soon after he reached Rome he made
a journey to Naples, expressly for the purpose of studying
Chinese in the Chinese college of that city ; and though
his health broke down during this visit, he subsequently re¬
sumed the study at Rome with such success as not only to
compose and speak in this most difficult language, but even
to preach to the young Chinese ecclesiastics in the college
of the Propaganda! Among the students of tins vast mis¬
sionary establishment, too, he found many new fields of lan¬
guage open to him ; and it is ascertained beyond all doubt,
that, advanced as was his age when he settled in Rome, he
subsequently acquired many additional languages, of which
he had known nothing whatever during his residence at
Bologna. Of these, besides Chinese already alluded to,
may be mentioned several North American Indian lan¬
guages, Californian, Maltese, Angolese, Amarinna (an Abys-
M E Z
; Mezzo
faati.
sniian language) and above all, Basque, in both dialects of
tv , ■ / " bwh (Labourdam and Souletin) he learned to converse
v when he was nearly seventy years old!
In the year 1838 he was advanced to the cardinalate
conjomtly with his Iriend, the distinguished scholar Angelo5
, Mai. He was appointed head of several ecclesiastical con¬
gregations ; but never held any office connected with the
government. His elevation, however, brought no change
in his literary occupations. He continued to pursue his
favourite study with the same assiduity; he was still, as
• before, accessible at all times to strangers who sought his
acquaintance ; and to the last he never failed to pay a daily
visit to the students of the Propaganda, with whom he loved
« to speak in their respective languages, and to whom he
t^culUvlt ^ mStmCt0r in any lanSuage which they desired
One of the most remarkable characteristics of his won¬
derful gift was the power which he possessed of passing
sudderdy in conversation from one language to another,
without the slightest hesitation or the smallest trace of in¬
termixture or confusion. One of his friends compares the
completeness of the transition to a man’s “passing from one
room into anotherso utterly did he leave the first lan¬
guage aside from the moment he began to speak in the
second. A n other, describing its rapidity, says it was “like
a bird flitting from spray to spray.” The cardinal himself
declared that from the moment he began to speak in a lan-
guage, he thought, reasoned, saw, in that medium only, as
though he possessed no other beside.
Visitors were amazed, *oo, to find him not alone per¬
fectly master of the classical language of their respective
countries, but often conversant with the various dialects of
each to a degree really marvellous. To a German he
would speak in the Swabian or Austrian dialects; to a
Hungarian m any of the three dialects of Magyar; to a
k-pamard in Castilian, Andalusian, or Catalan. ‘ He was
familiar with several of the provincial dialects of English
and often amused English visitors by imitations of York¬
shire or Somersetshire provincialisms, or of the cockneyisms
of a London cabman. Scotch, too, he was more conversant
with than are ninety-nine out of every hundred Englishmen
He was even acquainted with these provincial subdivisions
of several languages which are themselves but minor mem-
bers of the European family; as, for example, the Dutch
i , f secret lay in his prodigious memory. He
often declared that he never forgot a word which he had
once learned ; and his memory was as ready as it was tena¬
cious. His power of composing in these various languages
was no less wonderful. He would write, quite impromjftu,
couplets or quatrains in any required language, according to
the nation of his visitor; often, it is true, commonplace in
sentiment, and exhibiting but little poetic talent; but dis-
playing, nevertheless, singular command of words and ex¬
traordinary mastery of the rhythmical structure of the lan¬
guage, as well as of its principles of metrical versification.
± lany such little impromptus, in every language of Europe
are in existence. The same power he often exhibited on a
larger scale, in the preparation or revision of the metrical
pieces in various languages recited at the yearly academies
of the Propaganda.
Nor was his knowledge confined to the languages of these
various countries. All those who conversed with him attest
that his familiarity with their several literatures was very
great, and this not merely with the authors of the highest
name in each, but with writers comparatively little read, and
least of all likely to attract the notice of a foreigner.’ Of
this fact, incredible as it may appear, there is the clearest
evidence from travellers of all the principal nations—Eng-
lish, French, Germans, Spaniards, Russians, Poles, Hunga¬
rians, Bohemians, Danes, Swedes, Flemings, Dutch,and even
Greeks, Armenians, Persians, Turks, and other orientals
M E Z
A good deal of uncertainty has existed as to the number
of languages known by Mezzofanti, and considerable variety
of statement has prevailed on the subject. Much of this
uncertainty has arisen from the very vagueness of the in-
^ pla*11 that the degrees of his familiarity with
different languages must have been very different, and that
ie possessed a certain amount of acquaintance with many
languages which he never pursued to any practical result.
1 he number of languages which he may be said to have
known in this way was indeed very great. From a report
drawn up by one of his family, and founded on a careful ex¬
amination of his MSS. and of his books, which are often
hlled with notes, analyses, paradigms, &c, there is reason to
believe that it exceeded a hundred. It is hardly necessary,
however, to say that the number which he was able to speak
in the manner described in this notice falls far short of
this. In the absence of any distinct statement from him¬
self, it is of course impossible to speak with absolute pre¬
cision ; but from a detailed inquiry recently instituted both
at Rome and in almost all the other European capitals, and
even in the East, there is distinct evidence (marvellous as it
may be deemed) of his having spoke?i (with various degrees
of excellence, but yet sufficiently for the purposes of inter¬
course) between fifty and sixty languages, and of his hav-
mg known, less perfectly, probably twenty others, in some
ot which he could converse less fluently, or at least initiate
a conversation.
It will easily be supposed that Cardinal Mezzofanti’s suc¬
cess as a general scholar must have, in great measure, been
sacrificed to this one absorbing pursuit. But he neverthe¬
less enjoyed a respectable reputation. In the sacred learn¬
ing of his own profession he was well read. He was an ear¬
nest though not a very eloquent preacher. That he possessed
considerable knowledge of mathematics is attested by an
interesting conversation of his with M. Libri, the distin¬
guished historian of mathematical science in Italy; and his
visitors, from whatever country they came, generally found
im familiar with the history of their respective nations,
e was one of the most amiable of men, and his charity
even when his resources were most limited, was active and’
unceasing. He died at Rome during the absence ofthepanal
court at Gaeta, March 15, 1849. His only published
work is a panegyrical oration in memory of his first Greek
S61 1 ather EmanueI da Ponte> PrintetI at Bologna in
MEZZOTINTO, a word of Italian origin,^signifying
half-painted, is applied to a particular style of engraving
from its near resemblance to painting. Its invention
has been ascribed to Prince Rupert; but it is much more
probable that the real originator of the art was Ludwio-
von Siegan an officer in the service of the landgrave of
Hesse This art has reached its highest perfection amom-
Enghsh engravers, whose portraits after Reynolds, Raeburn
Lawre"?, &c„ are worthy of the highest commendation
for the elegance of their execution. The mezzotint pro¬
cess possesses the additional merit of enabling the artist
to give transcripts of h.s pictures at a cost exceedingly
derate when compared with the great exnpnep <3 r
engraving The process has bee„° ve,y mli'h Improved'
since the beginning of the present century, bv the intro¬
duction of clever etching of the outline and shades aW
with the mezzo tin to, which at once gives character charm0
texture, and consistency to the subjects represented ’ While
the mode of laying the ground is so well known that plates
of every description can be procured by every pren^er of
aTriof de'scrindmofT5, neVertheless require to give
the g tiding of
Serving5, m I” !,Ur|>°Se are from
smith fe e "; Scd may be “ade by any black-
y consist of pieces of properly tempered
733
Mezzo-
tinto.
734 M G L
Mglin steel, prepared with teeth, and fitted into handles, as
shown in the accompanying cut, and are of all dimen-
Miako.
Rulettos.'
sions adapted to be used by the hand. The teeth, which
are of all degrees of fineness, are applied to the surface
of the plate fixed upon the table, to which a rocking
motion is applied in all directions, until a perfectly black
ground is given to the plate by raising a barb or burr
upon it which holds the printing-ink for the impression.
Other instruments, such as scrapers and burnishers, are
employed, and may be readily procured. Rulettos are also
sometimes used for darkening or deepening any particular
object or space, and can easily be obtained. The difficulty
of the process, which can only be overcome by practice,
consists in the laying of the ground, some portions of the
work requiring coarser and others finer grounding, ^vo
special rules can be given for the rest of the process, which
consists partly in scraping and partly in burnishing off, first
the middle tints, and then the lights.
It has been customary to give Le Blon of Frankfort’s
method of printing in colours in treating of mezzotinto,
which is performed by various plates; but such modes of
procuring coloured engravings may be better seen and un¬
derstood by consulting Baxter’s oil-colour painting from
wood blocks, or Hullmandel’s lithographic printing in
colours, known by the name of “ Cromo-Lithography,” me¬
thods which have in great measure superseded the former.
MGLIN, a town of Russia, government of Czernigov,
and 130 miles N.E. of the town of that name. It contains
four churches; and has some trade in the agiicultuial
produce of the neighbouring country, which is not very
fertile. Pop. 6327.
MIAKO, Miaco, or Meaco, a city of Japan, and the
ecclesiastical capital of the empire, is situated near the
S. coast of the island of Niphon, about 240 miles W.S.W.
of Yeddo ; Lat. 35. 24. N., Long. 153. 30. E. The town
stands in a wide plain, bounded in all directions by hills
covered with trees and gardens, and is 4 miles in length by 3
in breadth. The houses are built for the most part of wood,
and are two storeys in height; the streets are regular but
narrow. The principal buildings of Miako are palaces and
temples, both of which are very numerous, there being,
it is said, 130 of the former, and not less than 6000 of the
latter. Of the temples, the most remarkable are the Fo-
kosi, an edifice of white marble, with numerous pillars of
cedar wood in the interior, and a large statue of Buddha;
and the temple of Kwanwon, which has an image of that
deity even larger than that of Buddha. The Mikado, or
ecclesiastical emperor of Japan, resides, with his attendants
the Dairi, in a part of the town divided from the rest by
walls and ditches. The court of this emperor, which is
composed of all the most learned men in Japan, is in fact
the principal college in the empire; and the greater part
of the books published in Japan come from the Dairi and
MIC
other learned men in Miako. The town is also remark- Miava,
able as the chief seat of the manufacturing industry of II
Japan ; the principal articles being carved ornaments and Michael I.
japanned wares. Pop. believed to be between 500,000 and v " v
1,000,000.
MIAVA, a town of Hungary, in the county of Neutra,
is situated on a river of the same name, falling into the
March, 48 miles N.N.E. of Presburg. The inhabitants
are of the Sclavonian race, and in religion they are for the
most part Lutherans. There are two churches and a syna¬
gogue ; manufactories of woollen stuffs, distilleries, saw¬
mills, &c. Miava has also some trade in hemp and flax.
Pop. 9800.
MICAH, one of the twelve minor prophets of Scripture,
was born in Moresheth of Gath, and, according to the in¬
scription of the book, prophesied during the reigns of
Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah (b.c. 757-696), and was
consequently contemporary with Isaiah. The genuineness
and authenticity of the prophecy of Micah is unquestion¬
able ; although it is a matter of dispute whether the pas¬
sage in chap. iv. 1-3 is borrowed from Isaiah ii. 2, 4, or
that in Isaiah borrowed from Micah, or whether both be
not derived from a common and more ancient source.
Hengstenberg (Christology) strongly maintains Micah’s
originality; while De Wette (Einleitung) observes that we
have the best reason for regarding the last years of Ahaz
as the period of Micah’s prophetic glory. The period of
Micah’s predictions, however, is fully attested by Jeremiah
(chap. xxvi. 18, 19), where Micah is said to have fore¬
told the destruction of Jerusalem in the reign of Heze¬
kiah.
The most remarkable predictions contained in this pro¬
phet have been pointed out by Jahn, and are as follows:
1. The destruction of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah
(iii. 12; vii. 13). 2. The Babylonian captivity, delivered
150 years before the event (iv. 10, 11 ; vii. 7, 8, 13). 3.
The return from the captivity, and the tranquillity of the
Jews under the Persian and Grecian monarchies, icfer-
ring to events from 200 to 500 years distant (iv. 18; vii.
lltxiv. 12). 4. The heroic exploits of the Maccabees
(iv.’l3). 5. The establishment of the royal residence in
Zion (iv. 8). 6. The birth and reign of the Messiah (v. 2).
The style of Micah is remarkable for sublimity and vehe¬
mence, besides abounding in rapid transitions, elegant tropes,
and piquant plays upon words. There are also several
specimens of animated dialogue in this prophecy, especially
in the second part, where the Lord is represented as con¬
versing with his people, reproving their morals, threaten¬
ing chastisement, and offering consolation by the promise
of a return from their exile.
Micah is the third of the minor prophets, according to
the arrangement of the Septuagint; the sixth according to
the Hebrew ; and the fifth according to the date of his
prophecies. (See De Einleitung z Pococks Fom-
mentary on Micah ; Groseschopi’s Micah Uebersetzt, and
the Introductions of Jahn and of Eichhorn.)
MICHAEL L, Rhangabe, Emperor of Constantinople,
was the son of Theophylactus, and grandson of Rhangabe,
from whom he derived his surname. The Emperor Nice-
phorus honoured him with the hand of his daughter Pro-
copia, and the office of master of the palace ; but after
the battle with the Bulgarians, in which that monarch was
slain, and his son Stauracius was mortally wounded, the
latter, while sensible that he could not long retain the
purple, was opposed to Michael as his successor. Michae ,
however, was in 811 named emperor even before the death
of Stauracius, and made an ineffectual attempt against is
life; but he was unable to retain the throne against the
opposition of the army, although the people were well dis¬
posed towards him. He retired to a convent after a icign
of two years, and died in the year 845
MIC
Michael II. Michael II., Babbus, or the Stammerer, Emperor of
Michael nnTiTil101' 6’ WaS at Amorium in Phrygia, and was
VIL J 2) th.e Principal officers of Bardanes. He assisted
>—];eo Vv his companion in arms, to obtain the throne, but
afterwards conspired against him; and being convicted of
treason, was condemned to be thrown into a fiery furnace.
Before the sentence was executed, however, Leo was
murdered by the other conspirators, and Michael was re¬
moved from his dungeon to the throne, even before his
irons could be struck off. Michael was opposed by Tho¬
mas, another of the officers of Bardanes, who led 80,000
Asiatics against Constantinople, but was defeated and taken
captive by the emperor, and treated with great cruelty.
Michael died in 829, after a reign of nine years.
Michael III., Emperor of Constantinople, grandson of
the preceding, succeeded his father Theophilus in 842 at the
age of three, and was for some time under the guardianship
of his mother Theodora. This emperor rivalled Nero in vice
and cruelty; and neglected the loss of provinces for the
sake of a victory in the chariot race. These excesses, along
with the pro.ane insults which he offered to the religion of
his people, made him an object of universal hatred and
contempt; and he was at last murdered by Basil the Mace¬
donian in 867, after a reign of twenty-five years.
Michael IV., The Paphlagonian, Emperor of Constan¬
tinople, was raised to the throne in 1034 by Zoe, daughter
of Constantine IX, the last of the Macedonian dynasty.
This princess was married to Romanus III.; but becomino-
enamoured of Michael, her chamberlain, she poisoned her
husband, and married her attendant. He, however, being
of a weak character, and subject to epileptic fits, possessed
the supreme power only in name, and was a mere instru¬
ment in the hands of his brother John. During his reign
the Bulgarians made an incursion into Thrace and Mace¬
donia, and Constantinople itself was in no small danger;
but the indolent and infirm emperor, much to the surprise
of friends and foes, put himself at the head of the army
and gamed a victory, which compelled the invaders to re-
tire. Michael returned in triumph to Constantinople, and
s mtly after died in 1041, after a reign of seven years.
Michael V, Calaphates, Emperor of Constantinople,
and nephew and successor of the preceding, was the son of a
caulker of ships, from whom he derived his surname, and
was invested with the purple in 1041 by the influence of
fns uncle John. No sooner was he established on the
throne than he banished his uncle and the empress Zoe,
Pnda?WinA5rT-dautUmultagainstMichael> and Put a»
end m 104w to his short reign of four months. The de-
nastery emper°r llVed for some time afterwards in a mo-
Stratioti™^ Emperor of Constantinople,
succeeded the Empress Theodora in 1056, being, as his
surname indicates, of the military profession. His govern-
ment was feeble in the extreme; and he was at last com¬
pelled to abdicate by Isaac Comnenus, who had defeated
i~ army in irygia. I hus, after an inglorious reign of
on^ ^ar? *cIlael retired to a convent where he spent the
rest of his life. 1
Michael VII, Parapinaces, Emperor of Constanti-
nople, was the son of Constantine XL, and was appointed
y his father in 1067 joint emperor along with his brothers
ndronicus and Constantine. Michael, however, was in
reality sole emperor, as his brothers were contented with
mere empty titles and honours; but he was by no means
fitted for the duties of his station, being a man of narrow
mind, and a dabbler in philosophy and rhetoric. At length
two generals of the name of Nicephorus, surnamed Bryen-
mus and Botaniates, simultaneously rebelled against him
when Michael in 1078 resigned the purple, and retired
into a monastery. He was afterwards made Archbishop of
Ephesus. 1
MIC
735
Michael VIII, Palceologus, Emperor of Constantino- Michael
pie, was born, as his name indicates, of the ancient and noble .VIII.
race of the Palseologi, in the year 1234 ; and at an early II
age was so distinguished as a soldier and statesman as to JIichaelis-
be raised to the dignity of constable or commander of the
r rench mercenaries. Although by his generosity and affa¬
bility he gained the affections of the army and populace
his ambition rendered him an object of fear and suspicion
to the court, and involved him in dangers from which it
required all his courage and prudence to effect his escape.
On the death of Theodore II, who had more than once
unjustly attempted his life, Michael took part in the con¬
spiracy by which Muzalon, one of the guardians of the
young successor to the throne, was murdered; and suc¬
ceeded in getting himself appointed regent in his stead,
shortly afterwards Michael was crowned emperor at Nice •
and his reign was rendered illustrious by the recovery of
Constantinople in 1261. This emperor died in 1282 after
a troubled reign of twenty-two years, during the course of
winch, though stained with many cruelties and crimes he
restored by his vigour and ability the decayed fortunes of
the Greek empire. (For further information respecting
these emperors, see Constantinopolitan History).
MICHAEL’S MOUNT’, St, a granite rock in Mount’s
Bay, county of Cornwall, England, about three-quarters of a
mile S. of Marazion ; N. Lat. 50. 7, W. Long. 5. 28. It is
of a pyramidal form, 250 feet in height, and about a mile in
circuit, and is joined to the land by a causeway, which is
covered by the sea at high water. This has been supposed
by some to be the place called by the Greeks from
wfience they obtained tin ; but this opinion is by no means
certain As early as the fifth century a chapel was founded
here, which was an object of pilgrimage; and remains of
a Benedictine priory, founded by Edward the Confessor
are yet to be seen. It was fortified, and a place of some’
importance in former times; and was taken by John de
Vere, a follower of the House of Lancaster, in 1471 •
by the Cornish rebels in 1548; and by Colonel Hammond’
in the civil war in 1646. The Mount is still fortified,’
having 3 batteries and 18 guns. There is a small village
of 163 Part °f the peninSula’ with a Population
Michael, St. See Azores.
.MIClH^ELIS’ JoiIANN David, a celebrated biblical
cntic of Germany, was the eldest son of the distinguished
Hebrew scholar Dr Christian Benedict Michaelis, professor
in the university of Halle, and was born at that place on
the 27th of February 1717. His father devoted him at an
early age to an academical life; and with that view he
received his elementary education in a celebrated Prussian
seminary called the Orphan-house, at Glanche, in the
neighbourhood of his native place. He commenced his
academical career at Halle in 1733, and took his master’s
degree in the faculty of philosophy in 1739. In 1741 he
visited England, where his superior knowledge of the
oriental languages, which was considerably increased bv
ins indefangabie researches in the Bodleian Library at
Oxford, introduced him to the acquaintance, and gained
him the esteem, of the first literary men of the day* with
several of whom, particularly Bishop Lowth, he afterwards
kept up a regular correspondence. On his return to Halle
after an absence of fifteen months, he began to read lectures
on the historical books of the Old Testament, which hj
continued aftei his removal to Gottingen in 1745 On ih
death ofthe chancellor Ludwig whose leen.Ll ' , 1
history .aid the foundation ofthTt p^TnLSeT
ffichSelh w0»rbmabl,y *Played i" the MosaUches Becht,
of his fhrmT nppomted to catalogue the immense library
fished nT745ma a r- 1 he,reSUl1 of his lab<nn's ^ P^-
such works Tnl f0nsiclered an excellent specimen of
• 1746 he was appointed professor extraordi-
736 MIC
Michael- nary) and soon afterwards professor of pliilosopliy, in the
mas. university of Gottingen, where he afterwards, in the capacity
s—^ of professor of theology and oriental languages, rendered
the highest services to this institution. I he next year he
obtained the place of secretary to the Royal Society theie,
of which he was director in 1761, and he was subsequently
made aulic councillor by the court of Hanover. In 1764 his
distinguished talents, and a publication relative to his plan for
an expedition to Arabia, procured him the honour of being
chosen a corresponding, and afterwards a foreign, mem¬
ber of tbe Academy of Inscriptions at Paris, of which class
the institution admitted only eight; and in the same year
he became a member of the society of Haerlem. In 1775
Count Hopkin, who eighteen years before had prohibited
the use of his writings at Upsal, when he was chancellor
of that university, prevailed upon the King of Sweden to
confer upon him the order of the Polar Star as a national
compensation. In 1786 he was raised to the distinguished
rank of privy councillor of justice by the court of Hanover ;
and in 1788 he received his last literary honour by being
unanimously elected a fellow of the Royal Society of Lon¬
don. His great critical knowledge of the Hebrew language,
which he displayed in a new translation of the Bible and in
other works, raised him to a degree of eminence almost
unknown before in Germany ; and his indefatigable labours
were only equalled by his desire of communicating the
knowledge he had acquired to the numerous students of all
countries who frequented his admirable lectures, which he
continued to deliver in half-yearly courses on various parts
of the sacred writings, and on the Hebrew, Arabic, and
Syriac languages, to the last year of his life. He was
forty-five years professor in the university of Gottingen,
and during that long period he filled the chair with dignity,
credit, and usefulness. He died on the 22d of October
1791, in the seventy-fourth year of his age.
The principal works of J. D. Michaelis are, in oriental
literature, grammars of the Hebrew, Chaldee, Syriac, and
Arabic languages, Oriental u. exeget. Bibliothek, 1/81—85,
23 vols.; Supplementa et emendationes ad Lexica-Hebraica,
Gott. 1784. In history, geography, and chronology, Spici-
legium Geographice Hcebrorum exterce post Bochartum ;
several discourses on Jewish law and antiquities, mainly
embodied in his masterpiece \he Mosaisches Recht, 1770-5,
6 vols., and translated into English in 1814 by Dr Alex.
Smith, and entitled Commentaries on the Laws of Moses.
His Introduction to the New Testament is familiar to the
English reader through the well-known translation of
Bishop Marsh.
MICHAELMAS, the feast of the archangel St Michael
on the 29th of September, was instituted, according to Brady
(Claris Calendaria, vol. ii.), in a.d. 487. On Michael-
mas-day, which is a stated rent-day in this country, there is
an old custom, still kept up in certain districts, ot having a
roast goose to dinner, probably on account of the fact alluded
to by an amusing writer in The World, No. 10, that
“ stubble geese are in the highest perfection ” at that period.
There are also a few quaint lines bearing on this point in
Poor Robin’s Almanack for 1695, beginning, “Geese now
in their prime season areand there is a common saying
that “ if you eat goose on Michaelmas-day, you will never
want money all the year round.”
There was another custom on this day of which few traces,
if any, now remain, viz., the baking and eating of St
Michael's cake or bannock. Martin, in his Description of
the Western Islands of Scotland, says that the inhabitants
of Skye, and especially those of Kilbar village, have on
this day a “ general cavalcade, and several families bake
the cake called St Michael’s bannock, . . . and all stran¬
gers, together with those of each family, must eat the bread
that night.” Macauley, in his Ilistorg of St KHda, alludes
to the same observance in that island, and adds, that all who
MIC
ate the cake “had, of course, some title to the friendship Michaux
and protection of Michael.” (See Brand’s Popular Anti- Jl
quities, Bohn, vol. i., pp. 353, 367, 372.) Angelo
MICHAUX, Andre, a botanist, was born in 1746 at Buon|>rotti>
Sartory, near Versailles, and studied under Lemonnier the
astronomer and Jussieu the botanist. In 1779 he travelled
in England, from which country he introduced into F ranee
several new varieties of trees and shrubs; and in 1/80 he
explored the hills of Auvergne and the Pyrenees, and
brought from Spain several sorts of grain, which were sent
to the Jardin des Plantes at Paris. In 1782 he was sent by
the Count of Provence, afterwards Louis XVIII., to Persia;
but arriving there during a period of civil war, he was plun¬
dered by the Arabs of all but his books. Having obtained
from the British consul at Bassora the means to continue
his journey, he proceeded to Ispahan, where he cured the
Persian monarch of a dangerous disease ; and af ter spending
two years in different parts of Persia, he was recalled, and
returned to France with a fine herbarium and many valu¬
able kinds of seed. In 1785 he was sent by the govern¬
ment to North America, where he travelled through a great
part of the country, from Hudson’s Bay to Florida, and from
the Atlantic to the Mississippi. The French revolution,
however, deprived him of the funds he had formerly received
from the government; and his own means were soon ex¬
hausted, so that he was obliged to return to France. On
his homeward voyage he was shipwrecked, and only escaped
with his life and four boxes of specimens. He arrived in
Paris in 1796 ; and notwithstanding the justice of his claims,
the Directory gave him but a small indemnification for his
losses, and that not till after three years of anxious expec¬
tation. But Michaux was able to bear the privations of
poverty and neglect with the same patience and persevei-
ance with which he had endured the hardships of his former
adventurous life. He lived on the same coarse fare, and
slept on the same bear-skin, in tbe midst of the luxury of
Paris, as in the deserts and ruins of the East, or in the prairies
and forests of the West. In 1800 he went to Madagascar,
where he died in 1802. Michaux was the author of several
books, of which the principal are,—Histoire des Chenes de
VAmeriqueSeptentrionale, Paris, 1801; and Ilora Borealis
Americana, Paris, 1803.
MICHEL ANGELO BUONARROTI, perhaps the
greatest master of the arts of design who has ever appeared,
was born in the castle of Caprese in Tuscany, on the 6th
of March 1474. His father, Ludovico di Leonardo Buo¬
narroti Simone, was a descendant of the noble and illus¬
trious family of the Counts of Canossa, and allied to the
imperial blood. This circumstance had nearly occasioned
the world the loss of the great artist; for when the strong
bias of his mind became apparent, which occurred at a
verv early age, his father and uncles discouraged his pur¬
suits, and treated him with harshness, conceiving that their
family would be degraded should a scion of their race adopt
the profession of artist. But objection, prejudice, and
even persecution, proved useless when opposed to devoted
attachment and irresistible genius. Michel Angelo re¬
ceived the rudiments of his education at Florence, the
nursing-mother of the arts, and here he enjoyed ample
facilities of gratifying his taste for drawing. Ludovico
finding it hopeless to attempt to frustrate the intentions ot
nature, yielded at last to the advice of friends and the
wishes of his son, who was accordingly placed under Dome-
' nico Ghirlandajo, a distinguished professor of the arts ol
painting and design. The youth was articled to serve t iree
years; but, contrary to custom, instead of paying, he re¬
ceived a premium ; an indubitable proof of his great merits,
even at the age of fourteen. The original document by
which he was engaged bears date April 1488. His earliest
effort in oil showed that he was born to grapple with di
culties from which other men shrink, whilst his success
Michel
Angelo.
proved that he was also destined to overcome them. The
subject was St Anthony beaten by Devils.” In this little
picture, besides the figure of the saint, there were crowded
wild and grotesque forms and monsters, to which he was so
intent upon giving an aspect of reality, that he painted no
part without referring to some natural object. But paint-
ing did not engross the whole of his time and attention.
a-t j P3*1011 arts this period was Lorenzo de’
ledici, who, for the purpose of elevating sculpture to a
evel with painting, opened a garden in Florence, which he
amply supplied with antique statues, bas-reliefs, busts, and
t ie like. I hither the youth of the city repaired to study
the classic creations of antiquity ; and it is scarcely neces¬
sary to say that it became the favourite haunt of Michel
Angelo.
F'rom copying the drawings and paintings of others his
attention was turned to the modelling of figures in clay, in
imitation of the monuments of ancient art; and the transi¬
tion from this, the initiatory step in sculpture, to the mould¬
ing of the marble into symmetrical forms, was natural, and
speeddy withdrew his mind from every other study. The
vigilant and practised eye of Lorenzo soon discovered the
genius of the youthful sculptor in the execution of a mask
representing a laughing faun. His father was sent for, and
requested to resign Michel to the care of the family; and
this being complied with, apartments were allotted to him
in the ducal palace. Here he received every indulgence
and attention, being treated with parental affection, and
allowed to pursue the bent of his genius, not only without
interruption, but cheered and encouraged by the cordial
approbation of his munificent patron. Amongst the works
which he executed under these favourable auspices was a
bas-rehef representing the “Battle of the Centaurs;” on
viewing which at a future period of his life, he lamented
lat he had not confined himself to a branch of art wherein
he had so soon attained such excellence. This is the
strongest evidence which could be produced of the rare
merits of the sculpture; for artists almost uniformly speak
disparagingly of their early efforts.
On the death of Lorenzo, which happened about two
years after he had entered his service, Michel Angelo with
a heavy heart returned to the paternal mansion. Nothino-
belonging to Lorenzo was inherited by his son Pietro ex¬
cept the territorial possessions of the family ; and although
the young artist continued to pursue his studies with un¬
abated zeal, little patronage or encouragement was to be
expected or obtained from a frivolous debauchee. The
pusillanimity of this person soon distracted the councils of
Florence ; and Michel, to escape the storm which he saw
impending over that city, retired to Bologna, but returned
m about a year afterwards, when tranquillity had been
restored. About this period there prevailed a sort of mania
for the antique. Whilst the discoveries of antiquity created
a new era in art and literature, the importance of which
can never be too highly estimated, many ignorant indivi¬
duals, smitten with the enthusiasm of the time, betrayed
tneii want of judgment by the indiscriminate manner in which
they lavished their praise on these remains; and Michel
Angelo resolved to take advantage of the popular excite¬
ment. He executed a “ Sleeping Cupid;” and having stained
the marble in such a way as to give it the appearance of a
genuine antique, it was transmitted to a proper person in
Rome, who, after burying it in his vineyard, dug it up, and
then reported the discovery. The pardonable trick com-
pletely succeeded for a time, and the statue was bought by
a cardinal for a considerable sum; but of this Michel An¬
gelo received only a small portion. Such deceptions, how¬
ever, seldom remain long concealed; the officious zeal of
friends, or the vanity of authorship, usually brings about the
exposure of a successful imposition. After the mask was
laid aside, and the real artist became known, he received
VOL. xiv.
MICHEL ANGELO.
7S7
a flattering invitation to visit Rome. Thither he accord¬
ingly repaired: and whilst there he executed a statue of
“ Bacchus,” another of a “Cupid,” and a group of the “ Virmn
weeping over the dead body of Christ ” for St Peter’s church,
together with a cartoon representing St Francis receiving
the stigmata. ^
The celebrated gonfaloniere Pietro Soderini, well known
as a patron of genius, having been elected 'to guard the
peace and protect the liberties of Florence, Michel Ano-elo
returned to that city. With the sanction of the new chief
magistrate, he was allowed to appropriate to his use a hime
block of marble, which, after having been much injured by
Simone des Fiesole in attempting to shape it into a colossal
statue, had for many years lain neglected in the court of
the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. Out of this he executed
a gigantic statue of David, which gave great satisfaction.
He also cast a figure in bronze of the size of nature, and a
group of “David and Goliath;” but, that his hand might not
lose its cunning” in the sister art, he painted a “ Holy
F amuy. I his picture is preserved in the Florence gallery
and it is the only painting in oil by Michel Angelo now
remaining the authenticity of which is not disputed. Hav¬
ing been commissioned to ornament the hall of the ducal
palace with a cartoon, he chose for the subject an event
connected with the war between the Florentines and Pisans,
ihe work represents the Florentine soldiers, who, alarmed
by an unexpected assault whilst bathing in the Arno, are
getting out of the water with the utmost expedition,’and
preparing for action; and although only outlined in char¬
coal, chalk, and the like, it was considered as the most
extraordinary production which had appeared since the
revival of the arts in Italy. In the meantime, Julius II
having been raised to the pontifical throne, Michel Angelo
was invited to the Vatican, whither he repaired without
finishing the cartoon; but being disgusted with Rome, he
returned to Florence, and completed the design. The
painting of the picture itself, however, was never begun.
I oluical events, and a second invitation from Julius II.
again attracted him to the Eternal City, and he was em¬
ployed by his holiness to construct a magnificent mauso¬
leum, which, although immediately commenced, was inter¬
rupted during its progress, first on account of a misunder¬
standing between the artist and the pope, and afterwards
from other causes. The artist repaired to Bologna, and
political events having brought the pope to this city, a
reconciliation took place. In a few days Julius II. ordered
a colossal statue of himself to be executed in bronze, which
Michel Angelo finished in sixteen months, and returned to
Rome at the end of June 1508. This statue was the per-
sonification of severe majesty, with one hand raised in the
attitude of benediction ; but being somewhat at a loss how
to dispose of the left, he asked the pope whether he would
like a book to be placed in it, when the warlike pontiff
promptly replied,—“A sword rather; I was never given to
letters. He was, however, disappointed in his hopes of
being allowed to proceed with his great architectural under-
takmg; for the pope had changed his mind, it is alleged
through the jealousy of Bramante, and the artist was °re-
quested to decorate with pictures the ceiling and walls of
6 ichapt* But hlS Previous disappointment was
forgotten in his subsequent triumph. This stupendous work
o genius excited the highest admiration, which contem¬
porary opinion and the judgment of after ages have con-
ft™xecutk,m e'shteen °r twenty months were spent in
waf filled1 hv^ f Ju!iUS IL in 1513’ the PaPal throne
era in ^ 7 u°Se ma£nificent reign forms an
TtLZ thVnt7llectual history Of modern times. Yet,
strange as the fact may appear, the life of Michel Angelo
during his pontificate is nearly an entire blank. He was
empoje in exti acting marble from a quarry which was
Michel
Angelo.
738 MIC M I C
Michel wrought with difficulty, and in constructing a road over
Angelo. intricate swamps and through mountainous ridges, for the
purpose of conveying it to the sea. Leo X. died in 1521,
and under his successor Adrian VI. Michel Angelo em¬
ployed himself upon the monument of Julius. The reign
of Adrian was short; and on his death Clement VII. was
raised to the papal throne. The confusion with which the
civil affairs of Rome were soon overwhelmed drove the
artist to Florence, where he continued his architectural and
other works for the chapel and library of S. Lorenzo, and
executed a statue of Christ. His talents as an engineer
were likewise put in requisition for the defence of the city.
Before commencing the works he visited Ferrara, then the
best fortified town in Italy, and was received with the utmost
courtesy by the Duke Alphonso, who showed him every
part of the works, and at the same time requested a speci¬
men of the artist’s abilities either in sculpture or in painting.
A picture of “Jupiter and Leda” was the result; but this
great production is generally supposed to have been lost.
Michel Angelo was enabled to complete the fortifications
of Florence before the siege of the city commenced; and,
as in the case of Syracuse, the genius of one individual lor a
considerable time proved more than a match for thousands of
armed men and the mightiest engines of war. By treachery
the city passed into the hands of the enemy ; but the great
artist, although he had shown the dexterity of Archimedes
in frustrating the designs of the besiegers, did not share the
fate of the great geometrician. The finishing of two monu¬
ments for the Medici family was the price of his liberty.
Tranquillity being restored to Italy, Buonarroti returned
to Rome; and although frequently interrupted, both by
Clement VII. and by his successor Paul III., he at last com¬
pleted the monument to Julius II. It consists of seven
statues, amongst which is the celebrated one of Moses, a
production evincing, in a higher degree than any of his
other sculptures, that character of majesty and sublimity
which more or less pervades them all. His next work was
the painting of the “ Last Judgment ” in the Sistine chapel,
which was finished in 1541 ; and so great was the admira¬
tion excited by this mighty effort of genius, that many per¬
sons came from distant parts of Italy to see it. He subse¬
quently painted the “Martyrdom of St Peter” and the
“Conversion of St Paul,” which cost him great fatigue, as age
was beginning to impair his physical energies. But that his
intellectual powers still retained their pristine vigour, the
church of St Peter’s, the most splendid monument of his
genius and success as an architect, affords ample evidence.
This fabric was begun by Julius II. in 1506, and being
successively intrusted to Bramante and Antonio de San
Gallo, by this transference from hand to hand it was in
danger of becoming a huge incongruity. On the death of
Antonio de San Gallo in 1546 Michel Angelo was ap¬
pointed architect; and notwithstanding the jarring and
complexity of the original designs, he succeeded in simplify¬
ing and harmonizing the whole. The work proceeded for
a time with considerable rapidity. But he was occasionally
withdrawn from it to other things, such as the building of
bridges, the superintendence of which might have been
safely intrusted to some inferior person. During the latter
years of his life the papal chair was filled by several pon¬
tiffs, some of whom forwarded, and others retarded, his great
undertaking, employing him in the construction of chapels
andother buildings. Nor didhe live to witness thecompletion
of this splendid edifice, the greatest and most magnificent
Christian tenqile on earth. He was carried off by a slow
fevei on the 17th of February 1563. His obsequies were
celebrated as became the memory of so unrivalled a genius.
Michel Angelo was of the middle stature, bony in his
make, and rathei spare, but broad over the shoulders. His
complexion was good; his forehead was square, and some¬
what projecting; his eyes were of a hazel colour, but rather
small; and the general effect of his countenance was im- Michelozzf.
paired by a blow which he had received in youth.
The character of Michel Angelo as an artist has already
been delineated in this work by a masterly hand. (See the
article Arts, Fine.) Grandeur of conception is the quality
which distinguishes his works from those of all other artists
who have appeared in modern times. Whether he excelled
most in painting, in sculpture, or in architecture, it would
not be easy to determine. He has left the noblest speci¬
mens of human genius in each department of art. He is
the Milton of artists. Things beyond the visible diurnal
sphere were within the range of his imagination ; and vrhen
he stoops to earth, he invests nature with an ideal grandeur
and majesty. His boys are men, his men are a race of
giants: his demons are the evil spirits of Dante and Milton
made visible; and his angels are the offspring of the sky.
The Sistine chapel is allowed to be the most finished work
of art in the world; and its perfection is owing chiefly to
Michel Angelo’s divine paintings. The whole wall behind
the altar is covered by his picture of the “ Last Judgment;”
the vaulted ceiling represents the creation of the world, and
around it are prophets and sibyls. In the sublime painting
of the “Last Judgment,” terrible power is the predominating
feature. The good and the bad, angels and devils, crowd
the scene, and Christ is represented in the act of judging,
or rather of condemning. His complete knowledge of
anatomy, which he constantly studied, enabled him to re¬
present in the most perfect manner the human figure in
every possible attitude, and to express pain and despair
through all their gradations. His other pictures exhibit the
same daring sublimity of conception and power of execution.
The church of St Peter’s at Rome is the most splendid
triumph of his architectural talents. His style in architec¬
ture is distinguished by grandeur and boldness; and in his
ornaments the untamed character of his imagination is fre¬
quently apparent, in his preference of the uncommon to the
simple and elegant. In sculpture his statue of Moses is uni¬
versally acknowledged to be the noblest monument of his ge¬
nius, displaying, more than any other of his numerous works
in this department of art, all the great qualities of his mind.
Michel Angelo was likewise an author, and excelled
both in verse and prose. His poetry, like his art, was
powerfully influenced by the Platonic philosophy to which
he seems to have formed an early attachment through his
connection with the Platonic Academy of Florence. His
poetical pieces consist of sixty-two small poems, named
madrigals, and sixty-four sonnets, besides a few pieces of
greater length, of which the most touching is an elegy on
the death of a brother. Some of these poems are the light,
airy creations of gay fancy ; but the greater part—particu¬
larly his sonnets, which comprehend his most beautiful effu¬
sions—are of a much graver cast, and are characterized by
lofty thought and noble sentiment, expressed in strong, ener¬
getic, and elegant language. His sonnets are generally of a
highly abstract nature, and are not unfrequently rendered
painfully obscure by the subtle allegorical style which Dante
had so popularized in Italy. (See an elegant essay by E.
Taylor, on Michel Angelo considered as a Philosophic Poet,
and accompanied by various translations, London, 1846.)
Lives of Michel Angelo were published during the
artist’s lifetime by Condivi and Vasari. The most recent,
and in many respects the most valuable, biography of
Michel Angelo is that entitled The Life of Michel Angelo
Buonarroti, with Translations of many of his Poems and
Letters; also Memoirs of Savonarola, Raphael, and l it-
toria Colonna, by John S. Harford, Esq., D.C.L., 2 vols.,
London, 1857.
MICHELOZZI, Michelozzo, a Florentine sculptor and
architect, was born about the year 1396. He was in his
youth a pupil of Donatello, and soon displayed great genius
and skill in executing marble and bronze statues. He was
M I C
Michigan^ much attached to the service of Cosmo de’ Medici, for
whom he built a palace in Florence, now known by the
name of the Palazzo Iticcardi. T. his building is remarkable
as being the earliest in Florence built after the modern
rules; and as combining convenience as a dwelling with
simplicity and beauty of architecture. When Cosmo was
banished in 1433 Michelozzi followed him to Venice, where
he erected the library of the conventof San Giorgio Maggiore,
and designed several other edifices. In 1434 he returned
with his patron to Florence, where he continued to exercise
his ait with such success, that he was appointed a member
of the Florentine magistracy. After the death of Cosmo,
Michelozzi continued to enjoy the favour of his son Pietro,
for whom also he planned many buildings. He died at the
age of sixty-eight, about the year 1470; but neither the
date of his birth nor that of his death is exactly known.
MICHIGAN, one of the United States of North Ame¬
rica, is bounded on the N. by Lake Superior; E. by Lake
Huron, the Strait and Lake of St Clair, the Strait of Detroit,
and Lake Erie, all of which separate it from Canada; S. by
the states of Ohio and Indiana; and W. by Lake Michigan
and the state of Wisconsin. It lies between 41.40. and 47.110.
N. Lat., and between 82. 12. and 90. 30. W\ Long., and has
a total land area ol 56,243 square miles. Phis state consists
of two large peninsulas, separated from each other by the
Straits of Mackinaw, and known respectively as the Northern
and Southern; the former, formed by Lakes Superior and
Michigan, is about 320 mdes in length and 130 in extreme
breadth; while the latter, formed by Lakes Michigan and
Huron, has a length of 283 miles and an extreme breadth of
210 miles. These two peninsulas are very different from
each othei both in aspect and nature. The Northern is
mountainous in its western part, some of the heights havin"-
an elevation of 2000 feet. The Wisconsin or Porcupine
Mountains, which form the watershed between Lakes Michi¬
gan and Superior, attain an elevation of about 2000 feet in
the N.W. portion of this peninsula. Towards the centre
of this division there is a high table-land, broken by numer¬
ous hills, and extending E. as far as the Pictured Rocks,
on the coast of Lake Superior. These rocks consist of
masses of sandstone, formed by the continued action of the
wind and waves into fantastic shapes, resembling ruined
temples, castles, &c. T he E. part of the peninsula from
this point to its extremity consists of an undulating tract of
country, sloping gradually down to the coasts on either
side, which consist on the N. of sandstone rocks, and on
the S. of limestone. The rivers of this part of the state are
not of great size or importance; and those that flow to the
IS. have generally a rapid descent, and abound in pictur¬
esque falls and rapids. I he principal of those which flow
N. are, the Montreal, the Ontonagon, the Huron, the St
John s, and the Chocolate; and of those flowing S., the
Menomonee and the Manistee. The Montreal and the
Menomonee partly form the boundary between this state
and that of Wisconsin. The southern peninsula consists of
a varied surface of hill and dale, not rising in any part to a
great elevation, but everywhere considerably above the level
of the lakes, and having in many places steep coasts, from
100 to 300 feet in height. A ridge of hills traverses the
country from S. to N., somewhat to the E. of the centre,
and separates the waters of the rivers flowing E. to Lake
Huron from those flowing W. to Lake Michigan.
In the southern part of this peninsula there are extensive
plains or openings, as they are generally called by the in¬
habitants, covered more or less thickly with scattered oaks
of different kinds, with here and there clusters of hickory.
The numerous knolls which rise in all directions, the rivers
which are fringed with belts of wood, and the extensive’
and luxuriant meadows which occur in many places, com¬
bine to render this country one of the richest and most
beautiful in scenery of any in the United States. Further
MIC 739
to the N. there are dense forests, interrupted now and then Michigan,
by small prairies occupied by farms. Across the middle of i
the peninsula, from Saginaw Bay westward, a stripe of land
extends, which is entirely covered with pine forests. This
region is about 25 miles in breadth; and the unbroken forests
of pines give to the country a dark and gloomy appearance.
To the N. of this region beech and maple trees again be
come predominant, and the pines are only scattered here
and there among them. The principal rivers of this penin¬
sula are,—the St Joseph’s, the Kalamazoa, the Grand, the
Maskegon, and the Manistee, which flow into Lake Michi¬
gan ; the An Sable, and the Saginaw, flowing into Lake
Huron ; and the Raisin, flowing into Lake Erie. The geo¬
logical character of the rocks of the northern peninsula of
Michigan is principally primitive; those parts, however,
near Lake Michigan exhibit a more recent formation ; and
the southern peninsula is chiefly secondary, being similar in
its nature to the western part of the state of New York;
while there are numerous boulders of primitive rock scat¬
tered over every part of this state. The northern penin¬
sula is very rich in minerals, and possesses copper mines,
which are in all probability among the richest and most
extensive deposits of that mineral in the world. It is chiefly
found in the Kewenaw peninsula, a piece of land jutting out
into Lake Superior, from which the state of Michigan sent
to Washington a block of copper several tons in weight,
and nearly pure. This block is now to be seen built into the
wall of the National Monument, bearing the arms of Michi¬
gan and this inscription,—“From Michigan: an emblem
of her trust in the Union.” Iron is also found in great
abundance to the S.W. of the copper region ; and the state
has also lead, gypsum, peat, limestone, marl, and coal; but
these have not yet been worked to any great extent. The
soil of the southern peninsula is rich and fertile; and al¬
though the northern peninsula is in general barren, yet even
here there are some tracts of great fertility. The climate
of the northern part is severe, and the cold in winter intense;
while in the S. it is much milder and more temperate than
those parts of the eastern states which lie in the same degree
of latitude. Cultivation, however, has not extended beyond
the southern part of the lower peninsula, since the tide of
emigration has rather passed through Michigan on its way
to the countries farther W. than made any permanent
settlements there. The quantity of cultivated land in the
state amounted in 1850 to 1,929,110 acres ; and the produce
in the same year consisted of 5,641,420 bushels of Indian
corn, 4,925,889 of wheat, 2,886,056 of oats, 2,359,897 of
potatoes, and 472,917 of buckwheat; besides 2,043,283 lbs.
of wool, 7,065,878 of butter, 1,011,492 of cheese, 2,439,794
of maple sugar, 404,934 tons of hay; live stock worth
L.1,668,486 ; market produce, L.3,070 ; fruit, L.27,635 ;
and butcher meat, L.276,735. The manufactures of the
state of Michigan have not as yet made much progress,
owing to the recent period at which this country has been
settled; but in 1850 there were in Michigan 1979 estab¬
lishments of various sorts. Among these there were 15
woollen factories, employing 129 hands and L.l9,583 capi¬
tal, and producing annually 141,570 yards, valued at
L.l 8,800 ; 64 forges, furnaces, &c., employing 362 hands,
and producing 5430 tons, to the value of L.62,645 ; several
breweries and distilleries, employing 98 hands and L.29 047
™PTLand Producing 901,220 gallons; 6 tanneries, with
L.o9,o83 capital, and producing leather to the worth of
L.75,828 ; besides many other establishments.
The state of Michigan has been considerablv improved
by railways, two of which were begun by the state, but
afterwards sold to private companies. The Michigan Cen¬
tra ai vvay extends from Detroit westward thr ough the
of the state to New Buffalo, and has a total length
o 284 miles ; the Michigan Southern, which, in connection
with the Indiana Northern, extends from Monroe to Chicago,
740 M I C
Michigan, a distance of 243 miles. There are, besides, several smaller
—v'-'-'' lines and branches. The position of Michigan, nearly
surrounded by the largest fresh-water lakes in the world, is
extremely favourable for its commercial prosperity ; and this
is further increased by the number and excellence of its
harbours all along the coast, w'hich surpass in both of these
respects those of any other lake state. The number of
vessels built in the state in the year ending June 30, 1855,
was 27 ; and their tonnage, 7844. The value of the exports
from Michigan in the same year was L.118,436; and that
of the imports was L.58,620. The government of the state
is elected by general suffrage every second year; and con¬
sists of a governor, with a salary of L.208 a-year, and a lieu¬
tenant-governor, who presides in the Senate, and receives
12s. 6d. a-day during the sitting of the legislative body.
This body consists of a Senate and House of Representa¬
tives; the former containing 32, and the latter 66 members;
and both popularly elected for two years. Michigan sends
four members to the National House of Representatives;
and has six votes in the election of a president of the United
States. The judiciary consists of a supreme court, circuit
courts, probate courts, and justices’ courts. The franchise
extends to every white man or civilized Indian, not a mem¬
ber of a tribe, above the age of twenty-one, and who has re¬
sided for a certain time in the state. The present constitution
received the sanction of the people in 1850. The question
of a general revision of the constitution is to be submitted
to the people every sixteen years; but any change may be
made on receiving the approval of two-thirds of each branch
of the legislature, and being afterwards ratified by a majority
of the electors.
The public debt of the state, November 30, 1855, was
L.497,908; and on the 1st November 1856 it was
L.489,056. The receipts for the year ending November
30, 1855, amounted to L.122,583, which, together with a
balance of L.115,178, makes up a total of L.237,761; and
the expenditure for the same year was L.130,162; leaving
a balance of L.107,599. The state contained in December
1855, 4 banks, with an aggregate capital of L.152,174, and
a circulation of L.l 19,638. According to the census of 1850
there were in the state 362 places of worship, of which 103
belong to the Methodists, 67 to the Presbyterians, 58 to
the Baptists, 42 to the Roman Catholics, 29 to the Con-
gregationalists, 25 to the Episcopalians, 12 to the Luther¬
ans, 7 to the Quakers, 6 each to the Dutch Reformed
Church and the Universalists, and 7 to minor sects. The
total amount of church accommodation was 118,892 sittings,
and the value of the whole church property, L.l 50,667. The
government of Michigan pays considerable attention to the
subject of education ; and there is a fund set apart for the
support of the schools in the state, which amounted in 1852
to L.l 19,935, and in 1854 to L.288,393. Besides this
fund, which is obtained by the sale of public lands, there
was raised by taxation in 1854 for the schools of the state
L.73,266. The number of schools supported by these
means was, in 1850, 2714, with 3231 teachers and 110,455
scholars. Besides these, Michigan had 37 schools, with 71
teachers and 1619 scholars, not supported by the state.
1 he university fund belonging to the state amounted in
1854 to L.94,255 ; and L.14,508 was raised by taxation in
that year for the support of the school and township lib¬
raries, which then contained in all 121,201 volumes. The
state contains 3 colleges, with 22 professors and 308 stu¬
dents ; and a normal school opened in 1853. The prin¬
cipal of the other institutions are,—the asylum for the deaf,
dumb, and blind, opened in 1854; the asylum for the in¬
sane, opened in the same year; the house of correction for
juvenile offender^, opened in 1856; and the state prison at
Jackson, which contained, November 30, 1854, 246 con¬
victs. Capital punishment has been abolished in this state
since 1848 ; and criminals convicted of murder are now
MIC
imprisoned for life, with hard labour, in the state prison.
Michigan is divided into 64 organized and 21 unorganized
counties: and the capital of the state is Lansing.
The country now occupied by the state of Michigan re¬
ceived its first European settlement from the hands of the
French soon after the middle of the seventeenth century.
At the peace of 1763 it came, with the other French pos¬
sessions in North America, into the hands of the British.
On the expulsion of the French, the celebrated Indian
chief Pontiac seized the opportunity to rid the country of
the whites, and accordingly instigated a simultaneous rising
among the Indians, who surprised and took all the forts in
the country, massacring the inhabitants, with the exception
of Detroit, which held out until relieved by British troops,
who subdued the Indians, and freed the colonists from
farther danger. The American revolution followed soon
after; and the country now forming the state of Michigan
came into the possession of the Union in 1796, and was
made a territorial government in 1805, with Detroit for its
capital. In 1812 it became the theatre of the war between
Britain and the United States. Detroit was surrendered
to the British in that year by General Hull, and the whole
country was overrun by the British and Indians; but not
long after they w’ere finally expelled by General Harrison.
Previous to 1830 the inhabitants of this country were
chiefly Canadian French, but at that time it began to be
occupied by emigrants from the other states, especially those
of New England. Thus, while formerly little had been
done to improve the culture or products of the land,—the
French being contented idly and ignorantly to follow the
customs of their fathers,—now that a more enterprising and
energetic race of settlers had succeeded them, the country
made rapid advancement in wealth and prosperity. In 1837
Michigan was admitted as one of the United States, having
then a population of nearly 100,000. According to the
census of 1850, the state contained,—whites, 395,071; free
persons of colour, 2583 : total, 397,654.
Michigan, Lake, one of the five great lakes of North
America, is situated between 41. 30. and 46. N. Lat., and
between 85. 50. and 88. W. Long.; having a length of
330, and a breadth of 90 miles, with an area of 20,000 square
miles. The lake is fed by a number of rivers from the ad¬
joining country, the principal of which are,—the Grand,
Maskegon, St Joseph, and Kalamazoo, from Michigan ;
the Calumet from Indiana; the Chicago from Illinois;
and the Milwaukee and Sheboygan from Wisconsin; and
it discharges its waters through the Straits of Mackinaw
into Lake Huron. Michigan has not many large bays, the
largest being Green Bay, on the W. shore, chiefly in Wis¬
consin, more than 100 miles in length, and varying in
breadth from 15 to 35 miles. On the E. coast the principal
indentations are Little Traverse Bay and Grand Haven.
Lake Michigan has few islands, and these are situated chiefly
near the N.E. extremity. The shores are generally low; and
the water seems to be gradually retiring from the eastern
shore, and making encroachments on the western. The
depth of the lake is between 900 and 1000 feet; and the
surface is about 600 feet above the level of the sea. Though
inferior in size to Lake Superior, this lake is in some re¬
spects second to none of the great American lakes. It
extends farther to the S. than Lake Superior, and its
shores thus enjoy a climate more mild and a soil more
fertile than is found farther north. Its position is also
highly favourable for commerce, being connected at once
with the Mississippi and with the eastern coast of Ame¬
rica; with the former by the Fox River, Lake Winnebago,
and the Wisconsin River, as well as by a railway from Chi¬
cago to Galena ; and with the latter by the railways through
the state of Michigan and along the coast of the lakes. The
commerce of the lake is accordingly very great, and con¬
tinually increasing. The principal harbours on its shores
Michigan. ’
M I C
Micipsa are,—Green Bay, whose imports in 1851 amounted in value
to L.400,000, and exports to L.200,000: Two Rivers, im¬
ports in the same year, L.23,958; exports, L.23,500: Grand
River, imports, L.45,822 ; exports, L.55,223 : St Joseph’s,
imports, L.l 11,720; exports, L.173,316: Manitowoc, im¬
ports, L.22,234; exports, L.16,067: Port Washington, im¬
ports, L.188,417; exports, L.29,052 : Sheboygan, imports,
L.271,855 ; exports, L.25,355 : Milwaukie, imports esti¬
mated at L.3,035,702; exports at L.542,880: Racine,
imports, L.306,884 ; exports, L.215,530: Kenosha, im¬
ports, L.272,262 ; exports, L.l 37,756 : Waukegan, im¬
ports, L.129,132 ; exports, L.40,587 : Chicago, imports,
L.5,085,500 ; exports, L.l,168,056.
MICIPSA, King of Numidia, was the son of Masinissa,
and succeeded his father in 148 b.c., along with his two
brothers Gulussa and Mastanabal,—the kingdom being
divided by Scipio between the three, in such a way that
Micipsa possessed Cirta, the capital, in his portion of the
inheritance. Soon afterwards, by the death of his brothers,
Micipsa became sole monarch, in which position he con¬
tinued till his death in 118 b.c., when he left his crown to
his two sons Adherbal and Hiempsal, along with his nephew
J ugurtha.
MICKIEWICZ, Adam, the most illustrious poet of Po¬
land, was born at Nowogrodek in Lithuania in 1798, of a
noble but poor family. From the district school of his
native village he passed to the gymnasium of Minsk, and
in 1815 to the university of Wilna, where his uncle was
one of the professors, and where our own poet Campbell
was once a candidate for the office of regent. This uni¬
versity, since suppressed by the Russian government, was
then celebrated as a school of mathematics and natural
science; and Mickiewicz early showed a strong inclination
for chemistry and natural history, but gave no indication at
that time to his friends of being possessed of any talent for
verse. His first collection of poems appeared in two slim
volumes at Wilna in 1822, after he had received the ap¬
pointment of professor of classical literature at Kowno.
They were received with extraordinary enthusiasm by the
public; and the general voice of his country, and of all
Sclavonic nations, assigned him the name of the “ Polish
Byron,” and pronounced him the greatest poet of Poland.
The larger portion of these poems, however, which consist
mainly of ballads, remind the reader rather of Monk Lewis
than of Byron. They are founded on the wild heathen
superstitions and old pagan ballads of the Lithuanian pea¬
santry, which the poet in his boyhood had gathered up out
the obscure and neglected remnants of a dialect presenting
the closest affinities with the Sanscrit. Besides the ballads
these early volumes contain two longer poems of superior
value. One of them, Grazyna, a Lithuanian said
to have inspired the unfortunate heroine Emilia Plater,
who fought so bravely in the Polish ranks against Russia
in 1830,—is the story of a Lithuanian princess who fell
fighting in her husband’s armour at the head of his re¬
tainers, rather than permit him, through private jealousy,
to join his forces to the enemies of his country. The other,
Dziady {The Ancestors), is a wild and irregular drama’
full of powerful but revolting poetry, inspired by loath¬
some superstition and dark horror. He was assailed by
Dmochowski, the Polish translator of Homer, among other
critics, for his “romantic” innovations; but, despite this
critical hostility, a company of young poets rapidly sprung
up in and around Wilna, and formed themselves into the
“ School of Mickiewicz.” But he was not destined long
to enjoy in peace the honours of the poetical chief. His
friend Zan had formed a society at Wilna for the culti¬
vation of the Polish language and literature, of which the
enthusiastic poet and a number of the alumni of the uni¬
versity were members. The jealousy of Russia was ex¬
cited, and the society was dissolved. The indefatigable
MIC
Zan, after repeated attempts to reorganize his cherished
association, was condemned in 1824 to perpetual imprison¬
ment; while his friend Mickiewicz and others escaped with
a sentence of perpetual banishment in the Russian interior.
The Polish poet was conveyed to St Petersburg whither
his fame had already travelled, and he was received in the
literary circles of that capital with great marks of respect.
Here in 1824, while Byron was dying at Missolonghi, the
Polish Byron, Adam Mickiewicz, and the Russian Byron,
Alexander Pushkin, first met; and a keen sympathy soon
sprung up between the illustrious Polish exile and the lead¬
ing men of letters of the Russian capital. But genial liter¬
ary intercourse and a spirit of revolution seemed to the
watchful mind of despotism to be all but synonymous terms ;
and Mickiewicz got prompt orders to leave St Petersburg
for Odessa. A tour in the Crimea resulted in a collection
of Crimean Sonnets, which met with great success,—the
author little dreaming that he should live to witness far
other materials for moralizing on the “ Steppe of Eupa-
toiia, and the “old castle of Balaclava,” than he found in
the records left by the cultivated Greek, the enterprising
Genoese, and the relentless Turk, on that memorable pen¬
insula. Mickiewicz was invited to form one of the house¬
hold of Prince Galitzin, governor of Moscow ; and was sub¬
sequently permitted to return to the capital, where he pub¬
lished his Conrad Wallenrod in 1828, a romantic tale of
great power, founded on a real historical character of Lith¬
uania. I he book, though breathing a deep spirit of free¬
dom, escaped the political censorship of St Petersburg,
though not of Warsaw and Wilna, by a dexterous preface,
which informed the reader that the subject was chosen be¬
cause it belonged entirely to the past, and because it could
have no relation to the interests of the present. Having
obtained permission to travel, Mickiewicz visited Goethe
at Weimar, and had just made the acquaintance of Feni-
more Cooper at Rome when news of the insurrection of
Warsaw of 1830 reached him. He was too late to join his
countrymen in their unsuccessful struggle, and he resolved
to retire to Dresden, where he composed another part of
his dramatic poem of Dziady. He makes himself the hero,
and introduces more than one of his fellow-exiles by their
real names. The first scene, which is placed in the corri¬
dor of the Basilian convent on the night of Christmas, is
written with such immense power that it was said by an
able critic to place the author on a level with Goethe. It
was published at Paris in 1832, where his last long poem,
and some say his finest, of Pan Tadeusz {Sir Thaddeus),
appeared two years afterwards.
The star of Mickiewicz had now reached its zenith. On
the establishment of a chair for the Sclavonic languages
and literature in the College of France in 1840, the choice
of Mickiewicz as professor was considered a peculiarly happy
one. Unfortunately it turned out the very opposite. He
had fallen under the influence of a religious charlatan, named
Tomianski, some years before, who persuaded him that he had
cuied Madame Mickiewicz of a serious illness by means of
mesmerism. The daring imagination of the poet, by lono-
brooding over the dark mysteries accompanying such pheno¬
mena, plunged him into a sea of the wildest fanaticism. After
a few brilliant lectures on Sclavonic literature, he addressed
his audience on “ the worship of Napoleon,” and the “ Mes-
siahship” of some mysterious Pole, who, in 1844, proved to
be the quack mesmerist. The deluded poet had to leave
Pans ; but he was permitted to retain the nominal pro¬
fessorship till 1851, when he was made sub-librarian at
le Arsenal. He was sent on a mission to the East by the
, renlIJ1emPe‘'®1 1855; and died at Constantinople on
the 27th of November of the same year. His remains
were removed to France, and interred at Montmorency,
near 1 aris. No poet of Europe, during the last quarter of
a century, had achieved so much as Mickiewicz, and his
741
Mickie¬
wicz.
742
Mickle
MIC
name stands unquestionably first in the literature of his
country. His prose works, however (one of which, The
Polish Pilgrimage, has been translated into English), do
not occupy a high position. An edition of his works wras
published in 4 vols., Paris, 1856, entitled Pisma Adama
Mickiewicza, na nowo przejrzane, dopelnione, &c.
MICKLE, William Julius, the translator of the Lusiad,
was the son of Mr Alexander Mickle, a Scottish clergyman,
who had formerly been an assistant to Dr Watts in London,
and one of the translators of Bayle’s Dictionary. He was
born at Langholm in Dumfriesshire in 1734; and after his
father’s death he came to Edinburgh to reside with his
uncle, who was a brewer there, and who admitted him to
a share of his business. Not being qualified to succeed in
this calling, however, he went to London about the con¬
clusion of the war of 1755, to procure a commission in the
marine service. In this he was disappointed; but he in¬
troduced himself to the first Lord Lyttelton, who encou¬
raged him to persevere in his poetical studies.
From the time of Mickle’s arrival in London till the year
1765 it is not known how he employed his time. In that
year, however, he engaged himself as corrector to the
Clarendon press. From this time till 1770 he published
several small pieces in prose and verse, which brought him
into some notice, the principal of which were Pollio, an
elegiac ode (1765), and The Concubine, written in imitation
of Spenser (1767), and afterwards published, with alterations,
under the title of Sir Martgn. He also wrote against
Arianism and Deism in his Letter to Dr Harwood, and in
his Voltaire in the Shades. His tragedy of the Siege of
Marseilles proved a failure, and was never produced. When
not more than seventeen years of age, he had read the
Lusiad of Camoens in French, and projected the design of
M I C
giving an English version of that poem. Accordingly, in Micon
1 771, he published the first book as a specimen ; and quit¬
ting his residence at Oxford, he went to a farm-house at
Forest Hill, where he pursued his design with unremitting
assiduity till the year 1775, when the work was completed.
It met with severe censure for the diffuseness of the trans¬
lation, and for the unwarrantable liberties taken with the
original. During the time that Mr Mickle was engaged in
this work he supported himself entirely as a corrector of
the press; and on his quitting that employment he had only
the subscriptions which he received for his translation to
support him.
A second edition of the Lusiad was prepared in 1778;
and whilst he was meditating a publication of all his poems,
he was appointed secretary to Governor Johnstone, who
had obtained the command of the Romney. In November
1779 he arrived at Lisbon, and was appointed by his patron
joint agent for the prizes which were taken. Mickle re¬
ceived much honour from the Portuguese, and was admitted
a member of their Royal Academy. On his return to Eng¬
land he fixed his residence at Wheatley in Oxfordshire,
and after writing several pieces in prose and verse, the last
of which was a ballad called Eshdale Praes, he died on the
25th of October 1788. His poems possess but little general
merit. The best of his ballads perhaps is Cumnor Hall,
which suggested Scott’s Kenilworth.
MICON, an Athenian artist and sculptor, was the son
of Phanochus, and flourished in the fifth century b.c. He
assisted in the painting of the Pcecile at Athens; and,
according to some authors, had a hand in the famous pic¬
ture of the “ Battle of Marathon.” He was assisted in some
of his works by Polygnotus. He executed several statues;
but he was especially famous for his representations of horses.
MICROMETER.
Micrometer, from fiLKpos, small, and perpov, a measure,
is the name of an instrument, generally applied to tele¬
scopes and microscopes, for measuring small angular dis¬
tances within the field of the former, or the size of small
objects within that of the latter.
Previously to the invention of the telescope astronomers
experienced great difficulty in measuring small angles in
the heavens ; but we may safely infer from the observa¬
tions of Hipparchus, that he had succeeded, either by the
actual division of his instruments or by estimation, in de¬
termining celestial arcs to one-third of a degree.
When the telescope wTas applied by Galileo and our
countryman Harriot to the examination of the solar spots,
it does not appear that they executed their drawings from
any other than estimated measures. This indeed seems
quite certain in the case of Harriot, whose original sketches
we have had an opportunity of inspecting. The elaborate
solar observations of Scheiner, made in 1611, with a tele¬
scope on a polar axis, and published in 1630 in his Rosa
Ursina, though minutely laid down and performed with
great care, were certainly made without any instrument
for subdividing the field of view.
Gascoigne. As telescopic observations, however, multiplied, astro-
a.d. 1640. nomers felt the necessity of having something more accu¬
rate than their eye for ascertaining minute distances in
the heavens ; and there can be no doubt that a micrometer
was invented by our countryman Mr Gascoigne previous
to 1640, not long after the publication of the Rosa Ursina.
According to the description of it which he addressed in
a letter to Mr Oughtred, and to the account of one of
Gascoigne’s own instruments which Dr Hooke examined,
its construction was as follows :—A small cylinder, stretch¬
ing across the eye-tube of the telescope, is cut into a fine
screw throughout one-third of its length, the other two-
thirds being formed into a coarser screw, with threads at
twice the distance. This compound screw is confined at
both ends to its place, the fine part of it passing through
a female screw in one bar, and the coarse part through a
female screw in another bar, these two bars being grooved
into each other, as in a sliding rule. Hence, if a nicely
ground edge is fixed to one bar and another to the other
bar, so that these edges are accurately parallel, a motion
of the screw round its axis will separate these two edges,
and each edge will move with a different velocity. 4 he
parts of a revolution are measured by an index and divided
face at the coarse end of the screw, while the number of
whole revolutions is measured by a graduated bar moved
by the coarse screw. The fine screw serves the purpose of
keeping the middle part of this variable field (or the open¬
ing between the edges) in the axis or line of collimation
of the telescope; for while the coarse screw moves the
edge which it carries from the other edge considered as
fixed, the fine screw moves both the edges, and indeed
the whole frame, in an opposite direction, with one-half of
the velocity ; an effect which is produced by fixing its
bar to the tube of the telescope.1 As Mr Gascoigne fell
in the civil wars, near York, in 1644, before he had given
any full account of his invention and its application to as¬
tronomy, we are indebted to Mr Richard Tovvnley, into
whose hands one of the instruments came, for the preserva¬
tion of so valuable a relic. Mr Townley informs us that
Mr Gascoigne had made use of his micrometer for some
years before the civil wars, and had measured distances
1 See Phil. Trans., No. 29, p. 540, Nov. 1667; Lowthorp’s
Abridgment, vol. i., p. 226; and Costard’s History of Astronomy.
MICROMETER.
743
Introduc
tion.
Hooke.
Malvasia.
1622.
Auzout.
1666.
Huygens.
on the earth, determined the diameters of the planets, and
endeavoured to find the moon’s distance from two obser-
vations of her horizontal and meridional diameters. Mr
Townley’s instrument was of the size and weight of “ an
ordinary pocket-watch.” It marked 40,000 divisions in a
foot, 2^ divisions corresponding to a second of space. Mr
Townley had it improved by a common watchmaker.
Flamsteed was presented with one of the instruments in
1670 by Sir Jonas Moore ; but though he left three gui¬
neas with Mr Collins to get proper glasses made for it, he
could not procure them till autumn 1671, when he be<mn
his observations with it at Derby, and continued them
with it in 1671, 16/2, 16/3, and 1674.1 He informs us
that Townley’s improvement consisted in substituting one
screw for two. He mentions also that Gascoigne had, in
August 1640, measured with his micrometer the diameters
of the sun and moon ; and the relative distances of the stars
in the Pleiades.
Dr Hooke made an important improvement in this mi¬
crometer by substituting parallel hairs for the parallel
edges of the brass plates;2 and Dr Pearson conjectures
that he had adopted this construction in his zenith sector,
by which he proposed, in his dispute with Hevelius, to
measure single seconds.
It would appear, from the Ephemerides of the Marquis of
Malvasia, published in the year 1662, that he had measured
the distances of the stars, and the diameters of the planets,
and projected the lunar spots, by means of a reticle of silver
wire fixed in the focus of the eye-glass of his telescope.
In order to determine the distances of the wires which
composed this network, he turned it round till a star moved
along one of the wires, and having counted the number of
seconds which the star took to pass over the different dis¬
tances between the wires, he obtained a very accurate
scale for all micrometrical purposes.
About the year 1666 MM. Auzout and Picard, unac¬
quainted with what had been done by Gascoigne, pub¬
lished an account of a micrometer.3 Auzout’s micrometer
is said to have divided a foot into 24,000 or 30,000 parts.
It resembled the Marquis of Malvasia’s, with this difference,
that the divisions were measured by a screw, and he some¬
times employed fibres of silk in place of silver wires.
I he celebiated Christian Huygens was also an early
inventor of micrometrical methods; and the subject has
been prosecuted with great diligence and success by Cas¬
sini, Rbemer, Bradley, Savary, Bouguer, Dollond, Mas-
kelyne, Ramsden, Sir W. Herschel, Rochon, Troughton,
Wollaston, Arago, Fraunhofer, Pearson, Amici, Porro, and
Seccln.
In giving an account of the inventions and methods of
these various authors, we shall adopt the followino-arramre-
ment:— 0 h
1. Description of wire-micrometers in which the wires
are moved by one or more screws.
2. Description of wire-micrometers in which the angular
distance of the wires is varied optically by changing the
magnifying power of the telescope.
3. Description of double-image micrometers in which
two singly-refracting lenses, semi-lenses, or prisms, are
separated by screws.
4. Description of double-image micrometers in which
the two images formed by two singly-refracting lenses
semi-lenses, or prisms, are separated optically.
5. Description of double-image micrometers in which
the two images are formed by double refraction.
6. Description of position-micrometers.
1 teee Mr Baity’s Account of the Rev. John Flamsteed, 1835 n 24
29; &c. ’ 1 ’
* Hooke’s Posthumous Works, p. 497-8.
* Phil. Trans., No. 21, p. 373, January 1666.
7. Description of the lamp-micrometer and the lucid- Wire-Mi-
disc micrometer. crometera.
8. Description of fixed micrometers with an invariable
scale.
9. Description of micrometers for microscopes.
CHAP I.—DESCRIPTION OP WIRE-MICROMETERS IN WHICH
THE WIRES ARE MOVED BY MEANS OP ONE OR MORE
SCREWS.
The micrometer of Gascoigne, when furnished with Trough-
hairs, as suggested by Dr Hooke, embodies the principle ton’s wire-
of the best and most recent micrometers. Instruments on microme-
this construction have been made by all our eminent opti- ter'
cians; but we have no hesitation in saying, that the micro¬
meter constructed by the late celebrated artist Mr Trough-
ton exhibits all the ingenuity which has been displayed
in this delicate and useful apparatus. This eye-piece, and
micrometer attached to it, are shown in figs. 1, 2, and 3,
Pig. 1.
Pig. 2.
where fig. 1 is a horizontal section in the direction of the
axis of the telescope. The eye-piece
ab consists of two plano-convex lenses
a, b, of nearly the same focal length,
and the two convex sides facing each
other. They are placed at a distance
less than the focal length of a, so that
the wires of the micrometer, which
must be distinctly seen, are beyond b.
This arrangement gives a Jlut field,
and prevents any distortion of the ob¬
ject. This eye-piece slides into the
tube cd, which screws into the brass
ring ef, through two openings, in which
the oblong frame nm passes. A brass
circle gh, fixed to the telescope by the
screw i, has rack-teeth on its circum¬
ference that receive the teeth of an
endless screw w (fig. 3), which, being
fixed by the arms xx to the oblong box mn, gives the
latter and the eye-piece a motion of rotation round the axis
of the telescope; and an index upon this box points out
on the graduated circle gh (fig. 3) the angular motion
of the eye-piece. I he micrometer properly so called is
shown in fig. 2, where ft, l are two forks, each connected
with a screw o and p, turned by the milled heads m and
w. Ihese forks are so fitted as to have no lateral shake.
wo pins q, i with spiral springs coiled round them, pass
oosely through holes in the forks k, l, so that when the
forks are pressed by their screws towards q and r, the
spna spnngs lesist them, and consequently push them back
when the screws are turned in the opposite direction.
744
Wire-Mi¬
crometers.
Methods
of finding
the value
of a revolu¬
tion of the
screw.
New me¬
thod.
MICROMETER.
Two fine hairs, or wires, or spiders’ lines, s, t, are
stretched across the forks, the one being fixed to the inner
fork k, and the other to the outer fork l, so as to be per¬
fectly parallel, and not to come in contact when they pass
or eclipse one another, in which case they will appear as
one line. A wire s£ is stretched across the centre of the
field, perpendicular to the parallel wires.
The most difficult part of this instrument in the execu¬
tion, as well as the most important, is the screw or screws
which move the forks. The threads must not only be at
the same distance, but have their inclination equal all
round. In the screw used by Troughton, there are about
lOS’G threads in an inch. On the right hand of the line
si (fig. 2) is a scale, not seen in the figure, which indicates
a complete revolution of either screw, the small round
hole being the zero. This hole is bisected when the two
lines appear as one.
In using this instrument we separate the wires by their
respective screws till the object to be measured is exactly
included between them. The number of revolutions and
parts of a revolution necessary to bring the two wires into
the position of zero will then be a measure of the angle
required, provided the value of a revolution has been pre¬
viously ascertained with accuracy.
The easiest method of ascertaining the value of a revo¬
lution of the screw, according to the late Dr Pearson, who
devoted much attention to this subject, is to ascertain how
many revolutions and parts of a revolution measure exactly
the sun’s vertical diameter in summer, when his altitude is
such that the refraction of both limbs is almost the same.
The sun’s diameter in seconds being divided by that num¬
ber, the quotient will be the value of a single revolution,
the sun’s diameter having been corrected by the difference
between the refraction of his two limbs. The ordinary
method of ascertaining the value of a revolution is, to ob¬
serve accurately the time taken by an equatorial star, or a
star of known declination, reduced to the equator, to pass
over the space between the wires when at a distance, and
to convert this time into degrees, at the rate of 15° per
hour. The number of degrees, minutes, and seconds, divided
by the revolutions and parts of a revolution which are neces¬
sary to bring both wires into zero, will give the value of
one revolution of the screw. The same thing may be done
by measuring a base with great accuracy, and observing the
space comprehended between the wires at that distance.
The angular magnitude of this space, divided by the number
of revolutions of the screws which bring the wires to zero,
will be the value of each.
A most elegant and accurate method has been recently
employed, we believe, by Profesor Gauss of Gottingen, for
measuring the value of the revolutions of micrometer-screws.
He employs for this purpose a standard telescope with a
micrometer, the value of whose scale has been accurately
determined. Since the wires of a telescope-micrometer
adjusted to distinct vision of the stars or planets are accu¬
rately in the focus of parallel rays falling on the object-glass,
it follows that rays issuing from the wires, and falling on
the inside of the object-glass, will emerge from it perfectly
parallel. Now, if we place the object-glass of the standard
telescope close or near to that of the first telescope, the
parallel rays formed by those issuing from its wires will be
refracted to the focus of the standard telescope, and a dis¬
tinct image of the wires will be there formed. The observer,
therefore, when he looks into the standard telescope, will
see distinctly the wires of the first telescope, and, by means
of his miciometer, he will be able to measure exactly the
angular distance of these wires, at whatever distance they
happen to be placed. This angular distance, divided by
the revolutions and parts of a revolution which are neces¬
sary to bring the wires of the first telescope to the zero of
their scale, will give the value of one revolution of the
screw, or of one unit of the scale on the right hand of the Wire-Mi-
long wire Si (fig. 2). crometers.
The most essential parts of a micrometer are the parallel
fibres, which require riot only to be extremely fine, but of Fibres for
a uniform diameter throughout. Gascoigne, as we have nricrome-
seen, employed the edges of brass plates, Dr Hooke hairs,ters1,
and subsequent astronomers wires and fibres of silk. Fon¬
tana in 1775 recommended the spider’s line as a substitute
for wires, and he is said (we think erroneously) to have
obtained them so fine as the 8000th part of a line. Mr
Troughton1 had the merit of introducing the spider’s line,
which he found to be so fine, opaque, and elastic, as to
answer all the purposes of practical astronomy. This dis¬
tinguished artist, however, informed the writer of this article
that it was only the stretcher, or the long line which sus¬
tains the web, which possesses these useful properties.2 Sir
David Brewster has employed the fibres of spun glass,
which are bisected longitudinally with a fine transparent
line about the ^^V^-th of an inch in diameter. This central
line increases with the diameter of the fibre, and diminishes
with the refractive power of the glass. In cases of emer¬
gency, the fibres of melted sealing-wax may be advantage¬
ously employed, or, as recommended by Professor Wallace,
the fibres of asbestos. We have found crystals of mesolite
so minute and regular as to be well adapted for the same
purpose.
The art of forming wire of extreme minuteness has wdias-
been perfected by Dr Wollaston. Having placed a small ton’s fine
platinum wire in the axis of a cylindrical mould, he platinum
poured melted silver into the mould, so that the platinum wires-
wire formed the axis of the silver cylinder. The silver
was now drawn out in the usual way till its diameter was
about the 300th of an inch, so that if the platinum wire
was at first ^th of the diameter of the silver cylinder, it
will now be reduced to the 3000th part of an inch. The
silver wire is now bent into the form of the letter U, and a
hook being made at each of its ends, it is suspended by a
gold wire in hot nitric acid. The silver is speedily dis¬
solved by the acid, excepting at its ends, and the fine pla¬
tinum wire which formed its axis remains untouched. In
this way Dr Wollaston succeeded in forming wires ^cVoth,
TTjWth, and even x^J^th of an inch in diameter. When
the fibres are prepared, their ends are placed in parallel
scratches or grooves drawn on the forks, or, in other cases,
on the diaphragm or field bar, and fixed by a layer of bees’
wax or varnish, or, what is more secure, by pinching them
with a small screw near their extremities.
In astronomical observations it is necessary to illuminate niumina-
the wires of micrometers. In the transit instrument this is tion of the
generally effected by means of a lamp, which throws its light wires,
along the horizontal axis of the telescope to a small speculum
which reflects it upon the wire, although it may be done, as
in other cases, by a small speculum placed outside of the
object-glass. A very ingenious method has been more re¬
cently suggested and used, viz., of making the wires self-
luminous by bringing them to a red heat by electricity.
This idea seems to have presented itself to several astro¬
nomers,—to Arago, Savart, and Capocci of Naples ; but it is
to Arago that we are indebted for the earliest invention,
construction, and use of it. The wire or wires, attached to
suitable springs, pass from incandescence to absolute dark¬
ness, and reciprocally through all intermediate intensities.
He had reason to fear that the images of objects beyond
1 Mr Quekett ascribes the introduction of the cob-web micro¬
meter to Ramsden. (Treatise on Miscroscope, p. 196.)
a Captain Maury, superintendent of the National Observatory in
the United States, informs us that when in search of spider lines for
the diaphragm of his telescopes, he procured the finest and best
threads from a cocoon of a mud-red colour ; but he adds, the threads
of this cocoon, as seen singly in the diaphragm, were of a golden
colour. (Physical Geography of the Sea, p. 121.)
MICROMETER.
745
Wire Mi- and apparently near to the heated wire would be sensibly
crometers. undulating; but in an experiment which he made with a
small power he found that there was no perceptible devia¬
tion to the extent of a second. This method of illumina¬
tion has, we understand, been employed by Mr Johnson
of Oxford in illuminating the wires of the microscopic
micrometers for reading off the separation of the semi-lenses
of the object-glass in his heliometer, without the observer
leaving the telescopic eye-piece. He has used, we hear,
the same process for illuminating the wires of his telescope
micrometer. M. Arago has also employed galvanic elec¬
tricity for bringing to a red heat a wire which is employed
to illuminate the telescopic wires on their sides turned to¬
wards the observer, the useless rays which the wires do
not stop, escaping by the object-glass, or being absorbed
by the black varnish within the tube. The method of
doing this in the best manner has been briefly described
by M. Breguet in the Comptes Rendus, &c., 1847, vol.
xxiv., p. 322. It consists in making a transverse slit in the
tube which contains the eye-glass, and placing the illum¬
inating wire without the tube, and in a plane between the
eye-glass and the wires to be illuminated.
M. Porro’s Another method of illuminating the wires has been ima-
method of gined by M. Porro. It consists in substituting plates of
tlor>mina* slaSS insteaci of lhe metallic plates which carry the wires.
These plates of glass are ground and polished on their edge
into suitable curves, so as to introduce, perpendicularly to
the axis of the telescope, a thin vein of light, which will illum¬
inate the wires without reaching the eye of the observer.
Hence it happens that the wires appear of a silveryiwhite in
a dark field.1
Images of Many years ago Sir David Brewster communicated
wires pro- to the Chevalier Burg, the distinguished author of the
posed. Lunar Tables, a new method of obtaining micrometer lines
by placing in the field of view the reflected images of a
fixed or moveable system of wires, or of lucid discs attached
to the side of the eye-piece. This is effected by placing in
the field of view a plate of parallel glass inclined to the
axis of the eye-piece. The wires being illuminated, their
images will be distinctly seen in the field of view, and
while they have all the properties of real wires, they have
the additional advantage of being transparent, so that a star
or small planet or satellite may be seen moving along the
axis of the wire, in place of being eclipsed by it. The
motions of the wires in real micrometers are accurately
repeated in its reflected image, and. consequently the posi¬
tion and distance of the image-wires are measured with the
same accuracy as if they were real.
Photogra- ^ new method of constructing microscopical scales or
phic micro- systems of delicate lines, opaque or transparent, and fitted
meters. both for astronomical and microscopical observations, has
been recently proposed by Sir David Brewster. Mr Dancer
of Manchester has succeeded in making photographic por¬
traits upon collodion so small that they are whohy .invisible
to the eye, and that ten thousand portraits may be intro¬
duced into a square inch. The film of collodion upon which
these photographs are taken is so thin and transparent that
it is invisible, and allows objects to be seen through it as
distinctly as if it were the thinnest glass. If a system of
opaque or transparent lines therefore is impressed upon it
photographically, when reduced to the minutest size from a
system of large and sharply defined lines, we shall have the
most perfect micrometrical scale that can be conceived, the
portion of the collodion that contains no nitrate of silver
being as transparent as if the dark spaces were solid wires
or metallic plates placed in the focus of the eye-glass. (See
chapters vi., p. 118, and viii., p. 121, for an account of other
applications of this method.)
For a great deal of valuable practical information re¬
specting the construction and use of the wire-micrometer, Wire-Mi-
the reader is referred to Dr Pearson’s Introduction to Prac- crometers.
tical Astronomy (vol. ii., pp. 99, 110, 115, &c.), where valu¬
able tables will be found for facilitating the application
of the micrometer both to celestial and terrestrial purposes.
See also Sir John Herschel and Sir James South’s Obser¬
vations of 380 Double and Triple Stars (p. 22, 23), con¬
taining tables of the values of Troughton’s screws.
CHAP. II.—DESCRIPTION OF WIRE-MICROMETERS IN WHICH
THE ANGULAR DISTANCE OF THE WIRES IS VARIED OPTI¬
CALLY BY CHANGING THE MAGNIFYING POWER OF THE
TELESCOPE.
MM. Roemer and De la Hire first conceived the idea ofRbemer.
varying the angular magnitude of the meshes of a net of
silver wire fixed in the focus of the eye-glass of a telescope,
for the purpose of measuring the digits of eclipses. This
was done by a second lens moving between the wires and
the object-glass. The late Mr Watt informed the writer
of this article that he had used a similar principle, but had
never published any account of it.
The plan of opening and shutting a pair of 'parallel
wires optically instead of mechanically, and of using it
as a general principle in micrometers, was first adopted
by Sir David Brewster, and has been applied to a variety
of methods of varying the magnifying power of the tele¬
scope.
The general principle will be readily understood from
fig. 4, where AB, CD are two
wires or lines of any kind per¬
manently fixed in the focus of
the eye-glass of a telescope. If
the sun SV is in contact with
the lower wire CD, it is obvious,
that if we increase the magnifying
power of the telescope by any op¬
tical means anterior to the wires,
we may magnify or expand the
sun’s disc SV till it becomes Ss,
when its north or upper limb will exactly touch the upper
wire AB. Now if the sun’s diameter happens to be 31'
when its disc S^ just fills the space between the wires AB,
CD, the distance of the wires must have been 62' when,
as at SV', it fills only half that space. Hence the wires
have been moved optically, so to speak, and have sub¬
tended all angles between 31' and 62'.
The methods of varying the magnifying power of the
telescope used by Sir David Brewster consist in varying
the distance of the two parts of the achromatic eye-piece;
or in varying the focal length of the principal object-glass
by means of another object-glass, either convex or con¬
cave, moving between it and its principal focus.
The first of these methods is shown in fig. 5, where AB Eye-glass
microme¬
ter.
Fig. 4.
1 Comptes Rendus, &c., 1851, vol. xxxii., p. 677.
VOL. XIV.
Fig. 5.
is the eye-piece with its four lenses, A, C, D, B, in their
natural position. The part AFG, with the two lenses A,
i18 *^C t0i i te^escoPe» and a space is left between the
tube AC and the outer tube AFG, to allow the moveable
part DB ot the eye-piece to get sufficiently near the lens
.•. 112,e tuhe DB is moved out and in by a rack and
P11?1?11 /"• A sca^e 1S formed on the upper surface mn, and
subdivided in the usual manner with a lens and vernier,
which it is unnecessary to represent in the figure. The
5 B
746
MICROMETER.
Wire-Mi- value of the divisions of the scale are determined by direct
crometers. experiment. A motion of DB through a space of 4 inches
will, generally speaking, double the magnifying power of
the telescope.
Object- The best method, however, of varying the magnifying
glass mi- power of the telescope is the second, which is shown in
crometer. Q} where O is the object-glass, f its principal focus, and
L the second lens, which is moveable between O and/.
Parallel rays R, R, after being refracted by O, so that they
would converge to/, are intercepted by L, which converges
them to F, the focus of the combined lenses. The effect
of the lens L is therefore to diminish the focal length of
the object-glass, and consequently the magnifying power
of the telescope, which will obviously be a minimum when
the lens L is at /, and a maximum when it is at t. The
angle subtended by a pair of fixed wires will suffer an op¬
posite change to that on the magnifying power, being a
maximum when the lens L is at /, and a minimum when it
is at V. Hence the scale for measuring the variable angle of
these wires may always be equal to the focal length of the
object-glass O ; and the inventor of the instrument has
shown, both by theory and by experiment, that the scale is
one of equal parts, the variations in the angle of the fixed
wires being proportional to the variations in the position of
the moveable lens.
When we wish to measure angles that do not suffer a
great change, such as the diameters of the sun and moon,
a scale less than the focal length of the object-glass will be
sufficient. For example, if we take a lens L, which by a
motion of ten inches varies the magnifying powder from 40
to 35, then, if the angle of the wires is 29' when the lens L
is at V, it will be 39' 9'' when the lens is ten inches from
or the magnifying power 35. We have therefore a
scale of ten inches to measure a change of angle of 4' 9'',
so that every 10th of an inch will correspond to 3''-3, and
every 100th of an inch to Jd of a second. Such a micro¬
meter will serve to measure the diameters of the sun and
moon at their various distances from the earth.
If we wish to measure the distances of some double stars,
or the diameters of some of the smaller planets, with a te¬
lescope whose magnifying power varies from 300 to 240,
by the motion of a lens over ten inches, place the parallel
wires at a distance of 40', which will be increased to 50
by the motion of the lens. Hence we have a scale of ten
inches to measure ten seconds, or the tenth of an inch to
measure one second, or the 100th of an inch to measure
^th of a second.
Several pairs of wires, placed at different distances, might
be fixed upon the same diaphragm, or upon separate dia¬
phragms, which could be brought into the focus when
wanted; and the second pair of wires might be placed at
such a distance that their least angle is equal to the largest
angle of the first pair, and so on with the rest.
A wire-micrometer thus constructed is certainly free from
almost all the sources of error which affect the common
moveable wire-micrometer. The errors arising from the
imperfection of the screw, the.uncertainty of zero, and other
causes, are avoided; and the wires are always equidistant
from the centre of the field, so as to be equally affected by
any optical imperfection in the telescope. The scale in¬
deed may be formed by direct experiment, and the results
will be as free from error as the experiments by which
the scale is made.
When this micrometer is applied to a portable telescope Wire-Mi-
it becomes of great use in naval, military, or
geodetical operations, and is employed in mea¬
suring distances, either by taking the angle
subtended by a body of known dimensions, or
by measuring the two angles subtended by a
body of unknown dimensions from the two ex¬
tremities of a known or measured base. For
these purposes the telescope is fitted up with¬
out a stand, as shown in fig. 7.
The principle of separating a pair of wires
optically is singularly applicable to the Gre¬
gorian and Cassegrainian telescopes, wdiere no
additional lens or mirror is required. As the
magnifying power of both these telescopes
may be increased merely by increasing the dis¬
tance of the eye-piece from the great specu¬
lum, and then readjusting the small speculum
to distinct vision, we can thus vary the angle
of a pair of fixed wires by making the eye¬
piece moveable. This will be easily compre¬
hended from Figure 8, where SS is the great
speculum of a Gregorian reflector, A A the
tube, M the small speculum, whose focus is G,
and centre of curvature H. It is fixed to an
arm MQ, moveable to and from SS in the
usual way. The image RV is that formed by
the speculum SS, and r"R'' that formed by the
small speculum. This last image being in the
focus of the eye-glass E, will be seen distinct and
magnified. If the eye-glass E is pulled out to E', then,
in order that the object may be seen distinctly, the image
crometers
Fig. 7.
Fig. 8.
r'R" must be brought into the position /'R'', FF' being
equal to EE'; but this can be done only by advancing the
small speculum M to M',/and F' being now the conjugate
foci of M. But by this process the magnifying power has
been considerably increased, because the part of the whole
MF
magnifying power produced by M was equal to where-
M'F' . iVF
as it is now a much larger quantity. The angle sub¬
tended by the wires has therefore been diminished in the
same proportion as the magnifying power has been in¬
creased. The scale in this case is not one of equal parts,
but after the extreme points of it have been determined
experimentally, the rest may be filled up either by calcu¬
lation or direct experiment.
Dr Pearson1 has inadvertently stated that Sir David
Brewster’s “ patent micrometer is not competent to measure
very small angles, even if it had sufficient magnifying povyer.”
If he means the patent micrometer as made by Mr Harris, as
a naval and military telescope for measuring distances, or as
a coming-up glass, he is quite right, because the power of
measuring small angles is not required for these practical
purposes. But it is quite evident that the smallest angles
can be measured by the micrometer when fitted up for
astronomical purposes. We have only to use a pair Oi
wires placed at a very small distance, or a pair of semi-
1 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii.
MICRO METEB
Double- lenses whose centres are placed at a very small distance, and
Imuge then vary their angle till it becomes equal to the very small
ters116* anSle w^ch we to measure.
CHAP. HI.—DESCRIPTION OF DOUBLE-IMAGE MICROMETERS
IN WHICH TWO SINGLY-REFRACTING LENSES, SEMI-LENSES,
OR PRISMS, ARE SEPARATED BY SCREWS.
ters.
lloemer,
1678.
Savary.
1743.
Bouguer.
1748.
Dollond.
1753.
M. Roemer, the celebrated Danish astronomer, is said
to have been the first who suggested the use of a double¬
image micrometer. He did this about 1678, but the idea
does not seem to have been carried into effect, or known
to his successors. Nearly seventy years afterwards, viz.,
in 1743, Mr Servington Savary of Exeter communicated
to the Royal Society an account of a double-image micro¬
meter ; and five years afterwards, in 1748, the celebrated
Bouguer proposed the very same construction, which he
called a heliometer. This instrument consisted of two
lenses, which could be separated and made to approach
each other by a screw or other mechanical means. These
lenses gave double images of every object; and when the
two images of any object, such as the sun or moon, were
separated till they exactly touched one another, the dis¬
tance of the object-glasses afforded a measure of the solar
or lunar diameter, after an experimental value of the divi¬
sions of the scale had been obtained.
As two complete lenses, however, must always have
their least distance equal to the diameter of either, this
instrument was incapable of measuring the diameters of
small bodies. This obvious defect no doubt led John Dol¬
lond, in 1753, to the happy idea of the divided object-glass
micrometer, in which the two halves of an object-glass are
made to recede from the position in which they form a com¬
plete object-glass. When the centres of the two halves
coincide, they obviously form one lens, and give only one
image. When the centres are slightly separated, the images
will be slightly separated; and small objects may be brought
into contact and have the angles which they subtend ac¬
curately measured. The scale will therefore have a zero
corresponding to the coincidence of the centres of the
semi-lenses. The principle of this instrument will be un¬
derstood from fig. 9, where H, E are two semi-lenses,
whose centres are at H, E, and F their focus. If PQ be a
circular object whose diameter is to be measured, or P, Q
two points whose angular distance is to be determined,
the lenses are to be separated till the two images x, z are
in contact at F. As the rays QHF, PEF pass unre¬
fracted through the centres H, E of the semi-lenses, the
angle subtended by QP will be equal to the angle HFE,
or that which the distance of the centres u
of the semi-lenses subtends at F. Since /" ^
the angles, therefore, are very small, they
will vary as HE; and when the angles
corresponding to any one distance of the
centres is determined, those for any other
distance will be ascertained by simple pro¬
portion.
Mr Dollond, who had not at this time
invented the achromatic telescope, applied
his micrometer to the object end of a re¬
flecting telescope, as shown in fig. 10,
which represents the micrometer as seen
from beyond the object end of the re¬
flector. A piece of tube B, carrying the
micrometer, slides into or over the tube
A of the telescope, and is fastened to it
by a screw. The tube B carries a wheel
(not seen in the figure) formed of a ring
racked at the outer edge, and fixed to
the brass plate CC, so that a pinion moved
by the handle D may turn it into any posi- 9*
Fig. 10.
747
tion. Two plates F, G are kept close to the plate CC by Double-
the rabbeted bars H, H, but with so much play that they Image
can move in contrary directions by turning the handle Microme-
E, which drives a concealed pinion that works in the two
racks seen in the highest part
of the figure. As the two
semi-lenses are fixed to the
plates F, G, their centres will
be separated by the action of
the handle E, and their de¬
gree of separation is measured
by a scale of 5 inches subdi¬
vided into 20ths of an inch,
and read off by a vernier on
the plate F, divided into 25
parts, corresponding to 24 of
the scale, so that we can
measure the separation of the
semi-lenses to the ■51U th of
an inch. The vernier is to
the right of H, and may be
adjusted to the zero of the
scale, or the position of the
lenses when they give only
one image, by means of the
thumb-screw I, a motion of
the vernier being permitted
by the screws which fix it to the plate F passing through
oblong holes.1
In this construction the micrometer is too far from the
observer, and destroys the equilibrium of the telescope.
The instrument itself, however, has more serious defects, as
it has been found that the measures of the sun’s diameter,
taken by different observers with the same instrument
and at the same time, differ so much as 12 or 15 seconds.
This defect has been ascribed to the different states of the
observers’ eyes, according as they have a tendency to give
distinct vision within or beyond the focal point, where the
image is most perfect; in the former case the limbs being
somewhat separated, and in the latter overlapping. M.
Mosotti, in the Effemeride of Milan for 1821, has discovered
the true cause of this defect by a series of accurate expe¬
riments, which he made with this micrometer attached to
a Gregorian reflector of two feet in focal length. The
focal length of the divided object-glass was 511'3357 inches,
or 42 feet 7-J inches. M. Mosotti has shown that a diver- jj-osott|
sity of measures will be obtained by the same observer,
if, for the purpose of obtaining distinct vision, he gives a
slight displacement to the small speculum by the adjusting
screw. If the position of this speculum which gives dis¬
tinct vision were a point, it would be easy to find that
point; but as distinct vision can be obtained only within a
space of 10 or 12 thousandths of an inch, owing to aber¬
ration, every different observer will place the mirror at a
different point within that range, and consequently obtain
a measure corresponding to the image which he views.
M. Mosotti recommends that the axis of the adjusting
screw, which carries the small speculum, should carry a
vernier connected with a scale on the outer surface of the
tube A. By means of this vernier the observer is able to
give a fixed position to the small speculum, so that he
always views the same image, and is thus sure of obtaining
the same measure of the same object, so far as the obser¬
vation is concerned. M. Mosotti found also that the mea¬
sures were affected by a change of temperature, which, by
changing the length of the tube, displaced the small specu-
lum. ^In his instrument this displacement amounted to
0 0075 of an inch, which, he has shown, corresponds to a
1 Phil. Trans., vol. xlviii.
748
MICROMETER.
Double-
Image
Microme¬
ters.
Pearson.
Maskelyne.
W
Fig. 11.
change of focal length from 511*3357 to 514*84 inches;
and that the error from this cause, upon a length of 30',
will be 13" in excess.
The following is Dr Pearson's enumeration of the dif¬
ferent sources of error in the divided object-glass micro¬
meter when applied to reflectors *—
1. A variation in the position of the small mirror when
the eye estimates the point of distinct vision.
2. A displacement of the small mirror by change of
temperature.
3. A change of focal distance when central and extreme
rays are indiscriminately used. The amount of this error
depends on the aberration of the semi-lenses.
4. A defect of adjustment, or of perfect figure, in the
two specula, as they regard each other, the measures vary¬
ing when taken in different directions.
In order to enable Dollond’s micrometer to measure dif¬
ferences of declination and right ascension, Dr Maskelyne
introduced the aid of cross wires, which he fixed in a move-
able ring at the place where the double image is formed.
One or both of the two plan¬
ets or stars are referred to
one or other of these lines, as
will be seen in the annexed
figure, which we take as an
example out of four cases.
Let ENWS be the field of
view, NS the meridian, and
EW the line of east and west;
then, in order to obtain the
difference of right ascension
and declination of two stars,
he opened the semi-lenses till
he obtained double images of each star. He then turned
round the micrometer till the two images of the first star
passed over the vertical wire NS at the same instant, and
having counted the time that elapsed till the two images
of the other star passed over the same line, he had the differ¬
ence of right ascension in time. By means of the screw
which elevated his telescope, and partly by opening the
semi-lenses, he made the north image of one star, and the
south image of the other, as at A, B, describe in their mo¬
tion the horizontal wire EW, and at that position of the
semi-lenses the scale indicated the difference of declina¬
tion.
Mr Dollond A very important improvement upon the divided object-
junior’sim-glass micrometer was made by Mr Dollond’s son, who
provemen . aJapj-gj j.0 a refracting telescope, and removed the dif¬
ferent sources of error to which it had been found liable.
This improvement consists both in the nature, form, and
position of the semi-lenses. The semi-lenses are made con¬
cave, and consist of crown and flint glass, so as to give an
achromatic image along with the object-glass of the tele¬
scope to which they are applied. These concave semi¬
lenses, of course, lengthen the focal distance of that object-
glass. When a circular lens was bisected, as in the old
construction, the metallic parts which held the semi-lenses
obstructed the light in proportion to their separation; a
defect of a serious nature in an instrument. In order to
conect this evil, Mr J. Dollond substituted two long slices
o. f? ass Cljt from the diametral portion of a lens nearly
six inc les in diameter. Hence, in every position of these
ob ong semi-lenses, none of the metallic setting comes be¬
fore the object-glass, and consequently the light is never
obstructed, and is always of the same amount, whatever
be the separation of the lenses. In the old construction,
where the diameters of each lens slid along each other in
contact, a pait of the central portions bavin0, been re-
moved by grinding the diameters smooth, the two images
of an object never could coincide so as to give an accurate
zero; but in the new construction, the space equal to Mhat
was removed by grinding is filled up with a brass scale and Double¬
vernier; and the only evil of this is the loss of light cor- Image
responding to the thickness of this scale; but this trifling Microme-
defect is amply compensated by the perfect coincidence ters"
of the images at zero. '''
This important instrument is shown in fig. 12, where the
same letters are
used as in fig. 10
to denote the an¬
alogous parts of
the two instru¬
ments. The end
of the telescope
is shown at A,
and B is the rim
of brass, which,
by sliding upon A, fixes the micrometer to the telescope.
Ihe frame CC, moved by teeth on its outer edge, carries
one of the halves G of the lens, and a similar frame with
teeth carries the other half F. A scale six inches long
is fastened like an edge-bar to CC, and each inch is sub¬
divided into 20 parts, which are read off with a vernier
of 25 parts, which is fastened as an edge-bar to the move-
able frame that carries F. The two moveable frames are
imbedded in a fixed plate HH, screwed to the tube B of
the micrometer, and having a circular hole in its middle
equal to the diameter of the object-glass. The two semi¬
lenses are separated by turning the milled head to the right
of A, which moves the frame CC, and then the other frame
F through the medium of a concealed wheel and a con¬
cealed pinion. The mechanism for giving the rotatory
motion is also concealed. The adjustment of the vernier
to zero is effected by the screw I.
The property which the double-image micrometer pos¬
sesses of measuring angles in all directions, directed to
it the attention of Ramsden and other eminent opticians.
Ramsden accordingly communicated to the Royal Society
of London in 17771 an account of two instruments of
this kind, under the name of the Dioptric and Catoptric
Micrometers. In order to avoid the effects of aberration,
Ramsden proposed, in his dioptric micrometer, to place two Ramsden’s
semi-lenses in the conjugate focus of the innermost lens of dioPtric
the erect eye-tube of a refracting telescope. In place 0fmicron’®'
the imperfections of the lenses being magnified by the ter‘ 17<7‘
whole power of the telescope, they are magnified only
about five or six times, and the size of the micrometer
glass does not require to be Part °f ^le area which
is necessary in Dollond’s instrument. This instrument is
Fig. 13.
shown in fig. 13, where A is a convex or concave lens,
bisected in the usual way. One of the semi-lenses is
fixed in a frame B, and the other in a similar frame E,
1 See Phil. Trans., vol. Ixix., 1779, p. 419.
Double-
Image
Microme¬
ters.
Ilamsden’s
catoptric
microme¬
ter.
MICROMETER.
end of the arm D, its outer er
which turns upon the steel axis
x. These arms are braced by
the bars a, a. A compouna
screw G, having its upper part
cut into double the number
of threads in an inch, viz., 100,
to the lower part g, which has
only 50, works with the handle
in a nut F in the side of the
tube, while the part g turns
in a nut H fixed to the arm
B. The point of the compound screw separates the ends of
the arms B and D, and pressing against the stud h fixed
to the arm D, turns in the nut H on the arm B. A spiral
spring within the part n presses the two arms B, D against
the direction of the double screw e g, so as to prevent all
shake or play in the nut H. The progressive motion of the
screw through the nut will be half the distance of the semi¬
specula, so that these specula will be moved equally in op¬
posite directions from the axis of the telescope.
A graduated circle V, divided into 100 parts on its cylin¬
drical surface, is fixed on the upper end of the screw so
as to cause it to separate the semi-specula. The fixed index
I shows the parts of a revolution performed by the screw,
while the number of whole revolutions of the screw is shown
by the divisions of the same index. A steel screw R, move-
able by a key, inclines the small speculum at right angles
to the direction of its motion. Distinct vision is procured
in the usual manner, and the telescope has a motion about
its axis, in order to measure the diameter of a planet in any
direction; and the angle of rotation in reference to the
horizon is shown by a level, graduated circle, and vernier,
at the eye end of the large tube.
A catoptric double-image micrometer has been suggested Catoptric
by Sir David Brewster as applicable to the Newtonian tele- microme-
scope. The plane mirror is bisected, and is made to form ter for a
two images, either by giving each semi-speculum a motion Newtonian
round their common line of junction, or round a line per- telescoPe-
pendicular to that common line. The mechanism by which
this may be effected does not require any description. If the
micrometer is required for the sun or any luminous body,
the small mirror may be made of parallel glass, which would
have the advantage of not obstructing any of the light which
enters the telescope, while it reflects enough for the pur¬
poses of distinct vision. We shall again have occasion to
refer more particularly to this idea in the next section.
Professor Amici has described, in the Memoirs of the Amici’s
Italian Society, a new micrometer, which gives double microme-
images by means of semi-lenses separated by mechanical ter.
means; but as we have not access to this work, we shall
draw our description of the instrument from one given by
Dr Pearson, which is very far from being distinct, in so far,
at least, as the construction of the semi-lenses, or bars of
glass, as they are called, are concerned. The semi-lenses
seem to be portions of a large concave lens, separated in
the usual manner, so as to give two distinct images of ob¬
jects ; but the peculiarity of the invention seems to consist
in the lenses being placed between the object-glass of a
telescope and its principal focus, the cone of rays being
divided at a point about six inches before the place where
the focal image is formed. Dr Pearson, wflio made experi¬
ments with one of these instruments, has hinted at the in¬
conveniences which he experienced in using it.
749
terminating in a socket y, Double-
rig. 14.
both of which slide upon a plate H, against which they
are pressed by thin plates a, a. The milled button D,
by means of a pinion and rack, moves these frames in
opposite directions; and the separation of the semi-lenses
thus effected is measured by a scale of equal parts L on
the frame B, the zero being in the middle, and the divi¬
sions read off by two verniers at M and N, carried by
the frame E; the vernier M showing the relative motion
of the two frames when the frame B moves to the right,
and N when the frame B is moved to the left. An endless
screw F gives the whole micrometer a motion round the
axis of vision. This instrument being only the divided
object-glass micrometer in miniature, and differently placed,
the reader will have no difficulty in understanding its con¬
struction and use, from the details already given in the pre¬
ceding pages.
Dr Pearson informs us, on the authority of Mr Troughton,
that a Captain Countess, R.N., having accidentally broken
the third lens of a terrestrial eye-piece of his telescope, ob¬
served the double images which it produced; and that this
observation led to the contrivance of the coming-up glass
that was first made by Nairne, with a double screw for sepa¬
rating the halves of the amplifying lens. Hence it is con¬
jectured that llamsden derived his idea of using a bisected
lens for his dioptric micrometer and dynameter. The
above facts may be quite true; but Ramsden certainly
did not require any such hint, as it was a very natural
transition from a bisected object-glass to a bisected eye¬
glass.
Dr Pearson also states that Mr George Dollond had
constructed a dioptric micrometer almost the same as Rams-
den’s, without knowing anything of what Ramsden had pro¬
posed. We have no doubt that both these ingenious opti¬
cians were quite original in their ideas, for it will not be
supposed that Captain Countess’s broken lens furnished
Mr Dollond with the idea of his contrivance. Dr Pearson
has given a drawing and description of Mr Dollond’s con¬
struction of the micrometer as made for Mr Davies Gilbert
and himself.1 It does not appear that Mr Ramsden ever
constructed it. The weight of this micrometer was found
by Dr Pearson too great for an ordinary achromatic tele¬
scope.
Mr Ramsden likewise proposed a catoptric double-image
micrometer, which, from being founded on the principle of
reflection, is not disturbed by the heterogeneity of light,
while he considered it as “avoiding every defect of other
micrometers,” having “ no aberration, nor any defect which
arises from the imperfection of materials or of execution,
as the extreme simplicity of its construction requires no
additional mirrors or glasses to those required for the tele¬
scope.” “ It has also peculiar to itself the advantages of
an adjustment to make the images coincide in a direction
perpendicular to that of their motion. In order to effect
these objects, Mr Ramsden divided the small speculum of
a Cassegrainian reflector into two equal halves, and by in¬
clining each half on an axis at right angles to the plane that
separated them he obtained two distinct images; but as
their angular separation was only half the inclination of the
specula, which would give only a small scale, he rejected
this first idea, and separated the semi-specula by making
them turn on their centre of curvature, any extent of scale
being obtained by fixing the centre of motion at a propor¬
tional distance from the common centre of curvature. The
mechanism necessary to effect this is shown in fig. 14, where
A is the bisected speculum, one of the semi-specula being
fixed on the inner end of the arm B, its outer end being
fixed on a steel axis x extending across the mouth of
the tube C. The other semi-speculum is fixed on the inner
1 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 182.
CHAP. IV. DESCRIPTION OF DOUBLE-IMAGE MICROMETERS
IN WHICH THE TWO IMAGES FORMED BY TWO SINGLY-
REFRACTING LENSES, SEMI-LENSES, OR PRISMS, ARE
SEPARATED OPTICALLY.
In the year 1776 Dr Maskelyne constructed and used
750
Double-
Image
Microme'
ters.
Maske-
lyne’s pris¬
matic mi¬
crometer.
New di¬
vided ob¬
ject-glass
microme¬
ter.
MICROMETER.
consequently the angle which they subtend continually in- Double-
creases. Hence, if we determine by experiment the an- Image,
gular distance of their centres when the lenses are close to Microme-
LL, and likewise the angle when they are at f, the other v ters’
end of the scale, and if we fill up the intermediate points of
the scale either from theory or direct experiment, we shall
have an instrument which will measure with the greatest
accuracy all angles between the two extreme ones. An¬
other or several pairs of semi-lenses may be applied to the
same telescope, and placed at smaller or greater distances,
so that, by means of other scales adapted to them, we may
obtain all angles that may be required. The lenses A, B
may be concave or convex; and when a large scale is re¬
quired, with a tenth of an inch to a second, or even greater,
we have only to use semi-lenses of long foci, and the scale
may be confined to the part of the tube nearest the focal
point.
Sir David Brewster has proved, both from theory and
experiment, that the scale is one of equal parts; so that,
after having ascertained experimentally the two extreme
angles, the whole scales may be completed by dividing the
interval into any number of equal parts, and these subdivided,
if necessary, by a vernier scale.
When the semi-lenses are placed without the object-
glass LL, and this object-glass moved towards f as in the
annexed figure, the angular distance of the images is in¬
variable.
Fig. 17.
This instrument has been constructed for measuring
distances, and as a coming-up glass for ascertaining whether
a ship is approaching to or receding from the observer. In
this form it constitutes part of fig. 7, the semi-lenses being
made to screw into the same place as the second object-
glass, and having a separate scale for themselves. In this
form many of the instruments have been constructed by
Tulley.
Among the optical micrometers we may describe an- Prismatic-
other invented by Sir David Brewster, and adapted solely micromc'
to the Newtonian telescope. In order to get rid of the ^g^gnjan
loss of light by the reflection of the small plane speculum, reflectors.
he uses an achromatic prism to reflect the light just as
much out of the axis of the telescope as will allow the head
of the observer to be applied to the eye-tube, without ob¬
structing any of the light which enters the tube. By using
two prisms, as in Maskelyne’s instrument, and moving them
along the axis of his telescope through a small distance,
we shall obtain a good micrometer. The prisms (may be
separated mechanically, or a doubly-refracting prism may
be fixed upon the face of the single or achromatic prism
used to turn aside the rays. The achromatism of a single
glass prism may be corrected by the doubly-refracting
prism, a balance of refraction being left sufficient to turn
aside the image to the observer’s eye.
his prismatic micrometer, which he had contrived with the
view of getting rid of the sources of error to which he found
the divided object-glass micrometer liable. Having cut a
prism or wedge of glass into two parts, so as to form two
prisms of exactly the same refracting angle, he conceived the
idea of fixing them together, so as to produce two images,
‘ and to vary the angle which these two images formed by
making the prisms move between the object-glass and its
principal focus; so that the scale is equal to the whole focal
length of the telescope. The two prisms may be placed in
three ways,—with their thin edges joined, with their square
thick edges or backs joined, or with their sides or triangular
edges joined. In the first position the double images will
have only one-half of the light which is incident on the object-
lens when the prisms are close to it, and their degree of
illumination will diminish as they approach the focus. In
the second position they will, as before, have only one-half
of the incident light when close to the object-glass, but the
illumination will gradually increase as the prisms advance to
the focus. In the third case, the prisms being in a reverse
position, the light will be the same in every part of the
scale, each of them receiving half the rays which fall upon
the 4bject-glass. On this account Dr Maskelyne preferred
this last arrangement.
In the instrument which Dr Maskelyne constructed, and
which seemed to have had only a thirty-inch object-glass,
the prisms were not achromatic, and consequently the
touching limbs of a luminous body were affected with the
prismatic colours. In the case of the sun, where all the
rays might have been absorbed but the red, this was of
little consequence; but in other cases it was a serious de¬
fect, which could be removed only by making the prisms
achromatic; or it might have been diminished by making
the prisms of fluor spar, in which the dispersion is very
small. One of the Dollonds accordingly executed for Dr
Maskelyne an achromatic prism, which performed well.
It does not appear that Dr Maskelyne made any observa¬
tions of value with this instrument.
A new divided object-glass micrometer has been con¬
structed by Sir David Brewster, and described in his Trea¬
tise on New Philosophical Instruments. It consists of an
achromatic object-glass LL (fig. 15), between which and its
principal focus f two achromatic semi-lenses, fixed at a given
distance, are made to move. These lenses are shown in
fig. 16, and are fixed on a piece of tube, which screws into
a tube, by pulling out and pushing in which they are
made to recede from or approach to the object-glass LL.
By this motion the angle subtended by the two images va¬
ries in the same manner as the
angle subtended by a pair of
fixed wires was made to vary
by the motion of a second ob¬
ject-glass. When the semi¬
lenses are close to LL, as
shown at A,B (fig. 15), the two
images which they form are
much separated, and their cen¬
tres subtend a large angle;
but as the lenses approach to/,
the centres of the images gra¬
dually approach each other, and
CHAF. V.—DESCRIPTION OF DOUBLE-IMAGE MICROMETERS
IN "WHICH THE TWO IMAGES ARE FORMED BY DOUBLE
REFRACTION.
The happy idea of applying the two images formed by Rochon’s
double refraction to the construction of a micrometer un- first micro-
questionably belongs to the Abbe Ilochon; and though Dr meter-
Fig. 16.
Double-
Image
Microme'
ters.
Method of
cutting the
prisma
from the
crystal.
MICROMETER.
Pearson has laboured to show that Dr Maskelyne’s pris¬
matic telescope was constructed before Rochon’s, yet this
does not in the smallest degree take away from the originality
and priority of Rochon’s invention ; for the idea of varying
the angle by the motion of the prisms can scarcely be
viewed as an essential part of the invention.
Although the double refraction of rock-crystal is small,
yet, from its limpidity and hardness, the Abbe Rochon re¬
garded it as superior to any other substance for making
doubly-refracting prisms. When he used one prism so
cut that its refracting edge coincided with the axis of the
prism, in which case its double refraction was the greatest,
he found that the separation of the two images was too
small to give the angles which he required.1 2 He therefore
fell upon a most ingenious plan of doubling the amount of
the double refraction of one prism, by using two prisms of
rock-crystal, so cut out of the solid as to give each the
same quantity of double refraction, and yet to double that
quantity in the effect produced. The construction of the
compound prism was so difficult that M. Rochon informs
us that “he knew only one person, M. Narci, who was
capable of giving rock-crystal the prismatic form in the
proper direction for obtaining the double refractions neces¬
sary to the goodness of the micrometer.” The method
used by Narci seems to have been kept a secret; for in
1819 Dr Wollaston set himself to discover the method of
constructing these compound prisms, and has described it
in the Philosophical Transactions? but not in such a man¬
ner as to be very intelligible to those who are not familiar
with such subjects. We conceive that the process may be
easily understood from the following rule:—Cut a hexa¬
gonal prism of quartz into two halves by a plane passing
through or parallel to its axis. Grind and polish the two
cut faces, and by means of Canada balsam cement the one
upon the other, so that any line or edge in the one face
may be perpendicular to the same line in the other. Cut
and polish a face on each of the united portions, so that
the common section of these faces with the cemented
planes may be parallel to the axis of the crystal, while
they are equally inclined to these planes, and the prism
will be completed.
We shall now explain, by a diagram, a more simple and
economical way of cutting these prisms, though the prin¬
ciple is exactly the same. Let AKGDBLHF be half of a
hexagonal prism of quartz, the height of which, DF, is
equal to half of its diameter AD. Bisect AD in C, and
join CK, CG, and draw CE parallel to AB or DF. This
line CE will be the axis of the
prism. Grind and polish the sec¬
tion ABFD, and cut off the prisms
AKCBLEand DGCFHE, setting
aside the intermediate similar prism
KGCLHE. The faces ACEB,
DCEF are square and equal, so
that if we cement these faces to¬
gether, making the line AB coin¬
cide with FE, AC will coincide
with FD, CE with DC, and EB
with CE. If we wish each prism
to have an angle of 60°, we may
take either GDFH or GCEH for
the refracting face of it; we shall
suppose the former. In this case
we must grind and polish a face on the other prism ABL,
which is accurately parallel to the face GDFH, and the
1 In his first experiments Rochon corrected the dispersion of the
rock-crystal prism hy a similar prism placed in front of it, and
having its exterior face perpendicular to the axis of the crystal.
This prism, having no effect in doubling the image, gave him a
complete correction of the dispersion for the ordinary image.
2 Phil, Trans, 1820, p. 126.
compound prism will be completed. If 60° is too great,
we must grind down the face GDFH till it has the de¬
sired inclination to DF, and grind and polish a face parallel
to it on the other prism. The external faces, in short, to
be made upon each prism must be equally inclined to
the cemented planes DCEF, ABEC, and have their com¬
mon section DF parallel to the axis CE of the prism. In
place of cutting off the prism AKCBLE, we may cut
off only the prism GCDHEF, leaving the intermediate one
GKCHLE attached to AKCBLE, and proceed as before.
The object of this is to leave enough of solid quartz at KL to
give a face of the same breadth as GDFH. If the prisms re¬
quired are small compared with the quartz-crystal, we may
obtain, by the first method, six prisms out of the crystal, or
three pair of compound ones. On the other hand, if the re¬
quired prism is large compared with the crystal of quartz, it
may require one-half of the crystal to make one prism, and
the other half the other. Nay, it may be necessary to cut
each individual prism out of separate crystals, the method
of doing which is very obvious from the preceding descrip¬
tion.
When the prism is completed, it is evident that a ray of
light incident perpendicularly on the face GHFD will be
perpendicular to the axis of the prism CE, and therefore the
extraordinary ray will suffer the greatest deviation, viz. 17':
and the same is true of the other prism. But when the
ray passes through both, it is   
found to have a deviation
of 34', which is produced   °
in the following manner:
Let AB be a line viewed
through one of the prisms,   0>
with its refracting angle A B
turned upwards ; two images . .
of it will be seen, viz., the
extraordinary image at E, iig. 19.
and the ordinary one at O. If we now interpose the other
prism with its refracting angle downwards, both these
images E, O will be refracted downwards. But owing to
the transverse cutting of the prisms, the extraordinary
image E, which was most raised, now suffers ordinary re¬
fraction, and is least depressed, so that in place of being
refracted back to AB, it comes only to E'O'. On the
other hand, the ordinary image O, which suffered the
least refraction, is now extraordinarily refracted, and, in
place of reaching AB, is depressed to O'E'; and since the
double refraction of each prism, as well as the angles of the
prism, are equal, the angular distance of the images E'O',
O'E' formed by the combined prisms will be double of the
distance EO, or 34'.
The same rule may be followed in cutting the prism out
of the limpid and homogeneous topazes of New Holland,
the principle axis of which coincides with the axis of the
prism. When the crystals are amorphous, the cleavage
planes will be a sufficient guide, as the above axis is al¬
ways perpendicular to them. Such prisms are incompar¬
ably superior, as we have practically experienced, to those
made of rock-crystal.
When a very large angle is required for any particular
purposes, artificial crystals, such as carbonate of potash, &c.,
may be advantageously employed, the crystals being ground
with oil, or any fluid in which they are not soluble. By
cementing plates of parallel glass on their outer surfaces
they will be as permanent as rock-crystal.
Dr Pearson fitted up with one of Rochon’s micrometers
an achromatic telescope 33 inches in focal length, and hav¬
ing a magnifying power of 35Jk He applied it to two se¬
parate compound prisms, one of which had a constant
angle of 32, and the other an angle only of 5', the vernier
in the former case indicating seconds, and in the latter
tenths of seconds. A drawing is given of the tube, with
Fig. 18.
751
Double-
Image
Microme¬
ters.
752
MICROMETER.
Double-
Image
Microme¬
ters.
Eochon’s
second mi¬
crometer.
Arago’s
doubly-re¬
fracting
microme¬
ter.
the prisms and scales in figs. 20, 21, as given by Dr Pear¬
son. The tube is graduated from the solar focus into
two scales, one being placed on each side
of the slit or opening cut along the middle
of the tubes, to allow the sliding-piece,
shown separately in fig. 21, to move from
the object-glass to the solar focus. This
sliding-piece holds the prism, the larger
prism of 32' being shown as placed with its
sliding-piece in the tube, and the smaller
prism of 5' being shown in the separate
sliding-piece (fig 20). The two verniers of
the scales are seen on each side of the two
screws with milled heads, which passthrough
the slit, and serve to move the sliding-piece
to or from the object-glass when they are
not too much tightened.
In his original memoir on the subject,
published in the Journal de Physique for
IBOl/M. Rochon makes the following ob¬
servations :—“ I ought not to omit that in
this new construction there are difficulties of
execution not easy to surmount, which may
have been one reason why these instru¬
ments, so useful to navigators, and in certain
very nice astronomical observations, have
not been adopted. This induced me at
length to adopt Euler’s method. In the con¬
struction of achromatic object-glasses I
found I could increase or diminish the abso¬
lute effect of the double refraction within
certain limits, by means of the interval between the glasses
of different refracting powers ; the separation of the images
at the focus being so much the greater, as the interval is
larger, when the flint-glass is the first of the object-glasses,
and less when it is the second. Conformably to these new
principles, I have had two telescopes with a doubly-refract¬
ing medium constructed under my own inspection, which
General Gantheaume will employ for determining the posi¬
tion of his ships, and to find whether he be approaching any
he may meet with at sea.”3
In 1812 M. Rochon constructed his doubly-refracting
micrometer in another form, from which he anticipated
great advantages. He made a parallelepiped of rock-crystal,
consisting of two prisms whose refracting angles were each
about 30°, so that the angle which they gave was less than
30', and the two images of the sun of course overlapped
each other. The prisms being firmly united by mastic, he
ground the parallelopiped into a convex lens, so that when
combined with a concave one of flint-glass, it formed an
achromatic object-glass with a focal length of about 3 de¬
cimetres, or nearly 12 inches. This object-glass separated
the centres of the images of the sun about 28 minutes.
“ He then adapted to this object-glass a common micro¬
meter, which measured angles of 10 minutes, and he had
thus three decimetres and 10 minutes to complete the mea¬
sure of the diameters of the sun or moon.”
M. Arago, as he himself informs us, employed Rochon’s
micrometer in taking more than 3000 of the diameters of
the planets. He found, however, that he could not make
both the images equal in diameter at the same time, and
that with high powers this defect was intolerable. When
the prism, too, was near the eye-glass, for the determination
of the zero of the scale or for the measure of very small
angles, the smallest imperfections in the crystal, or in the
state of its surfaces, were considerably magnified. In order
to remedy this inconvenience he placed the prism without
Fig. 21.
Fig. 20.
the telescope, between the eye-glass and the eye, at the Double¬
place where the darkening glasses for observing the sun are Image
fixed. The contact of the two images was then obtained Mlcrome-
by Sir David Brewster’s method of varying the magnifying v ters ,
power of the telescope, as shown in fig. 5, where the
two lenses of the eye-piece next, the eye are moved to
and from the other two lenses. M. Arago, however, having
found that this change in the eye-piece was an inconve¬
nience, kept the magnifying power constant, and employed
a large number of doubly-refracting prisms in which the
angles succeeded one another by variations of 30 and even
15 seconds. By this means he selected the prism which
brought the two images nearest into contact. He then took
the next, in which the images overlapped, and took the
mean of their angles, which he divided by the magnifying
power of his telescope. “ With prisms,” he remarks, “ suc¬
ceeding one another by 15 seconds, and with a magnifying
power of 200, each measure will differ from that of the
preceding prism by or T^^ths of a second. The un¬
certainty, therefore, of the mean will be scarcely T^7ths,
a quantity which may be safely neglected. Previous to
the construction of this micrometer, which he describes in
the Comptes Rendus for 1847,1 M. Arago seems to have
used another form of the instrument, in which, as Dr
Pearson informs us,2 the constant angle was increased by
placing the prism in an oblique direction as regards the
line of vision; and in which “ he determined the respective
values of the angles thus increased by means of concen¬
tric circles placed vertically at a measured distance from
the eye when looking through the prism; for as he knew
the diameters of each circle, he could generally find out
one of the number which would come into exact con¬
tact with its image, and thus give the value of the constant
angle.”
A micrometer with double images was executed and Microme-
used by M. Porro of Paris in 1842, and more recently by p^r°fan(j
M. Secchi, astronomer to the Collegio Romano. M. Porro ge^j^
gives to his micrometer the name of The Parallel Inde¬
pendent Micrometer. It consists of a parallel plate of glass
placed within the telescope, so that part of the rays from
any object pass through it, and another part past it. By a
greater or less inclination of the plate, two images of the
object may be either superposed or be made to touch alter¬
natively by one side or by another. The change of inclina¬
tion of the plate gives the measure of the discs or angles
required. In order to correct the elongation of the focus
of the half pencil which traverses the glass, it is com¬
pensated by a fixed glass of the same thickness as that
which is traversed by the other half of the pencil. M.
Secchi thought of applying this micrometer, which had been
used in geodetic operations, to large telescopes for measur¬
ing the distances of double stars and the diameters of the
planets. With this view he took a plate of glass with
parallel faces, 3 millimetres thick and 12 wide, and in¬
troduced it into the telescope by the hole through which
the light of the lamp passes for illuminating the wires.
The displacement of the images, which are very small, re¬
quires very considerable inclinations of the plate, and they
depend on the thickness of the plate, its index of refrac¬
tion, and the focal length of the telescope. The posi¬
tion of the cone intercepted by the plate may be regulated
so as to make the light of the two images perfectly equal,
even taking into account the reflection produced by the sur¬
faces of the plate. M. Secchi applied this micrometer
to the telescope of 7 feet of Cauchoix, and one of 14 feet by
Merz, and found it to give good results. He remarks, how¬
ever, that for telescopes of short focus, and perhaps for
1 Translated in Nicholson’s Journal, 8vo., vol. iv p 110-120
a Ibid., p. 117.
1 Tom. xxiv., p. 400.
3 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 206-212.
MICROMETER.
753
Double-
Image
Microme¬
ters.
large ones with high magnifying powers, the displacing plate
of parallel glass should be slightly concave, in order to
lengthen a little the focus which the displacement shortens.
M. Porro disapproves of making the plate concave. He
fixes the micrometer on a separate stand, so as to be inde¬
pendent of the position of the telescope, though within it.1
The displacement d of the image is found by the following
formulae:—
d=t
sin I — R
Pearson’s
ocular
crystal
microme¬
ter.
Mr G. Dol-
lond’s sphe¬
rical crys¬
tal micro¬
meter.
cos R ’
and sin R = m sin I;
t being the thickness of the glass, m its index of refraction,
I the inclination of the plate or the angle of incidence,
and R the angle of refraction. The value of I is given by
the instrument to the 100th part of a degree.2
Dr Pearson has proposed an ocidar crystal micrometer,
and has given a drawing and description of the instrument.3
It is nothing more than M. Arago’s ocular crystal prism,
in which the constant angle is varied by Sir David Brew¬
ster’s variable eye-piece already described. On the same
principle, the angle of the prism may be varied by a convex
or concave lens moving between the object-glass and its
principal focus ; but what would be still better, by pulling
out or pushing in the eye-piece of a Gregorian or Casse-
grainian telescope.
In 1821 Mr George Dollond communicated to the Royal
Society an account of his spherical crystal micrometer, a
very ingenious instrument, though, we should think, one
difficult to execute; and at the same time, even when well
executed, liable to error. Mr Dollond’s improvement con¬
sists in making a sphere or lens from a piece of rock-crystal,
and adapting it to a telescope in place of the usual eye¬
glass, as shown in fig. 22, where a is the sphere or lens,
formed of rock-crystal, and placed in half holes, from which
is extended the axis bb, with an attached index, the face of
which is shown in fig. 23. This index registers the motion
of the sphere on the graduated circle. The sphere a is so
placed in the half holes that when its natural axis (axis of
double refraction, we presume) is parallel to the axis of
the telescope, it gives only one image of the object. In a
direction perpendicular to that axis it must be so placed
that when it is moved the separation of the images may be
parallel to that motion. The method of acquiring this ad¬
justment is by turning the sphere a in the half holes pa¬
rallel to its own axis. A second lens d is introduced be¬
tween the sphere and the primary image given by the
object-glass, and its distance from the sphere should be in
proportion to the magnifying power required. The magni¬
fying powers engraven in fig. 23 are suited to an object-
glass of 44 inches focal length. The following are the ad-
1 See Porro in the Comptes Rendus, tom. xli., p. 1058, Dec. 10,
1855; and M. Secchi, tom. xli., p. 906, Nov. 19, 1855.
2 Id. Id., 1854, vol. xxxix., p. 245.
3 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 219.
VOL. XIV.
vantages of this construction as stated by its inventor :— Position
1. It is only necessary to select a piece of perfect crystal, Microme
and, without any knowledge of the angle that will give the ters-
greatest double refraction, to form the sphere of a proper
diameter for the focal length required. 2. The angle may
be taken on each side of zero without reversing the eye-
tube ; and intermediate angles may be taken between zero
and the greatest separation of the images without exchang¬
ing any part of the eye-tube, it being only required to move
the axis in which the sphere is placed. 3. It possesses the
property of a common eye-tube and lens ; for, when the
axis of the crystal is parallel to that of the object-glass,
only one image will be formed, and that as distinctly as with
any lens that does not refract doubly.1
Dr Pearson had one of these instruments constructed by
Mr Dollond, and applied to an achromatic object-glass 43'6
inches in focal length. He has shown that the scale is not
one of equal parts, and has pointed out a method of deter¬
mining the constant angle of the crystal.
Knowing from experience the imperfect structure of
rock-crystal, especially in directions approaching to the axis,
we dreaded that a spherical eye-glass of this material would
not give perfect vision. Dr Pearson confirms this opinion
by actual observation. He attempted to measure the dia¬
meter of Mars when about 9", “ but its limits were so im¬
perfectly defined that no satisfactory, observation could be
made.”2 We would therefore strongly recommend the sub¬
stitution of limpid topaz from New Holland in place of the
rock-crystal.
CHAP. VI.—DESCRIPTION OP POSITION-MICROMETERS.
A position-micrometer is an instrument for measuring Position-
angles when a plane passing through the two lines which microme-
contain these angles is perpendicular to the axis of vision.ters*
Sir W. Herschel first proposed such an instrument for the
purpose of verifying a conjecture, that the smaller of the
two stars which compose a double star revolves round the
larger one. Hence it became necessary to observe if a
line joining the centres-of any two stars always formed the
same angle with the direction of its daily motion. After
constructing the instrument which we are about to describe,
and making a long series of observations, he verified his
conjecture by the important discovery that the double stars
formed binary systems, in which the one revolved round
the other. The position-micro¬
meter used by Sir William Her¬
schel in his earliest observations,
viz., those made in 1779-1783,
was made by Nairne, and was
constructed as shown in fig. 24,
which represents it when in¬
closed in a turned case of wood,
and ready to be screwed into the
eye-piece of the telescope. “ A
is a little box which holds the
eye-glass. B is the piece which
covers the inside work, and the box A screwed into it. C
is the body of the micrometer, containing the brass-work
showing the index-plate a projecting at one side, where the
case is cut away to receive it. D is a piece having a
screw b at the bottom, by means of which the micrometer
is fastened to the telescope. To the piece C is given a
circular motion, in the manner the horizontal motion is
generally given to Gregorian reflectors, by the lower
part going through the piece D, where it is held by the
screw E, which keeps the two pieces C and D together, but
Tig. 24.
1 See Phil. Trans., 1821, p. 101-104.
2 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 233.
5 c
754
M I C K 0 M E T E E.
Position-
Microme
ters.
Sir W.
Herschel’s
position-
microme¬
ter.
leaves them at liberty to turn on each other. Fig. 25 is a
section of the case containing the
brass-work, where may be ob¬
served the piece B hollowed out
to receive the box A, which con¬
sists of two parts inclosing the
eye-lens. This figure shows how
the piece C passes through D,
and is held by the ring E. The
brass-work, consisting of a hollow
cylinder, a wheel and pinion, and
index-plate, is there represented
in its place. F is the body of
the brass-work, being a hollow cylinder with a broad rim
C at its upper end; this rim is partly turned away to
make a bed for the wheel d. The pinion e turns the wheel
d, and carries the index-plate a. One of its pivots moves in
the arm f screwed on the upper part of c, which arm serves
also to confine the wheel d to its place on c. The other
pivot is held by the arm g fastened to F.
A section of the brass-work is shown in fig. 26, where the
wheel d which is in the form
of a ring inlaid on the upper
part of F or C, and held by
two small arms /, h, screwed
down to e with the screws *, i.
Fig. 26.
A plan of the brass-work is shown in fig. 27, where dd
is the wheel placed on the bed or socket of the rim of the
cylinder cc, and is held down by the two pieces f, h, which
are screwed on c6. The piece/projects over the centre of
the index-plate to receive the upper pivot of the pinion,
mn the fixed wire being fastened to ce, and the movable
wire op, to the annular wheel dd. The index-plate a,
milled on the edge, is divided into sixty parts, each sub¬
divided into two. When the finger is drawn over the
milled edge of the index-plate from q to r, the angle mso
will open by the rotation of the movable wire op, and if
drawn from r towards q, it will shut again. The case CC
must have a sharp corner t, which serves as an index to
point out the divisions on the index-plate.1 In using this
micrometer the movable wire op is placed in the direction
of the apparent motion of the principal star, and the other
wire mn made to form such an angle with it that both the
stars arrive at this wire at the same time. The inclinations
ot the wire measured on an index-plate gives the angle of
position, or that which the line joining the centre of the
stars forms with the direction of their daily motion.
We do not know the value of the divisions in the instru¬
ment used by Sir William Herschel; but in the position-
micrometer of the five-feet equatorial used by Sir John
1 Fhil. Trans., 1781, p. 500.
Herschel and Sir James South, in their observations on
double stars, the position circle was large enough to show
distinctly minutes of a degree by means of its vernier.
Since the time of Troughton an important improvement
has been made in this micrometer, by separating the posi¬
tion motion from the linear motion. This is done by caus¬
ing afoot or two of the end of the telescope which carries
the wire-micrometer to revolve on the rest of the tube, thus
securing a larger circle for the readings, and a firmer mo¬
tion than could be obtained when all the movements were
included in the micrometer itself.
The position-micrometer which we have now described
has been improved by Sir David Brewster ; and the fol¬
lowing account of these improvements, which is not sus¬
ceptible of abridgment, is given in his own words :—
In the position-micrometer invented by Sir William Improved
Herschel, “ the two wires mn, op always cross each other position¬
al the centre of the field s, and consequently their angular microme*
separation is produced uniformly by the motion of the ter*
pinion. This very circumstance, however, though it ren¬
ders it easy for the observer to read off the angle from the
scale, is one of the greatest imperfections of the instrument.
The observations must obviously be all made on one side
of the centre of the field, as appears from fig. 27 ; and the
use of the instrument is limited to those cases in which the
distance of the stars is less than the radius of the field.
The greatest disadvantage of the instrument, however, is
the shortness of that radius ; for the error of observation
must always diminish as the length of this radius increases.
This disadvantage does not exist in measuring the angle of
position of two stars; for the distance remains the same
whatever be the radius of the field; but in determining the
angle which a line joining two stars forms with a line joining
other two stars, or those which compose a double star (an
observation which it may often be of great importance to
make), and all other angles contained by lines whose appa¬
rent length is greater than the radius of the field, this im¬
perfection is inseparable from the instrument. Nay, there
are some cases in which the instrument completely fails;
as, for instance, when we wish to measure the angles formed
by two lines which do not meet in a focus, but only tend to
a remote vertex. If the distance of the nearest extremities
of these lines is greater than the chord of the angle which
they formed measured upon the radius of the field, then it
is impossible to measure that angle, for the wires cannot be
brought to coincide with the lines by which it is contained.
Nay, when the chord of the angle does exceed the distance
between the nearest extremities, the portion of the wires
which can be brought into coincidence with the lines is so
small as to lead to very serious errors in the result.
The new position-micrometer which we propose to sub¬
stitute for this instrument is free from
the defects just noticed, and is
founded on a beautiful property of
the circle. If any two chords, AB,
CD (fig. 28), intersect each other in
the point O within the circle, the
angle which they form at O will be
equal to half the sum of the arches
AC, BD ; but if these chords do
not intersect each other within the
circle, but tend to any point O without the circle, where
they would intersect each other if continued, as in fig. 30,
then the angle which they form is equal to half the differ¬
ence of the° arches AC, BD ; that is, calling the angle
required, we have, in the first case, as shown in fig. 28,
Position.
Microme¬
ters.
Trough-
ton’s im¬
provement.
<£ =
* =
AC + BD
2
AC-BD
and in the second case, as shown in fig. 30,
Hence, if the two wires AB, CD be placed
2
MICROMETER.
Position, in the focus of the first eye-glass of a telescope, the mov-
Microme- able one AB may be made to form every possible angle
with the fixed one CD, and that angle may be readily
found from the arches AB, CD.
The mechanism for measuring these arches is shown in
755
ters.
Fig. 30.
fig. 29, where the graduated circular head CD may be di¬
vided only into 180°, in order to save the trouble of halv¬
ing the sum or the difference of the arches AC, BD ; but as
it would still be necessary to measure two arches before
the angle could be ascertained, we have adopted another
method, remarkable for its simplicity, and giving no more
trouble than if the wires always intersected each other in
the centre of the field.
Let AB, for example (fig. 30), be the fixed wire, and
CD the movable one, and let
it be required to find at one
observation the angle AOC
or Set the index of the
vernier to zero, when D coin- a!
cides with B ; and as C will
be at c when D is at B, the
arch cA will be a constant
quantity, which we shall call
b. Making AC = m, and BD = rc, we have rk-rn+n
^ 2 *
But since the extremity C will move over the space Cc
while D describes the space DB, these arches must be
equal, consequent^ b = m-n; hence, adding 2n to each
side of the equation, we obtain b+ 2n = m + n, ov U+ n
m + n ,
2 ’ conse(luently <f>=:zb + n. Hence the angle AOC
is equal to half the arch Ac added to the arch DB; or
since Ac is invariable, the half of it is a constant quantity,
and the angle required is equal to the sum of this constant
quantity and the arch DB.
When the wires do not intersect each other, as in fig.
30, we have </. = and b = m + n; hence, subtracting
2n from each side of the equation, we have b — 2n = m — n,
and, dividing by 2, we have consequently
f=ib-n. That is, the angle AOC is equal to the dif¬
ference between half the arch Ac and the arch DB, or to a
constant quantity diminished by the arch DB.
In finding the angle AOC, therefore, we have merely
to observe the place of the index when the wires are in
their proper position ; and as the scale commences at B, or
where D and B coincide, and is numbered both ways from
B, the degree pointed out on the circular head CD, when
increased or diminished by the constant quantity, will give
the angle of the wires which is sought. The semicircle on
each side of a diameter drawn through B is divided intol80°
the 180th degree being at the opposite end of that diameter.
We may simplify still further the method of reading off
the angle AOC, so as to save the trouble even of recollect¬
ing the constant quantity, and of adding it to, or subtract¬
ing it from, the arch pointed out by the index of the ver¬
nier. This advantage is obtained by making the index of
the vernier point to the constant quantity upon the part of
the scale below B (fig. 28) when the points D, B coincide, Position
or when the wire CD is in the dotted position cB ; for it Microme
is obvious that if z marks the zero of the scale, and Bz is ter8‘
equal to the constant quantity, the arch Dz, which is pointed
out by the index of the vernier, will be equal to ^b + ?2, or
the angle AOC. In like manner, in fig. 30, where the
wires do not cross each other within the field, and where
Bz is the constant quantity, the arch Dz marked out by the
index of the vernier is obviously equal to %b — n, or the
angle AOC, which the wires tend to form at O. By means
of this adjustment, therefore, we are able to read off the
angle AOC with the same facility as if the wires intersected
each other in the centre of the field, when the arches are
accurate measures of the angles at the centre.
The end of the eye-tube is represented in fig. 29, where
the circular head CD is divided into 360°, and subdivided
by the vernier V. L is the level, and AB the part of the
eye-piece which contains the diaphragm, with the fixed and
movable wires. The head CD and the level L are firmly
fixed to the eye-tube T; and from the head CD there
rises an annular shoulder, concentric with the tube and
containing the diaphragm, across which the fixed wire is
stretched. This diaphragm, which is represented in fig.
31, with the wire extended across,
projects through the circle of brass
EF. All these parts remain im¬
movable, while the outer tube AB,
and the other half EF, of the circu¬
lar head which contains the vernier
V, have a rotatory motion upon the
shoulder, which rises from CD.
The tube AB is merely an outer
case, to protect a little tube within
it, which contains the eye-glass
and the movable diaphragm, with its wire extended across
it. The inclosed tube is screwed into the ring EF, and
the outer tube is also screwed upon the same ring, so
that by moving AB a motion of rotation is communicated
to the vernier V, and to the diaphragm and wire belong¬
ing to the inner tube, while the rest of the eye-piece,
containing the other diaphragm with its wire, remains
stationary. By these means the movable wire is made
to form every possible angle with the fixed wire, and the
angle is determined by the method which we have al¬
ready explained. The fixed wire is placed a good deal out
of the centre of the diaphragm to which it belongs; and
the diaphragm itself is placed in a cell, in which it can be
turned round so as to adjust the wire to a horizontal line
when the level is set. The movable wire is likewise placed
at a distance from the centre of its dia¬
phragm, as shown in fig. 32 ; but by means
of screws which pass through the inner
tube into the edge of this diaphragm, it
can be moved in a plane at right angles
to the axis of the eye-piece, so that the
movable wire maybe placed either in the
centre of the field or at different distances fr0m it.
The double-image micrometer affords a convenient me- Double-
thod of measuring angles of position ; and we believe this image mi-
application of it was first made by Sir David Brewster. crometer
In every instrument in which a double image of an ob- a Position
ject is formed by means of two semi-lenses with their cen- ^crome'
tres at a distance, the one 1 '
image appears to have a
rotatory motion round the
other when the telescope
is turned about its axis.
Thus in fig. 33, if A, B / \
be images of two objects
formed by the upper semi- e
lens when the common Fig- sa.
Fig. 32.
A
•" "O-*
B
y
756
MICROMETER.
c<^
D>
■^5
E E
Fig. 34.
Position diameter of the semi-lenses is perpendicular to the horizon,
Microme- and C, D the images of the same objects formed by the
tors. lower semi-lens; then, by turning the telescope about its
^ axis, or the semi-lenses round in their tube, the image A
will appear to move round C in the circle AaE, and the
image B round D in the circle BZ»F, or in the opposite di¬
rection if the telescope or the semi-lenses are turned the
other way. When the distance AC is equal to CD, as in
fig. 34, the image A will pass over
the image D ; or if the telescope
is turned in the opposite direction, "\
the image B will pass over the
image C. In like manner, when
AC is greater or less than CD, the
images will move as we have re¬
presented them in figs. 33 and 35.
In all these cases the four images
may be brought into one straight line ; and when this takes
place the line which passes through all the images will
uniformly form the same angle with the horizon as the
common diameter of the semi-lenses. It is very easy to
ascertain with the utmost accuracy when the images form
one straight line ; but particularly in the case where AC
(fig. 34), is equal to CD, for the image of A will then pass
over D ; and the coincidence of the images will mark the
instant when the line which joins them is parallel to the
common diameter of the lenses. Hence, as we obtain by
this means the relation of the line joining the images to a
fixed line in the instrument, the re¬
lation of this line to the horizon may
be easily found by means of a level
and a divided circular head. If the
image is a straight line (fig. 35), then
the coincidence of the two images, so
as to form one straight line, will indi¬
cate the parallelism of that line to the
diameter of the semi-lenses.
In constructing a micrometer of this kind solely for the
purpose of measuring angles when the eye is not at their
vertex, either the object-glass or the third eye-glass might
be made the divided lens. If the object-glass is divided,
it should be so constructed that it may have a rotatory
motion in its cell, by applying the hand to a milled circum¬
ference AB (fig. 36). Con¬
nected with the tube TT of
the telescope is a circular ring
of brass CD divided into 360°;
and the divisions upon this
scale are pointed out by the
index of a vernier v, which
moves along with the semi¬
lenses. A level L is fixed to
the plate AB, having its axis
parallel to the common dia¬
meter of the lenses, and being adjusted to a horizontal line
when the index points to the zero of the scale. In using the
instrument, therefore, the observer turns round the semi¬
lenses by means of the projecting milled circumference AB,
till the coincidence of the two images is distinctly perceived.
The index of the vernier will then point out upon the gra¬
duated head the inclination of the line which is required.
\\ hen the telescope is long, this form of the instrument,
though extremely simple, is not very convenient. The
construction represented in fig. 37 is in general to be pre¬
ferred. This instrument consists of three tubes BL, LC,
CA. At the extremity B of the first tube is placed the
divided object-glass, and at the other extremity L is fixed
the divided circular head EF. The tube CL, which re¬
mains always at rest, is fixed to the stand HI by means of
the clasp and screw at H. I he tube AC, which contains
an eye-piece, moves within both the tubes CL and LB.
E
Fig. 35.
Fig. 36.
The tube BL extends towards C, the tube CL being within Position-
^ Microme¬
ters.
it, and round its circumference are cut a number of teeth, in
which the endless screw G works, and thus gives a rotatory
motion to the tube LB and the divided head EF. By this
means the common diameter of the semi-lenses at B is
made to form every possible angle with a horizontal line,
which is indicated by a level above L, having its axis
parallel to the common diameter of the semi-lenses. The
index of the vernier v, fixed to the stationary tube CL,
points out on the graduated head the angle required.
When the instrument is constructed so that the semi¬
lenses are in the eye-piece, the graduated head must be
placed in the eye-tube.
If the principle of this micrometer is applied to the
double-image micrometer described in chap, iv., in which
a pair of fixed semi-lenses moves between the object-glass
and its principal focus, we obtain an instrument which will
measure at the same observation the angle subtended at
the eye of the observer by a line joining two points, and
likewise the angle which that line forms with the horizon
or any other line. When the two images of the line which
joins the two points are brought into contact by the motion
of the semi-lenses along the axis of the tube, these images
must necessarily be in the same straight line, so that the
relation of that line to the horizon, or to any other given line,
and the contact of the two images of it which determines
its angular magnitude, are obtained simultaneously without
any additional observation or adjustment.
Dr Pearson has given some very useful details respect¬
ing the use of double-image micrometers in measuring
angles of position.1
When the brightness of the two stars which compose a Linear disc
double star is considerable, their discs may be drawn out microme-
into lines of light either by cylindrical refraction or reflec- er*
tion, and the coincidence of these lines will furnish the
means of determining the angle of position.
A position-micrometer upon a new principle has been Lu^ disc
proposed by Sir David Brewster. He expands the images ^crome-
of the two stars into luminous discs till they overlap each ter>
other. The southern limb of the lower disc is then made
to move along the fixed wire of the position-micrometer.
A line joining the two points where the circumferences of
the discs intersect each other is obviously perpendicular
to a line joining the centres of the stars, and will therefore
form an angle with the fixed wire equal to the complement
of the angle of position required. If we therefore make
the movable wire pass through the two points where the
luminous discs intersect each other, the micrometer scale
will give the complement of the angle of position.2 photocra-
By the photographic process, already referred to (chap, i.), ph.°c pgosi_
dark lines may be formed on transparent collodion or albu- tion micro-
men at fixed angles, succeeding one another, like Arago s meter.
prisms, by angles differing 30”, 15”, or even 5 . dhese lines
may converge to points within or without the field, or even
to points at great distances; and in the latter case their in¬
clination may be nicely determined in the large or unre¬
duced copy by a divided circle furnished with a vernier read
1 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 255.
2 Treatise on New Philosophical Instruments, p. 45.
Lamp and off by microscopes. A movable photographic line on a plate
Imcid-Disc of collodion upon glass may have a motion close to the plate
ters™6' c?n|:aining t1ie other lines, and the foci of both made equally
v , distinct by optical means.
MICROMETER
757
Lamp mi¬
crometer.
CHAP. VII,—DESCRIPTION OF THE LAMP-MICROMETER AND
THE LUCID-DISC MICROMETER.
In measuring the distances and angle of position of double
stars Sir William Herschel encountered many practical
difficulties which interfered with the accuracy of his results.
The uncertainty of the real zero of his scale, the inflexion
of light, the imperfections of the screws and divided bars
and pinions, and the difficulty of obtaining fibres sufficiently
minute for his purpose, but, above all, the disappearance of
small stars by the illumination of the wire, led this eminent
astronomer to the contrivance of his lamp-micrometer
which, while it is exempt from these sources of error, has
also the advantage of a large scale.
The lamp-micrometer is represented in fig. 38, where
AB is the upright
part of the stand, 9
feet high, upon which
a wooden semicircle
qhogp, 14 inches ra¬
dius, may be fixed at
different heights by a
peg p put into holes
in the stand. An arm
L, 30 inches long,
moves round a pivot
in the centre of the
board by means of
the handle P, which
works a string eqho
fastened to a hook at
the back of L. The
arm L is kept at any
inclination to the ho¬
rizon by the weight of
the handle P, which Fig. 38.
is 10 feet long. A small slider b, about three inches long,
moves along the front of L towards and from the centre at
w, by means of the handle rD, which operates by a string
passing over the pulley m, and returning by w to a barrel
at r, while a second string bnw, with a weight ?p, causes
the slider b to return to the centre. The end of the arm
L is shown on a large scale in fig. 39.
. Two lamps a, b (figs. 40 and 41), 1^ inch high and If
inch deep, have slid-
ing doors with small
apertures made with
a fine needle oppo¬
site the flame of a
single cotton-thread
wick, so that when
Fig. 39.
the sliders are shut down, nothing is seen but two fine
lucid points like stars of
the third or fourth mag¬
nitude. The lamp a
is placed at the centre
u, so that its lucid point
may occupy that centre,
while b is hung on the
slider S, so that its lu¬
cid point may be in a
line with the lucid point
of a when the arm L
has a horizontal posi¬
tion.
Fig. 40.
Fig. 41.
A person, therefore, at a distance of 10 feet may govern
the two lucid points so as to bring them into any required
position by the handle P ; and by the handle D he may place Lamp and
them at any distance, from Te0ths of an inch to 25 inches. Lucid-Disc
In using this micrometer Sir W. Herschel placed it 10 Microme-
feet from his left eye, while with his right he viewed a , tGrs' ,
double star through his Newtonian reflector. By means of r ^ J
his left eye the double star is seen projected upon the mi-
ciometer, and he then placed his two lucid points at such
a distance that they were exactly covered by the stars.
The distance of the lucid points was the tangent of the
magnified angles subtended by the stars to a radius of 10
feet. This angle, therefore, being divided by the magni-
yung pow er of the telescope, gives the real angular distance
oi the centres of a double star. With a power of 460 the
scale was a quarter of an inch for every second. Sir W.
Herschel, in measuring the apparent diameter of a Lyrce
with this instrument, used a magnifying power of 6450.
1 he magnified angle was 38/10 , so that the real angle was
38 10 „
6450 ‘355, giving on this occasion a scale of no less
than 8£ inches to a second.1
In using high magnifying powers Sir W. Herschel em- Lucid-disc
ployed another apparatus called the lucid-disc micrometer, micronie-
A lucid disc made of oiled paper, or any other semi-trans- ^er-
parent substance, was placed in the front slider of a lantern,
and illuminated by a flame behind it. The lantern was
then removed to a distance till the diameter of the disc ap¬
peared equal to that of a planet seen in the telescope, so
that the angular diameter of the planet became known by
dividing the angle subtended by the disc by the magnifying
power of the telescope. The result was affected by the
colour of the disc and the degree of illumination. The
measure was always too small when the illumination was
strong, and too great when a black disc was placed on an
illuminated ground. Hence Sir William Herschel took a
mean of the two as the true measure.
M. Schroeter of Lilienthal, in measuring the diameter
of vesta, Juno, Pallas, and Ceres, used a lucid-disc micro¬
meter, which we presume was not much different from Sir
W. Herschel’s.
Dr Pearson constructed and used an analogous instru¬
ment, in which the left eye looked into a tube containing
a system of lines upon a disc of glass, or a spider’s line
micrometer, so that the object seen with the right eye was
piojected against these divisions, and its angular diameter
ascertained.2
CHAP. VIII. DESCRIPTION OF FIXED MICROMETERS WITH
AN INVARIABLE SCALE.
The earliest fixed micrometer of which we have a dis- Huvffens’a
tinct account is that of Huygens, who placed a circular micrtme-
diaphragm in the focus of the eye-glass of his telescope ter.
and found its angular value to be seventeen and a quarter
minutes by the time which a star took to pass across it.
He then formed two or three long brass plates of different
breadths so as to form wedges of different angles In
measuring the diameter of a planet with one of these he
made one of them slide through two slits in the or nosite
sides of the tube, so that the plane of the brass wedges
touched the p ane of the circular diaphragm; and havfng
observed in what part of the wedge its breadth just covered
the whole planet, he took this breadth in a pair of com¬
passes, and having found what part it was of the whole
aperture he divided seventeen and a quarter minutes by
this pait, and obtained the diameter required Sir Isaac
ISewton has stated that the measures Urns taken areal-
ways in excess. Had Huygens used long wedge-shaped
ips or openings, he would by the same process have ob¬
tained measures which erred in defect, and the mean be-
1 Phil. Trans., vol. Ixxii., p. 102.
2 Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 245.
753
MICROMETER.
Fixed Mi- tween these two measures would have given the true dia-
crometers. meter of the planet.
The reticle {reticulum) or fixed micrometer, composed of
wires, was invented and used by Cassini. It is shown in the
annexed figure, where ab, cd, ef,gh,
are four hairs or wires intersecting
each other at right angles at i, in
the focus of the eye-glass, ab, cd
being inclined 45° to ef and gh. In
order to find with this apparatus the
differences of the right ascension
and declination of two stars, direct
the telescope so that the first or
preceding star may appear upon the
wire ab, and turn round the tube Fig. 42.
till that star moves along ab. The time when this star
reaches i is carefully noted, and also the time when the
following star reaches the wire cd. The interval between
these times, converted into degrees, is the difference of
right ascension required. To find the difference of their
declinations, mark the time of the second ox following star’s
arrival at the points k and l of the oblique wires ef gh.
The half of the interval between these times is the time
in which the star describes the space bn or mk, which, con¬
verted into degrees, is the angular distance Im, which,
multiplied by the cosine of the declination of the known or
preceding star, gives an approximate difference, which,
when applied to the declination of the known star, gives the
approximate declination of the unknown or following star.
If we now multiply the angular value of Im by the cosine
of this approximate declination, we shall have the correct
difference of declination, which, applied to the declination
of the known star, will give the true declination of the un¬
known star.
In using the above reticle Dr Bradley found his ob¬
servations embarrassed by the crossing of all the wires at i,
which hid the preceding star at the very point where it
was required to be most distinctly seen.1 He therefore
proposed the construction shown in the annexed figure,
where the wires hg, ki inter¬
sect one another perpendicu¬
larly at f the centre of the
rings. Two slender bars of
brass Ig, ng are fixed to the
ring abc, and inclined each to
the diameter hg 26° 34', half
the angle of a rhomb whose
greater diagonal is double of
the lesser. Hence fk and fi
will be each one half of fg,
ki = fg, and fm = nl — ik. To
avoid the inconvenience of
turning the telescope about its axis, Dr Bradley placed the
ring abc, which carries the wires or brass bars in a groove
in the fixed ring ABC, and confining it laterally by three
pieces of brass at A, B, and C, he employed an endless
screw DEF to work in a toothed rack de, fixed to the in¬
ner ring abc. Let us now suppose the telescope so directed
that a star is aX,f and moving in any line fq; then, by turn¬
ing the milled head D, the wire/^ will move roundjf till it
touches the star at q, and will then lie in the direc-
tion of the stars motion, while all other stars will move
parallel to it. The mode of obtaining accurate results from
this apparatus will be understood from the following descrip-
tion of an analogous contrivance described by Lacaille.
This eminent astronomer used a rhomb FMIL, the dia¬
gonals of which, FI, ML, must be exactly perpendicular
Bradley’s
reticle.
Lacaille’s
reticle.
The length FI was Fixed Mi¬
crometers.
Fig. 44.
to one another, and as two to one
15-4 lines, the angle subtended by
ML = 1°25' 5", and consequently FI
= 2° 50' 10," as determined by the
passage of several of the equatorial
stars. Now, as the vertical height
of each triangle in the rhomb is
equal to the short diagonal, the path
of any star passing through the field
in a line parallel to that diagonal
will always cut off a similar tri¬
angle, and the distance of this path from the common apex
will have the same ratio to the vertical height of the large
triangle, one-half FI, or ML, that the value of the diagonal
in time has to the observed time of the passage. Hence
the time which any star takes to pass from m to /, reduced
to degrees, and multiplied by the cosine of the declination,
is the difference of declination required. The difference of
right ascension is obtained as before. With this simple
apparatus Lacaille observed the comparative right ascen¬
sions and declinations of the 1942 stars which are given in
his Ccelum Auslrale Stelliferum. Lacaille constructed
another reticle in which ML was one-fourth of FI.
Mr Wollaston employed a reticule similar to that shown Rev. Mr
in figure 45, AB being the horary line, and CD the Wollas-
equatorial line. The four squares being within the field, to11’8 re*
any of them may be used separately, so that observations ticle'
made successively in a pair of them will check each
other as well as the principal observation made in the
large right-angled triangle. As the diagonals are equal
to one another, they afford a larger passage of a star, and
thus increase the accuracy of the observation.
1 In the photographic form of this micrometer this evil is com¬
pletely removed by leaving the point of intersection transparent,
so as to form a minute circular space.
Fig. 46.
M. Valz1 of Nismes has proposed the reticle shown M. Valz’s
in fig. 46 as possessing several advantages over others. It reticle,
consists of three wires AB, CD, AD, and the equatorial
one MN perpendicular to AB, CD. The arches AC,
CM, MD, DB, &c., are all 60°. When the stars pass pa¬
rallel to the equator, the angle formed at the vertex A
or B will be 30°, and its cotangent = V3 = 1*732 ; there¬
fore, calling t the time of passage of one star from the
first to the second wire, and <' that of the other star, the
difference of declination will be L732 (r+r^zt^), and the
difference of right ascension will be had from the times of
the stars passing the middle of the space between CD and
AB, or the means of the times of passing CD and AB.
Baron Zach observes that this reticle requires no illum¬
ination, that the values of its lines do not require to be
known, and that it may be used out of exact adjustment to
the parallel of declination, as the corrections for such want
of adjustment are easily computed.
The fixed net-micrometer of Fraunhofer is shown in Fraunho-
fig. 47. The vertical and oblique lines shown in the figure fef 8 net*
are cut upon glass with fluoric acid or diamond, and the plate ter
has a circular motion in its cell. These lines are illuminated
by light passing through the eye-tube and falling on their
cut edges, so that no light passes down the tube. The lines
parallel to ef are adjusted perpendicular to a circle of de¬
clination, and in that position the oblique light of the lamp
1 Zach’s Correspondance Astronomiquc, tom. i., p. 353.
Fraunho¬
fer’s con¬
centric
circle mi¬
cro meter.
Circle
MICROMETER.
Fixed Mi- ilutninates both the vertical and inclined lines. The mutual
erometers. distances both of the ver-
tical and inclined lines
are known from the ma¬
chine by which they were
drawn,and hence the ra¬
tio of the times of transit
of a star from the vertical
to the inclined lines will
enable us to determine
the position of these in
reference to a circle of
declination. “Thegreat
number of lines,” says
Dr Pearson, “afford the
means of making several
759
too, may be made with more rings than one. The follow- Fixed Mi-
ing are the dimensions of the circles in one of these instru- crometers.
ments :— v'—
Diameter in
Paris inches.
Diameter in
Paris inches.
•0038
•0243
•0840
•1678
•2513
•3590
Circle 7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
•4426
•5264
•6338
•7178
•8012
observations, which on an average will give right ascensions
and declinations equally exact, whether the differences of de¬
clination be great or small. When the difference of right
ascension is small, as in the case of double stars, the transit
of both stars cannot well be observed over the same indi¬
vidual line, but one of them may be observed at the first,
and the other at the second line, alternately, till the observe
is satisfied with his observation; and should the network
experience an alteration of position from any cause, it will
in all probability be detected before the computation is
commenced. The ingenious artist contrived an engine by
which he could cut straight parallel lines at distances so
small as of an inch from each other, and to be crossed
by other parallel lines at any given angle of declination;
and in the net-micrometer he formed the parallel lines at
such a distance from each other, that the inclined intervals
bear the same proportion to the vertical intervals that the
cosine of the angle of inclination bears to radius, so that about
as many transits will take place over the inclined as over
the vertical lines. Five lines only are drawn at equal dis¬
tances from each other, and the sixth line, including the
fifth interval, is cut at the distance of one interstice and a
half; yet the whole value of any number of intervals may
always be known, provided it be noticed how many of the
larger kind are included in the whole number. When the
cell conta’ning the disc is attached to a revolving graduated
circle, the position of a line uniting two stars may also be
measured by first adjusting zero to the equatorial position
of the line ef, and then turning the divided disc round till all
its parallels successively receive both the stars at the same
instant as they pass through the field, which contemporary
ingresses may be effected by repeated adjustments and sub¬
sequent trials, when the telescope is mounted on an equatorial
stand properly rectified.1 To net-micrometers of this kind,
consisting of vertical and oblique lines, the method of photo¬
graphically obtaining a small system upon collodion from a
large one on paper is particularly applicable. (See chap, i.)
Another micrometer of Fraunhofer’s is shown in fig. 48,
and consists of concentric
circles cut upon glass, and
illuminated like the preceding
one. The inner and smallest
circle is like a dot. Other
five circles are seen in a tele¬
scope of 5 feet focal length,
magnifying 110 times. With
a power of 63, eight circles
are visible; and with the low¬
est power of 45, eleven circu¬
lar lines are visible. The ob¬
server may choose any circle
he likes for observing the pas¬
sage of the star, avoiding those in which it would pass near
the centre or near the circumference. The observation,
Fig. 48.
Fig. 49.
Introduction to Practical Astronomy, vol. ii., p. 143.
By subtracting these numbers from one another we
obtain the breadths of the spaces between the rings.
Fraunhofer’s suspended annular micrometer, which is a Fraunho-
more perfect instrument than the preceding, is shown in fer’s SU3'
fig. 49, which represents a disc pended
of glass, having a hole in its
centre a little larger than the
inner diameter of a metallic
ring RR, turned truly in a
lathe. This ring is cemented
on the glass disc, and when
placed in the field of view of
a telescope, the observer notes
the instants when a star or the
limb of a planet enters and
emerges from each side of the
ring. The only data required
for computing the difference of right ascension and decli¬
nation are the times that an equatorial star takes to pass
along the internal and external diameters of the ring. The
passage of stars w'hose relative position is required, must be
observed at a distance from the centre, as well as from the
upper edge of the ring. Admiral Smyth mentions, that in one
of these instruments which he possesses he found, by repeated
measurements of stars near the ecliptic and on the meri¬
dian, that the radius of the ring was 472-5 seconds in arc.1
The formulae of Bessel for using this and other circular
micrometers will be found in Zach’s Monatliche Corre-
spondenz, vol. xvii., xxiv., and xxvi.
An annular micrometer, w ith one or more rings of differ- Photogra-
ent diameters and breadths, may be advantageously formed Phic ^nilu'
photographically upon collodion by the process already de- lar micro*
scribed. By reducing large rings formed by black ink and me er‘
fine compasses,2 a more correct circular edge may be obtained
than by the turning lathe. Luminous rings may be formed
of such extreme narrowness that the star will, as it were,
leap through the interval in passing across the field of the
telescope. (See chap, i.)
A simple and useful fixed micrometer, proposed by Mr Cavallo’s
Cavallo, is a divided slip of thin mother-of-pearl stretching mother-of-
across the diaphragm of the telescope, and finely divided pearl Ini_
into 200ths of an , crometer.
inch. It is shown j / ^
in fig. 50 cross- 1
ing the diaphragm
of the telescope.
The value of the
division may be
ascertained either by measuring a bar, or by the passage of
an equatorial star across the field of view.
In a portable telescope this micrometer is very conve¬
nient, though it has the great disadvantage of shutting out
the field of view. In telescopes upon stands it wdll measure
only angles in one direction, unless there is a contrivance
to turn it round. I his micrometer has also the additional
impel lection that its divisions, from being unequally dis¬
tant from the eye-glass, are not all seen with the same
distinctness.
1 Celestial Cycle, vol. i., p. 339, note.
The outer and inner margins of a ring having been formed with
fine compasses, the interval may be filled up by the blackest ink.
Fig. 50.
760
MICKOMETEK.
Fixed Mi¬
crometers.
Circular
mother-of-
pearl mi¬
crometer.
To remove these imperfections Sir David Brewster pro¬
posed in 1805 the circular mother-of-pearl micrometer, which
is shown in fig. 51, where the black ring which forms part of
the figure is the dia¬
phragm of the tele¬
scope, and the more
luminous part is an
annular portion of
mother-of-pearl di¬
vided on its inner cir¬
cumference into 360°.
This divided circum¬
ference can be placed
exactly in the focus
of the eye- glass, and
all its parts seen with
perfect distinctness. In
order to understand
the use of the instru- rig.si.
ment, let A/?B (fig. 52) be the inner edge of the mother-of-pearl
ring, and mn the object to be mea¬
sured. Bisect the arch mn in /?, and
draw Cm, C/>, Cra, and we shall have
AB : mre = rad.: sin. and mpn
2
. bmpn
= sin-—pxAB, a formula by
which the angle subtended by the
chord of any number of degrees
may be readily found. The first
part of the formula is constant, while ris- 52*
AB varies with the magnifying power employed.
CHAP. IX.—DESCRIPTION OP MICROMETERS FOR MICROS¬
COPES.
ter^formi- ^ t^le micrometers above described may be adapted to
croscopes. coniPound microscopes where the eye-glass has a consider¬
able focal length. A good micrometer, however, for single
microscopes, which can be used with facility, and at the
same time give accurate results, is still a desideratum.
When the single lens is so minute, or when the first lens
of a microscopic doublet or triplet almost touches the sur¬
face of the object, it is an extremely difficult matter to in¬
troduce any scale, or any minute body of known dimen¬
sions, with which the object may be compared. In some
cases, when the object to be measured is minute, the seed
of the Lycoperdon bovista or puff-ball might be introduced,
its diameter being about the ^sV^th part of an inch; and
when the object is less minute, the seed of Lycopodium may
be used, its diameter being ^J^th of an inch. We may
advantageously adopt in some cases the method of Dr
Jurin,1 who introduced into the field small pieces of silver
or brass wire, whose diameter he had previously ascertained
by coiling the wire round a cylinder, and observing how
many breadths of the wire were contained in a given
number of inches.
This method of introducing a substance of known dimen¬
sions may be carried much farther. We may use all the
variety of hairs and wool which have a known diameter;
and foi this purpose Dr Young’s tables of substances mea¬
sured by the eriometer will be of great use. The follow¬
ing are a few of them:—
_ Diameter in parts of an inch.
Lycoperdon bovista, seed of 8500th of an inch.
aT ^ I? 4600th ...
oilk, nbre of (average) 2500th
Human blood, particles of (Bauer) 2500tha
Mole’s fur  
1 Physico-Mathematical Dissertations, p. 45.
8 We consider this the best measure’.
Diameter in parts
of an inch.
Goat’s wool 1575th of an inch.
Saxon wool 1320th
Farina of Laurestinus 1100th
Seed of Lycopodium  940th
The distance of the fibres of the crystalline lens of fishes
may also be advantageously used, and also the distance of
the teeth which unite the fibres. For this purpose the
lens must be well dried and perfectly hard, so that with a
sharp knife we can detach minute portions of any of the
laminae. The thinnest should be used; and as the fibres
always taper to the pole, and the teeth become smaller in
proportion as the fibres diminish, we must determine the
distance of the fibres, and also those of the teeth, at both
ends of the laminae, by the method described by Sir David
Brewster in the Philosophical Transactions for 1833, p.
324. The larger lined scales of moths and butterflies may
also be used, especially as we can measure the distance of
the lines by the coloured spectra which these lines pro¬
duce.3 These operations will require much dexterity on
the part of the observer, and they are recommended only
to those who cannot succeed in their measurements by
other methods.
An excellent method of measuring microscopic objects
is to project the image of the object against a divided scale
at a given distance from the eye. The scaie must be seen
either by the same eye which is looking into the micro¬
scope, or by the other eye. In the first case the rays from
the microscope will enter one side of the pupil, and the
rays from the divided scale the other side; the aperture
through which we look at the scale, and the aperture of the
microscope, being at a distance less than the diameter of
the pupil. When the right eye looks at the divided scale,
the left, which looks into the microscope, will see the
object projected against the scale, although it has no vision
of the scale itself. This second method may be carried into
effect in two ways. The scale may form no part of the in¬
strument, and may be viewed by the naked eye; or it may
form part of the instrument, like a binocular telescope, the
left eye looking into one tube, viz., the microscope, while
the right eye looks into another tube, in which a divided
scale is magnified by an eye-lens.
The earliest micrometer of any value is the Stage Mi¬
crometer of Mr Coventry, which consists of a number of
very fine lines ruled with a diamond point upon slips of
glass, metal, ivory, or mother-of-pearl. These lines were
drawn at various distances, from the T£7th to the x^Voth of
an inch, and upon the slip thus formed the object to be mea¬
sured was placed. The object and the lines being seen
at the same time, the number of linear spaces covered by
the object gives its magnitude in the parts of an inch cor¬
responding with the distance of the lines. As these lines
are not easily seen, Mr George Jackson renders them visible
by rubbing into them very finely levigated plumbago, and
in order to prevent the plumbago from being wiped out in
cleaning the slip, he covers the lines with a thin piece of
glass cemented to the slip by Canada balsam. The slip of
glass is placed in a thin frame of brass, and is moved across
the field of view in the focus of the eye-glass by a screw.
It is not easy to draw fine lines upon glass so as to have
smooth edges. The late Sir John Barton executed for the
writer of this article a variety of slips of steel containing
divisions from the to the xctoff^ part of an inch; and
by taking impressions from these upon transparent films of
gelatine, we obtained micrometer slips of great utility for
microscopic measurements. M. Froment of Paris has exe-
3 The late Mr Pond has observed, that the pale, slender, double¬
headed scales of the Pontia or Pieris brassica, which taper to a
point, and terminate in a brush-like appendage, are of an invariable
length, about ^th of an inch.
Microme¬
ters for
Micro¬
scopes.
Micro
ters
M icro~
scopes.
Photogra¬
phic scale.
Ross’s eye¬
piece mic¬
rometer.
Dr Wol¬
laston’s
lens-micro¬
meter.
MICROMETEE.
cuted divisions upon glass surfaces exceedingly minute and
singularly fine.
The mode of executing a system of black parallel lines
photographically upon transparent collodion, already de¬
scribed (chapter i.), has a particular value in microsco¬
pical measurements. The collodion in thin plates is as
transparent as glass, even under very high powers, and the
lines are absolutely black and smooth at the edge. Cir¬
cular spots of the minutest size can be formed in a similar
manner, so as to enable us to compare with them similar
microscopic objects, such as the discs of blood ; and small
angular spaces, opaque and transparent, with divisions along
the lines which contain the angle, may be advantageously
used in microscopical micrometry.
Mr Ross’s eye-piece micrometer consists of circular discs
of glass divided into small squares, as shown in the annexed
figure. This system of squares, which may be finely exe¬
cuted upon collodion, is placed in the focus of a
positive eye-glass or between the lenses of a
negative one. When the divisions on the
slips of glass are covered with the thinnest
glass cemented to the slip, the object and the
division are not exactly in the same plane;
but, excepting in the use of high powers, this
isof little importance, as both the object and the lines are seen
with sufficient distinctness for the purpose of measurement.
Di Wollaston has constructed and used a very ingenious
micrometer on the first of the principles above mentioned,
viz., when the object and the scale are viewed by the same
eye ; but its use is limited to microscopes with small lenses.
W hen the lenses are larger we have adopted another
method, namely, to perforate the lens with a small hole in
or near the centre, or, it it is thought better, near the
margin of the lens. A slit extending from the margin of
the lens may often be executed more easily.
The following is Dr Wollaston’s own description of this
instrument:—
This instrument,” says Dr Wollaston, “is furnished
with a single lens ot about rVtffi of an inch focal length.
-The aperture of each lens is necessarily small, so that when
it is mounted on a plate of brass, a small perforation can
be made by the side of it in the brass, as near to its centre
as ^th of an inch.
Fig. 53.
When a lens thus mounted is placed before the eye
for the purpose of examining any small object, the pupil is
of sufficient magnitude for seeing distant objects at the
same time through the adjacent perforation, so that the
apparent dimensions of the magnified image might be com-
jmred with a scale of inches, feet, and yards, according to
the^distance at which it might be convenient to place it.
A scale of smaller dimensions attached to the instru?
ment will, however, be found preferable on account of the
steadiness with which the comparison may be made ; and
it may be seen with sufficient distinctness by the naked
eye, without any effort of nice adaptation, by reason of the
smallness of the hole through which it is viewed.
“ The construction that I have chosen fpr the scale is
represented in fig. 54. It is com¬
posed of small wires about ^th of
an inch in diameter, placed side
by side so as to form a scale pfi
equal parts, which mgy be with
ease counted by means of a cer¬
tain regular variation of the
lengths of the wires.
“ The external appearance of
the whole instrument is that of a
common telescope consisting of
three tubes. The scale occupies Fig. 54.
the place of the object-glass, and the little lens is situated
at the smaller end, with a pair of plain glasses sliding
VOL. xiy. a
before it, between which the subject of examination is
to be included. This part of the apparatus is shown
separately in fig. 55. It has a projection, with a per¬
foration, through which a pin is inserted to connect if
55- Fig. 56.
with a screw, represented at b (fig. 56). This screw gives
lateral motion to the object, so as to make it correspond
with any particular part of the scale. The lens has also a
small motion of adjustment, by means of the cap c which
renders the view of the magnified object distinct.
Before the instrument is completed, it is necessary to
determine with precision the indications of the scale, which
must be different according to the distance to which the
tube is drawn out. In my instrument one division of the
scale corresponds to °f an inch when it is at the
distance of 16'6 inches from the lens; and since the ap¬
parent magnitude in small angles varies in the simple in-
veise ratio of this distance, each division of the same scale
will correspond to ^^-^th at the distance of 8^ inches;
and the intermediate fractions ^^th, To^th, &c., are
found by intervals of 1 '66 inch, marked on the outside of
the tube.. 1 he basis on which these indications were
founded in this instrument was a wire, carefully ascer¬
tained to be ■g-Jjyth of an inch in diameter, the magnified
image of which occupied fifty divisions of the scale when
it was at the distance of 16‘6 inches; and hence one divi-
• _ 1 1
S'0n~50^ 200 = 10000 ’ Smce any error in the oriSinal
estimate of this wire must pervade all subsequent measures
derived from it, the substance employed was pure gold
drawn till 52 inches in length weighed exactly five grains.
If we assume the specific gravity of gold to be 19'36, a
cylindrical inch will weigh 3837 grains; and we may hence
infer the diameter of such a wire to be a^th of an inch,
more nearly than can be ascertained by any other method.
“ For the sake of rendering the scale more accurate, a
similar method was, in fact, pursued with several gold wires
of different sizes, weighed with equal care; and the sub¬
divisions of the exterior scale were made to correspond with
the average of their indications.
“ 111 making use of this micrometer for taking the mea¬
sure of any object it would be sufficient, at any one acci¬
dental position of the tube, to note the number on the out¬
side as denominator, and to observe the number of divisions
and decimal parts which the subject of examination occu¬
pies on the interior scale as numerator of a fraction, ex¬
pressing its dimensions in proportional parts of an inch;
ut it is pre erable to obtain an integer as numerator, by
sliding the tube inward qr outward, till the ima^e of the
wire is seen to correspond with some exact number of divi-
smns, not only for the sake of greaier simplicity in the
an metical computations, but because we can by the eye
ju ge more correctly of actual coincidence than of the com¬
parative magnitudes of adjacent intervals. The smallest
quantity which the graduations of this instrument profess
5 D
761
Microme¬
ters for
Micro¬
scopes.
762
Microme¬
ters for
Micro¬
scopes.
MICROMETER.
to measure is less than the eye can really appreciate in
sliding the tube inward or outward. If, for instance, the
object measured be really ^Vet’ ^ may appear xEyotnr’ or
in which case the doubt amounts to ^th part of the
whole quantity. But the difference is here exceedingly
small in comparison to the extreme division of other instru¬
ments, where the nominal effect of its power is the same.
“ A micrometer with a divided eye-glass may profess to
measure as far as inch ; but the next division
is Tirf 0TTth or ; and though the eye may be able to
distinguish that the truth lies between the two, it receives no
assistance within one-half part of the larger measure.
The micrometer microscopes used for reading off the
divisions on the graduated limb of astronomical instruments
differ in no respect from the eye-pieces of telescopes fitted
up with micrometers.
Notwithstanding the value of the methods described
above, the want of a simple micrometer for microscopes of
high power is felt by every person who has been practically
occupied with this class of researches ; and we cannot give
a better proof of this than by adducing, in support of our
opinion, the different measures that have been given by
able and ingenious observers of the size of the particles of
the human blood :—
Dr Thomas Young l-6060th part of an inch.
Dr Wollaston l-5000th
MM. Prevost and Dumas l-4076th
Captain Kater l-4000th ( ...
M. Ehrenberg2 l-3600th
Messrs Hodgkin and Lister l-SOOOth
Sir David Brewster l-2556th
Dr Jurin3 l-1940th
Mr Bauer’s best observation l-2500th
next best l-2000th
worst observation...l-1000th
The three measures of 1000, 2000, and 2500, were
1 Phil. Trans., 1813, p. 119.
2 In measuring the size of the fossil infusorias discovered by
himself, M. Ehrenberg assumes a globule of human blood to be
Tj^th of a line in diameter, or ^^thof an inch, but of what inch is
not mentioned. He does not state whether this measure is taken
by himself or not. He reckons the thickness of a human hair at
^th of a line at its mean thickness, or 3^7^ an inch-
8 This result was confirmed by Leewenhoeck, who used the same
wire, which was sent to him by Dr Jurin. {Phil. Trans., No. 377.)
given by Mr Bauer himself, as the different steps which Microme-
he made towards what he conceives the best measure, ters for
viz., 1-2500th, which he obtained repeatedly with an Mlcro-
improved achromatic microscope. As Dr Young obtained v ^0Pe^
his measure eriometrically, namely, by measuring the dia¬
meter of the first red ring produced by looking through the
blood at a luminous object, we cannot conceive it possible
that he could have committed such a mistake as to make
the diameter of that ring nearly thrice as great as it should
be, according to Mr Bauer’s results, or more than thrice as
great as the concurring measures obtained by Jurin and
Leewenhoeck. The only explanation we can give is, that
the particles of the blood must have an organized structure,
or consist of portions separated by lines which have the
magnitude assigned by Dr Young. In order to submit this
explanation to the test of experiment Sir David Brewster
examined the particles of blood a few minutes after it was
drawn, when dried by natural evaporation on a plate of
glass. Each particle *he found to consist of a dark rim,
within which is a bright circle, then a darkish central spot,
which spot in some globules may be resolved into a dark
ring, a bright ring within this, and then a small central black
spot. Here, then, L the cause of Dr Young’s mistake.
The red ring of light which he measured in the eriometer
was not that which was due to the globule as a whole, but
to the parts of the globule. Being anxious to obtain more
complete evidence of this fact, we placed Lycopodium pow¬
der beside the globule of blood, and found that the dia¬
meter of the globules was to that of the Lycopodium seed as
5 to 18. We then compared the diameter of the red ring
produced by the seed with the diameter of the redoing
produced by division on steel, in which there were 1250 to
the inch, as executed for us by the late Sir John^ Barton,
and found the diameter of the seed to be the 69/th of an
inch. We compared it also with the ring produced by
divisions of which there were 62o to the inch, and found
its diameter the 717th part of an inch. The mean of these
two is the 710th1 part of an inch, which, increased in the
ratio of 5 to 18, gives the 2556th part of an inch as the
measure of the diameter of the globules of blood, agreeing
almost exactly with the measure of Mr Bauer.
1 Dr Young makes this the 940th of an inch, hut he has cer¬
tainly committed a mistake in his observation.
763
MIC E 0 S C 0 P E.
Micro¬
scope,
Microscope, from fiLKpos, a small object, and o-KOTrew, to
i see or examine, is the name of a well-known optical instru¬
ment for examining and magnifying minute objects, or the
minute parts of large ones. Dr Goring has, in his various
works on the microscope, used the word engiscope, from eyyvs,
near, and o-Koirew, to see ; but the old and venerable term
is so associated with the history of optical discovery, and is
so expressive of the application of the instrument, that we
cannot consent to the proposed change.
Single microscopes, in the form of glass globes contain¬
ing water, were used by the ancients. A magnifying lens
of rock-crystal was found by Mr Layard among a number
of glass bowls in the north-west palace of Nimroud. Hemi¬
spheres of glass, and afterwards lenses, were subsequently
used, so that no person has pretended to claim the inven¬
tion of the single microscope. The compound microscope,
consisting of two lenses placed at a distance, so that the one
next the eye magnifies the enlarged image of any object
placed in front of the other, was invented by Zacharias
Zansz, or his father Hans Zansz, spectacle-makers at Mid-
dleburg in Holland, about the year 1590. One of their
microscopes, which they presented to Prince Maurice, was
in the year 1617 in the possession of Cornelius Drebell of
Alkmaar, who then resided in London as mathematician to
King James VI.
There is probably no branch of practical science which
has undergone such essential and rapid improvements as
that which relates to the microscope. It has become quite
a new instrument in modern times, and it promises to be
the means of disclosing the structure and laws of matter,
and of making as important discoveries -in the infinitely
minute world as the telescope has done in that which is
infinitely distant.
Single mi¬
croscopes.
CHAPTER I.
ON SINGLE MICROSCOPES.
When only one convex lens AB (fig. 1) is used for mag¬
nifying objects, the lens is called a single microscope. The
object mn to be examined is placed before the lens AB, in
its anterior focus; so that the rays which emerge from the
lens after refraction by the humours of the eye CD may be
parallel, and a distinct and en¬
larged image MN of the object
mn formed on the retina. The
simplest form of the single mi¬
croscope is when the lens is
fitted into a rim of brass fur¬
nished with a handle, so that
when the object is held in the
left hand and the lens in the
right, it may be examined with Kg. i.
facility. If the convex lens is very minute, and has a short
focal length, such as from the 10th to the 100th of an inch,
it cannot be conveniently used in the hand, and must there¬
fore be either connected with an arm to hold the object, or
placed in a firm microscope stand, having a shelf or stage for
the object, a screw or a rack and pinion for placing it in the
focus of the lens, either by moving the object or the lens,
and a larger lens or mirror, or both, for throwing light upon
the object. In this form, however complex be its structure,
it is still called a single microscope.
The lens which constitutes a single microscope, in order
to have all the excellence which art can give it, must con¬
sist of a substance perfectly homogeneous, like a fluid with- Micro-
out double refraction, or any variation of density. Its figure 6C0P«>
ought to be that of a plano-convex lens, whose convex sur-
face is part of a hyperboloid, in order to correct completely
the spherical aberration. Its surface should be perfectly
smooth and highly^ polished, so as not to disturb the per¬
fection of vision ; and the substance of which it is made
should have the lowest dispersive power. As it is a great
object to obtain high magnifying powers with as little con¬
vexity as possible, and a large aperture, substances with
high refractive and low dispersive powers are the most suit¬
able for single lenses, such as diamond or garnet, which
have no double refraction when well crystallized; or such
as ruby, sapphire, topaz, &c., which have double refraction.
As fluor spar has the lowest dispersive power, it might be
used with great advantage when high powers are not wanted,
and when the diminution of colour is an object.
Of all the substances we have named, fluids have pro¬
perties best suited for single microscopes. They possess
perfect homogeneity ; their surfaces, when made into lenses,
are perfectly smooth ; and it is possible to mould minute
drops of them into a form approaching to that of the hyper¬
boloid. Their defect, however, consists in their not having
a high refractive power, in their want of durability, and the
difficulty of forming sufficiently minute lenses for producing
high magnifying powers. These defects, however, may be
overcome by patience and experience; and in proof of this
we may state that we have succeeded in forming minute
fluid lenses of great excellence.
In the present state of this branch of science, it would
be unprofitable to detail the methods of producing micro¬
scopic globules of glass, given by Dr Hooke, Father di
lorre of Naples, Mr Butterfield, or Mr Sivright; because
when they are made after their methods, and in the most
perfect manner which these methods will permit, they are
of no value compared with lenses of glass when ground and
polished to the same focal length.1
We shall therefore proceed to describe a single micro¬
scope when fitted up in the best form for observation.
Description of a Single Microscope.
The most essential part of this instrument is the lens or Single mi-
lenses, upon which the value of the microscope depends, croscope.
The lenses are generally made of plate-glass, and should
have focal distances varying from the ^th to the ^th of
an inch. In order that the spherical aberration of these
lenses may be the smallest possible, the radii of their two
surfaces, when made of plate-glass, should be as 1 to 6;
the surface whose radius is 1, or ,71  J
the most convex side, must be ^'.v/.vs.-VTTTr^
turned towards the eye. The
lenses thus made are then set rig. 2.
in the centre or the lower surface of concave brass caps, a
section of one of which is shown in fig. 2.
. °n,e of\he hf[ m°des of fitting up the'single microscope Pritchard’s
is that contrived by Mr Pritchard, which is represented in micro
hg. 3, on a scale aoout one-third of its real size. It is shown scone,
in an inclined position; but it may be used either in a vertical
ora horizontal one according to the convenience of the
observer. The body of the instrument rests on a pillar b,
These methods may be found by the following references
Hooke s Micrographia ; Di Torre, Phil. Trans. 1765, p. 246, 1766,
P' ,,1 Putterfield> Trans., 1678 ; Sivright, Edin. Phil. Jour¬
nal, 1829, vol. i., p. 81. > & >
MICROSCOPE.
764
Micro- supported by three legs, shown at a, and is connected with
scope. jt by the clip /, being fixed by the pinching screw /.
Within the tube c there slides a tube h, connected by a
screw which passes through it to the triangular tube or bar
i, carrying the arm ij, into which is placed the brass capj
which carries the lens. This lens is adjusted to the distinct
vision of objects placed on the stage l, by sliding the tube
h up or down, and a perfect adjustment is obtained by turn¬
ing the milled head k. The stage /, which carries the ob¬
jects, is fitted into the triangular box r at the extremity of
the stem, by means of two pins, and can be removed at plea¬
sure. The spring slider-holder, for holding the sliders in
which the objects are placed, is fixed by a bayonet-joint
into the stage ; and it may be used to hold stops or dia¬
phragms for limiting the field of view. The tube above /
represents an illuminator fixed to the slider-holder. Upon
the tube c, two sockets d, e, slide with sufficient spring and
friction to keep them in their place. The socket d carries
the reflector d, and the socket e carries the condensing lens,
which is not inserted in the figure.
shall add an account of another microscope, constructed in Micro-
1831 by Mr A. Ross, with much skill, for Mr W. Valentine scope,
of Nottingham, an eminent vegetable anatomist, who sue- v—
ceeded in dissecting with it under a lens of ^th of an inch
in focal length.1
A perspective view of this microscope is shown in fig. 5. Ross’s mi¬
lt is supported on a closing tripod aaa, whose feet can be croscope.
folded together, and are made of hard bell-metal, prevented
Fig. 3.
A section of the stem rck is shown in fig. 4, in order to
exhibit the mechanism by which the adjustment is effected.
Into the box r, screwed into the top of the stem, is fitted
the triangular tube ii> which carries the arm ij. In the
lower end i of this triangular tube is a small block with a
fine screw working in it, the stem of which turns along with
the milled head lc to which it is fixed. The upper end of
a spiral spring, shown in the figure, bears against the block
i at the bottom ot the triangular tube, while its lower end
acts against a stop fixed within the sliding tube h. The
method of managing, illuminating, and examining opaque
objects with this microscope is the same as that used in the
achromatic compound microscope, in the drawing of which
it will be more distinctly seen.
The preceding instrument of Mr Pritchard’s is intended
for general purposes; but as the dissection of botanical and
other objects is now a leading object with naturalists, we
Fig. 5.
from springing by edge bars, as seen on the left-hand foot.
A firm piliar, which rises from the tripod, carries the stage
x, which is fixed on brackets, to give a steady support to
the hands of the operator. A capital, fixed to the top of
the tube by three screws, has in its axis a triangular hole,
into which is fitted a triangular tube, the lower end of
which passes through another similar triangular tube fixed
to the inside of the instrument. The triangular tube is
made to slide up and down by a fixed screw, wrought
by a large milled head, which is most judiciously placed
at the base of the pillar. At the top and bottom of the
fixed triangular tube are fitted two pieces, with trian¬
gular holes through them for receiving the triangular
bell-metal bar s, which moves up and down in them. This
bar carries the arm 10 with the lenses. It is moved up
and down, so as to adjust the lenses to distinct vision of the
objects on the fixed stage, by the rack and pinion t, when
a quick adjustment is required ; but when a slow and nicer
adjustment is wanted, it is effected by the milled head o.
A slit is made in the shaft of the pillar, to allow the
neck of the small milled head t to move up and down ; for
when the screw is in action by the large milled head o, the
triangular tube and the bar move together. The triangular
bar is perforated at both ends,—the upper perforation
for receiving a conical pin, and the lower for admitting
the adjusting screw to preserve the length of the bar. The
bearings of the pinion t are attached to the triangular
tube. The bar moves l^- inch, and the tube Itf, so that
1 See Transactions of the Society of Arts, vol. xlviii., where a full
description of this microscope, with drawings of all its parts, will
be found.
MICROSCOPE.
765
we can command an elevation of 3 inches. At the inge¬
nious suggestion of Mr Solly, the screw moved by the
milled head o has fifty threads in an inch, and the milled
head is graduated into 100 parts, for the purpose of mea¬
suring the thickness of any vessel or other object in the di¬
rection of the axis of vision. For this purpose the upper
surface of the body is brought into distinct vision ; the di¬
vision at which the index or pin of the tripod stands is then
observed ; and the under surface being in like manner
brought into focus by turning the milled head o, the divi¬
sion is again observed. The number of divisions, which
are each SOOOths of an inch, between these two numbers,
will indicate, according to Mr Valentine, the space through
which the lens has passed, which is the diameter of a
vessel}
In this microscope different parts of an oHect may be
brought into the field, either by moving the stage or the
lens; a very important requisite in a microscope used for the
purposes of discovery. With this view, the large stage x
is formed of three plates, the lowest of which is fixed to
the pillar by the ring 1 ; and, to make it bear the weight
of the hands, it rests upon the strong brackets 2, 2. The
Fig. 7.
Fig. 6.
under side of this plate is shown in fig. 6; the middle
plate (fig. 7) contains two
pairs of dovetail slits, 3, 3
and 4, 4, the widest orifice
of each being on opposite
sides of the plate. The
dovetail pieces in 4,4 screw
into the upper side of the
upper plate (fig. 8), the
points of the screws being
shown at 4,4 in that figure;
while the dovetail pieces in
3, 3 are secured to the up¬
per side of the under plate by the screws 3, 3 (fig. 7). The
plates are thus moved
diagonally, and at right
angles to one another,
by the adjusting screws
7 and 8 (fig. 8). In the
adjusting screw 7 the
ball is placed in spring
couplings, and fastened
to the under side of
the upper plate. These
screws are judiciously
placed, one on each side
of the pillar, that the
hand may reach them
easily and not intercept the light. By turning first one
screw, and then the other, or both at once, any part of the
object may be brought into the field.
Fig. 8.
1 This is not the case, as the refraction of the light issuing from
the lower side of the vessel or object is not considered. The right
mode is, after having observed the upper surface of an object lying
The arm for holding the lenses is shown at 10 (fig. 5).
A conical pin projects from underneath, and fits into a hole
made down the triangular bar, as shown at 9 (fig. 8). The
lens will therefore have a circular movement in a horizon¬
tal plane, and it may be placed at any point in this plane
by the action of the rack and pinion at 10. Hence the
most complete adjustment can be obtained without any
motion of the stage.
The elevated stage for holding the objects is shown at
11 in figs. 5 and 8. A tube screws into the upper plate,
and upon this fits the tube 11, carrying the finger-spring,
shown in fig. 5. Objects of different thickness are thus
kept down upon the plates by the pins sliding in the small
pipes. A condensing lens and pincers slide into the sockets
o or 6 (fig. 5).
The large reflector above a (fig. 5) may be removed, and
any other illuminating apparatus substituted.
As the stand and apparatus now described may be used
along with all single microscopes, and also with what are
called doublets and triplets, we shall now proceed to give
an account of the various improvements which the single
microscope has undergone.
Between the single lens held in the hand and the one
mounted with much of the apparatus of a compound mi¬
croscope, we may place what has been called the simple
microscope, which is nothing more than a single lens mounted
on a stand, so that it may be fixed in various positions
suited to the purpose to which it is to be applied.
Mr Ross’s simple microscope is shown in fig. 9. It
consists of a stand
A, with a sliding
tube which can
be raised or de¬
pressed. On the
top of this tubu¬
lar stand is fixed
a jointed socket
MN, through
which a square
bar CD slides,
carrying at one
of its extremities
the lens L, the ring
of which moves
round a joint at
C. Lenses of an
inch, a half-inch, Fig. 9.
and a quarter of an inch focus should accompany the instru¬
ment, which may be packed into a small space.
Micro¬
scope.
Single Microscopes made of Precious Stones.
The low refractive power of glass rendered it neces- Single nu-
sary, when high powers were wanted, to use lenses with croscopes
very short foci, and consequently with very deep curvesof precious
and very small diameters, so as to admit only a narrowstones-
pencil of light into the eye.
Sir David Brewster was the first person who pointed out
the value of using other materials for the construction of
lenses;1 and he remarked that no essential improvement
could be expected in the single microscope, unless fi-om
the discovery of some transparent substance, which, like the
diamond, combines a high refractive with a low dispersive
upon glass, remove the object, and observe the divisions when the
surface of the glass is seen distinctly; the difference will be the
true thickness. Mr Samuel Varley is said to have constructed an
instrument on this principle for measuring the thickness of foci of
lenses; but unless he removed his lens after observing the first
surface, his results must have been all erroneous.
1 Treatise on Philosophical Instruments, 1813, pp. 402, 403.
766
MICROSCOPE.
Micro- power. Having experienced the greatest difficulty in get-
scope. a srna]j diarnonci cut into a prism in London, he did
not conceive it practicable to grind and polish a diamond
lens,1 and therefore did not put his opinion to the test of
experiment. He got two lenses, however, executed by Mr
Peter Hill, an ingenious optician in Edinburgh, the one
made of ruby and the other of garnet, and these lenses
he found to be greatly superior to any lenses that he had
previously used.
Dr Goring, whose zeal and success in the improvement
of microscopes has not been surpassed, directed the atten¬
tion of Mr Pritchard in 1824 to the passages in Sir David
Brewster’s Treatise on New Philosophical Instruments, re¬
specting the value of the preious stones for single micro¬
scopes ; and having immediately seen their full force, it was
agreed that they should undertake to grind a diamond
into a magnifier.
Diamond Lenses.
The history of this attempt is so interesting, that we
must give it in Mr Pritchard’s own words :—“ For this
purpose,” says he, “ Dr Goring forwarded me a small
brilliant diamond to begin upon ; and it was proposed to
give it the curves that in glass would produce a lens of a
twentieth of an inch focus. This stone I ground with
the proper curves, and polished the flatter side, contrary to
the expectations of many whose judgment in these matters
was thought of much weight, who predicted that the crys¬
talline structure of the diamond would not permit it to re¬
ceive a spherical figure. When thus far advanced, fate
decreed that I should lose the stone, and my only consola¬
tion was, to discover afterwards, that, had it been com¬
pleted, its thickness and enormous refractive power would
probably have caused the focus to fall within the substance
of the stone.
“ Having, however, in this experiment, proved the pos¬
sibility of working lenses of adamant, I set about another,
and selected a rose-cut diamond, in order to form it into
a plano-convex lens, and thereby save a moiety of the
labour.
“ In the progress of working this stone the heat gene¬
rated by friction, in the course of the abrasion of the
diamond, w^as perpetually melting the cement (shell-lac) by
which the flat side was affixed to the tool, and compelled
me to seek some means by which it might be prevented.
After several trials, I found that when a portion of finely
pow'dered pumice-stone was mixed with the shell-lac, the
cement was much stronger, and less liable to melt, than any
other similar substance.
“ On the 1st of December 1824 I had the pleasure of
first looking through a diamond microscope, and it was
doubtless the first time this precious gem had been em¬
ployed in making manifest the hidden secrets of nature. A
tew days after, I had polished it sufficiently to put it into
the hands ot Dr Goring, who tried its performance on
various objects, both as a single microscope and as the ob¬
jective ot a compound. He states in a letter addressed to
me, dated 3d January 1825, ‘that it has shown the most
difficult transparent objects I have submitted to it;’ and
1 Mr Pritchard informs us (see Edinburgh Journal of Science, No.
1, new series, p. 149, Juiy 1829), that Messrs Rundell and Bridge,
at the time when Mr Pritchard began his experiments, had many
Dutch diamond-cutters at work, and that the foreman, Mr Levi,
W1 a. 18 ^ien> assured him that it was impossible to work dia-
monds into spherical lenses. The same opinion, he adds, was also
expressed by several others, who were considered of standard au¬
thority m such matters. When Mr Pritchard had, contrary to the
expectation of many, succeeded in finishing his first lens, it was
examined by Mr Levi, who expressed great astonishment at it, and
added, that he was not acquainted with any means by which that
figure could have been effected.
again, ‘ I can clearly perceive the amazing superiority it will
possess when completely finished.’ I must, however, in¬
form my readers, that we discovered in this state various
flaws in the stone, in consequence of which we abandoned
all thought of completing it. In this condition the project
remained for about a year, when I determined to resume
my attempts ; and having worked several stones into lenses,
I at last succeeded in obtaining a perfect one. In the
course of these labours, a new though not unexpected de¬
fect appeared in several lenses, which wxmld have sub¬
verted the whole scheme had not the first diamond lens
been free from it.
“ These lenses, instead of giving a single image like the
first, gave a double or triple one. This rendered them
utterly useless as magnifiers, and made the defects of soft
and hard parts in the same stone, and the small cavities in
others, of comparatively trifling consequence. The images
exhibited in such lenses overlapped each other, but were
never entirely separated, though the quantity of overlap¬
ping varied in different specimens.
“ It was now evident that these defects arose from polari¬
zation, though this stone is described as ‘ refracting single-’
I subsequently learned from Dr Brewster, after I had over¬
come these obstacles, that this property of the diamond had
been observed by him, and an account of it given in the
Edinburgh Philosophical Transactions} On referring to
his paper, it appears Dr Brewster found that some stones
‘ polarized in particular parts, while other portions of the
same stone were quite free from any trace of polarity} and
thus perfectly adapted to our purpose, as had previously
been demonstrated in the first diamond lens.
“ Notwithstanding these difficulties, and the consequent
expense and labour they entailed on me before sufficiently
experienced in working upon this refractory material with
certainty, I have now the satisfaction of being able, by in¬
spection d priori, to decide whether a diamond is fit for a
magnifier or not; and have now executed two plano-con¬
vex magnifiers of adamant, whose structure is quite per¬
fect for microscopic purposes. One of these, about the
twentieth of an inch focus, was purchased by the late
Duke of Buckingham ; the other, in my hands, is the thir¬
tieth of an inch focus, and has consequently amplification
enough for most practical purposes.” {Microscopic Cabinet,
p. 107-111.)
Although it is quite certain that many if not most dia¬
monds possess a doubly-refracting and polarizing structure,
owing to their having been irregularly indurated when in
a soft state, yet the separation of the images, arising from
this structure, is not sufficient to account for the overlap¬
ping of the images observed by Mr Pritchard. In order
to have this matter investigated, Mr Pritchard sent a bad
diamond lens, with two or three images, to Sir David
Brewster, who was for a long time perplexed with the diffi¬
culties which it presented to him. It occurred to him,
however, to examine if the stone possessed a homogeneous
structure, as he had observed in amber and gums, which
are indurated in a similar manner, a variation in the refrac¬
tive density capable of accounting for the imperfections of
the diamond. In order to do this, he admitted a narrow
beam of light into a dark room, and examined by this light
the flat surface of the plano-convex lens of diamond with a
hand microscope. After getting the diamond into the most
favourable position, namely, when the light was reflected as
nearly as possible at a perpendicular incidence, he was sur¬
prised to see its whole surface covered with thousands of
minute bands, some reflecting more and some less light.
He at first thought that these bands were the edges of an
1 Edinburgh Phil. Trans., vol. viii., p. 157, 1817. See also Geo¬
logical Transactions, new series, vol. iii., p. 455 ; and London and
Edinburgh Philosophical Magazine, vol. vii., p. 245.
Micro
scope
MICROSCOPE.
767
Micro- infinity of larninas of different reflective, and consequently
scope, refractive powers; but having observed that the same bands
which reflected most light in one position reflected least
light in another, he was driven to the conclusion that all
the bands were the edges of veins or laminae whose visible
terminations were inclined at different angles not exceeding
a few seconds to the general surface. Had this surface
been an original face of the crystal, there would have been
nothing surprising in its structure; but being a surface
ground and polished by art, the phenomenon which it pre¬
sents is one extremely interesting. The two or three images,
therefore, which this lens gave as a microscope were pro¬
duced by the convergency of the rays to different foci by
the differently inclined faces of the laminae.1
Similar lines on the cut faces of diamonds have been ob¬
served by MM. Trecourt and Oberhauser, who consider
them as minute prismatic canals or interstices left during
crystallization, and who suppose that they injure the image
in consequence of ground-off particles lodging themselves
in the orifices of the canals, and which afterwards come out
and destroy the polish by the scratches they produce. This
explanation is in no way applicable to the phenomenon we
have described.
These observations will, we trust, induce opticians to use
the diamond more frequently than they were disposed to do
when they believed that its imperfections arose from its
doubly-refracting structure. In a small lens the doubly-
refracting structure, when it does exist, is too small to
produce any bad effect; and it is not difficult to discover
any defect that may exist in the surface such as we have
described above.
As the expense of the diamond, and the labour of work¬
ing it, are very great, about fifty or sixty hours being neces¬
sary to complete a diamond lens with double convexity, it
is of the greatest consequence to ascertain beforehand if
the substance of the diamond is homogeneous ; that is, free
from difference of density or double refraction, and if it
does not contain any small cavities. The best way is to
examine the stone, by cutting two flat faces upon it, unless it
is a laske or table diamond, which always has two flat faces ;
but this labour may often be avoided by examining it when
plunged or held in a glass trough containing oil of cassia,
the fluid which approaches nearest to it in refractive power.
This will diminish all the refractions at the irregular surface
of the diamond to such a degree as to make any internal im¬
perfections as easily seen as if its substance were plate-glass.
By comparing the indices of refraction of diamond and
glass, it may be easily shown that the same magnifying
power may be obtained with a diamond lens having its
curvature with a radius of 8, as with a glass lens the radius
of whose curvature is 3; and as the spherical aberration
increases with the depth of curvature or the thickness of
the lens, a lens of diamond will bear a much larger aper¬
ture than one of glass before indistinctness of vision is pro¬
duced. Mr Pritchard has given a very useful ocular repre¬
sentation of the relative value of a diamond and a glass lens.
In the annexed figure G is the section of a semi-lens of
glass, and D the sec¬
tion of one of diamond,
so placed that their
principal focus F shall
be at the same point.
In the diamond semi¬
lens the marginal rays :l0•
will intersect the axis at d, and in the glass semi-lens at g ;
the longitudinal aberration being dF in the diamond, and
in the glass lens.
In order to obtain a numerical measure of these aberra¬
tions, Mr Pritchard computed them from the formula, and
found that of the diamond lens to be f ths of its own thick¬
ness, that of the glass lens being £ths of its thickness ; and
by taking the thickness of the diamond lens to be 255,
while that of the glass is 758, he obtained f ths of 255 = 108,
and |-ths of 758 = 884, and hence it follows that the actual
aberration of a diamond lens is onhj about one-ninth of the
aberration of a glass lens of the same power and aperture.
If we suppose the diamond lens to be ground on the
same tool with the glass lens, so as to have the same cur¬
vature, the same thickness, and the same diameter, the
longitudinal aberration of the diamond will be to that of
the glass lens as 43 is to 117, or nearly one-third of it; and
if we suppose the focal length of both to be ^th of an inch,
the magnifying power of the diamond lens will be 2133,
while that of the glass one will be only 800.1 In order that
a lens of glass may have the same magnifying power as that
of the diamond above mentioned, its focal distance would
require to be only the 200th part of an inch.
The durability of the diamond lens is also another valu¬
able property, which allows it to be burnished into a disc
of metal, and taken out and cleaned without any danger of
being scratched. In treating of microscopic doublets and
achromatic microscopes, we shall have occasion to recur
again to the diamond lens. Some writers have objected to
the use of diamonds because they are too costly. For ordi¬
nary microscopes, intended solely to amuse or to instruct,
they have not been recommended; but if we wish to make
great discoveries, to unfold the secrets yet hid in the cells
of plants and animals, we must not grudge a diamond to
reveal them. If Sir James South, Mr Cooper, and others,
have given two or three thousand pounds for a refracting
telescope, and if Lord Rosse expended L. 15,000 on a re¬
flecting one, why may not other philosophers open their
purse, if they have one, and other noblemen sacrifice some
of their household jewels, to resolve the microscopic struc¬
tures of the lower world, to unravel mysteries most interest¬
ing to man, and secrets which the Almighty must have
intended that we should know.
Micro¬
scope.
Sapphire Lenses.
The ruby and the sapphire are the same substance, differ- Sapphire
ing only in colour. Mr Pritchard has, with his usual sue- lenses,
cess, executed many lenses of sapphire, which, though
inferior to those of diamond, are vastly superior to the best
executed lenses of glass. When a double convex lens of
sapphire and one of plate-glass are ground to the same
focus, so as to have the same
aperture and magnifying
power, their relative curva¬
tures are as 5 to 3, and their
thicknesses as shown in the
annexed figure, where A is 1
the section of a semi-lens of
sapphire, whose focus is at F,
and B a section of a semi-lens
of glass, having its focus at the
same point. This figure
points out in the clearest manner another advantage of
using the precious stones in place of glass. In small lenses
of glass, the thickness of the glass is such that there is no
room between its anterior surface and the object for the
admission of instruments for dissection, and not even for the
thinnest plate of glass, so that it is impossible to use glass
lenses of small foci in viewing objects placed in glass sliders.
If the preceding figure represents lenses with a focus of
sVth of an inch, the distance of the glass lens B from F
will be little more than -jpgth of an inch, which is less than
the thinnest glass.
Fig. n.
1 See Phil. Trans., 1841, p. 41, for a drawing of the phenomenon.
1 See the last column of the table in page 771, col. 2.
768
MICROSCOPE.
Micro- In using the sapphire and ruby, or any precious stone
scope. w]lic}1 refracts doubly, such ns zircon, topaz, &c., for lenses,
we are exposed to a very serious defect, arising from the
duplication of minute lines, in consequence of the double
refraction of these crystals. In order to remedy this defect,
the optician endeavours to cut the stone so that the axis of
the lens may coincide with the axis of double refraction.
This, however, is a difficult task; and, even if it were ac¬
complished, we should not get rid entirely of the duplication
of the images, as in all double convex lenses, as well as in
plane convex lenses with the plane side turned to the object,
the rays cannot pass through the lens in parallel directions,
and therefore must suffer double refraction, however small.
It may be reduced, however, to the smallest possible amount,
and even to nothing; for pencils of rays diverging from a
point in the axis, by making the lens plano-convex, and
turning the plane side to the eye, as in the annexed figure,
where rays issuing from F, and
entering the eye parallel at E,
must pass through the lens
AB in parallel directions, suf¬
fering all their refraction at
the first or curved surface of
the lens. By adopting this
form and position of the lens, we may, however, lose more
than we gain; for the leijs is placed in the position which
gives a maximum spherical aberration. When the magnify¬
ing power is not very high, the residual double refraction
is not injurious; and in proof of this we may state, that we
have in our possession a double convex lens of sapphire,
executed by Mr Pritchard, which exhibits minute objects
with the greatest beauty and precision. The only way,
therefore, is to employ precious stones, such as the diamond,
the garnet, and the spindle ruby, which have no double
refraction. .
A
Fig. 12.
Garnet and Spindle Huby Lenses.
Garnet and The garnet is superior in its structure to the spineue
spinelle ruby, and the best and purest which we have seen is that
ruby which is brought from Greenland, and has a slight tinge of
lenses. purple. We have used lenses made of this substance by
Mr Hill, Mr Adie, Mr Blackie^and Mr Veitch, all of whicli
exhibit minute objects with admirable accuracy and preci¬
sion ; and we can state with confidence, that we have never
experienced the slightest inconvenience from the colour of
the garnet, which diminishes with its thickness, and there¬
fore nearly disappears in very minute lenses. (See p. 774.)
Single Fluid Microscopes.
Single Mr Stephen Gray long ago proposed to construct single
fluid micro-microscopes with drops of water, which he lifted up with
scopes. a pjn; an j deposited in a small hole made in a piece of brass.
The drop retained a soil of imperfect sphericity, and showed
objects with some distinctness; but it is obvious that the
very weight of -the drop destroyed its spherical form, even
if it had not been disturbed by minute irregularities on the
circumference of the aperture in which it was placed.
Sir David Brewster long ago constructed fluid lenses in
a different manner, so as to avoid the irregularities above
mentioned. He placed minute drops of very pure turpen¬
tine varnish, and other viscid fluids, on plates of thin and
parallel glass. By this means he formed plano-convex
lenses of any focal length ; and by dropping the varnish on
both sides, he formed double convex lenses, with their
convexities in any required proportion. By freeing the
glass carefully from all grease with a solution of soda, the
margin of these lenses was beautifully circular; and the
only effect of gravity, which diminishes with the viscidity
of the fluid and with the smallness of the drop, is to elon¬
gate the lower lens and flatten the upper one. These lenses Micro-
were found to answer well as the object-glasses of com- scope,
pound microscopes.
After experiencing the extreme difficulty of obtaining Method of
precious stones free of double refraction or difference ofmaking
density, and from little cavities and imperfections, as wellthem-
as the difficulty of giving their surfaces a perfect polish and
a correct figure, Sir David Brewster made an extended
series of experiments on the formation of minute fluid
lenses, which should equal in power and distinctness
those made of precious stones. The primary difficulty
which was encountered in this attempt was that of deposit¬
ing a sufficiently minute di'op of fluid upon a surface of
glass. This arose from two causes: from the difficulty of
taking up on the slenderest fibre a minute globule of a
fluid of any moderate tenacity, and the still greater difficulty
of overcoming its adhesion to the fibre, and laying a por¬
tion of it on glass. The first of these difficulties he over¬
came by a suitable mixture of two fluids, and the second
by a mechanical process. Having thus succeeded in ob¬
taining lenses too small to be recognised distinctly by the
eye, he next endeavoured to make their figure approximate
to the hyperbolic form when the lenses were not of the
smallest size; and the results which he obtained were far
beyond his expectation. Some of these lenses preserved
their perfection for more than a year, and if protected fi'om
dust might have been kept much longer. If fluids could be
obtained of a high refractive power, and not of a volatile
nature, microscopes of extreme perfection might thus be
readily constructed.
In order to deposit upon glass a very minute portion of
fluid, Sir D. Brewster employed a fibre of spun glass.
When slightly dipped into the fluid, the portion which ad¬
hered to its extremity, in place of remaining in the form
of a small globule, ran along the fibre, so that it could not
be laid upon the glass. Upon holding the fibre vertically,
and repeatedly knocking the hand which held it upon the
thigh, the fluid was gradually made to accumulate at the
end of the fibre, so that it could be made to touch the glass
surface, and leave a small portion in the form of a plano¬
convex lens.
The desired result was produced more effectually by
fixing the upper end of the fibre in the stand of a micro¬
scope, so as to suspend it vertically above the glass plate.
By turning the milled head, and making the drop at the end
of the fibre descend, or the glass ascend, till they were
nearly in contact, it was easy, by a rapid separation of the
two after contact, to leave the smallest portion upon the
glass.
It is obvious that this operation could not be performed,
if the fluid had much tenacity, like Canada balsam in its
usual condition. Sir David Brewster therefore tried to ob¬
tain a fluid of the proper tenacity, and found that a mixture
of castor oil and Canada balsam answered the purpose when
carefully incorporated.
With this fluid, and with others, suspended, as shown
in fig. 13, from plates of thin parallel
glass, he obtained microscopes equal to the
glass, or even sapphire, microscopes made
by opticians. This, no doubt, arises from
three causes,—1, From the perfect homo¬
geneity of the material; 2. From the perfect polish of the
surface; and, 3. From the approximation of the figure of
the lens to the hyperbolic curve. The form of the curve
will obviously vary with the size of the drop and the tena¬
city of the fluid.1
The curvature of the lens may be changed by suspend¬
ing the drop from convex or concave surfaces, as in
1 The form of the lens may he ascertained by taking a highly
magnified image of it.
MICROSCOPE.
769
Micro- figures 14 and 15. With the view of altering the curvature
scope. 0f the fluid lenses, immiscible fluids were used, such as treacle
Fig. 14. Fig. 15.. Kg. is.
or honey, and castor oil. The dotted line mon (fig. 16)
shows the original castor oil lens, and the horizontally lined
lens the form into which it is pulled by the weight of the
treacle or honey lens y. The effect of this combination
was very good.
In place of the plate CD (fig. 16), we may use a convex
Fig. 17. Figk 18.
lens as in fig. 17, where mn is the castor oil, and o the
treacle meniscus.
An achromatic combination may be made as in fig. 18, CD
being the glass plate, i a plano-convex lens, mil a concave
lens of a highly refractive and dispersive oil, and o a men¬
iscus of treacle or Canada balsam softened.
We may pull down a fluid lens ahc (fig. 19) into a hyper-
boloidal form by the weight of a lens of glass mn. In an
experiment thus made there was not a trace of spherical
aberration. There is no occasion in this case of a small
aperture, as the treacle lens ahc excludes all lateral light.
The effect of suspending the lens of a minnow at mn was
good.
If the fluid lens is too hyperbolic, it may be corrected
by a flattened lens mon (fig. 20) placed above the glass plate
Single Catadioptric Microscope.
Single A single lens, by which light is both refracted and re-
catadiop- fleeted, seems at first sight to be something paradoxical,
trie micro- Such a lens, however, which was proposed and used by Sir
scope. David Brewster, is shown in the annexed figure, where
ABC is a hemispherical plano-convex lens, which, if we
use it in the common way, will have a certain magnifying
power; but if we use
it as shown in the
figure, it acts as a
double convex lens
of the same radius,
and has consequently
twice the magnifying
power. Bisect the
semicircle BAG in A,
and join A B, A C. If
we now place an ob¬
ject at mn, and look
into the lens BA at F, we shall see by reflection from the
surface BC the object mn, with the same distinctness, and
under the same angle, as if we had placed the two lenses
AaBd, AaCd, with their plane sides AB, AC together.
VOL. XIV.
Fig. 21.
Since the light is incident on the reflecting surface BDC Micro-
at an angle of 45® and upwards, not a ray of it will be sc0Pe*
transmitted, as it suffers total reflection. The lens thus
used, composed in reality of two plano-convex ones, AaCd,
A«Bd, has less spherical aberration than when used as a
whole, ABC, and there is obviously no error from imper¬
fect centering. This lens may be used as the object-glass
of a compound microscope; and it will be seen in another
section that it possesses other advantages than those which
have been mentioned.
The Grooved Sphere.
This lens derives its name from its having a deep groove Grooved
cut round it in the plane of a great circle perpendicular to sphere,
the axis of vision. Sir David Brewster was led to its con¬
struction by the doublet of Dr Wollaston, which will be
described in another section. It consists of a spherical lens
or sphere, with a deep concave groove cut round it, so as
to cut off the marginal pencils, and thus give a wider field
and a more perfect image. It is represented in the an¬
nexed figure, where ABDC is
a sphere of glass, having the
unshaded parts below AC and
above BD cut away, in order
to prevent rays that fall very
obliquely from reaching the
eye. The central thickness of
the lens may be made so small
as to render the spherical and Flg‘ 22'
even the chromatic abberration almost insensible. As
all the pencils pass through the centre, every part of the
image will be equally distinct; a property possessed by no
other lens.
This lens, as fitted up by Mr Blackie for the inventor,
is shown in the annexed
figure; AB being a re¬
presentation of it when
closed, and ABC when
open ; the lens at A re¬
sembling a bird’s eye.
Mr Coddington,1 who
entertains a high opinion
of the value of this lens, *
observes :—“ Besides all
this, another advantage
appears in practice to
attend this construction,
which I did not antici¬
pate, and for which I cannot now at all account. I have
stated that when a pencil of rays is admitted into the eye,
which, having passed without deviation through a lens, is
bent by the eye, the vision is never free from the coloured
fringes produced by eccentrical dispersion. Now with the
sphere I certainly do not perceive this defect; and I there¬
fore conceive that if it were possible to make spherical
glass on a very minute scale, it would be the most perfect
simple microscope, except, perhaps, Dr Wollaston’s doublet,2
than which I can hardly imagine anything more excellent,
as far as its use extends; its only defects being the very
small field of view, and the impracticability of applying it,
except to transparent objects seen by transmitted light.
Now, the sphere has this advantage, that whereas it makes
a very good simple microscope, it is more peculiarly fitted
for the object-glass of a compound instrument, since it gives
a perfectly distinct image of any required extent, and that,
when combined with a proper eye-piece, it may without
1 Phil. Trans., 1830, part i., pp. 69-84.
2 This exception was needless, as the doublet is not a simple mi¬
croscope, having two lenses placed at a distance.
5 E
770
MICROSCOPE.
Micro¬
scope.
Concentric
lenses.
Fluid
grooved
sphere.
difficulty be employed for opaque objects.” We do not
rightly apprehend the exact import of these observations.
Mr Coddington distinctly asserts that the grooved sphere
is the most perfect simple microscope, or the most perfect
microscope with one lens; and yet he says in the next
paragraph that it is only “a very good simple micro¬
scope,” being “ more peculiarly fitted for a compound instru¬
ment.”1
With regard to the difficulty of making it on a small
scale, it is by no means great; for if we can grind and
polish its two surfaces, we may readily excavate it round
its margin. We have now before us a grooved sphere
of garnet ^th of an inch radius, executed by Mr Blackie :
The focus is almost close to the lens, which in many kinds
of observation is a great advantage, and its performance is
remarkably fine.
It will be seen in our article on Optics, that when the
refractive index of a sphere exceeds 2-000, its focus falls
within the sphere. Hence a grooved sphere made of dia¬
mond is useless. When made with garnet it is invaluable ;
and its focus is just thrown so near its surface, that the ob¬
jects may be laid upon its surface, or pressed against it by
a concave surface of the same radius.
A lens of this kind, whether the surfaces have the same
or a different radius, provided they have the same centre,
may be called a concentric lens, and has valuable properties.
One of these, executed upwards of thirty years ago for the
writer of this article by Mr Blackie of Edinburgh, has the
radii of the two surfaces so adjusted that its anterior focus
is on the least convex surface. It is shown in the annexed
figure, where C is the common  ^
centre of the two surfaces A and
BD ; the groove round C being
cut to the requisite depth.
An equivalent concentric lens
may be made by combining two
piano - convex lenses, with their
plane sides next one another cut
separate, the lenses having dif¬
ferent sides. One of the lenses
may be either a hemisphere or
less or greater.
If we call m the index of refraction, then if AC, the ra¬
dius of the surface A, is m - 1, the radius CB of the surface
BD must never exceed unity. When the ratio of CA to
CB is as m - 1 to 1, the anterior focus of the lens will be on
the surface BD. If the index of refraction m is beneath
2, distinct vision may be obtained by looking into either
surface. When the index is 2, the only concentric lens
that can be made consists of two hemispheres united, or a
sphere. When the index is above 2, distinct vision can
be obtained only by looking into, or placing next the eye,
the least convex surface.
The Fluid Grooved Sphere.
In order to construct a grooved sphere with fluids, Sir
Pig. 24.
T11S »enS’ Which. has very incorrectly been called the “ Codding-
tinn n<lt invente<l by Mr Coddington, nor was its inven-
ster Ind onla«red+bJ.him- . U was invented by Sir David Brew-
180() and S TUC 6 ln Edinburgh of glass and garnet long before
S in the PMloso.
tz i!tnwhirh„r,'“ ~ ™
a" his Treatise 0n the Reflection and
Refraction of Light, published in 1829. Mr Coddington, we have
reason to believe, i?ot a grooved QnVior*** v nr *
^ T a fe^uvea sphere made by Mr Carey or some
other London optician, who, sunnosirm- u J ,
^ opposing it to be new, gave it a name
to which it was not entitled. Had Mr Coddington been alive he
would have been one of the first to give it its true name
David Brewster adopted the arrangement shown in the Micro-
annexed figure, where AB is a piece of w scope,
plate-glass of a circular form, having a
groove cut out of its circumference.
Two fluid lenses m, n, as nearly hemisphe¬
rical as possible, are then placed on its
upper and under surface by the methods
already described. The aberration both Pig-25.
from form and colour will be reduced by the groove, as
well as by the form of the under lens.
The same effect may be produced by substituting for
the piece of glass AB two thin plates of m
parallel glass, or thin laminae of split
topaz ab, cd (fig. 26), separated by a
circular plate of metal, with a proper
aperture, the three plates being ce¬
mented into one by Canada balsam, or
any homogeneous cement which may fill Fis- 26,
the aperture between the glass-plates.
Compound Single Microscopes.
We may give this name to any combination of lenses Compound
which acts solely as a single microscope. When we possess single mi-
single lenses with little magnifying power, croscope.
we may double or quadruple their power
by cutting them into halves, quarters, or
more numerous sections, and placing them
transversely, as in the annexed figure. In
this figure is represented a combination of
two semi-lenses ABC, DEF cut from the
same lens, so as to form a lens having
twice the magnifying power of the original
one. If the semi-lens ABC has a greater
magnifying power than DEF, in conse¬
quence of being the half of another lens
more convex, we shall have three different
magnifying powers in the same combination,—the highest
power in the portion EB, a lower power through the
portions m, o, and a still lower power through the portions
n,p.
A combination of quarters of lenses, having the same
properties as those above described,
is shown in the annexed figure.
The quarter lenses may be com- D
bined as in the upper or lower half
of the preceding figure, and seve¬
ral of such combinations may be 7l\
united for optical purposes, and
made achromatic by the usual
methods.
The preceding method of com¬
bining divided lenses enables us to
make two or more lenses, or microscopes, or telescopes
exactly of the same magnifying power ; an effect which can¬
not be otherwise obtained. (See Stereoscope.)
An Extempore Microscope.
When a magnifying power is wanted for reading any Extempore
small print or seeing any minute ob- microscope
ject, and no lens can be got, two bot¬
tles filled with water or any other fluid
may be crossed, as in the annexed
figure, and the object viewed through
the middle portion A BCD. Two very
small bottles, or two test tubes, crossed
in the same manner, will have a con¬
siderable magnifying power. rig. 29.
Fig. 27.
Fig. 28.
MICROSCOPE.
771
Crystalline Lenses of Small Fishes.
The crystalline lens of minnows and small fishes may
be taken out of the eye in a state of such perfection, that
when used as single microscopes, they give a very per¬
fect image of minute objects. In such lenses, which have an
increasing density towards their centre, the spherical aberra¬
tion is almost wholly corrected. Great care, however, must
be taken to make the axis of the lens the axis of vision, to
prevent its form from being injured by pressure against the
aperture which holds it. The best way is to make a ring at
the end of a piece of wire, having its diameter a little greater
than that of the lens. A ring of viscid fluid is then made
to line the ring of wire, and the lens is suspended in the
ring of fluid, some of the fluid encroaching upon its ante¬
rior or posterior surface.
Magnifying Power of Single Microscopes.
Having thus described the various kinds of single mi-
ing power, croscopes, we shall now consider the subject of their mag¬
nifying power. When an eye in the prime of life, and
neither long nor short sighted, views the minutest object
which it can recognise, it will generally place it at the dis¬
tance of about five inches. When the same object is
viewed through a single microscope, the distance at which
it is seen is equal to the focal length of the lens ; and as
the apparent magnitude of objects is inversely as the dis¬
tances at which they are seen, we have only to divide the
distance, five inches, by the focal length of the lens, in
order to know its magnifying power, or the apparent magni¬
tude of objects when seen through the lens.
The following table shows the magnifying power of lenses
of all focal lengths, from o inches up to the 100th of an inch,
and is applicable to all lenses, of whatever substance they
are made:—
Micro¬
scope.
Magnify-
Focal Length.
Inches.
5
2
If
H
li
I
i
*
iV
tV
tt
tV
Magnifying
Power.
1
2£
2#
4
5
f: a
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
Focal Length,
Inches.
tsv
sV
vV
Magnifying
Power.
85
90
95
100
125
150
175
200
225
250
275
300
325
350
375
400
425
450
475
500
We have already mentioned the advantages which the
precious stones have over glass ones, in having a much less
spherical aberration. In order that a glass lens may have
the least spherical aberration, its radii of curvature must be
as one to six, the flattest side being turned to the object;
but this is not the case with bodies of a different refractive
power. Mr Coddington, in his Treatise on the Reflection
and Refraction of Light? has computed the ratio of the
curves when the aberration is a minimum for various indices
1 Page 111, Cambridge, 1829.
of refraction from 1'5 up to 2*0, and the amount of the
aberration itself in parts of the thickness of the lens. This
table is very important in a practical point of view, as will
be seen from the observations which follow it.
Micro¬
scope.
Table showing the Spherical Aberration of Lenses of Glass
and the Precious Stones, and the proper proportion of
their Radii when the Aberration is a Minimum :—
Substances.
Fluor spar  
Cryolite 
Glass plate 
Oil of almonds ,
Castor oil 
Honey 
Flint glass 
Quartz 
Topaz.
Oil of cassia 
Glass, lead 1, flint 2.
Sulphuret of carbon .
Sapphire 
Ruby 
Spinelle ruby 
Garnet -.
Glass, lead 2, flint l£.
Sulphate of lead 
Glass, lead 2J, flint 1.,
Zircon 
Calomel,  
Sulphur  
Phosphorus 
Glass, lead 3, flint 1.,
Index of
Refraction.
1-4
1-5
1-6
1-7
1-8
1-9
20
Ratio of the
Radii of a
Lens of Mi¬
nimum
Aberration.
1 to 3-66
1 to 6
1 to 14
1 to — 93
1 to-12
1 to —7
1 to —5
Longitudi¬
nal Aberra¬
tion, the
thickness
being 10.
10-96
10-71
9-33
6-66
3-57
1-66
0-62
Spherical
aberration.
It appears from the preceding table, that when the re¬
fractive index is between 1-4 and 1*6 and a little more, but
less than 1'7, the second surface of the double convex lens
must be convex, in order to have the least spherical aberra¬
tion ; but that when the index is a very little above I’fl, the
second surface must be plane, and when the index is nearer
1‘7 than 1*6 the second surface must be concave, in order
to make the aberration a minimum, and this concavity, in
the case of zircon and sulphur, is so much as — 5, so that in
diamond it must be nearly - 3 ; so that we must sacrifice a
great deal of magnifying power in order to obtain this ad¬
vantage in diamond ; but the sacrifice will be well be¬
stowed, for such a lens will be almost wholly free of spheri¬
cal aberration.
Notwithstanding the difficulty of the task, we would
earnestly direct the attention of artists to the subject of
grinding plano-convex lenses of a hyperbolic form for
single microscopes. The smallness of the lens must increase
the difficulty; but in this case the effect may be acciden¬
tally obtained, as it is often done in giving a parabolic and
an elliptical form to specula. Mr Potter has given, and put
to the test of experiment, a method of obtaining any curve
derived from revolution, by giving a particular form to the
grinding and polishing tools. {Edin. Jour, of Science, new
series, No. 12.)
CHAPTER II.
DESCRIPTION OF MICROSCOPIC DOUBLETS AND TRIPLETS.
Under this chapter we propose to describe all combina- Doublets
tions oi lenses in which two or more are placed in contact, and trip-
oi at such a distance that no image is formed between f®*8-
them. &
MICROSCOPE.
Wollaston's Periscopic Doublet.
Periscopic
doublet.
The earliest proposal of a doublet lens was that which
Dr Wollaston made {Phil. Trans. 1812, p. 375), under
the name of a periscopic microscope. The following is his
own description of it“ The great desideratum,” says he,
“ in employing high magnifiers, is sufficiency of light; and
it is accordingly expedient to make the aperture of the little
lens as large as is consistent with distinct vision. But if
the object to be viewed is of such magnitude as to appear
under an angle of several degrees on each side of the cen¬
tre, the requisite distinctness cannot be given to the whole
surface by a common lens, in consequence of the confusion
occasionedby oblique incidence of the lateral rays, excepting
by means of a very small aperture, and proportionable di¬
minution of light. In order to remedy this inconvenience,
I conceived that the perforated metal which limits the aper¬
ture of the lens might be placed with advantage in its cen¬
tre ; and accordingly I procured two plano-convex lenses
ground to the same radius, and applying their plane sur¬
face on opposite sides of the same aperture, in a thin piece
of metal (as is represented by a section, fig. 30), produced
the desired effect, having vir¬
tually a double convex lens, so
contrived that the passage of ob¬
lique pencils was at right angles
with its surface, as well as the
central pencil. With a lens so
constructed, the perforation that
appeared to give the most per¬
fect distinctness was about one- Fig. 30.
'fifth part of the focal length in
diameter ; and when such an aperture is well centered, the
visible field is at least as much as 20° in diameter. It is
true, that a portion of light is lost by doubling the number
of surfaces; but this is more than compensated by the
greater aperture which, under these circumstances, is com¬
patible with distinct vision.”
PERISCOPIC SPHERE.
Periscopic In the preceding passage Dr Wollaston describes only
sphere. a double convex periscopic microscope, consisting of two
plano-convex lenses ; but he does not take the case where
these two lenses are hemispheres, and consequently where
the doubly convex one which they form is a sphere. When
the lenses are not hemispheres, the pencils are not cen¬
trical, and the rays from different parts of the object do not
each suffer the same species of refraction as they do when
passing through a sphere, so that every part of the field is
not equally distinct. It is obvious also that Dr Wollaston
did not think of filling up the central aperture with a fluid
of the same refractive power as the lens, in order to remove
the loss of light from the double number of surfaces, which
he mentions as a defect in his microscope.
The construction of a periscopic sphere proposed by Sir
David Brewster combines these two properties. The lenses,
whether they are hemispherical or not, must be so placed
that their convex surfaces form part of the same sphere, as
shown in the annexed figures.
In fig. 31 the plano-convex lenses AB, CD may be ce-
one direction as to complete the sphere, and of such a dia¬
meter in the direction mn as to form a suitable contraction
of the aperture.
In fig. 32 the space between the two unequal lenses may he
filled up, as in the figure, by two pieces of plate-glass AmraB,
CmnD, between which is a plate of brass, or of thin black
paper, containing a suitable aperture in the centre of the
lenses. Here there are six surfaces within the sphere ; but
by uniting them with a proper cement, the whole becomes a
single sphere, in which there is no perceptible loss of light.
In fig. 33 lenses of unequal size and thickness are com¬
bined either with a plate of glass or a fluid between them
of the same refractive power as the glass, and the apertures
may be placed on the plane surfaces AB, CD.
B rt, O
Tig. 31. Fig. 32.
mented to a piece of plate-glass mn, of such a thickness in
In fig. 34 two convex lenses may be combined into a
sphere, the intermediate portion being filled up with a fluid
of the same refractive power. This may be readily done
by cementing each lens on the end of a brass or glass tube
ab, and introducing the fluid by an aperture.
In uniting these lenses, it is obviously necessary that the
convex outer surfaces should be exactly of the same curva¬
ture and of the same kind of glass.
The best way of effecting this
is to grind a thick lens ABC,
either greater or less than a
hemisphere, and then to bisect
it at AD, and out of the portions
ADB, ADC to form two plano¬
convex lenses ABE, ACF, or
two double convex lenses AEBG, AFCH. The outer
surfaces of these two lenses will belong accurately to the
same sphere. The perfect similarity of the inner surfaces
is of less consequence, as all refraction by them is wholly
removed by the cement if it has the same refractive power.
By these different steps Sir David Brewster was led to
the idea of the grooved sphere, or the lens already described
under the head of single microscopes, in which the aperture
is contracted by excavating the sphere all round in one of
its great circles.
PERISCOPIC ACHROMATIC SPHERES.
If, in the construction shown in fig. 36, in place of mak- Periscopic
ing the fluid op of the same refractive and dispersive power achroma-
as the two lenses, we make it such as
to correct the colour of these lenses, we
shall obtain an achromatic sphere, as
proposed by Sir David Brewster; and
the compound lens may be still farther
improved as a microscope by attaching,
either by cement or not, to the back of
the first lens AB a convex speculum of
silver or steel for illuminating the ob- Fig. 36.
ject, the contracted aperture being the hole in the centre
of the speculum. The concave fluid lens is shown at op ;
and such a curvature must be given to the convex reflector
mn that it may reflect parallel or diverging rays upon the
object.1
1 Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, 1820, vol. iii., pp. 74—77 ; and
Pritchard’s Treatise on Optical Instruments, in the Library of Useful
Knowledge, p. 41, § 66.
tic sphere.
Micro¬
scope.
Herschel’s
doublets
of small
aberration.
MICROSCOPE.
773
Mr Coddington1 thus treats of the preceding contrivance :
—“ An achromatic sphere may be constructed by interpos¬
ing between two crossed lenses (double convex ones), in
opposite positions, a concave lens of a medium more highly
dispersive than that of the lenses, adjusting the curvatures
so that the outer surfaces of the crossed lenses shall be por¬
tions of the same sphere, and that the interior surfaces shall
exactly fit into each other.
“ In such a system, we may consider the effect to be the
same as that of an entire sphere of the same medium as
the two lenses diminished by that of a concave lens having
for its refractive ratio that which exists between the two
media in question.
“ Thus, if ixl be the ordinary index of refraction for the
convex lenses, /x2 for the concave one, tt : 1 the ratio of the
dispersive powers, r the radius of the sphere s, cr those of
the internal surfaces, we must have
1 i.
  — — 7T . 1 ,
Ah r
Mi-1 1
whence it follows that i + - = 2jj-.
s o- M2“Ml r
For example, let ^ = 1,5 ; ix.2=\,65 ; ^=^,25.
rrii 1 1 _1 . 1 _ 1
Then’ s+o-' 4 v5r l,2r
If the first internal surface be plane, or s=cc, we have in
general 0-=^- ——— r > or> *n tllls particular example, <r=
l,2r, or a-: r = 6 : 5.”
DOUBLET OF NO ABERRATION.
of the best form, must be very considerable. In order to Micro-
try whether even the latter might not be improved by the scope,
shortening of the focus, and the superior concentration
of the exterior rays, by applying a correcting lens of one
of the forms above calculated, in spite of the loss of heat
in passing through a second glass, I procured two lenses
to be figured to the radii assigned in the first column of
the foregoing table. They were about three inches in
aperture, and when combined as above described, the aber¬
ration was almost totally destroyed, and probably would
have been so completely had the index of refraction pro¬
per to the glass been employed instead of that adopted in
our calculation for brevity. Their combined effect as a
burning-lens appeared to me decidedly superior to that of
the first lens used alone, and there is therefore good
reason to presume that the effect of the other construction,
which, with the same loss of heat, affords a much greater
contraction of the focus, would be still better; and I regret
not having tried it in preference.
“ In eye-glasses and magnifiers, if we would examine a
minute object with much attention, as a small insect, or
(when applied to astronomical purposes) if we would scru¬
tinize the appearance of a planet, a lunar mountain, the
nucleus of a comet, or a close double star, where extent of
field is of less consequence than perfect distinctness in
the central point, too much pains cannot be taken in de¬
stroying the central aberration.” (Phil. Trans. 1821.
p. 2*46-248.)
Mr Pritchard has executed some of these doublets for
the object-glasses of compound microscopes, “for which,” he
says, “ they answer remarkably well, but their angle of
aperture is small compared with combinations of double
achromatics.” (Microscopic Cabinet, p. 163.)
So long ago as 1668, a doublet was described in the
Philosophical Transactions, in which a large and flat field
was obtained. This subject, however, was never investi¬
gated with care till Sir John Herschel took up the subject
in 1821. The doublet, made of glass, which Sir John pro¬
poses for obtaining perfect distinctness in microscopical
observations, is shown in the annexed figures 37, 38, the
Fig. 38.
convex sides being turned to the eye when the doublet is
used as a microscope, and to the sun when it is used as a
burning-glass. The following are the radii and focal length
of these lenses:—
Focal length of the first lens 
Radius of its first surface 
Radius of its second surface 
Focal length of the second lens 
Radius of its first surface 
Radius of its second surface  
Focal length of the combined lenses
Fig. 37. Fig. 38
+ 10-000 +10-000
+ 5-833 + 5-833
-35-000 -35-000
+ 17-829 + 5-497
+ 3-688 + 2-954
+ 6-291 + 8-128
+ 6-407 + 3-474
“ Whether we ought or ought not,” says Sir John, “ to
aim at the rigorous destruction of rays parallel to the axis,
the use to which the lens is to be applied must decide.
In a burning-glass it is of the highest importance. A
slight consideration will suffice to show, that the difference
of temperatures produced in the foci of a double convex
lens of equal radii, and one of the same focal length, but
1 Treatise on the Reflection and Refraction of Light, p. 256.
HerscheVs Periscopic Doublet.
We owe also to Sir John Herschel the construction of Herschel's
a periscopic doublet with a very large field of moderate periscopic
distinctness. “ In spectacles,” says he, “ reading-glasses, doublet-
magnifiers of moderate power, and eye-glasses for certain
astronomical purposes, the correction of the aberration in
the centre of the field may be sacrificed with little incon¬
venience. By far the best periscopic combination I am
acquainted with consists of a double convex lens of the best
form, but placed in its worst position (radii as 6 to 1) for
the lens next the eye, and a plane concave whose focal
length is to that of the other as 2’6 to 1, or as 13 to 5,
placed in contact with its flatter surface, and having its
concavity towards the object, as
in the annexed figure, for the
farthest; yet for destroying the
aberration of rays parallel to
the axis nothing can be worse.
In fact, our formula gives for the
aberration in this construction
22-02, or about 22 times what the best single lens of equal
power would give ; yet on accidentally combining two such
lenses in this manner, I was immediately struck with the
remarkable extent of oblique vision, with the absence of
fatigue, on reading some lines with a power much beyond
that of the natural eye, and with the freedom from colour
at the edges of the field, arising from the opposition of the
prismatic refractions of the two solids ; an advantage which
a single meniscus does not possess.” The focal length of
the compound lens which Sir John tried was 1*84 of an
inch. 1 he field of tolerably distinct vision extended fully
40° from the axis, and the letters of a book might be read,
and the forms of objects distinguished, with management,
as far as the 75th degree. In using such a combination
the lenses should be very thin, and the eye applied as close
as possible.
Fig. 39.
774
MICROSCOPE.
Micro¬
scope.
Plano¬
convex
doublet.
Plano-Convex Doublet.
A doublet of much simpler construction, and with its
spherical aberration greatly diminished, has also been pro¬
posed by Sir John Herschel. It is represented in the
annexed figure, and consists of two convex lenses of equal
focal lengths, the convex
sides being placed in con¬
tact, and the eye and ob¬
ject opposite the plane sides.
In this case the aberration
will be only 06028. But
if we make the focal length
of the first to that of the
second as 1 to 2#3, the
aberration will be reduced to 0-2481. In order to have an
idea of the value of such a doublet, we shall give the series
of aberrations for single lenses, as investigated by Sir John
Herschel
Aberration.
Plano-convex, plane side first 4-2
Plano-convex, convex side first..., 10-81
Double convex  1-567
Best form of a single lens  100
Doublet of two equal plano-convex lenses  0-6028
Doublet of two plano-convex lenses with their focal lengths
as 1 to 2-3  0-2481
Doublet of garnet, with suitable focal lengths  0-08
Garnet As these calculations are made for glass, the advantage
doublets. 0f such a douhlet made of garnet or sapphire must be much
greater. In a garnet the minimum aberration takes place
when the form of the lens differs very little from that of
plano-convex; and as it is then to that of glass as 35 to
107, the aberration will be only about 0-08, or next to im¬
perceptible.
Wollaston's Doublet.
Wollas¬
ton’s doub¬
let.
Pritchard’s
improve¬
ments.
The consideration of the Huygenian eye-piece for astro¬
nomical telescopes suggested to Dr Wollaston the proba¬
bility that a similar combination should have a similar
advantage, of correcting both achromatic and spherical
aberrations, if employed in an opposite direction as a micro¬
scope.1 With this view, he took two plano-convex lenses,
the ratio of whose focal lengths was as 3 to 1, and he
placed them as in the annexed figure, so that the distance of
their plain surfaces was from 1 ^ r 
to 1-& the focal length of the small- ‘ $
est. The plane sides of the lenses Hi
are towards the object. The ad- l£
vantage of the first lens having Fig. 4i.
its plane side next the object is, as Dr Wollaston states,
that if it should touch a fluid, the view is not only not
impaired, but improved, whereas a double convex lens
would require to be taken out and cleaned. The follow¬
ing excellent observations on this doublet are made by
Pritchard:-—
Having mounted some plano-convex lenses of the r<
lative foci named by Dr Wollaston, in such a manner th;
t le distances might be varied at pleasure, I was surprise
to tmd that after the doublet was adjusted by trial, so ;
to obtain the maximum of distinctness, the distance bi
tween the lenses did not accord either with the rule give
y uygens, or that of Dr Wollaston. Supposing that
had not got the combination intended by Dr Wollaston,
procured several doublets made by different artists, and i
my astonishment found they agreed with my own, an
therefore presumed the Doctor was mistaken inL distant
by the thickness of the lenses and the minuteness of th
space between them. The distance which appeared to m
>■ Air Coddington has shown that such a correction is imnoss^
(Treatise on the Eye and Optical Instruments, p. 55.) ^
essential to obtain the best effect, is the difference of the Micro-
focal length of the two lenses, making a proper allowance for scope.
their thickness. The proportion of the foci of the two
lenses may be varied ad libitum. All that is requisite in
this respect is, that the difference must be greater than the
thickness of the anterior lens, while it may be observed (in
high powers), that the greater the difference between their
two focal lengths the more space will be left in front; and
as this is of great practical importance, they should never be
less than as 1 to 3. I have made some very good ones,
differing as much as 1 to 6 The following details
are necessary to insure their goodness:—
“ First, The convex surface of each lens must be truly
spherical. If this is not obtained, it will be in vain to pro¬
cure a good doublet, however beautifully the lenses may
be polished or accurately adjusted. From this circum¬
stance I have found globules perform very well, providing
they are free from air-bubbles, which, however, is rarely
the case. It should be observed, that a slight scratch on
their surface is trifling compared to air-bubbles; for the
latter not only stop the light, but, by the reflection around
the edges of each bubble, produce considerable fog or
glare. Second, The distance between the lenses is the
next point of importance; its adjustment is best accom¬
plished by trial, mounting the lenses in such a manner that
their distance can be varied at pleasure, and capable of
being turned round, so as to adjust the centering. When
this is obtained, they should be fixed so that their distance
and position cannot be altered. This it is necessary to re¬
gard, as I have sometimes spent whole days in re-adjusting
a doublet that had been separated to examine the lenses
singly. Third, The stop or diaphragm, for limiting the
aperture in these combinations, should be placed immedi¬
ately behind the anterior lens. From the difference of the
situation of the stop in the various doublets I have exa¬
mined, it will appear that their makers did not know that
the field of view depended upon the plane of the stop. I
have found, that when the stop is situated close behind the
anterior lens, no other is required, and the field is enlarged
without sensibly augmenting the aberration. On this ac¬
count the lenses of the finest doublet, when used singly
with the same aperture as combined, has so much aberra¬
tion and distortion that distinct vision cannot be obtained,
even with the most rigid adjustment of the focus. From
the difficulty of procuring a flat surface, some makers have
worked the anterior surface of the lens next the object
concave: these lenses do not possess any advantage in
point of performance, not even to compensate for loss of
power from the negative side.”
Mr Pritchard remarks, that when the lens next the ob¬
ject is a jewel, the performance of the doublet is improved;
but that he has not observed any advantage when both
lenses are gems. This must be a mistake; for lenses of
any gem, that are superior to glass ones when acting singly,
must, if suitably combined, be superior also when united.
In proof of this, we have a garnet doublet before us, exe-Biaikie’s
cuted by Mr Blaikie, the performance of which is quite doublet,
remarkable. The lenses are made of Elie garnets, and
their convex sides are placed towards each other. The
radius of the smallest lens near the object is y^th of an
inch, and that of the other of an inch. Its magni-
fying power is very high, exceeding greatly that of the
semi-jewel doublet made by Mr Pritchard, with a sapphire
lens ^th of an inch focus, combined with a glass lens ^th
of an inch focus.
On Fluid Doublets.
Dr Wollaston’s doublet, as shown in fig. 41, may be Fluid
imitated with great facility by placing two plano-convex doublets,
fluid lenses of different sizes upon plates of parallel glass.
Micro¬
scope.
MICROSCOPE.
In such an arrangement it is necessary in the fluid, as well
as in the glass doublet, to have the axes of the lenses per¬
fectly coincident; a result which, by the method already re¬
ferred to, may be more accurately effected in the fluid one.
775
one or two convex lenses of the precious stones or glass.
When the lenses are double, the fluid lens is of course a
meniscus in which the concavity predominates, as it is im¬
possible to form a fluid lens doubly concave.
Micro¬
scope.
Pritchard's Triplet.
Pritchard’s
triplet.
Gairdner’s
micro¬
scope.
Upon the same principle as the doublets, Mr Pritchard
constructed triplets, the third or posterior lens having a
longer focal length than the two others. This combina¬
tion requires much more precision in the adjustment, and
more attention in the centering. Mr Pritchard remarks,
that, “ when perfected, they amply repay the pains bestowed
upon them, in the accuracy with which they exhibit the
most difficult lined objects, though it is to be regretted that
neither these nor the doublets of deep power will show
pleasantly cylindrical bodies of large diameter, such as a
large mouse or bat’s hair.” Having long made use of one
of Mr Pritchard’s triplets, we can amply confirm the account
which he has given of the excellence of this combination.
Mr Blackie has executed for us a triplet, the centre lens of
which is garnet, the posterior one of quartz, and the ante¬
rior one of flat glass. It is a very powerful combination,
and performs admirably.
Sir David Brewster has made triplets, in which two of the
lenses are fluids and the third a solid, and some in which
they are all fluids.
A very simple method of fitting up doublets and triplets,
or even single lenses, has been
proposed by Dr William Gairdner A
of Edinburgh, and executed by Mr
Bryson.
In this instrument a Wollaston’s
doublet A is fixed at the end of a
handle AB. A ring C is attached
to the end of a bent brass stem m
CD, which is secured to the handle
AB at D. This ring contains a
disc of thin glass, on either side
of which objects may be placed for
examination; fluids on the outside,
and other objects on the inside
of it. By means of a milled head
M, the screw of which passes
through the handle and acts upon
the arm CD, the observer is en¬
abled to bring the objects into the
focus of the doublet. This little
instrument has been recommended
by botanists, physiologists, and
medical practitioners.
Fig. 42.
Single Achromatic Microscope.
Single In many of the doublets which we have already described
achromatic the chromatic aberration is partially, and sometimes greatly
scopes" con'ected> but stiU not to such a degree as to entitle them
^ • to the name of achromatic. The great improvement which
has taken place in the art of grinding and polishing small
lenses, has enabled the optician to execute double and
triple achromatic lenses having a diameter so small as from
ith to j^th of an inch. Mr Pritchard has made them of
the latter size with an angle of aperture of 65°. These
lenses may be advantageously used in single microscopes
where very high powers are not required, or when they
cannot be applied, though it is usual to employ them as the
object-glasses of compound microscopes, as we shall after¬
wards see.
Sir David Brewster has executed achromatic lenses, both
double and triple, by combining a fluid concave lens with
achromatic
doublets.
Single Achromatic Fluid Microscope.
A single lens of glass, or of any of the gems, having a Single
high refractive and low dispersive power M achromatic
may be made achromatic, or the colour Al~" |:^;i lB fluid mi-
much corrected, by suspending a fluid con- Cl jd croscope.
cave lens M upon a double convex lens L,
as in fig. 43; CD being a plate of metal,
or if the solid lens L is plano-convex, it may be cemented
upon a plate of glass as .
in fig. 44. In order to at- M. ~ 'i'n
increase the correcting r.r-
power of the fluid lens ^ CL~~ ” ■ ‘O
M, we may make it 44 Fig. 45.
doubly concave as in fig. 45 ; or AB may be a plano-convex
lens with its plane side uppermost.
Fluid Achromatic Doublets.
A fluid achromatic doublet may be made by placing a Fluid
suitable fluid mn be¬
tween the lenses, as ^
in the annexed figures, m
in which all the lenses c
may be fluids, pro¬
vided mn and the Fig. 46, a.
other fluids be immiscible.
When M, L are of glass or precious stones, they may be
set in brass plates.
Single Deflecting Microscopes.
Single reflecting microscopes are not much in use. They Single re¬
consist of a concave metallic speculum of a short focal length, flect;ing mi-
so that any minute body placed in its focus will be seen croscoPes*
magnified. The form of the speculum should of course be
parabolic. Such a microscope is principally useful for
looking at one’s own eye, or any part of it not far from the
pupil. In these cases no image is formed, as the rays enter
the eye parallel.
The following ingenious contrivance for a fluid reflecting Gray’s,
microscope we owe to Mr S. Gray {Ph. Tr. q.
1697, No. 228, p. 539). Having taken a small
globule of quicksilver, and dissolved it in a
menstruum of 10 parts of water and 1 of nitric
acid (aquafortis), he dipped the end of a stick
in this solution, and rubbed with it the inner
circle of the ring A, so as to give it a mer¬
curial tincture. This ring is made of brass,
and is about the 30th of an inch thick, having
its mean diameter not exceeding f ths of an
inch. When the inner surface of the ring
wetted with the solution has been wiped dry
and laid upon a table, pour a drop of quick¬
silver within it, and when this drop is gently
pressed with the ball of the finger it will ad¬
here to the ring, and when cleansed with a
hare’s foot will form a convex speculum. If the ring and
speculum are now taken up and carried horizontally, and
. , on tbe 1Tlargin of the hollow cylinder B, the mercury
will become a concave reflecting speculum, in consequence
of its upper surface sinking down by gravity. The cylinder
B rests upon a pillar with a screw on its outside, and sup-
por ec y tie base D. A stage, ECFG, may be moved
up and down, so as to place the object, which is fixed at G,
in tbe focus of the concave speculum.
Fig. 47.
776
MICROSCOPE.
Micro¬
scope.
Compound
micro¬
scope.
Compound
refracting
micro¬
scope.
CHAPTER III.
ON COMPOUND MICROSCOPES.
A compound microscope is an instrument in which a
distinct and enlarged image of an object is formed by an
object-glass or a speculum, and this enlarged image again
magnified by one or more eye-glasses.
There is every reason to believe, that the earliest com¬
pound microscopes which were used by Zansz and Galileo,
consisted of a convex lens for an object-glass, and a con¬
cave one for an eye-glass, like the telescope which was at
that time in use.
Fontana in 1646 used two convex lenses ; Dr Hooke
three, and Eustachio Divini four; the two next the eye
being plano-convex, and placed in contact, with their con¬
vex sides towards each other, to give a high power and a
large and flat field. In 1691 Philip Bonnani1 used a com¬
pound microscope with three lenses, and added to it an
illuminating apparatus with two lenses.
The reflecting compound microscope was first suggested
by Sir Isaac Newton, and its construction varied and made
more complex by Dr Barker and Dr Smith of Cambridge.
The simple contrivance of Sir Isaac has in modern times
been greatly improved by Amici, Potter, Tulley, Cuthbert,
and Dr Goring.
The Common Compound Refracting Microscope.
The principle of the common compound microscope with
two lenses will be understood from the annexed figure,
where MN is a minute object placed in the focus ot the
object-glass AB, or rather a little farther from it than its
principal focus. An image of e
this object will be formed at mn,
at some distance behind AB, the
distance wA increasing as AM
diminishes. The size of the
image mn will be to that of the
object MN as wA is to AM,
their distances from the lens AB
Fig. 48.
If we now view this
magnified image mn through an eye-glass EF, so placed
that mn is in its principal focus, we shall again magnify it
in the inverse proportion of Era to the distance at which
the eye sees minute objects most distinctly, which is about
5 inches. The object MN is thus doubly magnified, so
that if raA is six times AM, and the lens EF has a focal
length of half an inch, the magnifying power will be 6 x
5^4 = 60. While the lenses are the same, the magnifying
power may be increased to any extent by increasing the
distance between the lenses EF and AB ; but the object
becomes indistinct as the magnifying power increases, so
that it is not advisable to make the distance raA more than
five, six, or seven inches ; or calling^ the focal distance ot
the eye-glass, D = AM, d= An, and A the distance at which
we see objects distinctly, then this magnifying power M
will be M = ~
In this arrangement of lenses the field of view is small,
and therefore we cannot see the whole of many small objects
at one view. In order
to remedy this, a
large lens, called the
amplifying glass, is
placed between the
image and the object-
glass, as shown in fig.
49, where nm is the Fig. 49.
image formed by AB alone; but in consequence of the in¬
terposition of GH, it is contracted into vp, and this con-
* Observationes circa viventia, quae in rebus non viventibus re-
peri untur.
tracted image is magnified by the eye-glass EF4 In order
to widen the field still farther, aud make it flat, two plano¬
convex lenses have been placed at E, F, having their con-
vex sides in contact. In order to find the magnifying power
when the lens GH is used, we must multiply the magni¬
fying power, as obtained by the preceding formula, by the
quantity = -, ^representing the focal length of the lens
9
GH and L=s—j-d-tf S being the distance between the
first and second glasses, and d the distance between the
first and third glasses.
Dr Goring prefers the following method of finding the
magnifying power of these microscopes. Measure the
aperture of the object-glass and call it a, make AM=/,
and having measured with a micrometer scale the diameter
of the usual pencil of rays before they enter the eye, call ic
d; then a: f=d: F, F being the focal length of a single
lens having the same power as the compound microscope.
But the magnifying power m of a lens F is p-. Hence the
magnifying power M of the compound microscope will be
M = A-a
/« . .
In the construction of this microscope some attention is
requisite in adjusting the apertures of the object-glasses
employed. The smaller they are, the less will be the sphe¬
rical and chromatic aberration of the object-glass, but the
less will be the light. When a plano-convex lens about
half an inch focus is used, its plane side should be towards
the object, and its aperture limited to -j^th of an inch.
A compound microscope is sometimes so constructed that
it can be used on a single microscope stand. This is done
by screwing the lower end of the body round the object-
glass into a projecting arm at the top of the stand. W hen
the body is unscrewed and removed, a single lens or a
doublet or triplet may be screwed into the same place, and
the moveable stage, with the slider and object,, biougit
near the single lens, just as if it had been the object-glass
of a compound microscope. (See fig. 3.)
Dr Goring’s Improvement on the Object- Glass of the
Compound Microscope.
When the compound microscope does not require to
have a high power, a compound object-glass of two lenses
may be advantageously
employed. Dr Goring
(Quart. Jour, vol., xvii.,
p. 202) has contrived
the combination shown
in the annexed figure,
where A is a piano-con
Micro¬
scope.
Fig. 50.
vex lens, with its flat side next the object, having its focal
distance about one-half or two-thirds that of the piano or
double convex lens B. A stop D is placed in the pos¬
terior focus of the object-glass A. Mr Pritchard remarks,
that when the focal length of A “ is not less than half an
inch, this combination has been employed with considerable
advantage, both as regards distinctness and aperture.
Mr Coddington’s Improvement on the Eye-Glasses of the
common Compound Microscope.
The improvement suggested by Mr Coddington on the
eye-pieces of compound microscopes is shown in fig. 51.
1 These two lenses, when plano-convex with their plane sides
next the eye, and when their distance is equal to half the sum ot
their focal lengths, form the Huygenian eye-piece, which partially
corrects chromatic and spherical aberration.
Micro¬
scope.
MICRO
The object of the contrivance is to fulfil the condition pro¬
posed by Huy-
' gens in his ex¬
cellent telescopic
eye-piece; name¬
ly, to have the
refraction of the
pencils divided
between the two
lenses, and to Fig- si-
produce the greatest possible flattening of the field. Mr
Coddington found that the most proper form of the lenses
was that shown in fig. 52, ~ "
where the two eye-glass¬
es consist of a meniscus
A next the eye, and a
double equi-convex lens Fig. 52.
B, while the field-glass is composed of two meniscuses C, D.
Mr Coddington, however, informs us that he “ found no
sensible error arise from the substitution of plano-convex
lenses for the meniscus-glasses, which are difficult and ex¬
pensive to form.” He remarks also, that theory indicates
“ a farther flattening of the field to be made by separating
the eye-glasses a little, which requires the distance of the
first eye-glass from the field-glass to be diminished by
about half as much ; but he did not perceive any improve¬
ment arising from this alteration in practice, and therefore
he does not recommend the change. The object-glass
which Mr Coddington uses in this microscope is the grooved
sphere proposed by Sir David Brewster.
In his Treatise on the Eye and Optical Instruments Mr
Coddington has proposed a different combination for the
eye-glasses and the field or amplifying glass. Supposing
the distance between the object-glass and field-glass to
be 1 inch, the focal length of the field and eye-glasses 1
inch each, and the distance between the field-glass and
nearest eye-glass 1 inch, he finds the distance of the two
eye-glasses to be jtth of an inch. He finds also, “ that
all indistinctness arising from the oblique refractions will be
corrected when the field-glass is convexo-convex, nearly
convexo-plane, the first eye-glass convexo-convex (the
flattest side next the eye, radii as 3 : I), and the second
eye-glass a meniscus (the most convex side next the eye,
radii as 1 : 5).”
Taking another case, he supposes the distance of the
object- glass from the field-glass to be 2 inches, and the
eye-glasses to be in contact, as in fig. 52; then “ it appears
that for the achromatism we must have the distance be¬
tween the field-glass and the second eye-glass 1 inch.”
1 hen the field-glass must be convexo-plane nearly ; the
first eye-glass equi-convex, and the second eye-glass a me¬
niscus with the radii as 1 : 5.
Dr Goring, who examined one of the instruments con¬
structed on these principles, states, that both the chromatic
and spherical aberration of the objective part was wholly
untouched, and that the eye-piece, consisting of four glasses,
was achromatic. He adds also, that nothing can surpass
the beauty of the field of this microscope for extent of
flatness. Now we think that Dr Goring has mistaken Mr
Coddington, who never pretended to correct the spherical
and chromatic aberration of the object-glass.1 He con¬
siders the chromatic and spherical aberration of the grooved
sphere, which is the object-glass he uses, as reduced to
very small quantities, by leaving only a small channel in its
axis for the passage of the rays. Whatever the residual
aberration may be, Mr Coddington is not answerable for it,
as his object was merely to make the other part of the
microscope good, which, according to Dr Goring, he has
succeeded in doing.
1 Treatise on the Eye and Optical Instruments, pp. 58, 59, § 329.
VOL. XIV.
SCOPE.
777
In accurate investigations with the microscope the instru¬
ments above described are of little use, and have been com¬
pletely superseded by the compound achromatic microscope.
Micro¬
scope.
Compound Achromatic Microscope.
Although the achromatic microscope has only recently Compound
come into use as an effective and superior instrument, yet achromatic
it can scarcely be considered as a new one. Every person niicr0‘
knew that achromatic object-glasses were most desirable inSC0Te‘
the compound microscope. So early as 1776 Euler proposed
to employ them in compound microscopes; but so late as
1821 M. Biot considered their introduction as out of the
question, from the impracticability of making achromatic
lenses as small as those which the microscope requires!
In 1823 M. Selligues and Dr Goring were both occu-m. Selli-
pied with the subject, the former having employed MM.gues, 1823.
Chevalier, two excellent opticians in Paris, and the latter
Mr Tulley, to execute small achromatic object-glasses. It
is to M. Selligues, however, in so far as we can learn, that
we are indebted for the new and happy idea of making the
object-glass consist of four achromatic compound lenses,
each consisting of two lenses. This idea is the actual
source of the superiority of the achromatic microscopes;
and in proof of this we may state, that Professor Amici, Amici,
who had early been following out the old idea of a single
achromatic object-glass, abandoned his attempts in 1815,
but afterwards successfully resumed them by adopting M.
Selligues’ plan of the superposition of several object-glasses.
In M. Selligues’ instrument the focal length of each object-
glass was 18 lines, its diameter 6 lines, and its thickness at
the centre 6 lines. In that of Amici the focal length of each
was about 6 lines ; and MM. Chevalier have executed them
having only 2 lines in focal length. More recently, how¬
ever, Mr Pritchard has surpassed all these artists, by making
them of one-sixteenth of an inch in focal length.
From this brief historical detail we shall proceed to give
a more minute account of the lenses executed by these
different individuals, for which we are indebted to Mr
Jackson Lister, whose able memoir on this subject is, as we
shall see, one of the most valuable contributions to the sci¬
ence of the microscope that has for a long time appeared.
The achromatic object-glasses of M. Selligues’ micro¬
scope made by MM. Chevalier, consisted of a plano-concave Chevalier,
lens of flint-glass, and a double convex one of crown or
plate glass, with their inner curves cemented together by a
mixture of mastic and turpentine, to remove the reflection
of the interior surfaces, and prevent the introduction of
dampness. Four of these lenses, of from 1J to 1|- of an
ir;ch in focal length, were made to screw before each other,
so as to be used either all together, or any of them indivi¬
dually, in the usual manner, like the object-glasses of a
compound microscope. The aberration of colour was thus
corrected in a considerable degree, but the glasses were
fixed in their places, with their convex sides towards the
object, which is their worst position; and in consequence
of this the spherical aberration was enormous, and was dis¬
tinctly seen, even with the small aperture to which it was
necessary to reduce them.
Notwithstanding this defect, the grand idea of the com¬
bination was acquired ; and M. Chevalier having observed
the mistake committed by M. Selligues, made them of less
focal length, and more achromatic; and turning the con¬
cave lens to the object, he produced in 1825 an instrument
far above that of M. Selligues. His deepest glasses were
four-tenths of an inch in focal length ; and in his first micro¬
scope two such compound lenses were combined for his
highest power.
I he date of Fraunhofer’s achromatic microscopes is not
known. Many years ago the writer of this article ordered f'r^nn’
an achromatic object-glass from Fraunhofer for a large110 er‘
5 F
778
MICROSCOPE.
Micro¬
scope.
Amici.
Lister.
microscope, for the purpose of making a particular class of
observations; but at that time he seems not to have made
any compound lenses to be combined after the manner of
Seliigues. Mr Robert Brown {Phil. Trans. 1830, p. 188)
obtained a series of five such object-glasses from Utzsch-
neider, whose focal lengths are from 1'8 to 0-43 of an inch.
When Professor Amici visited London in 1827, he
brought with him some compound object-glasses, which
performed very well; and Mr Lister subsequently learned
from him that he had executed a combination of 2*7 lines
in focal length, and 2'7 lines in aperture, which greatly excels
the former.
Among the most successful improvers of the achromatic
microscope we must rank Mr Jackson Lister, who has dis¬
covered some curious and valuable properties of these
lenses that have escaped the notice of the most skilful
analysis. Mr Lister has investigated the subject entirely
as a matter of observation, and therefore his results are
more likely to have a higher practical value.
Mr Lister takes as the basis of a microscopic object-glass
two conditions,—1. that the flint-glass shall be plano-con¬
cave; and, 2. That it shall be joined by some cement to the
convex lens. The first condition obviates the risk of error
in centering the two curves; and the second diminishes by
nearly a half the loss of light from reflection, which is very
great at the numerous surfaces of a combination of com¬
pound object-glasses.
Now Mr Lister has found that in every such compound
lens which he has tried, whether the flint-glass was Swiss
or English, with a double convex of plate-glass, which has
been rendered achromatic by the form given to the outer
cui*ve of plate-glass, the ratio between the refractive and
dispersive powers has been such that its figure has been
correct for rays issuing from some point in its axis not far
from the principal focus on its plane side; and these rays
either tend to a conjugate focus within the tube of the
microscope, or emerge nearly parallel.
If AB represents such an object-glass, let us suppose
that it is free from spherical and achromatic aberration for
a ray FDEG radiating from F, then the angle
of emergence GEH will be about three times
as great as that of incidence FBI. If the
radiant point is now made to approach the
lens, the angles of incidence and emergence
will approach to equality, and the spherical
aberration produced by the two will bear a less
proportion to the opposing error of the single
correcting curve ABC, and hence in this case
the rays will be over-corrected for such a
focus.
As F continues to approach the lens, the
angle of incidence continuing to increase, it
will exceed that of emergence, which has been
in the meantime diminishing, so that the
spherical aberration produced by the two
outer surfaces will recover their original pro¬
portion. When F has reached this point F"
(at which the angle of incidence does not
exceed that of emergence so much as it had
at first come short of it), the rays will again be free from
spherical aberration. If F" comes still nearer the lens, or
is carried beyond F in the opposite direction, the angle
of incidence in the former case, or of emergence in the
latter, becomes disproportionately effective, and in either case
the aberration exceeds the correction, or the rays are under¬
corrected. Hence Mr Lister gives the following rule
“ That in general an achromatic object-glass, of which
the inner surfaces are in contact, or nearly so, will have
on one side of it two foci in its axis, for the rays proceeding
from which the spherical aberration will be truly corrected
at a moderate aperture; that for the space between these
Fig. 53.
two points, its spherical aberration will be over-corrected. Micro-
awe? beyond them either tvay, under-corrected.” scope.
Mr Lister found also, “ that when the longer aplanatic v—
focus is used, the marginal rays of a pencil not coincident
with the axis of the glass are distorted, so that a coma is
thrown outwards, while the contrary effect of a coma
directed towards the centre of the field is produced by the
rays from the shorter focus.” These interesting results
obviously furnish the means of destroying both aberrations
in a large focal pencil, and of thus surmounting what has
been hitherto the chief obstacle to the perfection of the
microscope. And when it is considered that the curves of
its diminutive object-glasses have required to be at least as
exactly proportioned as those of a large telescope, to give
the image of a bright point equally sharp and colourless,
and that any change made to correct one aberration was
liable to disturb the other, some idea may be formed of
what the amount of that obstacle would have been. It
will, however, be evident, that if any object-glass is but
made achromatic, with its lenses truly worked and cemented,
so that their axes coincide, it may with certainty be con¬
nected with another possessing the same requisites, and of
suitable focus, so that the combination shall be free from
spherical error also in the centre of its field.
For this the rays have only to be received by the front
glass B, from its shorter aplanatic focus/, and transmitted
in the direction of the larger correct pencil /A of the
other glass A. It is desirable that the latter pencil
should neither converge to a very short focus, nor
be more than very slightly, if at all, divergent;
and a little attention at first to the kind of glass
used will keep it within this range, the denser flint 1 i-^P
being suited to the glasses of shorter focus and
larger angle of aperture. If the two glasses, which
in the diagram are drawn as at some distance
apart, are brought nearer together (if the place
of A, for instance, is carried to the dotted figure),
the rays transmitted by B in the direction of the
larger aplanatic pencil of A, will plainly be de¬
rived from some point (Z) more distant than f,
and lying between the aplanatic foci of B ; there¬
fore (according to what has been stated) this glass,
and consequently the combination, will then be spherically
over-corrected. If, on the other hand, the distance between
A and B is increased, the opposite effects are of course
produced.
In combining several glasses together, it is often con¬
venient to transmit an under-corrected pencil from the
front glass, and to counteract its error by over-correction in
the middle one.
Slight errors in colour may, in the same manner, be de¬
stroyed by opposite ones ; and, on the principles described,
we not only acquire fine correction for the central ray, but, by
the opposite effects at the two foci in the transverse pencil,
all coma can be destroyed, and the whole field rendered
beautifully flat and distinct. {Phil. Trails., 1830, p. 199.)
Compound Achromatic Microscopes with Solid and Fluid
Lenses.
In 1812 a very simple method was employed by Sir Compound
David Brewster for making both single and compound j^omatic
achromatic microscopes. Almost all objects are seen to
the greatest advantage when immersed in a fluid, even the SCCpe.
finest test objects, such as the scales of the Podura. Hav¬
ing placed the object on a piece of glass, he put above it a
drop of an oil having a greater dispersive power than the
single lens, or than the concave lens which formed the
object-glass of the microscope. The lens was then made
to touch the fluid, so that the surface of the fluid was, as it
were, formed into a concave lens. Now if the radius of the
fig. 54.
;Vr
MICROSCOPE.
779
Fig. 55.
Micro- outward surface of this lens was such as to correct the dis-
scope. persion, we have here a perfect achromatic microscope, both
simple and compound. The best way is to over-correct
the colour of the plate-glass lens by the fluid, and then to
reduce the dispersion of the fluid by mixing it with one of
a less dispersive power. This
will be understood from the an¬
nexed diagram, where AB is
an unequally convex lens, the
flattest side of which is plunged
in the fluid placed in a
watch-glass CD. The object
is placed at m«, and the disper¬
sion of the concave surface of
the fluid compensates that which is produced by the lens.
All errors of centring are here removed, and also the loss
of light at the touching surfaces of solid lenses. If AB is
a single microscope, the object mn will be placed in its
principal focus, and the emergent parallel rays will enter
the eye ; but if it is the object-glass of a compound micro¬
scope, an image will be formed a few inches behind AB,
by withdrawing AB a little from mn, or placing the object
a little without its principal focus. We have already had
occasion to describe an achromatic grooved sphere, but in
the process of achromatizing it, the sphere loses in a very
small degree its valuable property of refracting in the very
same manner all the pencils that enter the eye. This pro-
perty, however, may be preserved in the bird’s-eye sphere
by the achromatic method which we have now described.
Let AB (fig. 56) be the grooved sphere, and CD the watch-
glass containing the fluid ; it is obvious
that every ray which passes through
the centre of the sphere will enter and
quit it perpendicularly, without suffer¬
ing any refraction. The same mode
of achromatizing the sphere AB may
be adopted with a solid concentric
concave lens of flint-glass or other
substance, or the sphere may be
placed between two such concentric
lenses. The greater the dispersion
of the flint-glass, the nearer must the
outer surface CD approach to AB.
grooved sphere may be rendered
Fig. 56.
the
By these means
perfect, both as a
single microscope and as the object-glass of a compound
one.
The principle above described may be applied to a system
of object-glasses like those of Selligues’ microscope. Let A,
B,E (fig. 57) be three con¬
vex lenses, so placed at the
end of the tube of a com¬
pound microscope, that the
highly dispersive fluid in
the watch-glass CD will
enter between the glasses
A, B, and E. The con¬
cave lenses of fluid will
over-correct the three len¬
ses A, B, and E; but if a
very deep curvature on the
outside of A is not suffi¬
cient to compensate this over-correction, it may be effected
by a suitable lens at F. If the three lenses are made of
the precious stones, with a high refractive power and a low
dispersive one, the concave fluid lenses will not over-correct
them.
Ifj as Dr Blair did in his aplanatic fluid object-glasses for
telescopes, we use muriatic acid in the form of butter of anti¬
mony, and containing a due quantity of metallic particles,
for the fluid, and crown-glass for the lenses, the secondary
colours will be completely corrected, and an instrument of
Fig. 57.
the most superior kind produced. If a permanent and Micro¬
portable aplanatic object-glass is preferred, the butter of sc0Pe-
antimony may be placed between a meniscus and a piano-
convex lens of crown glass, as in the annexed figure,
where o is the object, CD a meniscus of
crown-glass, AB a plano-convex lens, and
mn a concave lens of the fluid. This con¬
struction of the object-glasses of compound
microscopes is much more easily applicable
in the case of the microscope than in that of
the telescope. In the latter case the colour of
the fluid, the changes which it undergoes
by time, and the difficulty of retaining it,
are objections of considerable amount; but
in the case of the microscope, the colour of
the fluid disappearsowing to its small thick¬
ness, and it may be retained by capillary attraction alone,
and renewed as often as we choose.
Since these observations were published, the compound Recent
achromatic microscope has undergone great improvements imProve*
in the hands of Pritchard, Ross, Powell, Messrs Smith and [h^micro-
Beck, M. Nachet, MM. Oberhauser, and Professor Amici SCOpe<
of Florence. These great improvements, by which the
compound achromatic microscope has been brought to such
a high degree of perfection, were no doubt owing to the
spirit of competition excited by the London and Paris Ex¬
hibitions.
In the Crystal Palace of 1851, Mr Andrew Ross, Messrs
Smith and Beck, and M. Nachet of Paris, were the leading
competitors. Mr Ross and Messrs Smith and Beck re¬
ceived council medals, and M. Nachet a prize medal. The
instruments of the first two artists were of first-rate quality,
and those of M. Nachet were superior to those of all
foreign opticians. The following tables show the relative
angles of aperture and focal lengths of the object-glasses
exhibited by the competitors :—■
Fig. 58.
Mr Ross's Object-Glasses in 1851.
Focal Lengths.
1 inch...
0 a- „
0 y j>
0 5- „
®T3- J>
Angles of Aperture.
27 degrees.
60
113
107
135
»
jj
>>
Mr Ross’s.
Messrs Smith and Beck's Object-Glasses in 1851.
Focal Lengths. Angles of Aperture.
0 f inch  45 degrees.
0 4
'“l 15 d
”
0 1 ,,
70 to 75
  60
100 to 105
Messrs
Smith and
Beck’s.
M. Nachet's Object-Glasses in 1851.
Focal Lengths.
0| inch..
» •
OtV » •'
Angles of Aperture.
  88 degrees.
  108 „
  134
M. Nachet’s
Mr Ross intended to exhibit in Paris object-glasses of a
still higher order than those which we have mentioned, and
he would thus have found himself in competition with his
eminent rivals Messrs Smith and Beck, and M. Nachet.
He was prevented, however, by the pressure of business
from exhibiting the new object-glass which he had pre¬
pared for that purpose ; and Messrs Smith and Beck, who
had no English rival, carried off the microscopic prize by
receiving a medal of the first class. Although the micro¬
scope of M. Nachet was not equal to that of the English
artists, it had such a high degree of merit that a medal of
the same value was adjudged to him.
MM. Oberhauser of Paris exhibited an excellent achro. 0b®rhau‘
ser s.
T*
780
MICROSCOPE.
Micro- matic microscope, and also one intended for observations in
v scoi)e' t the vacuum of an air-pump, for which a medal of the first
' “" v^ class was adjudged.
Mr Pillis- Mr Pillischer of Bond Street exhibited a microscope
Cher’s mi- w;t]1 an achromatic object-glass half an inch in focal length,
croscopes. an(j 0f sucj1 excellence that a medal of the second class
was awarded to him. Mr Pillischer also exhibited what
he calls a lenticular microscope, for examining urinary de¬
posits at the bedside, which has been highly spoken of by
the late Mr Golding Bird and Mr Quekett.
Mr Pillischer’s “ students’ microscopes” were remarkable,
not only for their cheapness, but the excellence of their
construction. The following is a list of the angles of aper¬
ture and prices of his object-glasses :—
Focal Lengths. Angles of Aperture. Prices.
2 inches  14 degrees L.2 2
1 „   26   2 2
„   60   4 0
0^ „   90   5 0
01 „   109   5 0
The following table contains a description of the achro¬
matic object-glasses which Mr Ross intended to exhibit:—
Mr Ross’s
new object-
glasses.
Mr Ross’s new Object-Glasses in 1855.
Angles of
Aperture.
12 degrs.
15 „
22 „
65 „
85 „
125 „
135 „
130 „
150 „
170 „
Magnifying Powers with four
Eye-Pieces.
20
60
60
100
220
220
320
400
400
650
B,
30
80
80
130
350
350
510
670
670
900
40
100
100
180
500
500
700
900
900
1250
D.
60
120
120
220
620
620
910
1200
1200
2000
Prices.
L.3 0 0
3 0 0
3 10 0
5 5 0
5 5 0
7 10 0
10 0 0
11 0 0
12 0 0
18 0 0
Messrs Messrs Smith and Beck sent two achromatic microscopes
Beck’s an<* to the Paris Exposition, namely, one of their very best in¬
struments, and another of an entirely new construction, to
which they gave the name of “ The Educational Micro¬
scope.”
The first of these microscopes differed very little from
the one which they exhibited in 1851 at the Crystal Palace.
It had, however, object-glasses of a shorter focus and
greater angular aperture, as is shown in the following
list:—
Focal Lengths.
1 £ inches.
0 Tf ■
0 4 „ .
Angles of Aperture.
  13 degrees.
27
90
110
120
Education- 1 he Educational Microscope exhibited by Messrs Smith
BcoH'es™" an^ ^eck *3 an instrument of great value, and from its low
scopes. price and excellence it cannot fail to have an extensive sale.
With object-glasses of one inch and a quarter, and aper¬
tures of 22 and 75°, its price, packed in a case, is only
I .10, and the additional apparatus, including one Lieberk-
hun, a Wenhams parabolic reflector, a Wollaston’s camera
lucida for di awing, and a polarizing apparatus complete,
with pnsms of selenite, amount only to L.5 additional.
Since the middle of 1855 no fewer than 100 of these edu¬
cational micioscopes have been sold, and two-thirds of this
number had the additional apparatus.
M.Nachet’s The following were the object-glasses which M. Nachet
object- exhibited in 1855, and which were much admired by the
glasses. jury ;—
Series.
No. 3.
No. 4.
No. 5.
No. 6.
No. 7.
No. 8.
Focal
Lengths.
inch
Angles of
Aperture.
75°
90
95
110
125
165
Prices.
L.2 10 0
2 10 0
3 3 0
4 0 0
5 5 0
7 5 0
Micro¬
scope.
With these two last object-glasses M. Nachet states that
there is no test-object too difficult to be resolved when it is
plunged in Canada balsam.
When the jury of Class VIII. were comparing the rival Fine micro¬
microscopes, Professor Amici of Florence, distinguished by scope
his optical inventions, showed a microscope which exhibited shown to
certain strise in test-objects better than any of the instru-
ments under examination. This superiority was produced ciro * m1'
by the introduction of water between the object and the
object-glass; but as Professor Amici was not an exhibi¬
tor, the jury was not called upon to adjudicate to him a
medal. ^
This microscope was of small dimensions compared with His achro-
those with which it was compared, and shows how much matic mi-
may be effected by the ingenuity and optical knowledge Gf croscoPe8-
an observer like Professor Amici, thoroughly acquainted
with optics. We have seen at Florence, in Professor
Amici’s studio, instruments of his construction which exhi¬
bit distinctly the lines in certain objects which have hardly
been seen by other instruments ; and we are convinced that
it is only by a preparation of difficult objects by the observer
himself, by illuminating them properly, and by optical pro¬
cesses which the optician neither knows nor pretends to
know, that great discoveries are to be made.
In a work like this we cannot find room for an account
of the achromatic microscope in the various forms in
which it has been constructed. Every artist has shown
much ingenuity in the construction of different parts of
the instrument and in the adaptation of it to different
objects of research, and the naturalist will be the best
judge of the size and nature of the instrument which he
wishes to employ. We shall therefore content ourselves
with describing one of the earliest achromatic microscopes,
namely, that of Mr Pritchard ; the latest, and what we
believe to be the best, namely, that of Mr Andrew Ross;
and some forms of the instrument which possess special ad¬
vantages.
Pritchard’s Compound Achromatic Microscope.
This instrument is represented in fig. 59 as fitted up by.Pritchard’s
Mr Pritchard. All its parts are so distinctly shown in the comP°UDd
figure that they require no description, especially as the ftC. romatlcl
uses of most of the parts have been described in a former v '
chapter. Fig. 59 is a perspective view of the instrument
in its most convenient position for examining transparent ob¬
jects by reflected light. The stops and condensing illumi¬
nator, which are seen under the stage, should be removed
when particular objects are to be examined. When test-
objects are to be viewed by direct light the instrument can
be turned round.
In Mr Pritchard’s instrument the following are the di¬
mensions and powers of the lenses for a complete micro¬
scope :—
Sidereal Focal Angle Magnifying Powers in
Length in parts of Diameters by a standard.
of an inch. Aperture. of 5 inches.
1   16°   60 to 100
0J   21     100 to 360
04   42   240 to 500
04   55   500 to 1100
0TV  65   900 to 3000 ,
MICROSCOPE.
781
of the polarizing prisms or rhombs, and other pieces of ap- Micro-
paratus which are often required in particular researches. scope.
Without depreciating the fine instruments of Smith and
Beck,and Powell and Lealand, which evince great ingenuity,
and have many new and admirable properties, the micro¬
scope of Mr Ross must be regarded as the finest hitherto
constructed.
Pig. 59.
I
Mr Andrew Ross's Compound Achromatic Microscope.
Ross’s mi- The great achromatic microscope of Mr Andrew Ross,
eroscope. in its most perfect and recent form, is shown in fig. 60.
The body of the microscope AB rests upon a massive
stand so constructed as to prevent any perceptible tremor in
4 the object under examination. The transverse arm mn into
which it is screwed at m, is fixed by a screw E to the top of
a strong flat bar, in the back of which is a rack into which
works a pinion moved by the milled head M, which gives the
coarse adjustmentfor bringing the body of the microscope into
focus. Another milled head on the opposite side enables the
observer to do the same thing with his left hand. The fine
adjustment, for obtaining distinct vision of the object, is
effected by the milled head C, which acts upon the tube at
B, into which the object-glasses are screwed, one turn of it
giving a motion of the 300th of an inch. On the top of
the two pillars P, P is fixed a horizontal axis D, which
passes nearly through the centre of gravity of the micro¬
scope, and upon which it turns, so that it may be placed at
any angle whatever to the horizon. The stage S for
holding the object, and the apparatus beneath it for mo¬
difying the light to illuminate the object, are most in¬
geniously constructed. The two rectangular or travers¬
ing motions of the stage are produced by the two milled
heads below B. The secondary stage at T, for con¬
densing and modifying the light reflected from the mirror V,
receives all the requisite motions from the milled heads
shown in the figure. In the cylindrical tube of which it
is composed is placed the achromatic condenser and one
Micro¬
scope.
Of these object-glasses, that whose focal length is £th of
an inch appears to be the most perfect and useful.
The compound achromatic microscope may be considered The future
as having nearly attained to perfection, while the practical of the
optician confines himself to the use of flint and crown-glass microscope.
lenses with spherical surfaces. It is hardly possible, how¬
ever, that so noble an. instrument, by which so much know¬
ledge has yet to be acquired, will long remain in its present
imperfect state.
The writer of this article has long ago, and repeatedly,
urged upon the optician the necessity of constructing both
telescopes and microscopes upon the aplanatic principle dis¬
covered by Dr Blair, a principle much more easily applied
to small than to large object-glasses. Science has fully per-
foinaed her part in showing how the colours of refracted
light, both primary and secondary, may be corrected, but
neither public liberality nor private enterprise has been
called forth to put in practice her methods. Even in the
case of the primary colours opticians have declined to take
t e trouble of making each lens of their eye-pieces achro¬
matic, and, with one exception, they seem not even to have
attempted to correct the errors of the secondary spec¬
trum. I he time, however, has now come to make this
attempt; and we have no doubt that before the close of the
century vve shall have—what Dr Blair neither anticipated nor
proposed to have-—each lens of our optical instruments per-
Fig. 60.
t
c
782
MICROSCOPE.
Micro-
scope.
fectly aplanatic, even if the art of grinding surfaces other¬
wise than spherical has not been discovered.
The employment of fluids of various dispersive powers
gives the artist a wider range in his experimental researches,
but even if he limits himself to the use of different kinds of
glass and transparent minerals, we have no doubt of his ulti¬
mate success. This attempt has been boldly and so far suc¬
cessfully made by Professor Amici of Florence, who has actu¬
ally constructed microscopes in which there are solid lenses of
various refractive and dispersive powers. These microscopes
are now made for sale, and an account of them has been
recently published by M. Achille Brachet of Paris, who has
added in Italian M. Amici’s own account of his invention.
Description of Amici’s Compound Achromatic Object-
Glasses}
Amici’s The microscopes of Professor Amici contain seventeen
achromatic achromatic object-glasses, which are arranged in six series,
object- ancj marked in the following manner:—
glasses.
Series I. Series II.
] [
Series III. Series IV.
Series V. Series VI.
Fig. 61.
The equivalent focal distances, apertures, magnifying
powers, &c., are given in the following table:—
Series.
No. I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
Equivalent
Focal Dis¬
tance in
Millimetres.
22-82
8-47
4-27
3-92
3-50
1-74
Angular
Aperture.
26°
37
70
57
77
160
Magnifying
Powers.
100
257
535
577
650
1310
Value of one
part of the
Ocular Micro¬
meter.
0-0326
0-0121
0-0061
00056
00050
000248
Ac
CB
tilled water the last lower surface of the series III. and VI.
This operation is performed in the following manner:—Let
AB be a plate of glass, be¬
neath which is the object
C. With the point of a
wet hair pencil place a drop
of water D on the outer
surface of the object-glass
N. The drop will remain
adhering to it when the
series is put upon the mi- Fig. 62.
croscope. By putting another drop C on the upper surface
of the plate AB, and bringing the two drops together, a
parallel plate of water will be placed between the object-
glass and glass plate AB, the two surfaces between which it
lies having been carefully cleaned to remove any grease
which may prevent the water from adhering to the surfaces
of the glass. It is supposed that the object C is under the
plate AB, in contact with it, and dry; but it may be im¬
mersed in another fluid contained between two plates of glass.
The series No. III. is used for all preparations preserved
between plates of glass whose thickness is a millimetre, and
may be also used for looking at objects immersed in water
without the interposition of glass, such as aquatic plants,
living infusoria, &c., &c.
The series No. VI. is used in the same manner as No.
III., but being very powerful, it requires to be delicately
managed. In this series the objects are placed on a piece
of wood with a conical aper-
[ ’
The two series Nos. I. and II. are used for transparent
objects when illuminated with the Lieberkhun or perforated
silver speculum, and for opaque objects when illuminated by
Professor Amici’s spherical prism, which throws the light
down upon the object. When the objects are very small,
and either opaque or transparent, and placed between two
plates of glass, they may be illuminated by light reflected
very obliquely from the spherical prism placed below them,
and they are seen on a dark ground when the prism gives
an obliquity greater than the angle of aperture of the object-
glass employed. In the series No. I., for example, where
half the angle of aperture is 13°, if the lower illuminat¬
ing spherical prism is more than 13° distant from the optic
axis, none of the refracted light will reach the eye, and
the object will radiate only the light which its surface is
capable of reflecting. This mode of illumination, which
often produces an excellent effect, may be used with the
series No. VI.
I he series No. IV. is used for naked transparent objects,
or when they are not covered with a plate of glass,—at least
with one not very thin.
The series No. V. is used for transparent objects covered
with a plate of glass 0‘86 of a millimetre thick, of which there
is a dozen. It a plate thicker than this—a millimetre, for
ex^™P e |s used5 the object will be seen less distinctly.
I he series Nos. III. and VI. are constructed on a new
princip e, which renders the image more clear and distinct,
and does not require any correction of the error which the
common system introduces, owing to the different thick¬
nesses of the plates of parallel glass which cover the object.
This advantage is obtained by immersing in a drop of dis-
1 Simples Preliminaires sur le Commentaire de la Notice du MeiUeur
Microscope Droptnque, compose Ackromatique du Professeur Amici.
Par M. Achille Brachet. Paris, 1856.
Fig. 63.
ture in its centre, covered
with a plate of glass one-
fourth of a millimetre thick.
Its profile is shown in the
annexed figure, in which the
object placed under C ad¬
heres to the glass, and the
two drops of water D, E are
united. It is necessary to
mention, that as the equivalent focal distance of the series
is 1*74 millimetre, the distance between the inferior lens
and the object will be (M ; and as the thickness of the plate
of glass is one-fourth of a millimetre, or 0*25, the distance
between the object-glass and the glass plate—that is, the
thickness of the plate of water—will be only 0T5, a distance
so small that the greatest care is necessary in finding the
object, in order that the very thin glass may not be broken.
If this does happen, we must substitute another of the same
thickness, as measured by the spherometer.
The series may also be used for any other thickness of
glass less than 0‘4, and down to zero, that is, when there is
no glass over the object placed in water; but the effect is
the best when the thickness of the glass is 0*25, as in this
case the achromatism is perfect, even at the obliquity of
160°
— = 80° with the optical axis, in which case we can see
striae or parallel lines whose distance is equal to -soWth of
a line, or o f'1 °f an inch.
If the object to be exa¬
mined is in a fluid, such as
the globules of blood, take
a fragment of thin glass, a
line or two in diameter,
and place upon it the
blood; it will, when put in
contact with the plate on C,
adhere to it by attraction,
and retain its fluidity for
many hours. Al~
If we have occasion
to look at any object with
No. VI., when it is covered
Tr
with
Fig. 64.
very thin glass, or
/
MICEOSCOPE.
783
Micro¬
scope.
when it is in water, without the interposition of glass, the
vision will be improved by removing the object-glass U, and
leaving the series formed as in fig. 65.
Professor Amici is of opinion that no object-glass hither¬
to constructed has a power as great as his series No. VI. ;
and considering the distance (about 0-4) which is left be-
Fig. G5.
tween the object-glass and
the object, with an aper¬
ture of 160°, he thinks he
has given a proof of the
superiority of the principle
he has invented.
Professor Amici has not t—
described the principle here ' 
referred to, nor mentioned
the transparent substances
of which his object-glasses are composed. He merely tells
us that Nos. I. and II. are constructed with four different
refractive and dispersive substances; Nos. III., IV., and
V., with Jive ; and No. VI. with six such substances.
In illuminating transparent objects Professor Amici uses
only a single lens of flint-glass or rock-crystal, and main¬
tains the strange opinion, contrary to theory as well as to
the experience of every practical optician, that achromatic
illumination is not necessary.
Professor Amici’s Pocket Achromatic Microscope.
Amici’s This portable microscope, which we have found very
pocket useful, is shown in the annexed figure, where AB is the
achromatic
micro- ®
scope.
Fig. 66. G-
body of the microscope, 2J inches long, sliding into the
tube BC, x6o^hs of an inch in diameter. The tube BC screws
into the doubled plate of brass EDG, 2|- by 1^- inches,
which acts as a spring, and may be opened or shut by the
screw-nut S, for the purpose of moving the stage or object-
holder MN»m towards or from the object-glass. This stage
is a spring which holds the object-plate firm) by pressure ;
two pins mn, at the lower end of each arm N, M, sliding
through holes in the plate EDG. When the object-plate
is placed between MN and EF, and fixed by pressing the
two plates together, the tube may be held horizontally, and
distinct vision obtained by the motion of the body AB in
the tube BC, and by the finer motion given by turning
the screw-nut S, which shuts or opens the spring DEF,
and places the object nearer or farther from the object-
glass.
When it is desired to hold the microscope vertically, the
object is illuminated by a rectangular prism Vp attached to
an arm pq, which slides in a little spring tube fixed in the
plate EDG. The side of the prism next the object-glass
is convex, for the purpose of condensing the rays which fall
upon it.
The Microscopic Finder.
Professor Amici has referred, in the description of his
series No. VI., to the great difficulty of finding the object
and placing it on the point of sight, and to the great danger Micro-
of breaking the thin glass of the object-plate, owing to the scope,
distance between it and the object-glass being only 0T5
of a millimetre, or the i|yth part of an inch. A microscope, The mi-
indeed, requires a finder as much as a telescope; but, in crosc°pic
so far as we know, no person has attempted to give it one.1 finder-
We obviously cannot with advantage attach a second
microscope to the principal one, as is done in the telescope ;
but the object may be gained in a simpler and more effect¬
ive manner. When the observer is using his highest power
both of object-glass and eye-piece, and loses sight, as he fre¬
quently does, of the object, or part of an object, under exa¬
mination, he often finds it extremely difficult to bring it again
into the field of view. Owing to the unsteadiness of almost
every microscopic stand, he will seldom succeed by taking
the lower powers, bringing the object into the centre of the
field, and then replacing the higher powers with which he
has been viewing it. But even if this method were success¬
ful, the labour which it imposes is intolerable. Sir David
Brewster has therefore proposed the following method, and
found it perfectly successful:—A concave lens of a greater
focal length than the equivalent focal length of the object-
glass is slipped upon the tube of the object-glass, or brought
in front of it when withdrawn from the object. The mag¬
nifying power may be thus reduced in any required degree,
the field of view enlarged, and the object brought into the
centre of the field; the concave lens is then withdrawn, and
when the instrument has been readjusted without any
movement of its parts, the object will be found within the
field.2
Various methods have been described for finding the
object by means of scales, horizontal and vertical, applied to
the slides ; but however valuable these may be, the appara¬
tus cannot be called a Microscopic Finder, which should
form an integral part of the instrument.
Nachef s Multocular Microscopes.
M. Nachet, of whose microscopes we have already spoken Nachet’s
in high terms, has adapted the microscope for anatomical multocular
demonstrations, so that two or three persons may see at the micr°-
same time the result of microscopical dissections, by con- ^In¬
structing two microscopes—a double and a triple one.
By means of the first, one person can examine the progress
and result of a dissection which is performed by another
person ; and by means of the second, two persons can en¬
joy this advantage.
In the microscope for two persons this result is obtained
by placing above the object-
glass a prism P (fig. 67), the
section of which is an equi¬
lateral triangle. The rays
from the object-glass, shown
in the figure by the letter
ab, dll, entering the lower
face of the prism perpendi¬
cularly, the two halves of
the pencil are reflected in
opposite directions from the
other faces of the prism at
angles of 45°, and thus enter
the two separate tubes, in
each of which they form an
image of the object. These
images are in a certain sense
erect; but in order to see them
in exactly their natural position, in which case alone the ana-
1 See Brewster’s Treatise on Optics, p. 486, edit. 1853.
2 Opticians will adopt various modes of applying and withdraw¬
ing the concave lens.
784
MICROSCOPE.
Fig. 68.
M. Nachet has also constructed the instrument for the
use of four persons.1
Nachet’s Binocular Microscope.
Nachet’s The idea of a binocular microscope can hardly be called
binocular an invention, if constructed on the same principle as the
micro- binocular telescope with two object-glasses as well as two
8C0Pe- eye-glasses. The additional expense of such an instru¬
ment will not be repaid by any advantage which it is sup¬
posed to possess. An instrument of this kind was con¬
structed by Pere Cherubin about 1670; but in so far as we
know, no other binocular microscope has been made.
In 1851 Professor Riddell, of the university of New
Orleans, devised and constructed a binocular microscope
with the view “ of rendering both eyes serviceable in mi¬
croscopic observations.”
Professor “ Behind the objective,” says Professor Riddell, “ and as
Riddell’s, near thereto as practicable, the light is equally divided and
leans W ^ ^ent at angles, and made to travel in opposite direc¬
tions by means of two rectangular prisms which are in contact
by their edges somewhat ground away ; the reflected rays
are received at a proper distance for binocular vision upon
two other rectangular prisms, and again bent at right angles,
being thus either completely inverted for an inverted mi¬
croscope, or restored to their first direction for the direct
microscope.”
1 The use of Multocular instruments was proposed by Sir David
Brewster in 1822. (See Edinburgh Philosophical Journal 1822, vol.
vii., p. 327; and Coddington’s Elementary Treatise on Optics, p. 133.)
Micro- tomist can use his scalpel, a prism is placed in each tube
scope, between the former prism and the eye-pieces, so that their
planes of reflection are perpendicular to those of the other
prisms. By this means the images are perfectly erect, and
the demonstrator can proceed with his work without fatigue
or difficulty. If the demonstrator and observer should have
eyes of different focal lengths, the adjustment is effected by
moving the eye-piece to or from the object-glass.
When the microscope is constructed for three persons,
the pencil of rays from the object-glass is divided by three
prisms placed in the same plane, and whose reflecting faces,
if brought together, would form a triangular pyramid. The
pencil from the object-glass is then divided and directed
into three separate tubes, in which three prisms erect the
three images, and place them in their natural position. This
instrument is shown in the annexed figure.
“ With these instruments,” the author adds, “ the micro¬
scopic dissecting knife can be exactly guided. In looking
at microscopic animal tissues, the single eye may perhaps
behold a confused amorphous or nebulous mass, which the
pair of eyes instantly shapes into delicate superimposed
membranes with intervening spaces, the thickness of which
can be correctly estimated. Blood corpuscles, usually seen
as flat discs, loom out as oblate spheroids. In brief, the
whole microscopic world, as thus displayed, acquires a ten¬
fold greater interest in every phase, exhibiting in a new'
light beauty and symmetry indescribable.”
With this instrument Professor Riddell obtained dissi¬
milar drawings of solid ob¬
jects by the aid of the camera
lucida, and by uniting them
in the stereoscope he brought
them out in their natural re¬
lief.
When the two tubes of
M. Nachet’s double micro¬
scope are placed vertically
and parallel to one another,
and are brought so near to
the central prism that their
distance is equal to 2^ inches,
the distance between the two
eyes, the instrument becomes
a binocular one, similar to
that of Professor Riddell, to
whom we must ascribe the
invention of that ingenious
combination of prisms which
constitute the most impor¬
tant part of the multocular
microscopes of M. Nachet.
Nachet’s binocular instru¬
ment is shown in the an¬
nexed figure.
Fig. 69.
Compound Reflecting Microscopes.
Sir Isaac Newton seems to have been the first person Compound
who described a reflecting microscope. He communicated reflecting
his plan to Oldenburg in 1679, as shown in the annexed
diagram, where A B A c SC0Pe-
is a concave specu- (f\~ "—    
lum, O the object, ^   
F the place where W-—-— ” »
an image of it is 31 Fig 70
formed, and CD an
eye-glass for magnifying it. In another letter to Oldenburg,
dated 11th July of the same year, he refers to another im¬
provement on microscopes, which is to ‘ illuminate the
object in a darkened room, with the light of any convenient
colour, not too much compounded; for by that means the
microscope will, with distinctness, have a deeper charge and
larger aperture, especially if its construction be such as I
may hereafter describe.” We are not aware that this idea
was ever further developed by its author.1
Mr Potter’s Improvement upon it.
Mr Potter2 has recently proposed “ a new construction Potter’s
of Sir Isaac Newton’s microscope,” principally with the improve-
view of removing the difficulty of illuminating the object.
His first construction was for opaque objects; and in order
to illuminate them, he cut a large circular aperture abc in
1 Brewster’s Memoirs of the Life, Writings, and Discoveries of Sit
Isaac Newton, vol. i., p. 242.
2 Edinburgh Journal of Science, Jan. 1832, No. 11, p. 61.
MICROSCOPE.
785
Micro- the tube, between the object and the speculum; but the
scope, light which fell on the sides of the tube occasioned a good
deal of indistinctness in the field of view. This defect,
however, was completely removed by lining all the lower
Fig. 71;
parts of the tube with black velvet. Mr Potter found it
advantageous to concentrate the light on those objects
that required it by a large lens at d. For transparent
objects he applied a lens, as shown at e. Its convergent
beam is reflected on the object placed at the end of the
wire ah, by means of a small diagonal mirror in the
axis of the tube, and inclined to this axis 45°. By
this means a very strong light may be thrown through
and past the object. By means of movable caps to
cover the opening abc, and the lens e, all interference of
foreign light is prevented; and without altering the posi¬
tion of the object, both methods of illumination may be
successively adopted. Mr Potter attaches his objects to
thin brass wires a, stuck into wooden handles h, and these
pins pass through a slit cut into a small piece of cork
attached to the sliding-piece g, which at the same time
carries the lens e and the plane mirror, the whole of which
are moved by the small arm connected to the crank, as at
i. The adjustment of the object to the focus of the mir¬
ror is effected by turning a nut attached to the pivot on
which the crank is fixed.
In the microscope used by Mr Potter he employs a spe¬
culum 1 inch in diameter, with a focal length of 1% inch;
and he generally makes the distance between the object and
the image from 12 to 14 inches.
The size of the speculum allows him to place an insect
or other object of ^th of an inch square in the tube, with¬
out any perceptible bad effect resulting from it.
When Mr Potter had adjusted the illuminators in the
manner which we shall afterwards have occasion to de¬
scribe, he “ saw quite easily what are called the diagonal
lines on the scale from the wing of the white cabbage
butterfly, which has been proposed as a difficult test-object
by Dr Goring ; and it is such a one as those who have only
seen the stronger longitudinal striae or scales from the
wings of moths and butterflies have little idea of.” Mr
Potter was also able to resolve a delicate blue tissue in the
web of a spider called the Cluhiona atrox, into its compo¬
nent fibres.
The great size of speculum used by Mr Potter arises
from his being able to give all specula a true ellipsoidal
figure, so as to remove the spherical aberration.1 * We have
in our possession two of Mr Potter’s instruments, one of
them with a spherical and the other with an ellipsoidal mir¬
ror. The quantity of light and the defining power of the
latter are unusual in such instruments.
Amici’s Reflecting Microscope.
Amici’s This instrument is shown in section in figure 72,
reflecting where a is a small ellipsoidal speculum about 1 inch
nucrQ- }n diameter, and 2T6(jths in focal length. The object is
8COi,e• placed on a stage mn, below the tube of the microscope,
and the rays which issue from it fall upon a small specu¬
lum b inclined 45° to the axis of the ellipsoidal speculum,
in the same manner as if the object had been placed in the
tube as far to the right hand of the small mirror as it is
1 The process by which he does this is fully described in the
Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. 12, p. 228, new series.
VOL. XIV.
below it. An image of this object is of course formed in
the other focus of the ellipsoidal speculum, and may be
viewed by a single or double eye-piece, as in other com¬
pound miscroscopes. Professor Amici, however, uses a
negative eye-piece, consisting of twro plano-convex lenses
A, B.
Micro¬
scope.
Fig; 72:
The new and peculiar part of this instrument is the use
of the small speculum, which allows the object to be placed
without the tube, and illuminated with the utmost facility.
Amici’s Second Reflecting Microscope.
At the end of his Memoir, in the Acts of the Ralian Amici’s
Society, on his first reflecting microscope, the author in- ^ec°nd re¬
forms us that he had constructed another catadioptric one
in 1813, which was more efficacious, and in which the
aperture of the concave speculum was six lines, and its
focal length eight lines, with an angular aperture of 44°.
This form of the instrument is shown in the annexed
figure, in which AB is the concave speculum, CD the
Fig. 73.
plane speculum inclined 45° to the optic axis, and m a
hole in its centre through which the rays from the object
F pass to the speculum AB, from which they are converged
upon CD and reflected to a focus at f, where they are re¬
ceived by the eye-piece at E. By polishing the speculum
CD on the outside, opaque objects might be illuminated
by the light which it may be made to reflect.
M. Vicenzo Amici, the son of the professor, has pro¬
posed to modify this construction, as shown in the annexed
figure, where ABDC is a rectangular parallelepiped of
glass, the curved surface of which, AB,
is spherical or elliptical, and well polished
and silvered. On the middle of CD a
small cylinder of glass P is cemented
with Canada balsam, the outer surface
of which is concave, having its centre
at F. The rays from the object at F
enter the cylinder without refraction,
and after reflection from AB and CD, as in the preceding-
figure, are conveyed to a focus at as in fig. 73.
Another form of this instrument which we have seen is.
shown in the annexed figure, where AB DC is a cylinder of
glass whose base AB is silvered, and has an unsilvered por¬
tion mn with its centre of concavity at F. The rays from
the object atF pass without refraction to CD, part of which,
pq, is silvered ; and being reflected again from AB, they pass
5 G
786
MICROSCOPE.
Micro- through the unsilvered portion Op, T)q to their convergence
^ scope. ^ as before at/, fig. 73, and enter the eye-piece E.
Dr Gor big's Improved Reflecting Microscope of A mici.
Goring’s Mr Cuthbert, an ingenious London optician, constructed
improved one 0f Amici’s instruments, the speculum having 1^ inch
reflecting of aperturej and a focal length of 3 inches, and the body of
microscope ^ mjcr0SC0pe being about 1 foot long. Dr Goring and
ot nuci. having tried it on the test-objects which the doctor had
newly introduced, found its performance unsatisfactory.
Dr Goring therefore recommended that the speculum
should be only half an inch in focal length, and the body 4 or
5 inches long. Mr Cuthbert accordingly finished a pair of
metals ths of an inch in focal length, and only T^ths in dia¬
meter. Their excellent performance induced Dr Goring and
Mr Pritchard to turn their attention to the improvement
of the instrument; and, as Mr Cuthbert1 * has been able to
execute perfectly ellipsoidal metals, having an aperture
equal to their sidereal focal length, or 54°, and of so small a
diameter as x3o^ls °f an inch, they have produced an in¬
strument of a superior kind.
This microscope is represented in fig. 76, where it is seen
object-glasses below it, increasing in diameter from the
object, is screwed into the body at b, in place of the tube
be. A rectangular prism, shown in dotted lines, reflects
the pencils that pass through the object-glasses along the
axis of the tube be to the eye-piece e.
The following sets of metals are made for the reflecting
microscope:—
No.
Solar Focus.
.2 inches.
•1 „
6
•TTT >>
•At ;>
3
•Tiy
3
•Ttf »
Angle of
Aperture.
ISf*
18i
27J
36*
41*
55
Distance between
Object and side of
the Tube.
i inch.
V7J
almost 0
Micro¬
scope.
The metals Nos. 1, 2, and 3 are those most useful for
examining opaque objects. No. 3 is excellent also for all
kinds of transparent objects. No. 5 can scarcely be used
for opaque objects, as it leaves almost no space between
the tube and the object for allowing the latter to be illumi¬
nated. No. 6 cannot be used at all for opaque objects,
but is especially intended for the most difficult class of
transparent test-objects.
to rest on a tubular pillar, its body being held by a split
socket. The pillar is screwed on a solid cruciform stand,
to one of the legs of which an adjusting screw is applied,
to produce steadiness. The body moves round a cradle-
joint at the top of the pillar, and may be firmly fixed at any
degree of inclination. The body of the mici'oscope is shown
at a, the eye-tube at d, and the eye-piece, which is a Huy-
genian one, at e. The focal lengths of the interior glasses
of the eye-pieces, of which there are usually three, arefths,
fths, and T\ths of an inch. The tube containing the spe¬
cula is shown at be. The triangular bar which carries the
illuminating reflector, the stage, and the apparatus for ad¬
justment, is shown at/, and is soldered to the neck of the
body. The mirror k is plane on one side, and has a plaster
of Paris surface on the other. The stage / is a combination of
rack and screwwork, wrought by two concentric milled heads
at m. The smallest of these moves the object in the direc¬
tion of the body, and the other in an opposite direction.
The stage can be lifted out of the triangular socket g, which
carries the adjusting screw i for obtaining distinct vision,
and the clamping screw h.
When the body and stand are used for a compound
achromatic microscope, a tube containing the compound
1 The process hy which Mr Cuthbert was able to accomplish this
diflicult task is similar to that by which he gave truly hyperbolic
figures to the mirrors of small Gregorian telescopes, with three
inches of aperture and five inches of focal length.
Dr Smith's Reflecting Microscope.
Plaving constructed one of Sir Isaac Newton’s micro- Dr Smith's
scopes in 1738, Dr Smith of Cambridge observed that the reflecting
colours of objects were much more beautiful and natural micro-
than in refracting microscopes. Pie found that objects were SC0Pe'
very distinct and sufficiently light when the microscope had
the following dimensions :—
Focal length of the speculum    2* inches.
Diameter of ditto    1 »
Focal length of the plano-convex eye-glass 2* „
llatio of the distance of the object from the focus of the „
speculum to the focal distance of the speculum...! to 19 ,,
Finding that, in order to obtain a high magnifying power*
the speculum required to be very concave and small, he
contrived another microscope with two reflecting spherical
surfaces of any size, but so related to each other that the
second reflection should correct the aberration of the first.
Dr Smith’s microscope is shown in fig. 77, where AA
is a concave spherical speculum, having its polished sur¬
face inwards. The rays from an object o placed in the
slider mn will be reflected from the concave speculum A A
upon the convex CC, and will have a distinct and magni¬
fied image of it formed before the convex eye-glass E, by
which it will be magnified still more. This instrument, in
short, is nothing more than the Cassegrainian telescope
converted into a microscope, with this difference only, that
in the telescope distinct vision is obtained by moving the
convex mirror, whereas in the microscope it is obtained by
a motion of the eye-glass. Dr Smith constructed one of
these microscopes, which he found to perform “ nearly as
well in all respects as the very best refracting micro-
MICROSCOPE.
787
Micro- scopes and the writer of this article has one of them now
scope, before him, which performs wonderfully well, though both
the specula have their polish considerably injured. It shows
the lines on some of the test-objects with very considerable
sharpness.
The following are the dimensions, &c., of Dr Smith’s re¬
flecting mirror, as given by himself:—
Focal length of both specula    I’OOOO
Distance of the centres of both specula 1/6558
Distance of the image from the centre of the concave
speculum  D1337
Focal length of the eye-glass  O1407
Distance of the eye behind the eye-glass  0'1479
Diameter of the eye-hole  0'0190
Distance of the object from the centre of the convex
speculum 00626
Length of the concave speculum 15° 49'
Arch of the convex speculum  4° 50'49"
Distance of the stop s from the object 0'4545
Diameter of the stop s  0-038
Diameter of the hole in the concave speculum 0-143
Diameter of the hole in the convex speculum 0-049
Magnifying power, the focal length, See., of the eye be¬
ing 8 inches 300 times.
The dimensions of the instrument in our possession is
very different:—
Diameter of the concave speculum..... 2*17 inches.
Focal length   ,2,17 „
Diameter of the hole in it 0-376 „
Diameter of the convex speculum  1-03 „
Diameter of hole in it 010 „
Diameter of stop  013 „
Distance of stop from hole in convex speculum ....0-67 „
Distance of specula    3 80 „
Focal length of doubly-convex eye-glass 0-17 „
reflecting
micro
scope.
Sir David Brewster's Reflecting Microscope.
Sir David Notwithstanding the excellence of Professor Amici’s
Brewster’s microscope, we are convinced that it is not the peculi-
reflectina arity in its construction which constitutes it a different in¬
strument from Newton’s. This peculiarity is a disadvan¬
tage, and we consider the instrument as recommended solely
by its possessing an ellipsoidal speculum with a large angle
of aperture. The only advantage which can be ascribed to
the instrument is a more convenient mode of illumination;
but this advantage, whatever be its amount, is purchased at
great sacrifices. 1. The whole instrument is an awkward-
looking piece of mechanism, with its triangular bar and all
its appendages. 2. It cannot be used in the vertical posi¬
tion, which we consider a defect.
3. By the use of the small reflecting
speculum, one-half of the whole light
is lost. 4. With small concave spe¬
cula, such as those yVths of an inch
in diameter, opaque objects cannot be
illuminated.
The construction which has been
proposed by Sir David Brewster to
remedy most of these defects is shown
in the annexed figure, where A BCE
is the body of the instrument, which
screws at its lower end C into the
horizontal projecting arm DE of the
stand, either of the achromatic mi¬
croscope or the single microscope ;
so that we get rid of all trouble about
the objects placed at mn, and their
mode of illumination, as everything
concerning them is the same as in
other microscopes. This is certainly
a great advantage; for neither na¬
turalists nor amateurs are disposed to Eig.78.
purchase and use two sets of the extensive apparatus neces¬
sary for holding, moving, and illuminating microscopic ob¬
jects. At the lower end C of the body, where the object-
glasses of the common compound microscope and the achro¬
matic object-lenses are placed, is a small tube abed, at the
lower end of which is fixed the concave speculum cd, perfo¬
rated with a very small hole at its centre, and with its concave
surface upwards. Above it is the plane speculum s, fixed by a
slender arm to the side bd of the small tube, and having its
diameter a little greater than the perforation in the specu¬
lum cd. This little tube abed screws into the arm DE, as
if it were a microscopic doublet or single lens ; and the body
ABC may either screw upon the outside of this tube, or,
what is better, upon a stronger piece of tube forming part
of the arm DE. A concave illuminating reflector kh, for
opaque objects, may screw on the back of the speculum cd,
or the speculum itself may be made thick, and ground and
polished on both sides, so that while one side illuminates the
objects, the other magnifies them.
It is obvious that rays proceeding from an object at mn
will be reflected from the plane speculum s, upon the con¬
cave speculum cd, exactly as if the objects were placed at
r, as far above s as mn is below it, and an image of it would
be formed in the other focus of the ellipsoid, r being the
one focus, if the rays were not intercepted by the eye-piece
AB, by which the image is farther magnified. By this
mode of construction, the whole of the reflecting micro¬
scope, in place of having a separate stand and separate
apparatus costing a large sum of money, is comprehended
in the little tube abed, and may be considered as a reflect¬
ing object-speculum, forming part of a general microscope,
furnished with single lenses, doublets, and compound ach-
romatics.
By the means now described are removed all the de¬
fects which we enumerated as belonging to Amici’s com¬
bination, except the third, which is one of such importance
that it is of consequence to consider how far it is capable
of being remedied. Sir David Brewster has proposed to
get rid of this loss of light by placing the object mn, as in
Amici’s instrument, outside of the tube, but inclined to its
axis, and refracting its rays upon the speculum cd, by means
of an achromatic prism e, in a manner analogous to his
method of producing a similar effect in the Newtonian
telescope.1 The faces of this prism are equally inclined to
■E
the axis of the microscope and the axis of the pencil issuing
from the point of the object under examination. As the
prisms of plate and flint glass which compose e are cemented
by a substance of nearly the same refractive power, there
will be no farther loss of light than what is reflected at the
two surfaces. A socket may be placed at D for holding
an illuminating lens, or any other apparatus for opaque
objects. But in order to avoid the incumbrance and
expense of separate stands and apparatus for this as well
as Amici’s form of the instrument, we would propose
that a strong piece of tube should be inserted in the
opening, above mn, to screw into the upper side of the
projecting arm, as shown in fig. 78; or a solid screw
attached to the upper side of the tube, a little to the
right hand of C, and above the opening, might screw
into the lower end of the projecting arm DE. In these
cases the object at mn will be placed on the ordinary
stage, and illuminated in the common manner; but it will
1 Treatise on Optics, edit, 1853, p. 494. (See also article Optics.)
Micro¬
scope.
783
Micro¬
scope.
Polarizing
micro¬
scopes.
■Single po¬
larizing
micro¬
scope.
MICROSCOPE.
be necessary to have a counterpoise at D, to balance the
weight of the body ABC.
Those who are acquainted with the principle of the
Cassegrainian telescope, aud of Dr Smith’s compound
microscope, will readily see that the reflecting microscope,
with the perforated speculum, may be converted into a
more compound reflector, analogous to Dr Smith’s, by mak¬
ing the little speculum s (fig. 78) convex, the figures of d
and s being made hyperboloids.
CHAPTER IV.
ON POLAKIZING MICROSCOPES.
The use of polarizing microscopes is to observe and ex¬
hibit structures and phenomena which are invisible with the
common microscope.
These microscopes were first used by Sir David Brewster,
upwards of forty years ago, in his experiments on the struc¬
ture of Apophyllite, Amethyst, and Analcime, and other
mineral bodies; and also in his examination of various ani¬
mal and vegetable organizations. In employing the single
microscope for these purposes, he cemented plates of agate
and tourmaline with Canada balsam to the plane side of a
plano-convex lens,1 and thus analyzed the polarized light,
by means of which the peculiar structure was rendered
visible. In other cases he preferred for the analyzer an
achromatized prism of calcareous spar, in which one of the
images only was visible,2 or one in which he had extin¬
guished one of the images by a particular process,3 which
he has described.
When considerable magnifying power was necessary, or
when the structure was to be drawn by an artist, he used
the compound microscope, in which the light was polarized
and analyzed by various means, accommodated to the na¬
ture of the structure to be examined.
Single Polarizing Microscope.
The simplest and most useful polarizing microscope is a
hand one, such as AB, containing a convex lens mn. It
is to be held in the right hand,
as in fig. 80, and a plate of light
reddish-brown tourmaline (or of
the artificial tourmalines, viz.,
plates of the sulphate of iodo-
quinine, discovered by Dr Hera-
path), fixed above the lens,
either temporarily by a little bit
of soft wax, or cemented to it by
Canada balsam. The last me¬
thod has the advantage of pre- Eig.so.
venting the loss of light by reflection from the first surface
of the tourmaline, and removing any imperfection of polish
that it may have. It would be advisable, indeed, to construct
the microscope with two plano-convex lenses, and to place
the tourmaline between them, joining it to both by Canada
balsam, so that there would be no loss of light or imperfec¬
tion of vision produced by the surfaces of the tourmaline.
The position of the plate abed should be such, that when
it is held as in the figure, the polarized light, which is to
illuminate the object, should be unable to pass through it.
1 his polarized light may be obtained either from light re¬
flected at an angle of 56° from a plate of black glass, or
from a bundle of plates of crown or flint glass, or mica (pro¬
perly placed), or by transmission through a bundle of such
plates, or from one of the images of a rhomb of calcareous
spar.
1 Edinburgh Transactions, vol. ix., p. 141 note.
2 Ibid., vol. viii., p. 371.
3 Ibid., vol. ix., p. 141, note.
When this light is obtained, the observer holds the micro- Micro¬
scope AB in his right hand, and examines through it the scope,
object in his left hand, turning AB slightly round, so as to
bring it into the position in which it refuses to transmit any
of the polarized light which passes through the object, and
towards which, of course, the observer’s eye is directed.
When this is done, the peculiar structure of the object will
depolarize or alter the polarization of part of the incident
light; and this light, being no longer polarized, will pass
through the plate of tourmaline to the eye, and exhibit on
a dark ground, and in luminous and often beautifully
coloured lines, the structure of the body.
7- If the body is transparent, and not flat, it may be advan¬
tageously placed in a little glass trough containing water
or oil, or a fluid of the same refracting power as the body,
so that the polarized light may be made to pass through it
in all directions, and exhibit its entire structure.1
When the shape and surface of the body present no
difficulties, the best method is to stick it by a transparent
cement, or simply to place it upon a plate of tourmaline
held in the left hand. The observer thus carries the polar¬
izer and the object in his left hand, and in his right the
magnifier and the analyzer.
When a second plate of tourmaline is not at hand, the
object may be placed upon a rhomb of calcareous spar,
above one of the images which that rhomb forms of a cir¬
cular aperture on its lower or farther side, the light of the
other image being stopped out by a piece of wafer.
When a small lens is needed, and strong light can be
commanded, the magnifier and the analyzer may be united
in one by making the magnifying lens of tourmaline.
When microscopic doublets or triplets are used, the plate
of tourmaline may be placed between two of the lenses,
and cemented to the plane side of any of the plano-convex
lenses.
Compound Polarizing Microscope.
The simplest form of the compound polarizing micro- Compound
scope is to make the eye-glass into an analyzer, in any ofPolarizin£
the ways described for a single lens, the proper position micro'
of the plate of tourmaline being readily found by the mo-
tion of unscrewing the eye-glass. The polarizer is also a
plate of tourmaline, laid on the slider-holder, and having
the object laid upon its upper surface. If the polarizer is
laid down in any accidental position, the proper position of
the analyzer will be found by a slight unscrewing of the
eye-glass. The best method is to place the small polarizing
piece of tourmaline (which need not be larger than an object
which fills the field of the microscope) between two pieces
of glass, with Canada balsam interspersed. In this way a
compound microscope may be converted into a polarizing
one, fit for any researches, at the expense of a few shillings.
When tourmaline cannot be obtained, the light may be
polarized by one or more plates of glass, placed on the
illuminating mirror so that their surface may be inclined
34° to the axis of the microscope, and the analyzer may
be a chip of black, blue, or any other kind of glass, having
the reflection from its second surface removed by grinding,
or by a few drops of black wax. If this chip is placed on
the brass ring above the eye-glass so as to turn with that
ring, and so that its surface is inclined 34° to the axis of
the microscope, the observer, by looking into a little re¬
flector, will see the object under examination when the
plane of this analyzing plate is at right angles to the plane
of the polarizing plate.
When the compound microscope is fitted up with Nicol’s
1 It was in this way, by cementing fragments of crystals of anal¬
cime to a piece of wood, and holding the mineral in a small trough
of almond oil, that Sir David Brewster detected the extraordinary
structure of that substance.
MICROSCOPE.
789
Micro¬
scope.
Fig. 81.
prisms,1 and for the express purpose of exhibiting structures
by polarized light,—which we believe was first done by
Henry Fox Talbot, Esq.,—one of these prisms is fixed be¬
tween the illuminating mirror and the slider-holder, to
polarize the light, and another similar prism is placed above
the eye-glass to analyze it. The last prism, however, is
very inconvenient, as it contracts unpleasantly the field of
view; and it is therefore necessary to substitute for it a plate
of tourmaline, as already described ; or, what is much better,
as Sir David Brewster suggested, is to screw the analyzer
into the lower end of the body of the microscope, imme¬
diately behind the object-glass.
The expense of constructing a Nicol’s prism, the diffi¬
culty of making the one next the eye perfectly colourless,
and the risk of a change taking place in the cement which
unites the two parts of it, renders it desirable to have a
simple, a cheap, and a durable substitute for it. The po¬
larizer which has been employed by Sir David Brewster
in his experiments on elliptical polarization, and on the
action of crystallized surfaces upon light, where tourmaline
could not be used owing to its colour, was a single rhomb
of calcareous spar, with its natural surfaces, having thin
plates of colourless glass cemented to them by Canada
balsam, which removes any imperfection of surface, and at
the same time protects the surfaces from any accidental in¬
jury, or from the deterioration of the polish, which arises
from frequently cleaning them. This
rhomb A BCD had a circular aperture
a, placed upon its lower surface, and of
such a diameter that it just separated
the two images b, c, seen from above.
This rhomb may be placed either be¬
neath the slider-holder or upon it, and
by sticking a piece of wafer upon any
one of the images b, c, and leaving the
other exposed, and placed exactly beneath the aperture of
the object-glass, we have the most perfect polarizer that
can be constructed. The object to be examined may, if ne¬
cessary, be laid above the circle b.
By this construction of the polarizer we obtain another
advantage; we may so adjust the size and distance of the
pencils b, c that both of them may be included in the field
of view, and by placing one of the objects to be examined
above b, and another of the same above c, we may observe
them at the same instant under their opposite colours, if
the depolarized light is coloured, which it generally is.2
These rhombs may be made even out of rhombs crossed
with veins, which multiply the images, because the multi¬
plied images are at too great a distance from the principal
ones to be visible. This is a peculiar advantage, as it is
often very difficult to get good pieces of spar free from this
composite structure.
1 his method of constructing a polarizing rhomb enables
us to take advantage of the two lateral images, which
accompany the two principal images in crystals crossed by
one vein. These lateral images, ^ c n
shown at m, n, are distant from gm,
one another, and from the prin- Fig. 82
cipal images b, c; and as each of them consists of light
wholly polarized in one plane, we have only to bring one
1 This ingenious prism, consisting of two pieces of calcareous
spar cemented together so as to transmit only one image, derives
its name from its inventor, the late William Nicol, Esq., ’of Edin¬
burgh, and is of great use in all experiments on the polarization of
light, particularly where the colour of tourmaline would interfere
with the phenomena to be observed.
2 The most interesting objects for the polarizing microscope are
minute crystallizations of all kinds, but particularly composite
minerals, such as apophyllite, amethyst, analcime, and a large
class of crystals to which the name of “ circular ” has been given
and an account of which will be found in a paper in the Edin.
burgh Transactions, vol. xx., p. 60, 1853.
of them under the aperture of the object-glass to have an Micro-
admirable polarizer, without being at the trouble of stop- . scope,
ping out any of the other pencils.
The images m, n are much less bright than the principal
ones b, c ; but this is really of no consequence, as we can ob¬
tain any degree of light we choose in the microscope, either
by the condensation of artificial, or the use of solar light.
When the vein by which these lateral images are formed
is above a certain thickness, their light is white; but they
are most frequently coloured; and the observer who under¬
stands the cause of these colours may make this coloured
pencil of great service in microscopical observations. If he
uses a rhomb which gives to m a green of the second order,
it will contain none of the extreme violet and blue rays, and
none of the extreme red; so that it affords a more homoge¬
neous pencil than if it were white light, and thus improves
the performance of a microscope that is not achromatic.
He may in like manner use tints which give the red ex¬
tremity or the blue extremity of the spectrum, or, even
when the tint is divisible by the prism into periodical bands,
he may absorb the least luminous of these bands, and create
a homogeneous pencil of polarized light of inestimable value,
in particular researches and with particular microscopes.
But, independent of these advantages, the method of
using a lateral pencil m has the great advantage of not re¬
quiring much thickness in the rhomb. A Nicol’s prism,
and a rhomb in which the two principal images b, c are
used, must be about an inch thick in order to be efficacious ;
but the distances mn or mb are the same at all thick¬
nesses, so that we can use rhombs for this purpose which
are quite useless for any other.
It is scarcely necessary to add, that similar rhombs in
which either the principal images b, c, or the lateral ones
m, n, are used, may also be employed for the analyzer. For
this purpose a thin plate, in which m or n is white, is pecu¬
liarly applicable, as it enables us to see at once the whole
field of the microscope.1
CHAPTER V.
ON SOLAR AND OXYHYDROGEN MICROSCOPES.
1 he solar microscope is a well-known popular instru- Solar and
ment, for exhibiting on a white screen, in a dark chamber, oxyhydro-
magnified images of minute objects, illuminated by thegen micro~
condensed light of the sun. As the sun cannot often be SCOpes‘
commanded in our climate, this instrument may be consi¬
dered as having fallen into disuse: but the discovery of the
lime-ball light by Mr Drummond amply supplies the place
of the great luminary, in so far as the microscope is con¬
cerned. The instrument has accordingly been revived
under the name of the oxyhydrogen microscope, and is now
a favourite public exhibition.
The solar microscope was proposed by Dr Lieberkhun in
1738; and early in 1739, when he paid a visit to London,
he exhibited an instrument of his own construction to
several members of the Royal Society, and to Mr Cuff Mr
Adams, and other London opticians.
This microscope is nothing more than a convex lens, in
front of which a little farther from it than its principal
focus, is placed a microscopic object, the rays of the sun
being reflected in a horizontal line, and condensed by a
lens. Ibis will be understood from figure 83, where CD
is the convex lens, E the object placed before it, and
AB the illuminating condenser. An enlarged image of E
will be formed on the right hand of CD, upon a wall or
reCf^ 1857) seen these methods of using
sor a™,- ° -plai?-e of ,Nlco1 s. prisms successfully adopted by Profes-
thnso wi?1 V1 18 ac^romatic microscopes, and we are satisfied that
o ave once employed them, either for the purposes of
^esearc or amusement, will never use any other pieces of appa-
790
MICROSCOPE.
Micro¬
scope.
screen, and the size of the enlarged image will be to that
of the object as the distance of CD from the screen or wrall
is to CE, the distance of the object from the lens. Dr
A.
Lieberkhun’s solar microscope had no mirror for reflecting
the sun’s rays into the tube, so that it could only be used for
a few hours, when the tube could be conveniently pointed to
the sun. I he improvement of adding a mirror was made
by Mr Cuff, who constructed the instrument in a very
superior manner.1 Dr Lieberkhun subsequently fitted up
the solar microscope to show opaque objects; but the
method which he employed is not known. Since the time
of Mr Cuff the solar microscope has undergone many im¬
provements. Mr Benjamin Martin added greatly to the
value of this instrument by fitting it up both for opaque
and transparent objects, in the manner shown in figs. 84
and 85. In fig. 84 it is shown as fitted up for opaque
objects. The body ABCDEF has the part ABCD of a
conical, and the part CDEF of a tubular form. A large
convex lens, corresponding with AB in fig. 83, is placed at
AB, at the end of the conical tube ABCD, which screws
into the square plate QR, which is fastened to a window-
shutter opposite a hole of at least the size of the lens AB,
by means of the screws e, d. Upon the square plate QR
there is a movable circular plate abc. To this circular
plate is attached the silvered glass mirror NOP, placed in a
brass frame, which moves round a joint PP, and which may
be placed in any position with regard to the sun, so as to
reflect his rays into the tube ABCD by means of rackwork
and pinions at Q and R. The pinion Q moves the circular
plate abc (to which the mirror NOP is fixed) in a plane
perpendicular to the horizon, while the nut R gives it a
motion in an opposite plane. The light introduced by this
mirror falls upon the lens AB, which throws it in a con¬
densed state upon any object in the tube. But before il
reaches the opaque object it is received by a mirror M:
p aced in the box HILX, which reflects the condensed light
back upon the face of the object E (fig. 83) next to the
lens CD. 11ns mirror is adjusted to a proper angle by the
Abovethebody ABEF isseentlie part/VK, which car-
r,es the sliders or objects, and the object-glass or lens CE
(fig. 83). I he tube K slides within the tube V, and 'V
again slides into the box HILX. These tubes carry each Micro-
a magnifying lens. The inner tube K is sometimes taken scope,
out of the other V, seen within the box, and used alone.
The sliders and objects are introduced into a slit or open¬
ing at H. The brass plate to the left of H is fixed to a
tube A, by means of a spiral wire within the tube, which
presses the plate against the side of the box HILX, so
that the sliders, when placed in the opening, are pressed
against the side of the box.
In using this microscope, the sun’s rays are first made
to pass along the tube ABCD by the nuts Q and R. The
box for opaque objects, HILX, is then slid by its tube G
into the tube EF. The slider containing the object, hav¬
ing its face to be examined turned to the right hand, is
then pushed into the opening at H, till the object is in the
centre of the tubes V, K. The condensed light falling
upon the mirror M is then thrown back on the face of the
object of the slider, and the door ki shut. Upon a white
paper screen or cloth, from 4 to 8 feet square, and placed
at the distance of from 6 to 10 feet from the window, the
observer, in the room made thoroughly dark, will see on
the screen a magnified representation of the object, which
may be rendered distinct at different distances of the screen,
by pulling out or pushing in the tubes V, K containing the
convex lenses. As the sun is constantly moving, its rays
must be kept in the axis of the tubes by now and then
turning the nuts Q and R.
When the microscope is to be used for transparent ob¬
jects, the box HILX, with its tube G and other append¬
ages, is removed, and the apparatus shown in fig. 85 sub-
o
Fig. 85.
stituted for it. This is done by sliding the tube Y of fig.
85 into the tube EF of fig. 84. A slider containing the
magnifying lens is then slipped through the opening at“w,
and a second condenser may or may not be inserted in the
opening at h. The slider with the object is then placed
in the opening m, and when its magnified picture falls upon
the screen, it is adjusted to distinctness by turning the
milled nut O.
The picture formed by a solar microscope being in Dr
Robison’s opinion “ generally so indistinct that it is fit
only for amusing ladies,” he proposed to use as an object-
glass the achromatic eye-piece of four lenses, constructed
by Mr Ramsden for telescopes. Having made the experi¬
ment, he found the image “ perfectly sharp,” and recom¬
mended this application “ to the artists, as a valuable article
of their trade.” i 1
A much simpler method, however, of correcting the de- Xew solar
fects of the microscope, is to use compound achromatic mlcr0SC0Pe*
lenses, which were first suggested by Mr Benjamin Martin.
Another mode of improving the instrument was pro¬
posed in 1812 by Sir David Brewster,1 who has described
a new solar microscope which Can be rendered achromatic.
The method of doing this is shown in the diagram (fig. 83),
where AB is the condensing lens, and CD the object-glass,
cemented firmly into one end of a tube mCDw, which has
a tubular opening at E, while the other end of the tube has
a circular piece of parallel glass cemented upon it. The
tube mCDn is then filled with water, or any other fluid ;
and the object, when placed upon a slider or held in a pair
1 See Baker On the Microscope, vol. i., p. 22
1 Treatise on New Philosophical Instruments) p. 410.
MICROSCOPE.
791
Micro- of forceps, is introduced at the opening E into the fluid,
scope. rj'jie mechanism for producing these effects is easily con-
ceived. By the instrument thus constructed, imperfectly
opaque and corrugated objects, rendered transparent, and
extended by the fluid medium, may be examined in this
microscope, though incapable of being used in any other.
Objects may be even dissected in the aqueous tube. Nay,
objects preserved in spirits might be exhibited by im¬
mersing the bottle, if it is small, in the trough or tube
mCDn.1
But the most important purpose effected by this form of
the instrument is, that it can be rendered perfectly achro¬
matic by using a fluid of higher dispersive power than the
glass lens CD, and making the interior curvature of the
side CD, which touches the fluid, of that degree of con¬
vexity which will convert the fluid into a concave lens cap¬
able of correcting the colour of CD. The lens CD may
be made most advantageously of fluor spar, which, from its
low dispersive power, might form an achromatic combina¬
tion with water.
Reflecting Although, in so far as we know, metallic specula have
solar never been regularly fitted up as a reflecting solar micro¬
microscope. SCOpe por uge? ye(. every person familiar with, and in
the habit of using specula and lenses, must have made the
experiment of forming magnified images both in solar and
artificial light, with small concave specula. The perfection
of these images cannot be doubted ; and it has often ap¬
peared to us surprising that the optician did not avail him¬
self of such a combination for a solar microscope. Neither
the Newtonian nor the Amician form of the instrument
offers facilities for this purpose. Sir David Brewster has
therefore proposed to employ his form of the reflecting
microscope for a solar and oxyhydrogen instrument. Its
facilities for this purpose are very great, and there can be
little doubt that it will be practically successful, and will be
as superior to other solar microscopes as the best reflecting
compound microscope is to the ordinary compound micro¬
scopes. Dr Goring made an experiment with the Amician
microscope ; but he obviously considers it as not likely to
succeed, remarking, that “after all that could be done, a
refractor would be sure to beat it hollow; therefore,” says he,
“ I shall take my leave of the subject, as I cannot conscien¬
tiously recommend such an instrument.”2 3 It is no wonder
that this experiment failed, because Dr Goring seems to have
used the whole of the Amician microscope, eye-glasses and
all, as the magnifier in the solar microscope, and therefore
it could not be considered as a reflecting solar microscope,
being in fact as much a refracting one. The construction
to which we have above referred is shown in the annexed
figure, where AB is the illuminating lens, throwing the
For opaque objects this form of the instrument is pe- Micro-
culiarly adapted. The parallel rays of the sun falling scope,
upon the deep speculum kh, are condensed by it and
thrown on the inner face of the object mn, of which a
magnified image is formed, as before, at MN. A greater
condensation of light may be obtained by using the lens
AB, so that the speculum hh shall receive its convergent
beam before the rays reach their focus and complete their
convergency.
In this construction we have the disadvantage of two
reflections, belonging also to the Amician form; but this
may be considered as compensated by the image being
without the tube, and more under our command. Though
this is true in the compound microscope, yet the advan¬
tage of having the object outside the tube is of less con¬
sequence in a solar microscope. To avoid therefore two
reflections, and two mirrors with their relative adjustments,
Sir David Brewster has proposed to construct the reflect¬
ing solar microscope in the manner shown in the annex¬
ed figure, where cd is the perforated concave speculum,
mn the object in one of its foci, and MN the magnified
image in its other focus. The object mn, placed on a
slider passing through an opening in front of the specu¬
lum, is illuminated as an opaque object by the lens AB,
whose refracted rays are farther condensed by a lens
placed in the aperture of the speculum. This form of the
solar microscope is therefore singularly adapted for opaque
objects ; and as the whole of the effect of the instrument is
produced by a single reflection from a single surface, it is
the simplest optical instrument in existence. In order to
throw light upon mn as a transparent object, the rays must
pass through it in an opposite direction from the side MN,
and this may be done by the very same method given by
Mr Potter, and represented in fig. 71.
The simplicity and practical value of this instrument will
be immediately recognised by comparing it with the com¬
plex opaque box, which in all solar microscopes is a neces¬
sary appendage for opaque objects. See fig. 84.
Dr Goring’s Solar Camera Microscope.
condensed rays of the sun upon a transparent object mn.
The rays from this object falling upon the small speculum
c, are reflected to the deep concave speculum cd, so placed
that the image is formed at MN on a screen at some dis¬
tance behind it, distinct vision being obtained either by
moving the object or the speculum.
1 See Treatise on New Philosophical Instruments, p. 401, for an
account of the advantages of examining objects immersed in fluids.
3 Dr Goring states that a friend of his had constructed a solar
microscope with metals on the Amician principle, and without a
body or eye-glass, which exhibited a variety of test objects in a
highly satisfactory manner.
Dr Goring has described in the Micrographia a very Dr Gor-
complete solar microscope, which has the property of exhi- ing’s solar
biting the image on a horizontal curved surface, placed in camera mi-
a darkened camera, at which two or more persons can look croscoPe*
at the same time. It is, to a certain extent, a new instru¬
ment, but can also be used like the common solar micro¬
scope in a darkened room.1
This instrument, with all its parts, is shown in figs. 88,
89, 90, and 91; fig. 88 being a geometrical elevation of the
instrument, one-tenth of the real size, the various parts being
represented as if formed of transparent matter. A strong
framework A of wood rests upon four legs, having a large
hole in it, into which the instrument is fixed with two
_1 Dr Goring calls this instrument a if solar engiscope,” while he
gives the name of “ solar microscope ” to the same instrument when
used in a dark room in the common way. The introduction of the
image into a camera becomes thus the reason for changing a micro¬
scope into an engiscope / The word engiscope, however appropriate
it may be as a companion to the word telescope, is quite inappli¬
cable to any kind of solar microscope.
screws FF. The frame is large enough to protect the fixed to an arm C, which moves round a pin fixed to the Micro¬
observer from the solar rays. A long plane mirror B is side of the mirror frame, and also round a joint attached scope.
Fig. 88.
Fig. 89.
to a strong round wire E, which slides backwards and for¬
wards in the tube D, having a spring within, and a pinching
nut to fix it in its place. The inclination of the mirror is
varied by pulling out or pushing in the wire E; and another
motion of the mirror is produced by the action of the milled
head G on a rack and pinion. A common illuminating
lens, five inches in diameter and one foot in focal length, is
placed at H. Dr Goring recommends an achromatic lens1
(which would be a very expensive appendage), though he
says that he has never
used one. The main
body of the microscope
is conical, having a bayo¬
net catch at L to receive
the rest of the instru¬
ment, viz., the tube car¬
rying the stage and rack-
work. This tube 1 1
moves within the conical one by means of the milled head M
and rack and pinion N. The end of this tube is closed, and
an ordinary slider-holder O is fixed to it. On the inner side
of the stage, near N, is fixed a condensing lens, about one and
a half inch in diameter and two inches in focal length, which,
by means of a sliding wire passed through a hole in the
stage, can be moved from one side of the tube to the other,
and also made to approach to or recede from the stage. A
second tube PPP (fig. 90), slit open at the sides, is screwed
into the tube in which the stage moves ; and into this tube
the optical part ^ is made to slide, the object-glass being placed
at K. Dr Goring here remarks that “ the focus may of
course be roughly adjusted, by sliding the body backwards
and forwards in its containing tube, before it is attached to
the camera, fig. 89; but when this has been done, it must
of course remain immovable. I look upon it,” he" con¬
tinues, “ as a principle in the solar microscope, that the
magnifier or object-glass should not be moved, but always
1 See Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. 9, new series, p. 85 ;
and our chapter on the Illumination of Microscopic Objects.
remain at a fixed distance from the illuminator? Perhaps
we do not distinctly understand the import of this passage ;
but we apprehend that the magnifier or object-glass may be,
nay, must be, moved in any way that is necessary to pro¬
duce distinct vision upon the screen, whatever be its
distance ; and that the essential condition is, that the dis¬
tance of the illuminator and the object shall be invariable,
the object being, if possible, accurately situated in the focus,
unless where a slight deviation is necessary to prevent its
destruction by the concentrated heat of the solar rays.
The end of the tube q is now pushed into another piece
of tube at R, fig. 89, which communicates with a conical
tube of brass, “ having a rectangular prism, with its reflect¬
ing side silvered,1 or a plane metal adjusted at its head S,
so as to throw down the image to the bottom of the box or
camera, where it is to be received on paper (at T), or on a
surface of plaster of Paris duly curved to suit its shape.”
The camera WWXX is constructed with windows V, V,
to permit two persons to view the picture on the table T.
Two pieces of wood W, W, carved out to fill the slope of
the upper part of the face, are placed as in the figure
(one of them is shown in the annexed figure). Dr Goring
adds that “ he has found it ne¬
cessary to exclude the breath
from entering the camera, as it
dims the eye-glass of the en-
giscope, and thus spoils the
image but he does not men¬
tion whether this is the object of the pieces of carved
wood, or whether they are used to keep extraneous light
1 Dr Goring is surely mistaken in saying that the side of the
prism should be silvered ; for as total reflection commences at 41° 481"
for glass, and takes place at all greater angles of incidence, the
light incident at 45° will be totally reflected. But even if the
least oblique part of the conical beam should penetrate the reflect¬
ing surface (which it cannot do), part of the picture would have
the light of silvered reflection, and the other part the double light
of total reflection, which would never answer. We would prefer
a plane metallic speculum to the prism, even if sufficiently homo¬
geneous not to affect the accuracy of the picture.
MICROSCOPE.
793
Micro- from the eye,1 which, in so far as the figure indicates, does
scope, not appear to be the case.
The sides U, U of the camera may be removed at
pleasure, to allow the observer to draw the picture on the
table, the light being excluded by some black drapery,
while the hand passes through a suitable opening in it. Dr
Goring recommends that the whole of the interior of the
conical brass tube and camera should be well blacked, or
lined with black silk velvet.2
In applying this instrument to opaque objects, the
opaque box, shown in fig. 90, is applied to the conical tube
in fig. 76 by means of the bayonet catch at L. A plane
mirror II, adjusted by the screw S, throws the light of the
illuminator to the object O placed in the conjugate focus
of the eye-glass K, by means of the milled nut M and
screw T, which causes the stage and the object to approach
to or recede from the lens K.3 The stage is formed by a
piece of cork covered with black velvet. PP is the tube
into which the body q of the microscope is inserted, as in
fig. 76.
This instrument may be converted into a common solar
microscope by unscrewing and removing the tube PP, and
placing a simple object-glass in an appropriate mounting at
M. The whole apparatus is then removed from the frame
A, and screwed to a window-shutter in the usual wfay.
On the Oxyhydrogen Microscope.
On the oxy- The great popularity of the public exhibitions made with
hydrogen this instrument has turned the attention of opticians and
micro- amateurs to its improvement. Mr Pritchard has written a
EC0Pe' jong an(j interesting chapter of nearly fifty pages on the
subject of solar and oxyhydrogen gas microscopes, in the
Micrographia, already referred to, and has given a most
popular and minute account of all the details of the instru¬
ment. These details, to which we must refer out readers,
do not belong to an article like the present; and we shall
content ourselves with explaining what an oxyhydrogen
microscope is, and how the optical^apparatus of a solar
microscope may be readily converted into that of an oxy¬
hydrogen one, and vice versa.
An oxyhydrogen gas microscope differs from a solar one
chiefly in this, that a brilliant light obtained by igniting a
ball of lime the size of a pea (hence called the pea or lime
light, or more appropriately the Drummond light, from its
inventor, the late Mr Drummond) with oxyhydrogen gas, is
substituted in place of the solar rays. This enables us to
enjoy the amusement of the solar microscope apparatus
in all weathers and at all hours of the day.
As the lime-ball light, however, is at our elbow, it sends
forth diverging rays ; whereas the I’ays of the sun are
parallel. A very beautiful principle, already referred to in our
article Micrometer, enables us to give the simplest con¬
struction for this purpose. Let AB (fig.92) be the illuminat¬
ing lens of the common solar microscope, throwing the paral¬
lel rays ef of the sun upon the object mn, and let the whole
instrument be in perfect adjustment; then, without moving
or changing any part of it, we may convert it into an oxy-
1 In using this and all other optical instruments where perfect
vision is either agreeable or essential, we would recommend the
use of the Greenland snow spectacles, cut, to suit the individual,
from a plaster of Paris cast of the eyes, nose, and brow.
3 Mr Potter found black velvet to be superior to any other black¬
ing for the interior of his reflecting microscope, and we have used
it successfully in the solar telescope in observing the extreme red
rays of the spectrum. (Edin. Jour, of Science, No. 11, p. 62, new
series.)
* The illumination is here far too oblique. The mirror should
be nearer P, and the screw MT should be made to move the object-
glass K, in order that the focus of the illuminator may always fall
on the object 0.
YOL. XIV.
hydrogen microscope, where the light diverges from the Micro¬
lime-ball L, simply by placing in front of AB another lens SC0Pe*
CD, whose focal length is equal to the distance of the
lime-ball light L from the lens AB. The oxyhydrogen
A
Fig. 92.
microscope will then have its objects at mn illuminated in
precisely the same way as they were by the sun’s rays.
The two lenses CD, AB, should be in contact, the space
in the figure being left only to show the parallel rays
ef. Now, as L is the focus of the lens CD, the con¬
verging rays ef will be parallel, and consequently will be
refracted by AB exactly as if they had been the rays of
the sun.
If the instrument had been made originally as an oxy¬
hydrogen microscope, with a large and deep lens at AB,
which would be required to refract rays diverging from L
to mn, then we might convert the instrument into a solar
microscope, by simply placing a concave lens in front of
AB, whose focal distance is equal to the distance of L from
AB. This concave lens will give such a divergency to the
parallel rays of the sun that they will have their focus at mn.
Our readers will find the most ample details respecting
the gas apparatus, and the method of managing and using
the instrument, in Mr Pritchard’s Micrographia.
Notwithstanding the precautions to prevent an explosion
of the oxygen and hydrogen employed in this apparatus, we
would recommend to Mr Pritchard, and those who may
construct such instruments, to use a common oil or gas
lamp supplied with oxygen gas, such as Sir David Brewster
some years ago recommended as a safe substitute for the
lime-ball light, wdien it was proposed to use the latter for
lighthouses. This oxygen lamp, equally safe and brilliant,
has been tried with success at the Trinity House, and will,
we are confident, be soon in universal use, not only in light¬
houses, but wherever sti'ong lights are required.1
On the Apparatus for Dissolving Views.
By employing two microscopes similar to the oxyhydrogen On the ap-
microscope, but of a larger size, the interesting optical paratus for
illusion of dissolving views is produced. In order to ad- dissolving
mit objects four or five inches square, condensing lenses 8 views*
or 10 inches in diameter are necessary. The views to be
employed are painted on glass with much more care and
minuteness than those employed in the magic lanthorn.
The following is the method of causing one picture to dis¬
solve and pass gradually into another. The two micro¬
scopes are placed near each other, and at the distance of
20 or 30 feet from a white screen for receiving the images.
The position of the microscopes is then adjusted so that
each throws the image of the picture placed in it on the
same part of the screen. When this is obtained the micro¬
scopes are fixed, and in front of them an apparatus like
that in figure 93, where A and B are the front open¬
ings of the two microscopes, and CD and EF two dark
screens moveable upon the centres m, n, and capable
1 Mr Drummond heated the lime-hall with three flames of a
spirit-of-wine lamp. It may be done even with one flame urged
upon the ball by a blowpipe of oxygen gas,
5 H
>
794
Micro¬
scope.
Dissolving
views.
Fig. 93.
Simpler in¬
strument
for dissolv¬
ing views.
of moving up and down on the vertical rod GH. These
screens are fixed in front of the openings A, B, and close
to them. In the position of the dark screens, shown in
the figure, the view in the
microscope A will alone be
seen on the white screen ; but
if we push up the joint mn the
upper edge Em of the screen
EF will obstruct part of the
light which illuminates the
view, and the view will be¬
come fainter and begin to dis¬
solve. At the same time the
under edge D of the screen
CD will rise also, and allow
the image of the view in the
microscope B to appear very
faintly, and mixed up with
the image of the other view
on A. As EF rises, and
causes the view in A to dissolve, CD will rise, and cause
the view from B to be brighter and more distinct. By
continuing the upward motion of mn, the view from A
will gradually dissolve till it disappears altogether, while the
view from B will gradually become more and more distinct
till it obliterate the view from A. By causing mn to de¬
scend the reverse will take place, the view from B now dis¬
solving till it is obliterated by that from A.
# Another very ingenious method of exhibiting dissolving
views is to include two views in the same piece of paper, so
that when you see the piece of paper by reflected light you
see distinctly one of the views like an ordinary painting ox-
engraving ; but when you look through the paper you see
the other view by transmitted light. This piece of paper is
placed at the wide end of a conical tube, at the other end
of which is a convex lens to magnify it. On the upper
side of the wide end of the tube, a lid like that in the
stereoscope opens and shuts, so that when open it throws
light upon the face of the piece of paper containing the
view to be seen by reflected light, and, when shut, the eye
sees the picture to be seen by transmitted light. On the
lower side of the w ide end of the tube is another lid which
opens and shuts. When shut it prevents the transmission
of light, which would interfere with the view of the picture
seen by reflected light. Now, the two lids are so con¬
nected by a w ire that as one opens the other shuts, the one
being completely open when the other is completely shut.
By this means the picture seen by reflected light gi-adually
dissolves till it is obliterated by a transmitted picture, and
vice versa. The pictures for this apparatus ax-e circular, and
are very nicely executed by Parisian artists. A larger ap¬
paratus, which contains rectangular pictures about 8 inches
by 6, has been constructed under the name of the Polyo-
rama Pantoptique. A variety of natui'al effects, such as
the motions of ships, &c., rainbows, fire, &c., may be pro¬
duced by two, three, or more lanthorns. A trioptric lan-
thorn, in which one light is made to produce the effect of
two or three lanthorns, has been described by Mr Beechey.1
Microscopes are inserted in apertures at proper angles in
t xe sides of the lanthorn, and three-sided pi’isms ai'e used
to reflect the rays to the scx-een. Photography now sup¬
plies us with beautiful drawings of all classes of objects for
the instruments described in this chapter.
MICROSCOPE.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE ILLUMINATION OF MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS.
The methods of illuminating microscopic objects that
have been long in use have been described in the preced- Micro-
ing chapters. They consist in throwing light upon the ob- scope,
ject, either by means of a mirror or a lens, or both com-
bined; but the nature of the light employed, the magnitude n
of the pencil, its condition with regard to parallelism, diver- i • V-1*
gency or convergency, and the diameter of the pencil em- ofraTcro-011
ployed, or the direction in which it falls upon the object, scopic ob-
have never been discussed as matters of science, although
upon these the performance of the finest instrument essen¬
tially depends.
In so far as we know, the most important of these topics
wtis pressed upon the notice of the scientific reader by Sir
David Brewster, in the year 1820; and in order that the
progress of improvement in this essential branch of the art
of making discoveries with the microscope may be under¬
stood, we shall quote his observations on the subject: 
“ The art of illuminating microscopic objects is not of
less importance than that of preparing them for observation.
No general rules can be given for adjusting the intensity
of the illumination to the nature and character of the ob¬
ject to be examined ; and it is only by a little practice that
this art can be acquired. In general, however, it will be
found that very transparent objects require a less degree of
light than those that are less so ; and that objects which re¬
flect white light, or which throw it off from a number of
lucid points, require a less degree of illumination than those
whose surfaces have a feeble reflective force.
“ The following rules may be laid down respecting the Rules for
illumination of microscopic objects, and the method ofilluminat
viewing them:— ing micro-
“ 1. The eye should be protected from all extraneous
light, and should not receive any of the light which pro- jeCtS'
ceeds from the illuminating source, excepting that por¬
tion of it which is transmitted through or reflected from the
object.
“ 2. Delicate microscopical observations should not be
made when the fluid which lubricates the cornea of the ob¬
server’s eye happens to be in a viscid state, which is fre¬
quently the case.1 ?
“ 3. The figure of the cornea will be least injured by the
lubricating fluid, either by collecting over any part of the
cornea, or moving over it, w>hen the observer is lying on
his back, or standing vertically. When he is looking down¬
wards, as into the compound vertical microscope, the fluid
has a tendency to flow towards the pupil, and injure the
distinctness of the vision.
“4. If the microscopic object is longitudinal, like a fine
hair, or consists of longitudinal stripes, the direction of the
lines or stripes should be towards the observer’s body, in
order that their form may be least injured by the descent
of the lubricating fluid over the cornea.
“ 5. I he field of view should be contracted, so as to ex¬
clude every part of the object excepting that which is un¬
der immediate examination.
“6. The light which is employed for the purpose of
illuminating the object should have a small diameter. In
the day time it should be a single hole in the window-shutter
of a darkened room, and at night it should be an aperture
placed before an Argand lamp.
“ 7. In all cases, and particularly when very high powers
are requisite, the natural diameter of the light employed
should be diminished, and its intensity increased by optical
contrivances.
“ 8. When a strong light can be obtained, and indeed in
almost every case, homogeneous light should be thrown
upon the object. This may be done either by decompos¬
ing the light with a prism, or by transmitting it through a
coloured glass, which has the property of admitting only
homogeneous rays.”
1 Art Journal, May 1850.
2 See Brande't Journal, vol. ii., p. 127.
MICROSCOPE.
795
Fig. 94.
Oblique il¬
lumination.
Dr Wollas
ton’s
method of
illumina¬
tion.
In the same article Sir David Brewster has described
“ a new method of illuminating objects in the solar and
the lucernal microscopes.” “ The great defects,” says he,
“ which still attach to the solar and lucernal microscopes,
arise from the imperfect method of illuminating the objects.
The method suggested by iEpinus, and employed almost
universally by opticians, of reflecting the light concentrated
by a lens upon the objects, by means of a plane mirror, is
good enough as far as it goes; but in consequence of the
light arriving from one direction only, the surface of the
illuminated object is covered with deep shadows, and the
intensity of illumination is by no means sufficient when the
power of the instrument is considerable. We propose,
therefore, that in the solar microscope the sun’s light
should be reflected by a very large mirror through four
apertures, A, B, C, D (surround¬
ing the tube T), each of which
is furnished with an illuminating
lens. The four cones, if con¬
densed, are then received before
they reach their focus, each by
an inclined mirror, which reflects
them upon the object; the dis¬
tance of the lens from the mirror,
added to the distance of the mir¬
ror from the object, being always
less than the focal length of the
illuminating lens. In the lucernal
microscope it would be desirable to place an Argand lamp
opposite each of the apertures A, B, C, D. By these
means the light would fall upon the surface of the object in
four different directions; a high degree of illumination
would be obtained for very dark objects; and by shutting
• up one or more of the four lenses, or parts of them, we shall
be enabled to find the particular direction of the light which
is best suited for developing the structure which it is the ob¬
ject of the observer to discover.”^ Although the focus of
the illuminating rays should always fall upon the object, for
the reasons already assigned, yet in the preceding method,
applied to the solar microscope, a deviation from this rule
becomes necessary, for tivo reasons:—ls£. Because, if the
focus of the illuminating lens fall exactly upon the object it
might burn it, or destroy it by corrugation; and, 2dly, In
the ordinary illuminating lenses, the diameter of the focal
spot, or image of the sun, is not sufficient to cover the whole
object, or to give a sufficient luminous field around it. For
these reasons it is recommended in the preceding extract
to place the object a little way within the focus of the
illuminator, that is, between the illuminator and its focus.
But if the object is such that it cannot be injured by the
solar heat, and if the illuminator is sufficiently large to give
a focal spot capable of filling the field of the microscope,
then the object should be placed in the solar focus of the
illuminator.
After a lapse of nearly ten years, the subject of micro¬
scopic illumination was discussed by Dr WTollaston, in his
paper on the Microscopic Doublet, published in the Phil.
Trans, for 1829. This eminent philosopher, whose inge¬
nuity never failed in executing in the best manner what¬
ever he attempted, was then on his deathbed ; and this,
among other papers, was published without that complete
revision which its author would otherwise have given it.
“ The state of my health,” says Dr Wollaston, “ induces
me to commit to writing rather more hastily than I have
been accustomed to do, some observations on microscopes ;
and I trust that, in laying them before the Royal Society,
they will meet with that indulgence which has been ex¬
tended to all my former communications.
1 This is the earliest suggestion of oblique illumination for de¬
veloping structures.
“ In the illumination of microscopic objects, whatever
light is collected and brought to the eye beyond that which
is fully commanded by the object-glasses, tends rather to
impede than to assist distinct vision.
“ My endeavour has been, to collect as much of the ad¬
mitted light as can be done by simple means to a focus in
the same plane as the object to be examined. For this
purpose I have used with success a plane mirror to direct
the light, and a plano-convex lens to collect it; the plane
side of the lens being towards the object to be illumi¬
nated.”
These two principles'of illumination, the firstof which is the
same as the first and fifth of the rules
already given, though not so fully
developed, and the second of which is
founded upon a mistaken principle,
have been carried into effect by Dr
Wollaston in the following manner:—
“ T, U, B, E represents a tube
about 6 inches long, and of such a
diameter as to preclude any reflec¬
tion of false light from its sides ;
and the better to insure this, the
inside of the tube should be black¬
ened. At the top of the tube, or
within it at a small distance from
the top, is placed either a plano¬
convex lens UT, or one properly
curved, so as to have the least aber¬
ration, about f ths of an inch focus,
having its plane side next the object
to be viewed ; and at the bottom is a
circular perforation A, of about y^ths
of an inch diameter, for limiting the
light reflected from the plane mirror
R, and which is to be brought to a
focus at a, giving a neat image of
the perforation A, at the distance of
about T8o ths of an inch from the lens
UT, and in the same plane as the
object which is to be examined. The
length of the tube, and the distance
of the convex lens from the perfora¬
tion, may be somewhat varied. The
length here given, 6 inches, being that which it was thought
would be most convenient for the height of the eye above
the table, the diameter of the image of the perforation A
must not, excepting with lower powers than are here meant
to be considered, exceed ^th of an inch.
d he intensity of illumination will depend upon the
diameter of the illuminating lens and the proportion of the
image to the perforation, and may be regulated according
to the wish of the observer. * * *
“ The lens UT, or the perforation A, should have an
adjustment by which the distance between them may be
varied, and the image of the perforation be thus brought
up to the same plane as the object to be examined. * *
For the perfect performance of this microscope, it is
necessary that the axis of the lenses, and the centre of the
perforation A, should be in the same right line. This may
be known by the image of the perforation being illumi¬
nated throughout its whole extent, and having its whole
circumference equally well defined. For illumination at
night, a common bull’s-eye lanthorn may be used with great
advantage. * * *
Supposing the plano-convex lens to be placed at its
pioper distance from the stage, the image of the perfora¬
tion may be readily brought into the same plane with the
object, by fixing temporarily a small wire across the per-
foration with a bit of wax, viewing any object placed upon
a piece of glass upon the stage of the microscope, and
i
Fig.’ 95.
Micro¬
scope.
796
Micro¬
scope.
MICROSCOPE.
varying the distance of the perforation from the lens by
^ screwing its tube until/ the image of the wire is seen dis-
tmctly at the same time ivith the object upon the piece of
glass.”
In the preceding passages we have extracted every one
of Dr Wollaston’s observations in reference to his method
of illuminating microscopic objects, so that the reader will
be enabled thoroughly to understand it.
This method of illumination was highly commended
by optical writers. Dr Goring1 considered it as most
effective, and enumerates it among the inventions which
founded a new era in the history of the microscope ; and
he elsewhere states, that “ there is no modification of
daylight illumination superior to that invented bv Dr
Wollaston.”2 . *
The marked difference between the methods of illumi¬
nation proposed by Dr Wollaston and Sir David Brewster
induced the latter to publish, in 1831, a paper “ On the
Principle of Illumination of Microscopic Objects.”3 In this
paper the mistake committed by Dr Wollaston is clearly
pointed out. The rays which Dr Wollaston throws upon
the object, in place of being rags actually converged to a
focus, as he himself says they ought to lie, are rays which
diverge from a focus situated between the object and the
lens, fie makes the focal point of the circular margin of
the perforation fall upon the object, without considering
that the rays which pass through that perforation do not
diverge from it, and therefore cannot be collected in the
conjugate focus corresponding to the perforation. In Dr
Wollaston’s diagram (Phil. Trans. 1829, plate ii., fig. 1),
the rays which are incident on the mirror Pl are actually
drawn as parallel rays ; and it is quite clear that he meant
them to be parallel rays issuing from the bull’s-eye lanthorn
which he recommends. But it we suppose that a common
flame is used, the error is just of the same nature. It is a
distinct image of the flame that should be thrown upon the
object; and hence the perforation A should be placed close
to the flame,—the source of light and the illuminated object
forming the conjugate foci of the lens. After explaining
this principle, Sir D. Brewster adds in the same paper
“ I have no hesitation in saying, that the apparatus for
illumination requires to he as perfect as the apparatus for
vision ; and on this account I would recommend that the
illuminating lens should he perfectly free of chromatic and
spherical aberration, and that the greatest care he taken to
exclude all extraneous light, hath from the object and from
the eye of the observer.”
At the meeting of the British Association at York in
1831 the preceding methods were communicated to Mr
Potter, who was then engaged in inquiries with the reflect¬
ing micioscope, and who had used only the common method
of illuminating his objects. The effect which he obtained by
it, is thus described :4—“ I am indebted to Dr Brewster for
information on the necessity of having the focus of the
illuminating lens for transparent objects to fall exactly upon
the object, when great nicety of vision is required. Having
adjusted my microscope carefully on this point (see our
ngure , 1, where the object is seen in the focus of the illu¬
minating rays) I saw quite easily what are called the dia-
gonal lines on the scale from the white-cabbage butterfly,
which has been proposed as a difficult test-object bv Dr
Goung; and it is such a one as those who have only 'seen
the stronger longaudina! striae on scales from the wings of
moths and butterflies have little idea of.” By the same
means M,- Potter’s instrument “ showed him easily, not only
the striae on the scales of the wing of the small house-mot^
but also the diagonal lines.” Mr Potter afterwards applied
his microscope, and the new method of illumination, to “ a
much more difficult object than those just referred to.”
This object is the broad bluish band first noticed in the web
of the spider, the Clubiona atrox.1 “ There can be no
doubt,” says Mr Potter, “ that this blue band consists of
lines produced by the spider, and woven into the delicate
tissue. To demonstrate these fibres, however, is a work for
an expert microscopist provided with a first-rate instru¬
ment. So critical a defining power is required, at the same
time with a large quantity of light, that I doubt much
whether any compound refracting microscope, even the best
achromatic, will ever show the construction of this wreb on
a transparent object. When viewed in this manner through
good common compound microscopes, the blue band can
scarcely be perceived at all with a moderately high power.
It is better seen as an opaque object by the light of the
sun, and it was on this method that I discovered it, when
highly illuminated and highly magnified, to be covered
very regularly and closely with white spots. This was suf¬
ficient information that it was of a uniform texture ; but
as there is always in such a light a strong display of’irra-
diations and prismatic colours, it was impossible to trace
the fibres. I had discovered something of the texture with
small globules of glass, used after the manner prescribed
by Leuwenhoeck; but with very high powers the distinct
field of view is so small that I dared hardly to pronounce
decidedly upon the general structure ; and it was only after
adjusting the illuminating lens of my microscope very care¬
fully that I saw with it the complete structure of a regu¬
larly woven net.”2
After this strong testimony to the practical utility of Sir
David Brewster’s method of illumination, and the unques¬
tionable optical principles on which it is founded, we were
surprised to observe that Dr Goring and Mr Pritchard
should, in the Microscopic Cabinet, published in 1832
still recommend and use a method so decidedly erroneous
in theory, and founded on no optical principles whatever.
Dr Goiing has described what he calls an improved illu¬
minator, which is just Dr Wollaston’s with a stop in the
focus of the lens.
As the progress of discovery with the microscope must
depend upon the scientific illumination of the objects under
examination, we shall proceed to describe in detail the
method of illumination used by Sir David Brewster. Let
nin be the plane surface on
which the object rests accu¬
rately perpendicular to the
axis of the lens, lenses, or
mirrors, which constitute
the microscope. Let
PQRST be a tube from
1|- to 2 inches long, and
wholly lined with ' black
velvet. This tube has an
opening at ST, and must
be so attached by an uni¬
versal joint, or any analo¬
gous contrivance, to the
slider-holder or stage, that
the axis I L of the tube can be inclined at any angle to the
suiface mn from 90 , its general position, to 60° or less, fin*
the purpose of oblique illumination. It should also have a
circular motion about its axis, in order that the inclination
Fig. Du.
1 Microscopic Illustrations, Exord.. p. l; Lend. 1830
2 Microscopic Cabinet, p. 181, Lond. 1832
3 Edinburgh Journal of Science, New Series, No. xi p 83
4 Ibid., p. 64. ’ ’ '5 4'
It is lound in the crevices of old walls, and may be recognised
by its irregular fleecy-looking web.
Air Pritchard received from Mr Potter a specimen of this web;
but though he detected the blue bands, yet, as the specimen was
not a recent one, he was unable to perceive “ the complete struc¬
ture of a regularly woven net." {List o/2000 Microscopic Objects,
pp. G, 7.)
Micro¬
scope.
MICRO
Micro- may be made in any azimuth.1 A doublet AB, CD,
scope, of no aberration, and having a focal length of from half
an inch to an inch, is then placed in the tube, with a rack
and pinion, or any other adjustment, to bring its focus for
parallel rays F, or its conjugate focus for diverging rays,
accurately to a point in the plane mn, and upon the object
lying in that plane, for examination. A short way below
it is placed a metallic speculum (not a silvered glass one),
which receives parallel or diverging rays, entering the tube
at ST, and reflects them upon the doublet ABCD. This
speculum should be of pure virgin silver, notwithstanding
its liability to tarnish, and should be wrought with the same
care as the plane speculum of a Newtonian telescope ;3 or
it might be a rectangular prism of good homogeneous glass,
acting by total reflection. This part of the illuminator
forms part of the microscope.3 The other part of the illu¬
minator, which is detached, is no less essential. It consists
of the flame S, which should be as bright and small as will
give the necessary quantity of light after condensation. As
close to it as possible is placed a stand for holding a screen,
with different circular apertures, and a variable rectilineal
aperture. If a stronger light is required than can be ob¬
tained from the plane S, its light must be condensed into a
parallel beam SL by another doublet of no aberration,
A'B'C'D' the flame S being in its anterior focus.
The illuminator, as now described, is adapted to homo¬
geneous light, either as obtained from a monochromatic
lamp, or by means of coloured glasses, or from the pris¬
matic spectrum; but if we employ common light, the
doublets ABCD, A'B'C'D' must be achromatic. We have
mentioned above a variable rectilineal aperture. This is
a most essential accompaniment for giving perfection to
the vision of lined objects. The aperture should be made
to form every possible angle with a vertical line, and
should be opened and shut by means of a screw till as
much light is introduced as is necessary to obtain a perfect
view of the object. The image of the slit, which is close
to the flame, must be thrown upon mn, so as to be parallel
with the lines of the object, or to form any angle with them.
When the objects are circular, circular apertures are prefer¬
able to any other.
We have already stated that no light should reach the
eye, either from the field of the microscope or any other
source. For this reason it would be desirable to have cir¬
cular and rectilineal apertures of different sizes, to be placed
immediately beneath mn, so as to allow no part of the field
to be seen, excepting that which is occupied by the object,
or part of it, tinder examination.
The above apparatus being provided, let us suppose that
the observer is called to examine some structure very diffi¬
cult to be resolved, such as the blue band of the Clubiona
atrox, or the structure and nature of the lines and test-ob¬
jects. We omit at present the consideration of the prepa¬
ration of the object and the eye of the observer, and also the
nature of the light which he is to use, as these will be se¬
parately considered; and confine ourselves to the use of
the illuminator. The object is first placed on a piece of
thin colourless parallel glass, or film of topaz or sulphate
of lime, near its middle, and the microscope is directed to
1 This contrivance, though published twenty years ago, has been
recently brought forward as a new invention by Mr Sollit in the
Quarterly Microscopical Journal, 1855, vol. iii., p. 88.
2 Such specula may now be made by the observer himself by the
beautiful method of depositing a layer of silver upon glass, in¬
vented by Mr Power—a method which M. Foucault has applied
with great success to the construction of specula for reflecting
telescopes. We have had occasion to see at the Imperial Observa¬
tory in Paris two excellent telescopes thus made by M. Foucault,
one 18 inches, and another about five feet in focal length.
3 If the axis of the microscope is placed horizontally, or even
with some obliquity, we may dispense with this speculum alto¬
gether, and direct the tube at once to the illuminating flame.
SCOPE. 797
it, so that it can be seen distinctly in the ordinary way. Micro-
Put the illuminator in its place, and set the proper aper- ^ SC0Pe- y
ture close to the small plane. Adjust the doublet ABCD
by its screw or pinion till a distinct image of the aperture
GH is seen in the field; and, by means of the apertures
below mn, any stronger or unnecessary light may be still
more completely excluded. If the structure is not ren¬
dered sufficiently distinct by this process, it will be proper
to try the effects of oblique illumination by inclining the
axis FL of the illuminator to the plate mn, and observing
carefully the effects which it produces in different azimuths.
If all these means are insufficient, we must have recourse
to new auxiliaries,—to monochromatic light, if the micro¬
scope is not achromatic, or to monochromatic illumination,
if it is achromatic; and we must prepare both the eye and
the object, the one for exhibiting and the other for viewing
to the best advantage the structures which w'e are anxious
to develop.
As the method of illumination which we have described
has been neither understood nor appreciated by some writers
on the microscope, the following observations may be useful:
—If we examine with a polarizing microscope certain mi¬
nute fibres which depolarize light, we shall, with high powers,
see them very indistinctly, owing chiefly to the fringes
formed by diffraction; but if we examine them when the
field is dark and the fibres alone luminous, they will be
seen with great distinctness, and unaccompanied with
fringes. The reason of this is, that no light passes by their
edges, so that no diffraction fringes can be formed either
within or without their image.1 They are seen as if they
were self-luminous. In like manner, a fine wire made red
hot, if examined in a dark field, will be unaccompanied with
fringes. Hence it appears that if we can converge light
upon a transparent object so that the points of convergence
or the foci of the rays fall upon the object, the light will, as
it were, radiate from the parts of the object which they illu¬
minate as if they were self-luminous; and consequently
there will be no diffraction fringes. The light, therefore,
must be either achromatic or monochromatic. Hence it
follows that a common lens which has different foci for the
different colours of the spectrum, and also for different parts
of its surface, is unfit for microscopic illumination.
These views have been adopted by the most distinguished
opticians, as well as by the most eminent observers, and all
the finest instruments are accompanied with an achromatic
condenser or illuminator.
This method of illumination was, as we have already
stated, proposed by Sir David Brewster in 1831, and used
by Mr Potter in the same year. It was more fully described
by the inventor in this work in 1837, and in his separate
Treatise on the Microscope published in the same year ;2 and
yet the very same apparatus was communicated to the
Academy of Sciences in Paris as a new invention, by M.
Dujardin, and published in September 1838.3 It can
hardly be expected that foreigners should be acquainted
with every English invention, and we have no doubt that
M. Dujardin had not seen the books to which we have
referred ; but it is discreditable to the science of England
that the authors and compilers of English treatises on the
microscope should continue to ascribe to M. Dujardin
an invention which has not only been used in their own
country for 25 years, but distinctly described in English
works, easily accessible, and well known in the scientific
world.
Before we conclude this chapter we must gratify the
reader with an account of Mr Wenham’s very ingenious
1 These views are successfully explained in the Phil. Mag., 1848,
vol. xxxii., p. 161.
2 See also the Phil. Mag., 1848, vol. xxxii., p. 163.
3 Comptes Eendus, &c., Sept. 10, 1838, tom. vii., p. 620.
798
Micro¬
scope.
method of illuminating opaque microscopic objects when
object-glasses of very high power are employed. It is im¬
possible to apply a Lieberkhun to objects covered with a
plate of glass,1 and equally so to throw in upon the object
reflected light sufficient to illuminate it. Mr Wenham has
therefore conceived the ingenious idea of illuminatino- the
object by light that has suffered total reflection from the
interior of the upper surface of the thin glass which covers
the object. The method of doing this is shown in the
annexed figure, where aa is the surface of the plate of o-lass
MICROSCOPE.
Monochro¬
matic illu¬
mination
of micros¬
copic ob¬
jects.
Rig. 97.
upon which the object is laid, and mn the thin glass which
covers the object, with Canada balsam or some other fluid
interposed. The frustitm 6 of a hemispherical lens is placed
beneath the slide aa, with water or any other fluid inter-
posed. When rays c, c, c, c fall perpendicularly through the
sides of the lens b, they will pass on to the upper surface
mn ot the thin glass cover, and if they fall at the proper
angle upon that surface, they will be wholly reflected upon
the object between the two glasses.2 By placing a small
highly dispersing prism beneath aa, so as to form a fine
spectrum from a narrow slit, the most perfect monochromatic
illumination may be obtained. The prism may be very near
tie hole, as a spectrum of very little length is required.
In order to illuminate objects obliquely by condensed
light, a prism, called Amici’s prism, which is the same as
INewton s curvihneal prism, has been used; but it is obvious
that the lenticular reflecting prism, or the plano-convex lens
used as a reflector, as shown in fig. 21, is much superior in
accuracy, and much more easily made. To place two spheri¬
cal faces upon a prism, so as to have the same centre and
the same inclination to the base, is a very difficult operation :
whereas, in the lenticular reflector the centres are neces¬
sarily coincident and equally inclined to the base.
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE MONOCHROMATIC ILLUMINATION OF MICROSCOPIC
OBJECTS.
If a simple and easily applied system of monochromatic
i lumination, that is, of illuminating objects with homoge¬
neous light—which a prism, and consequently a lens, is not
capable of dispersing or refracting in different directions—
could be contrived, we should never again hear of com¬
pound achromatic microscopes. We believe it will be ad¬
don fieri ln ST Herschel’s doublet of no aberra-
than in anv1?1^ aberrati°n ^ more comPletely corrected
Hence it /n ()ub1^ or.even triple, achromatic object-glass,
would be aS ^ m homoSeneous light such a doublet
But in thA microscope than the compound lens.
can be executeV5'^m °f '■‘I™™'* ^PeLtion that
without a remedy • * i ,'’econt,‘“'y spectrum still remains
fn wh ch tl erTcan h» ‘doublet °f aberration,
w ncli there can be no secondary colour in homogeneous
light, must be a superior instrumemf fi “umogeneous
niatic lens. Now in telescone^ k i '“.T,rad achl°-
  ’ scopes it is impossible, except in
1 Mr Roes, we understand, has contrivoa „ r • . T,
highest powers to illuminate uncovered opaque obje^t A ^ ^
2 Microscopical Journal, vol. iv., p. 58. P q 0bjects-
viewing the suns disc,1 to work with homogeneous light • Micro-
but in microscopes, where the quantity of light is in our scope,
power it is perfectly practicable to make that quantity so
great that all the yellow or red rays which it contains may
give sufficient light for microscopical observations. This in¬
sulation of homogeneous light may be effected in three
ways; first, by a monochromatic lamp, as proposed and
constructed by Sir David Brewster; secondly, by the ab¬
sorption of coloured media; and thirdly, by the prism.
1. The monochromatic lamp is shown in the following
figure, where AB is a lamp having its globe A filled with
diluted alcohol, which descends gradually through the tube
C into a thin platina or metallic cup, in which it burns. A
strong heat is kept up by a spirit-lamp inclosed in a dark
Jan thorn, and when the diluted alcohol is inflamed, it will
burn with a fierce and powerful yellow flame. If the flame
should not be perfectly yellow, or rather of a nankeen
colour, owing to an excess of alcohol, a small proportion of
salt thrown into the '==
cup D will have the
same effect as a farther
dilution of the alcohol.
Sometimes a little blue
light will be found
mixed with the yel¬
low', but this may be
easily absorbed by a
piece of yellow glass
placed on any part of
the microscope through
which the rays pass.
Although this light is
feeble compared with
that of white flames,
yet, by using larger
lenses for condensing
it, it is quite easy to
obtain a pencil suffi- EJg. 98.
ciently powerful for all microscopic observations.2
A stionger flame may be produced by using a gas lamp,
or, what is still better, a por¬
table gas one containing com¬
pressed gas.3 This gas° when
rushing out in a full stream,
explodes when burned with at¬
mospheric air, emitting much
heat and a faint bluish and red¬
dish light. As the force of
the issuing gas is sufficient to
blow out the flame, a con¬
trivance for sustaining it be¬
comes necessary. The method
which we contrived for this pur¬
pose is shown in the annexed
figure, where N is the main
body of the lamp, MN the
principal burner, and A the
screw which opens the main
cock. A small gas tube abc,
communicating with the main
Fig. 99.
1 A solar' telescope should never be an achromatic one, but
should consist of a compound lens of no aberration, all the colours
n ie sPec^lunJ but one being absorbed by the darkening glass.
One of these telescopes, in which the object-glass is corrected for
spherical aberration upon Sir John Ilerschel's principle, was con-
sti ucted for Sir David Brew-ster by Dollond, at the expense of the
oyal Society of London, and has been used in his observations on
the lines of the spectrum.
~ Edinburgh Transactions, vol. ix., p. 435.
^ Y\ hen this was written, such lamps were used in Edinburgh,
and supplied by a company which did not succeed.
MICRO
Micro- burner, terminates above the burner, and has a short tube de
scope, movable up and down within it, but so as to be gas light.
—This tube de, closed at d, communicates with the hollow x’ing
fg, in which four apertures are perforated so as to throw their
jets of gas to the apex of a cone whose base is fg. When
the gas is made to issue from the burner M, it rushes also
into the tube abcdf, and issues in four small flames at the
apertures in the ring f; and the height of these flames is
regulated by the stop-cock at b. The explosive mixture
of air and gas which rushes up through the ring is sustained
in combustion by these small flames, through which it
passes. A broad collar, made of coarse cotton-wick, and
thoroughly soaked in a saturated solution of common salt,
is fixed on a ring h; and when the bluish flame of the ex¬
plosive mixture rises above h, it will be converted by the
salted collar into a strong mass of homogeneous yellow
light. A hollow cylinder of sponge, with numerous project¬
ing tufts, may be substituted for the cotton collar, or a collar
of abestos cloth might be used, and supplied from a capil¬
lary fountain containing a saturated solution of salt.1
When the few blue rays which sometimes mingle them¬
selves with this yellow light are absorbed, every part of the
light will be found to have a definite refrangibility, greater
than any other artificial light that can be produced. The
minutest objects and the smallest type will appear per¬
fectly distinct in this light when seen or read through the
largest possible angle of the greatest dispersive prism,—an
irrefragable proof of the perfect homogeneity of the light.
2. The second method of producing homogeneous light,
and by far the simplest and most easily applicable to mi¬
croscopes, is that of absorption ; and the best rays to leave
unabsorbed or insulated are the red. It requires some ex¬
perience and scientific knowledge of the action of different
absorbing media to select those which will leave the nar-
rowest and brightest bandog the red space in the spectrum.
We have now under our microscope (a grooved sphere of
garnet executed by Mr Blackie2) two scales of a moth lying
in sulphuric acid and covering each other. With solar
light the spaces between the lines glitter with all the hues
of the rainbow; but when a thickish plate of red mica is
combined with another plate of red glass, and placed be¬
neath the object, all these colours instantly disappear, and
a perfection of vision is obtained, which can be disturbed
only by the very small portion of spherical aberration which
must exist in the sphere, and which an increased depth of
the groove would render almost insensible. Blue glasses,
and green and yellow as well as coloured fluids, may be
successfully used in narrowing the range of refrangibility
of the red space.
3. The third method, or that of prismatic refraction, is
perhaps the surest and the best method of obtaining homo¬
geneous light with the smallest extent of refrangibility. A
certain effect may be produced by small prisms ; but in
order to have a perfect apparatus, the microscope should
form part of the apparatus for examining the lines of the
solar spectrum ; that is, it should screw into the eye-piece
of the telescope, in front of the object-glass of which is
placed a fine large prism, for forming the spectrum within
the telescope. By this method, which we have put to the
test of experiment, microscopical observations can be carried
on with an accuracy and satisfaction which nothing can ex¬
ceed. We enjoy the luxury of perfectly monochromatic
vision greater than which the most perfect achromatic com¬
pensation cannot give ; and while we have the spherical
1 Edinburgh Journal of Science, New Series, No. 1, p. 108.
3 This sphere, which we have already mentioned, is made of the
purest garnet, and is executed in the most admirable manner ) and
though we cannot say that we see any defect in it, yet if the groove
were still deeper, both its spherical and achromatic aberration
would be diminished.
SCOPE. 799
aberration corrected, we have no secondary colours, and Micro-
none of the imperfections of vision which must arise in scope,
transmitting light through six or eight lenses of plate and
flint glass.
Although we hope the scientific reader will admit that
the preceding views are demonstrably correct, yet Dr
Goring has pronounced a most unfavourable opinion of the
system of monochromatic illumination.1 We endeavoured
to convert him from this heresy, and hoped that we had
succeeded ;2 but in the Micrographia, since published, he
devoted a whole chapter to the reproduction and support
of his former views.3 We shall therefore again examine his
objections in their order, as they obstruct the progress of
improvement among those who justly admire Dr Goring’s
ingenuity and knowledge in everything which relates to
the microscope.
1. Dr Goring’s first objection to monochromatic illumi¬
nation is, that it is too weak, and must be about one-seventh
of the whole beam of light. This we are not disposed
to dispute; but Dr Goring is too well acquainted with
the resources of optical science, to forget that this mo¬
nochromatic seventh of a beam of light may be made seven
times more intense than the whole beam. The objection,
however, does not apply to the solar spectrum, for one-
seventh of the sun’s light is too intense for any eye to
bear.
2. The second objection of our author is, that the colours
of the spectrum, when separated by the prism, are actu¬
ally separated into different colours when they are re¬
fracted in oblique pencils by a microscope. If this obser¬
vation is correct, then we must denounce the prism that
produced such a spectrum as utterly useless. Dr Goring,
however, conceives his observation and his prism to be
good, and endeavours to explain the result by referring to
Sir David Brewster’s analysis of the spectrum, in which it
is shown that white light exists at every point of it; but
this white light, which has been rendered visible by ab¬
sorption, cannot be decomposed by refraction of any kind,
as it consists of red, yellow, and blue rays, of the same
refrangibility. Such white light is the light that is wanted
for the microscope; and there can be little doubt that ab¬
sorptive media will yet be discovered to effect its insula¬
tion in sufficient quantity for practical purposes.
3. Another objection to monochromatic light is, that it
will not show the real colours of microscopic bodies. This
is true ; but the object of the microscope is not to find out
colours but structures. A common glass lens, with com¬
mon light, will let the observer know all that he wants of
the colours of objects; and when he has learned this, he
will then gladly avail himself of coloured light for more im¬
portant purposes. We can truly say, that though we have
wrought with the microscope for fifty years, we do not at
present recollect a single case where we required to know
anything of the precise colours of minute bodies. Notwith¬
standing this discussion, Dr Goring concludes his chapter
with the following observation, in which we entirely con¬
cur :—“ A monochromatic light, therefore, being once ob¬
tained in a sufficient state of intensity for practical pur¬
poses, bids fair to conduct us to the highest perfection of
which aplanatic object-glasses and magnifiers are suscep¬
tible.” It may be proper to add, that the best system of
compound achromatic object-glasses now in use would be
freed of all their secondary colours by using monochroma¬
tic light; and they may be also greatly improved by em¬
ploying suitable coloured media to absorb what are called
the outstanding rays in an achromatic combination. Al¬
though Dr Goring has objected to the use of monochro-
1 Edinburgh Journal of Science, New Series, No. 9, p. 52.
2 Ibid., p. 143.
3 Ibid., 73.
■
800
MICROSCOPE.
Micro- matic light, he has himself given some remarkable illus-
scope. trations of its value, as removing entirely the effects of
chromatic aberration.1
CHAPTER VIII.
ON THE PREPARATION OF THE OBJECT AND THE EYE FOR
MICROSCOPICAL OBSERVATIONS.
In using lenses of short focus, either singly or in doub¬
lets and triplets, the object is so near the lens, and its
thickness, even when very small, forms such a considerable
part of its distance from the nearest refracting surface, that
any bend or want of flatness in the object completely in¬
terferes with the distinct vision of its parts. When the
object will bear pressure, the best way is to lay above it a
thin transparent film, with perfectly parallel and polished
surfaces, such as a splinter of New Holland topaz, a thin
plate of sulphate of lime, or a film of mica.2 If these plates
are a little less thick than the distance between the lens
and the object, a little bees’ wax should be interposed be¬
tween the brass setting of the lens and the plate, so that
the lens in the act of adjustment would press the wax
against the plate, and the plate against the object, till dis¬
tinct vision is obtained. The object should be placed upon
a deeply-curved concave surface.
The proper flattening of the object, when it is tender,
may be effected by pressing a thick balsam above it, and
allowing the lens to dip into the balsam. If the surface of
the lens is flat, its magnifying power will suffer no diminu¬
tion.
When grooved spheres are used, such as the garnet one
above mentioned, the object requires to be very near its
surface. It should therefore be placed in a concave lens
of glass, of a little greater radius than the sphere, and
pressed into the concave form by interposing a nar¬
row strip of a thin film of mica, and, if necessary, pieces
of wax or India-rubber, as before ; the pieces filling up the
space between the lens and the mica, so as not to interfere
with the part of the object under examination.
If a diminution of the magnifying power can be permit¬
ted, a fluid may be placed between the concave object-
plates and the grooved sphere, and the chromatic aber¬
ration greatly reduced. By the interposition of a fluid, a
grooved diamond sphere may be used; for though its
focus for parallel rays falls within the sphere when the re¬
fractions are made from air and into air, yet, when the first
refraction is made from a suitable fluid, the focus will fall
without the sphere.
When the object is put into the best possible condi¬
tion for observation, and the illuminator applied in the best
possible manner, the observer will have every advantage
in his researches; but still the structure which he seeks to
develop may escape his eager research. Under these
circumstances, he must perform his part of the observation
in the best possible manner.
Unless particular arrangements are made by the ob¬
server for his own comfort, there is no bodily fatigue to
be compared with that of the use of the microscope. The
eye, the mind, and the whole frame, are on the stretch,
i he observer must therefore first try if his own eye is in a
right state for observation. The fluid which lubricates
the cornea, which must be considered as a lens and as
part of the microscope, is sometimes in such a viscid state,
that when the eyelids roll over the cornea by that beau¬
tiful provision of nature by which it is kept smooth and
1 See Pritchard s Microscopic Illustrations, pp. 271, 272, 3d edit.
1845.
2 Plates of very thin glass are now made for the express purpose
of inclosing objects for the microscope. x
clean, the lubricating fluid, which is pushed into a ridge Micro-
between the eyelids, does not quickly recover a convex scope,
surface. This state of the cornea is incompatible with
delicate microscopic observations, and its existence may
be ascertained by viewing the expanded image of a lumi¬
nous point held close to the eye, and, after shutting the
eyelids and again opening them slowly, observing if the lu¬
minous disc recovers its uniform luminosity quickly or
slowly. If the luminous line produced by the fluid accu¬
mulated between the eyelids continues to be visible, and
the general surface mottled and spotted, the lubricating
secretion should be excited by exposing the eye to the va¬
pour of hartshorn, raised by pouring a few drops on the
surface of boiling water. The secretion will now flow co¬
piously, the cornea will be swept clean by the purer and
less viscid fluid, and the vision of the observer greatly im¬
proved. But this movable fluid surface of the cornea
generates another imperfection of vision, which has al¬
ready been referred to. This fluid, when undisturbed by
the eyelids, descends by the influence of gravity in vertical
lines, and the minute ridges thus formed obliterate and
render indistinct all horizontal lines seen by the eye, but
have a tendency rather to improve the vision of vertical
lines. In proof of this, we may state the unquestionable
fiict, that if we take a striped pattern of any fabric, and
bend part of it into a horizontal direction, while the rest
remains vertical, or vice versa, the vertical part will always
appear the most distinct. Hence, in viewing lined ob¬
jects, when the position of the observer’s head is either
vertical or oblique, the lines of the lined object should be
always placed parallel to the direction of the descending
fluid. If the axis of the lenses is vertical, and the eye
looks downwards, the lubricating fluid wTill collect irregu¬
larly at the apex of the cornea, and injure vision. If the
axis of the lenses is horizontal, and the observer’s head in
its natural position, the fluid will descend in vertical lines ;
but if the observer lies on his back and looks into the mi¬
croscope upwards, a position, we admit, not favourable for
research, the fluid will flow equally in all directions from
the apex to the margin of the cornea, and leave a clear
centre well fitted for distinct vision. We may here notice
the beautiful contrivance, not mentioned by natural theolo¬
gians, that the effect of the vertical descent of the lubricat¬
ing fluid is counteracted by the eyelids opening horizon¬
tally, and consequently effacing the tendency of the fluid
to form vertical currents. Had the eyelids opened verti-
tically, the vertical ridges would have been increased, and
vision greatly impaired.
When everything has been done to fit the cornea (the
only part of the eye over which we have any direct com¬
mand) for accurate vision, the general state of the health,
or any casual irregularity of diet, or the accumulation of
those minute transparent vessels which produce muscce vo¬
lt tantes,1 will be sometimes found to affect the state of the
organ, and unfit it for nice observation. To remedy this
defect of vision, we must refer the patient to the prescrip¬
tions of his physician.
When these precautions have been taken, the observer
must protect his eye from all extraneous light; and the
most effectual way of doing this is to use the snow spec¬
tacles of the Greenlanders, which are cut out of wood, so
as to exclude all light whatever, except what enters through
a circular aperture the size of the pupil, and directly in
front of it.2 A cast should be taken in plaster of Paris,
•1 See Edinburgh Transactions, 1843, vol. xv., p. 377.
s In the snow spectacles a long narrow slit is used, to enable the
wearer to look on each side of him. An interesting account of the
great value of these spectacles, by the celebrated Professor Blu-
menbach, will be found in the Edinburgh Phil. Journal, vol. viii.,
p. 261.
MICROSCOPE.
Micro¬
scope.
from the part of the face to which they are to be applied,
to enable the artist to cut them of a proper shape ; and
' when finished they should be lined with black velvet.
1 he last requisite for accurate microscopical observation is
steadiness in the microscope? and a steady and comfortable
position for the observer. The first is easily attained; the
second may be accomplished by the observer resting his
doubled arms upon a stool or frame nearly the height of the
eye-glass of the microscope, but unconnected with it, while
his chin rests either upon his arms or upon his breast.
When all these means and precautions fail in unravel¬
ling a mysterious structure, we have often derived advan¬
tage, in the case of lined objects, by looking through cy¬
lindrical lenses or good prisms; the length of the cylinder,
or the refracting edges of the prism, being at right angles to
the lines. Narrow slits may also be used with advantage next
the eye; but in all these cases, while w'e improve and give
a finer definition to the lines and the spaces between them,
we deteriorate vision for other parts of the structure.
801
CHAPTER IX.
APPLICATION OF PHOTOGRAPHY TO THE MICROSCOPE.
Photography may be applied to the microscope in two
ways, 1 st. In furnishing us with magnificent photographs
of microscopic objects ; and, ‘Id. In converting, for special
purposes, large objects into small ones which are visible
only in the microscope.
1. Mr Richard Hodgson seems to have been the first
person who obtained microscopic photographs upon da¬
guerreotype plates by the sun’s direct rays. In Oct. 1852
Mr Joseph Delves, of Tunbridge Wells, exhibited to the
Microscopical Society beautiful magnified photographs both
on paper and glass,2 namely, the spiracle and trachea of the
silk-worm, magnified 60 diameters, and the proboscis of the
fly magnified 180 diameters. In November Mr George
Shadbolt exhibited a photograph of a fly’s proboscis, taken
by a very small camphine lamp.
The method of taking these pictures is very simple.
The eye-piece of the microscope being removed, the end
of the tube from which it was taken is fixed into a dark hox
(or a photographic camera), at the opposite end of which is
a groove for carrying the ground-glass plate. When the
object is well illuminated either by solar or artificial light,
a distinct picture of the object is thrown upon the ground-
glass plate, and the sensitive plate is placed so as to be
in the chemical focus of the object-glass, which, in low
powers, is at some distance beyond the luminous focus.
Mr Shadbolt obtains the chemical focus by altering the
luminous focus by the fine adjustment; an alteration of two
turns of the milled head, or ^th of an inch, being suffi¬
cient for an inch-and-half object-glass; an alteration of
half a turn for a §d inch object-glass, or a^th of an inch;
and an alteration of about 2 divisions, or the T^th part of
an inch, for a T^th of an inch object-glass. The time of
exposure varies from 1 to 10 minutes.3
1 This suggestion has been specially attended to in the latest
form of Mr Ross's microscope. He has obtained the most perfect
steadiness by giving solidity to those parts which are most liable
to tremor; and he attaches so much importance to this property of
the instrument, that he tests it by the “ inverted pendulum.” The
object of this apparatus is to exhibit vibrations which could not
otherwise be perceived. He varies the size of the parts of the
stand till he obtains such an equality of vibration between the stage
and the body of the microscope as will prevent any visible tremor
in the object under examination.
2 They were produced in from 5 to 10 seconds in sun-light. With
low powers “ a moment’s exposure” is sufficient.
3 See Transactions of the Microscopical Society, vol. i., p. 57 ; and
Microscopic Journal, vol. i., p. 165,
VOL. XIV.
Mr F. H. Wenham has greatly improved the process of Micro-
microscopic photography by using the ordinary microscope scope,
as a solar one, and using a dark room in place of a camera,
by a new mode of combining the chemical and visual foci,
and by obscuring for a time the parts of the object which
are either easily solarized and lost, or out of focus. He
prefers sunlight to artificial light, though he justly considers
it of great importance to have what he calls a photographic
fusee that will burn with the necessary actinic power for
sufficient time to take nocturnal or underground photo¬
graphs. He has produced photographic pictures by burning
phosphorus, by balls of fine zinc turnings, by a succession
of electric sparks, and by the oxyhydrogen or lime light.
Mr Wenham has succeeded in obtaining by the photo¬
graphic microscope the markings on the most difficult tests.
One of these, of the P. angulatum, magnified about 15,000
diameters, shows the configuration of the markings, perfectly
black and distinct, in a far greater degree than we can ever
hope to see them through the compound microscope; and
Mr Wenham is of opinion “that if ever the structure of
those difficult tests is to be proved, it will be by the aid of
photography.”1
Photographs of a still more minute character were pre- Micro-
sented to the Academy of Sciences on the 10th August sc°pic ph°-
last by M. Bertsch.2 They were five in number. ° tographs
The first was one of the Diatomaceae, from guano, ob-£y
tamed by a magnifying power of 500 diameters. ' The focaliiertscl1*'
length of the object-glass was the 50th of an inch (a demi-
millimetre). It was achromatized for the superior rays of
the spectrum, and its chemical focal length was 24 centi¬
metres. The focus for the inferior rays was the xl^th of a
millimetre from the luminous focus.
The second specimen was two Naviculse, of that species
of which it is difficult to see the structure and the striae
with the best microscopes. One is magnified 800 and the
other 500 diameters. They were illuminated with light so
oblique that the field of view was almost dark.
The third represented, with a power of 500, the globules
of the human blood. The annular space and the depres¬
sion were distinctly shown on a larger field than is given
by the best microscope, and the light traversed them with¬
out changing its direction.
The fourth specimen consisted of two pictures of the
crystals of salicine, seen in polarized light; the one illumi¬
nated by the ordinary, and the other by the extraordinary
ray.
M. Hartnach constructed for M. Bertsch a complete
instrument for taking this class of photographs, with a
magnifying power of from 50 to 1000 diameters for trans¬
parent objects, and from 50 to 150 for opaque objects.3
2. Photography has been successfully applied in reducing,
for special purposes, large objects into such small dimen¬
sions that they are invisible to the naked eye, and can be
seen only with a good microscope.
It has long been a trial of skill to include the Lord’s Micro-
Prayer in the smallest circle by the unaided hand of the 8C0Pic bnes
writer. More recently results of the most remarkable kind of writings
have been obtained by machinery. Sir John Barton drew ny Sir John
with a diamond point, upon steel, lines at the distance of the rton;
10,000th of an inch. M. Nobert exhibited at the Crystal By M.
Paiace in 1851 ten groups of lines upon glass in which the
number of lines in an English inch varies from 11 265 to
49,910; and M. de la Hue examined another Joimen of
ten groups in which they varied from 11,261 to 56,306 !
In order to see the lines in the widest of these groups’, a
power of 100 is sufficient, but one of 2000 is required to
separate those in the closer groups. They thus become
2 T?'ansactions of the Microscopical Society, vol. iii., p. 1.
Comptes Rendus, &c., tom. xlv., p. 213.
Cosmos, Aug. 14, 1857, vol. xi., p. 179.
5 i
802
MICROSCOPE.
By M.
Froment.
By Mr
Peters.
Micro¬
scopic ph
tographs
by Mr
Dancer.
test-plates for determining the power and excellence of
microscopes.
Microscopic effects still more wonderful have been pro¬
duced by M. Froment of Paris, one of the most distinguished
artists of modern times. A piece of writing, for example,
about 3t2^ inches in diameter, was compressed into the
space of gVth of an inch. The mode of doing this has not
yet been published; but Dr Lardner1 informs us “ that it
consists of a mechanism by which the point of the graver
or style (a diamond point generally) is guided by a system
of levers, which are capable of imparting to it three motions
in right lines, which are reciprocally perpendicular; two of
thern being parallel, and the third at right angles to the
surface on which the characters or design are written or
engraved. The combination of the motions in the direc¬
tion of the axes, parallel to the surface on which the cha¬
racters are engraved or written, determines the form of the
characters; and the motion in the direction of the axes, at
rio-ht angles to that surface, determines the depths of the
incision, if it be engraving, or the thickness of the stroke, if
it be writing.”
Wonderful as are the specimens published by M. Fro¬
ment, they have been greatly surpassed by those produced
by our countryman Mr Peters, who has invented and de¬
scribed the machine by which they are produced. Mr
Peters has inscribed the Lord’s Prayer in 6 lines in a rect¬
angular space one of whose sides is the arcrth Par^ °fari inch,
and the other the -g-^th part of an inch; that is, the area
of the rectangle is x g o o, or the a square
inch. The height ot each letter is the ro^obir^1 pai’t ot a
linear inch, and therefore the space occupied by any letter,
such as u or n, which are as wide as they are high, is no
more than the hundred millionth of a square inch !2
Among the wonders of microscopic photography not the
o- least interesting and useful are the fine microscopic portraits
taken by Mr Dancer of Manchester, and copies of monu¬
mental inscriptions so minute, that the figures in the one,
and the letters in the other, are invisible to the eye. A
family group of seven complete portraits occupies a space
the size of the head of a pin ; so that ten thousand single
portraits could be included in a square inch. They are
executed upon films of collodion as transparent as glass ; so
that a family group could be placed in the centre of a
brooch, a locket, or a ring, and magnified by the central
jewel cut into a lens sufficient to exhibit the group dis¬
tinctly when looked into or held up to the light.
Microscopic copies of despatches and valuable papers and
plans might be transmitted by post, and secrets might be
placed in spaces not larger than a full stop or a small blot
of ink.
We have already had occasion to mention in the article
Micrometer the application of photography in making
micrometers and micrometrical scales of all kinds; and it
is obvious that groups of test-lines like those of Nobert could
be produced upon transparent collodion with an accuracy
and distinctness greater than could be done upon glass.
The original groups, drawn on a large scale either by the
hand or a ruling-machine, could thus be copied and re¬
duced ad infinitum.
CHAPTER X.
ON TEST OR PROOF OBJECTS FOR TRYING THE PERFORM¬
ANCE OF MICROSCOPES.
must ascribe much of the rapid improvement which this Micro-
instrument has undergone. "I he finest test-objects are the scope,
scales of butterflies and moths, which were suggested to J
Dr Goring by the following passage in Leuwenhoeck Test-
“ If we examine the wings of this creature (the silk-worm
moth, Phalcena mori) by the microscope, we shall find
them covered with an incredible number of feathers (scales),
of such various forms, that if a hundred or more of them
were to be seen lying together, each would appear of a
different shape. To show more clearly this wonderful
object, I caused eight feathers to be delineated, for I do
not remember that I ever saw them of so curious a make
in any flying insect.
“ Although the microscope by which these feathers were
drawn represented objects very distinctly, the limner could
not through it see the ribs or streaks in each feather until
I pointed them out to him. Therefore I put into his hands
a microscope which magnified objects almost as much as
that by which the silk-worm’s thread was drawn, desiring
him to give the figure of that feather which through it he
could see the most distinct.”1
From this passage Dr Goring naturally inferred, that Dr Gorirg.
there were some peculiar properties in the lines on the
feathers and scales of insects, which rendered them more
difficult to be discovered than other microscopic objects
and hence he discovered their properties as test or proof
objects for trying the penetrating powers of microscopes.
Dr Goring regards the penetrating1 power of a microscope
as dependent on its angle of aperture, and its defining
power as in the inverse ratio of the quantity of chromatic
and spherical aberration. W hen the angle of aperture was
less than a certain quantity, he found that the lined struc¬
ture of the scales could not be rendered visible, however
perfect the instrument was.
These new and apparently important results were con- Mr Prit-
firmed by Mr Pritchard ; and since that time opticians, both chard,
in this and in foreign countries, have contended with each
other in producing object-glasses with the largest angles ot
aperture. Mr Ross, as we have seen, has produced object-
glasses iVU1 of an inch focus, with an angle of aperture of
170°; and in a communication to Mr Quekett5 from Mr Ross
himself, he gives a history of the steps by which he advanced
to this remarkable angle :—
Focal length.
1832 Mr Ross   1 inch
1833 Do  „
1831
1836
1842
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
i
ITT
. 1 „
1844 Professor Amici  y
 Mr Ross   ^
——— Do tSj
  Do 
   Do 
iir v
tV »
Angle of aperture.
14°
18
55
15
60
72
22
63
44
67
74
112
85
135
170
Angles of
aperture.
In closing his communication to Mr Quekett, Mr Ross
remarks that 135° is the largest angular pencil that can
be passed through a microscopic object-glass, and yet he
had increased it in 1855 to 170°. Sorne writers speak of
angular apertures of 175°, and even 180 !
Test-
objects.
This class of objects, and their application to the micro¬
scope, we owe to Dr Goring; and to their introduction we
1 Treatise on the Microscope, 1856, chap, ii., p, 73.
2 The ingenious machine invented by Mr Peters is described by
Mr Farrants in the Transactions of the Microscopical Society, vol.
iii., p. 55.
1 Select Works, p. 63.
2 Some writers have very unwisely substituted the term resolving
in place of penetrating, and have applied the latter to a property of
the microscope which all low powers possess ; that is, seeing into an
object, or seeing parts out of focus. Tho term resolving, applied to
the telescope, is the power of separating minute luminous points.
3 Practical Treatise on the Microscope, 1848, p. 430.
A.
Angular
aperture.
Errors of
tures.
MICRO
It is well known to every observer with the microscope
that object-glasses oflarge angular aperture exhibit objects
which are not seen with those of a smaller aperture and
the same focal length ; but it is equally well known that they
often show objects less distinctly than those of a smaller
aperture. "1 his being the fact, we ask, What great advan¬
tage is derived from merely seeing that there are lines in
an object, unless the object-glass shows us what is the
nature and structure of these lines ?
As instruments for studying structures and making useful
discoveries with the microscope, let us compare the object-
glass of large aperture with one of small aperture :—
1. It is obvious that, owing to the larger size of the
lenses in the large-aperture lenses, the rays must pass
through a much greater thickness of glass of doubtful homo¬
geneity.
2. With large apertures, the spherical aberrations and
the chromatic aberration, primary, and secondary especially,
must be less perfectly corrected.
3. 1 he surface of glass with the most perfect polish must
have pores produced by the attrition of the polishing mate¬
rial, and light falling upon the sides of these pores with
extreme obliquity must be refracted less perfectly than
when incident at a greater angle.
4. The structures actually seen, however distinctly, and
large angu- even if the lenses are absolutely perfect, are false structures,
ar aper- the falsehood of the picture being proportional to the angle
of aperture.
1 his result, which the optician and the optical student
will receive not only with scepticism, but we fear with
disdain, as the photographers have done an analogous truth,
may be illustrated in the following manner:—
It has been demonstrated1 that all objects in relief are
misrepresented by large lenses when their pictures are taken
in the camera obscura. T. he human face divine is carica¬
tured. Parts invisible are displayed, and parts visible are
defbimed. When Polyphemus admired Galatea she was
not the beauty who fascinated Acis ; and we think a national
reward should be offered to the daring Ulysses who should
extinguish the orb of every photographic Polyphemus in the
land. But if the photographic lens thus deforms youth and
beauty and age, and even trespasses upon inanimate nature,
what may we not expect from the Cyclopean eye of a twelfth-
of-an-inch object-glass viewing microscopic objects in relief,
several thousand times less in diameter, and so near it that
U would see nearly the whole of its surface were it a sphere ?
For the purpose of illustration, we may suppose the micro¬
scopic object to be the head, in relief, of the Venus de
Medicis, on a much smaller scale than the beautiful micro¬
scopic portraits of Mr Dancer of Manchester, and that the
microscopical observer is requested to make a drawing of it.
W^e cannot venture to say what would be its expression,
but we are sure that it could have no resemblance to the
original, both ears being fully brought out, and almost the
whole round of the head. In like manner, every ridge in
a microscopic object will show to the observer both its per¬
pendicular sides as well as the side opposite the eye, and
the resulting picture will be an incoincident combination of
a thousand different pictures, as seen from every point of
the object-glass. 1 he reason is therefore obvious why a
large aperture shows lines that are invisible with a small
aperture. The relief of a bust, or of a relievo, either basso
or alto, is best seen when we look at it in profile. Its height
is then actually seen, whereas it is merely inferred when
we look it full in the face. W hen the raised lines of a test-
object are illuminated only obliquely, they are seen obliquely,
and consequently much better than with a small aperture^
which may not show them at all; not because the object-
glass is inferior in penetrating power, but because the thing
1 Brewster’s Optics, chap, vii., p. 65, edit, of 1853.
SCOPE. 8o3
looked at in the one case is not the thing looked at in the Micro-
other, and is actually a smaller object. scope.
tlence the perfection of a microscope consists in its having v>—v—~'/
the smallest angular aperture consistent with distinct vision. Errors of
ouch a microscope will not show certain objects of oreat large angu-
minuteness, but it will give a perfect representation of whatIar aPer'
it does show. The large angular aperture will show the tures•
same objects, and others far more minute, but whatever it
does show will be a mockery of the truth.
Admitting the truth of these observations, it follows that
an observer who examines a microscopic structure in relief,
and executes a correct drawing of it with an object-glass of
large aperture and an eye-piece of small magnifying power,
will obtain a very different and a much more correct draw¬
ing if, with the same magnifying power, he uses an object-
glass of a less focal length of small aperture, and an eye¬
piece of a high magnifying power.
In the use of high magnifying powers obtained by object-
glasses of short focal length we encounter another evil,
well known to every microscopical observer. We can see
only at one instant the parts of the object which are in the
same focal plane, and by a fresh adjustment we see in suc¬
cession the parts in other planes nearer to or farther from
the object-glass.
We are thus led to a new form of the microscope, in New form
which object-glasses of large angular aperture should not be °f th® mi*
employed. In place of observing the object with such croscoPe-
object-glasses, observe an image of the object formed with
anothei achromatic object-glass with a proper angular aper¬
ture. This image may be the exact size of the object as
produced by placing the object at a distance equal to twice
its focal length, or it may be made greater by diminishing that
distance, or less by increasing it. In all these cases the dis¬
tance of the object from the first lens is so great that opaque
objects may be illuminated by a Lieberkhun, or any method
that may be preferred, and large objects may be submitted
to examination to which the microscope in its present form
cannot be applied. When the angular aperture is large,
and the magnifying power great, the object approaches so
near to the lens that the microscope becomes quite unfit
foi impoitant physiological researches. It is unfit also for
all researches in which experiments require to be made
upon the objects under examination, for the examination of
objects inclosed in minerals or other transparent bodies, and
for objects in which there is any distance between their
near and remote parts.
Fhe following is the list of test-objects given by Mr Mr. Pritch-
I litchaid, and arranged in relation to penetrating andar<FsEst
defining power,—a distinction which the preceding obser- of .tesfc-
yations justify us in preserving; the word penetrating mean- objects-
mg nothing more than the effect produced by angular
aperture:—
I.—Penetrating Power.
Sect. I. Easy. 1. Petrobius maritimus, scales of.
2. Lepisma saccharina, scales of.
II. Standard. 1. Morpho Menelaus, feathers of.
2. Alacita pentadactyla, feathers of the.
3. Alacita hexadactyla, feathers from the body
of it. ]
4. Lycaenae Argus, feathers of the.
5. Tinea vestianella, or clothes-moth, feathers
from under ends of the wing.
1. Pieris or Pontia hrassica, or cabbage-butter¬
fly, feathers from the.
2. Podura plumbea, scales from the.
Sect.
Sect. III. Difficult.
II.—Defining Power.
1. Hair of the common mouse.
2. Hair of the bat genus.
3. Leaf of the mossHypnum, species unknown.
4. Spotted scales of the Lycaenae Argus.
J
804
MICROSCOPE.
Micro- Since the publication of Mr Pritchard’s Micrograplna
scope. j.]le microscope has undergone great improvements, and the
structure of test-objects has been more successfully exa¬
mined. Mr Quekett, in his treatise of 1848, has given the
following list of test-objects as furnished by Mr 1 opping
Hairs.
Bat.
Larva of Dermestes.
Mole.
Mouse.
Itabbit.
Squirrel.
Scales.
Azure blue, P. argiolus.
... P. Argus.
Pontia brassica.
Vanessa lo.
Morpho Menelaus.
Alacita pentadactyla.
Catocala nupta.
Scales.
Tinea vestianella.
Lepisma saccharina.
Podura plumbea.
... aquatica.
Hipparchia janira.
Plumed gnat.
Infusorice.
Navicula hippocampus.
... Spencer i.
... angulata (Humber.)
... ... (America.)
Tripoli from Kritchelberg.
Muscular fibre.
From each class of these test-objects Mr Quekett has
selected a certain number, and given in four plates highly-
magnified representations of them, which exhibit great skill
in The engraver, and still more in the artist, Mr Leonards.
rp(j0 magnifying power employed wras sometimes 2000 dia-
meters.
Pl te of yery fine drawings of test-objects have been recently
test-objects, made by Dr Griffith, one of the able authors of the Micro-
graphic Dictionary. Those drawings, which we have been
kindly permitted to copy, occupy the first eighteen figmes
of Plate XX. We have added to these figures a few from
Mr Quekett’s practical Treatise on the Microscope,2 the best
work on the subject which has appeared in om language.
The following is a particular description of Plate XX :—
Fi". 1. The hairs of the larva of Dermestes lardarius, placed in
Canada balsam.
2. Hairs of the common bat ( Vespcrtilio pipistrellus), in balsam.
a, b, coloured hairs ; c, a white hair.
3. Hairs of mouse (Mas domesticus), in balsam.
4. Pits of coniferous wood, common deal (Abies cxcelsa), viewed
dry.
5. Mucus (or salivary corpuscles), seen with different powers.
6. Scales of Lepisma saccharina, dry.
7. Scale from the wing of Morpho Menelaus, dry.
8. Scale from under side of wing of common clothes-moth
(Tinea vestianella), dry.
9 Scales of Hipparchia janira : a, dry, and by oblique light;
b, in balsam, by direct light; c, dry, after Schacht. _
10 Didymohelix ferruginca, under different powers : b, with
imperfect adjustment; c, with perfect adjustment; d,
separate fibres,
11. Didymoprium Borreri, empty cells.
12. Scales oi Podura plumbea under different powers; a, 220
diameters.
13. Pygidium of flea. _ ...
14. Frustule of Grammatophora marina: a, front view; o,
side view. .
15. Frustule of Grammatophora subtilissima: a, front view;
b, side view.
16. Gyrosigma angulatum; dry valve showing the dots.
17. Gyrosigma attenuatum ; dry valve showing the lines.
18. Gyrosigma elongatum ; dry valve showing the lines.
The following ten figures are from Mr Quekett’s plates:
19. Hair of a species of bat from India.
20. a, Large scale from Podura plumbea; b, the same magnified
1250 diameters.
21. Navicula Spenceri as drawn by Mr Warren de la Hue,
magnified 1900 diameters. Mr Spencer saw lines only
with the power of 800; M. de la Rue saw the dots as
holes or depressions.
1 New Winchester Street, Pentonville. Mr Norman, Fountain
Place, City Road, also supplies excellent sets of test objects.
e This work forms vol. vi. of Mr Bailliere’s Library of Illustrated
Standard Scientific Works, a collection of treatises of very rare
merit.
22. Navicula angulata: a, magnified 1200 diameters; b, mag¬
nified 2000 diameters.
23. Ultimate fibrillae of muscular fibre. Their true structure
is shown in b, d, f.
24. Scale from the wing of the male Pontia brassica, dry.
25. Portion of wing of Pontia brassica, showing the imbrication
of the scales.
26. Portion of valve of Gyrosigma strigosum, magnified 1800
and 4700 diameters.
Micro¬
scope.
The following observations, showing the relation between
the magnifying powers and angles of apertures of English
microscopes, and the objects most useful for testing
object-glasses, have been given by Dr Griffith and Pro¬
fessor Henfrey.1 The magnifying power is given in
diameters:—
1. Object-glass 1J or 2 JncAes.—Magnifying power, 20; aperture,
12° to 20°. Test-objects: The pygidium of the flea, Plate
XX., fig. 13, a—the outline and the hairs should be dis¬
tinct ; the hair of the mouse, fig. 3.
2. l-Inch or jpls 06jt!c«-£rZasa.—Magnifying power, 60; aperture,
22° to 27°. Tests : Hair of Dermestes, fig. 1; of bat, fig. 2 ;
the pygidium of the flea, the outline of the areolae being
distinguishable under the high eye-piece with power 120 to
200, but not the rays.
3. %-Inch or f^th-lnch Object-glass.—Magnifying power, 100 to
200; aperture, 55°. Tests: Hairs, figs; 1, 2, 3; disks on
deal, fig. 4; the coarser scales of Lepisma, fig. 6, a; the
pygidium of the flea, fig. 13, a, b, the entire structure
being visible with the high eye-piece; a dark scale ot 1 o-
dura, fig. 12, a. a
4. llh-Inch Object-glass.—Magnifying power, 220 ; aperture, 75
to 140°. Tests .- The hair of Dermestes ; disks of deal; sali¬
vary corpuscles, fig. 5, the moving molecules being clearly
distinguishable ; the smaller scales of Lepisma, fig. 6, a, b ;
the scales of Podura ; filaments of Didymohelix, fig. 10, a ;
the pygidium of the flea, and the scales of Pontia brassica,
fig. 26.
5. Uh-Inch Object-glass.—Magnifying power, 420 to 450; aper¬
ture, 110° to 150°. Tests: The paler scales of Podura ; the
pygidium of the flea ; the scales of Pontia brassica ; the fila¬
ments of Didymohelix, showing the component fibres; the
salivary corpuscles.
6. fl-th or Arth-lnch Object-glass.—Magnifying power, 600 to 650;
angular aperture, 80° to 120°. Tests : The paler scales of
Podura ; the filaments of Didymohelix, mounted in balsam;
and the ultimate fibrillae of muscular fibre, fig. 27.
Different writers have proposed different objects for
testing microscopes. The test employed by Professor
Amici is the exhibition of the lines on the Navicula
gracilis, which the writer of this saw beautifully displayed
by the professor himself. It is a good test for angular
apertures.
Mold uses the scales of Hipparchia janira tor testing
penetrating power; and pollen grains, the scaly elytia ot
the diamond beetle, or bat’s hair, for testing definition.
The most perfect of all tests are the test-lines ot M.Roberts
Nobert of Barth in Prussia.2 These tests consist ot ten test-lines,
separate bands of parallel lines, traced upon glass with the
point of a diamond, the lines being drawn closer and closer
to each other, from No. I., where they are widest, to No.
X., where they are closest, varying, as shown in the fol¬
lowing table, from the 11,000th to the 50,000th of an
inch :—
Thousandths of an English inch.
No. I. 11,265
II. 13,142
III. 15,332
IV. 17,873
V. 20,853
Thousandths of an English inch.
No. VI. 24,309
VII. 28,433
VIII. 33,153
IX. 38,613
X. 49,910
All these bands are engraven on the same plates of glass;
and when seen by the naked eye they appear like the small
1 Micrographic Dictionary, art. Test Objects, p. 636, 637.
2 See Poggendorff’s Annalen der Physik, 1846.
Micro¬
scope.
black line mn in the annexed fig., ABCD being the size
or the plates of glass on
y which they are engraven.
The subdivision of an
inch has been more re¬
cently carried farther by
M. Nobert. In a plate
of fifteen bands the lines
amount to fifty-six thou¬
sand in an inch. The
following table, calcu- F'fr- too.
lated by Mr Warren de la Rue, shows not only the
number of the lines, but their distance also, in parts of an
English inch:—
Distances. Number of Lines.
No. 1  0 00008880 H261
II  0-00007548 13248
HI  0 00006482 15427
IV  0-00005506 18162
V  0-00004884 20475
VI   0 00004202 23463
VII   0-00003552 28153
VIII  0-00003108 32175
IN  0 00002S64 37537
X  0-00002442 40950
XI  0 00002220 45045
XII  000002113 47306
XIII   0-00001998 50056
XIV   000001891 52882
XV  0 00001776 56306
MICROSCOPE.
805
tiary strata of Bilin, in the chalk flints, and even in the
semi-opal or noble opal of the porphyritic rocks.1 The size
of a single individual of these animals is about ^J?th of a
line, or 3 j^th of an inch. In the polishing-slate from Bilin,
m which there appear to be no vacuities, a cubic line con¬
tains, in round numbers, 23,000,000 of these animals, and
a cubic inch contains 41,000,000,000 of them!
1 he weight of a cubic inch of the polishing-slate is 270
giains. I here are therefore 187,000,000 of these animals
in a single grain, or the siliceous coat of one of these ani¬
mals weighs the 187,000,000th part of a grain!
In the annexed figure we have given representations of
Micro¬
scope.
The resolution of these lines is regarded as the best test
for angular aperture and oblique light. Dr Griffith states
that even the group of the 60,000 (56,306 in the above
table) can be resolved by the |th of an inch object-glass,
and he considered the resolution of it “ much easieAhan
that of the markings upon the valves of many of the Dia-
tomaceae. A considerable difference of opinion exists
rejecting the magnifying power necessary to resolve
different groups of these lines.1
CHAPTER XII.
ON MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS.
Microsco- In the preceding chapter we have already described some
pic objects, of the most interesting objects for microscopical observa-
vation. Every department of nature is full of objects, from
the examination of which the most important discoveries
may be expected; but though the zealous observer can
never be at any loss for subjects of research, it is desirable
to know what has been done by our predecessors, and what
trains of inquiry are most likely to prove of general interest.
I here are subjects of microscopic inquiry which are closely
connected with the most interesting parts of physiology;
and even geology itself, conversant with the grandest sub¬
jects of research, has recently been illustrated bv the aid
of the microscope.
Ehren. Dr Ehrenberg of Berlin, to whom we are indebted for so
berg’s dis- many important discoveries respecting the organization
covenes. 0f infusorial animalcules,2 has made the most remarkable
discovery of infusorial organic remains. These remains
ai e the siliceous shells of animalcules belonging to the
division Bacillaria, and form strata of tripoli, or poli-
schiefer (polishing-slate), at Franzenbad in Bohemia.3 M.
Ehrenberg has more recently discovered them in the
semi-opal found along with the polishing-slate in the ter-
1 See Lardner on the Microscope, p. 67 and 72; and the reports
by the juries of the Great Exhibition, p. 208.
2 Organization Systematik der Infusions Thierchen, 3 vols. folio.
Berlin, 1830-1834, and Microgeologie das Erdenund Felsen Schaffende
Wirken des unsichtbar kleinen sdbstandigen Lebens auf der Erde von
Christien Gottfried Ehrenberg, 1 vol. folio., with 40 folio plates.
3 Poggendorff’s Annalen der Physik, 1836, No. V., p. 225,
Fig. 101.
these singular microscopic objects, as seen by Ehrenberg.
Ihe siliceous shells found in the Franzenbad poli-schiefer
are much more distinct than those found in the Bilin
strata.
Another example of the value of microscopical observa-Fibres of
tions may be drawn from the discovery of the teeth of the the crystal-
fibres which compose the crystalline lenses of almost all fine lenses
animals. I he crystalline lens is composed of innumerable of fishes*
fibres of nearly the same length, each of which tapers from
its middle to its two extremities, where it comes to the
sharpest point. The sides of each of these fibres are fur¬
nished with teeth like those of a watch-wheel, and the teeth
of the one lock into those of the adjacent ones, as shown in
the annexed figure. When the ^
power is small, or the microscope ^
not good, or the laminae too thick,
and not nicely detached, each row
of interlocking teeth appears as a
dark line, sometimes as sharp as a
black line drawn 1
a pen. Sometimes tne lines appear
rough and ragged ; and as the fibres F'g-102.
become less and less in approaching the poles, the black lines
aie as difficult to resolve into teeth as the lines on test-
objects already described. The following measures, taken
by Sir David Brewster, will show what a wonderful struc¬
ture in the eye has been thus disclosed to us by the micro¬
scope. The calculations refer to the lens of a cod, 4-10ths
of an inch in diameter:—
Number of fibres in each lamina or spherical coat 2,500
,, teeth in each fibre   12>500
„ teeth in each spherical coat 31,250.000
„ fibres in the whole lens 5,000 000
„ teeth in the lens 62,500’,000’000
or the lens of a cod contains five millions of fibres and
sixty-two thousand five hundred millions of teeth • and if
we reckon the curved end of the tooth as one surface, each
tooth will have six surfaces,2 which come into contact with
the corresponding surfaces of the adjacent tooth, so that
the number of touching surfaces will be three hundred and
seventy-five thousand millions fi “ and yet this little sphere
of tender jelly is as transparent as a drop of the purest water,
and al ows a beam of light to pass across these almost innu¬
merable joints without obstructing or reflecting a single ray!”
icie is another class of objects of extreme interest,
* Poggendorff’s Annalen der Physik, No. VI., 464.
3 L)!.1-',8 in^,u<Ies t^le concave surface between two adjacent teeth.
Philosophical Transactions, 1833, p. 329.
*
r
806 MICRO
Micro- which Mr Pritchard and other writers have omitted to
scope, notice, and the development of which calls forth all the
resources of optical knowledge and optical experience
Micro- with the microscope. These objects are the micioscopic
scopic cavi-cav-lt-es jn minerals, containing two fluids unknown to the
tieSinmin-chemi?t. groups of crystals of different forms, and floating
erals‘ balls, and exhibiting actual chemical operations going on
in these minute laboratories when exposed to changes of
temperature. These various phenomena have been de¬
scribed and represented in drawings, in two papers by Sir
David Brewster published in the Transactions of the Royal
Society of Edinburgh.1 In some of the precious stones,
particularly in diamond, garnet, &c., these cavities are per¬
fect spheres; but owing to the great refractive power of
the gem, they appear completely black and opaque, though
the microscope descries a small spot of light in their centre,
which is the pencil of light which they refract. These
spherical cavities, and this central spot, are the finest objects
for examining the aberration of lenses and specula, and are
infinitely preferable to the reflected patches of light from
small spherules of quicksilver. Dr Goring has observed
spherical cavities or air-bubbles in fluids, and, with his usual
ingenuitv, recognised their utility for indicating the effects
of aberration. Those which we have used in the gems are,
however, permanent instruments of much greater utility,
not only from our being able to use the same bright spot
with all instruments and on all occasions, but from the dark
ring round the bright spot being incomparably greater in
the gems than in fluids.^ Representations of some of the
cavities containing the two new fluids, which will not mix,
though in the same cavity, are given in fig. 103. fhe little
white circle is the bubble either of gas or of vacuity. The
fluid round it, shown by dots, is a highly evaporable fluid,
and the fluid in the angles and ends of the long cavities,
shown by the shading, is a thick and unevaporable fluid,
which indurates when exposed to the air. I hese cavities
lie in strata, and millions of them, which no microscope can
resolve, occupy a very small area.
List of mi- Our limits will not permit us to pursue this subject fur-
croscopic ther, and we shall conclude the article with a very brief
objects. selection of microscopic objects from Mr Pritchard’s admi¬
rable little pamphlet, entitled A List of Two Thousand
Microscopic Objects.
1. Insects (eggs, wings, tongues, antennae, and scales of).
Eyes of Agrion, 12,000 eyes; Bombyx mer, 6236 eyes; Pha-
laena cossus, 11,300; Scarabaeus, 3180; Hawk-moth,
20,000; Libellula, 12,544; Melalontha, 8820; Mordella,
25,088; Papilio, 17,000.
2. Hairs of Animals.—Hair of an infant, Ornithorynchus,
mouse, bat, bee, Acilius canaliculatus, Melecta punctatus, Siberian
fox, spider, wing of Tipalis, stag-beetle, white cat, dormouse, der-
mestes, caterpillar, badger, ant-eater, civet cat.
3. Scales of Insects.—Podura plumbea, Pontia brassica, Pieris
brassica, Parnassus Apollo, Atlas moth, diamond-beetle, Euplcea
limniacse, house-moth, Lepisma saccharina, 10-plumed moth, 20-
plumed moth, Morpho Menelaus, Papilio Apollo, Papilio Paris,
Urania leilus, privet-moth.
4. Circulation in Plants, or CfycZosts.—Nitella hyalina, Nitella
translucens, Chara vulgaris, Caulinia frigalis, Hydrocharis or frog-
bit in the stipulse of the leaves and the ends of the roots, Trades-
1 See Edinburgh Transactions, 1823 and 1826, vol. x., pp. 1, 407;
vol. xv., pp. 7, 11.
2 The ratio between the diameter of the dark sphere and of the
small luminous spot gives a measure of the refractive power of the
solid or fluid.
SCOPE.
cantia virginica or spiderwort in the filaments around the stamina, Micro-
Senecio vulgaris or groundsel in the hairs surrounding the stalks scope,
and flowers.
5. Circulation in Animals.—In the arachnoid® or spider
tribe at the joints of the legs, Peria viridis and Semblis bilineata on
the antenn® and wings when they have just emerged from the chry¬
salis, larva of the Ephemera, larva of Hydrophilus, small Dysticus,
Agrion puella,Libellula, round Lynceus, fresh-water shrimp, water-
hog (Oniscus), Ligia, water-flea (l)aphnia pulex).
6. Circulation in Zoophytes.—Mr Lister has discovered a
circulation resembling that in plants in some of the polypiferous
zoophytes, as the Tabularia indivisa, Sertulari®, Campanulari®,
Plumulari®, &c.
7. Crystals.—For an account of various interesting microscopic
phenomena observed by H. F. Talbot,Esq. of Lacock Abbey, we must
refer the reader to a series of papers in the recent numbers of the
London and Edinburgh Philosophical Magazine, and to others which
will be found in the Philosophical Transactions.
The oxalate of chromium and potash dissolved in water, and
rapidly crystallized, is a fine object. In polarized light a very
splendid object is the Faro apophyllite, when the prisms are com¬
plete, as represented by Sir David Brewster in a coloured draw¬
ing in the Edinburgh Transactions, vol. ix., p. 317, plate xxi., fig. 1.
But the most beautiful of all objects, as seen by polarized light,
are the circular crystals, first described by Mr Talbot, as produced
by a peculiar process. In a recent paper “ On Circular Crystals,”
by Sir David Brewster,1 no fewer than about eight circular crystals
have been described, with twenty-five coloured drawings of the most
interesting. Several of these are to be found in the slides sold
by the preparers of microscopic objects.
8. Animalcules:—
Monas Termo, 18,000th of an inch.
Menus atomus, 4000th of an inch.
Monas volvox, 3456th to 1728th of an inch.
Volvox globator, found in stagnant water, 30th of an inch.
Vibrio bipunctatus, 200th of an inch.
Vibrio spirillum, like a Screw, 2000th to 1000th of an inch.
Vibrio glutinis.2
Kolpoda cucullus, 28th of an inch.
Cercaria podura.
Cercaria viridis.
Cercaria hirta.
Leucophrys fluida, 400th of an inch.
Trichoda vulgaris, 1200th to 240th of an inch.
Trichoda longicauda.
Vorticella polymorpha.
Vorticella convallaria.
Vorticella senta, 100th of an inch.
Vorticella rotatoria.3
The reader will find beautiful drawings and full descrip- References
tions of these and many other animalcules in Mr Pritchard’s to works
interesting work entitled The Natural History of Ani- ™
malcules, London 1834; in t\\e Microscopical Illustrations
of Mr Pritchard and Dr Goring; and in the Microscopic
Cabinet by the same authors he will find much information
respecting microscopic objects.
In the more recent work of Ehrenberg, Quekett, and
Lardner, already cited; in Pritchard’s large work recently
published, entitled A History of Infusorial Animalcules,
Living and Fossil, illustrated with 24 plates; and in Dr
Griffith and Professor Henfrey’s Micrographic Dictionary,
the reader will find everything that he desires. This last
work is illustrated with no fewer than 41 engravings and
coloured plates, and with 816 wood-cuts admirably exe¬
cuted ; and owing to these illustrations and its alphabe¬
tical arrangement, the general reader will find in it a store
of easily-accessible and popular information, apart from
its science, which cannot fail to amuse and instruct
him.   (p- B-)
1 Edinburgh Transactions, 1853, vol. xx., p. 607.
2 Figured by Dr Goring in the Microscopic Cabinet.
3 The Rotifer vulgaris. See Microscopic Cabinet, chap, vi., p.
58-69; and Pritchard's Nat. Hist, of Animalcules, p. 16/. The
reader will find a very interesting discussion of the apparent ro¬
tatory movements of the wheels of this extraordinary animalcule,
by Mr Faraday, in the Journal of the Royal Institution, vol. i.,
New Series, p. 220; October 1830, May 1831. See also Baker, Of
Microscopes, vol. ii., p. 266-295 ; Adams On the Microscope, pp. 548 ;
and Leuwenhoeck in the Phil. Trans., No. 283, 295, 337.
.
MID
Midas MIDAS, in Greek mythology, a king of Phrygia, was
II the son of Gordius, and, according to some authorities, of
Middlesex. Cybele. He seems to have been a disciple of Orpheus;
and, like him, a worshipper of Dionysus. When that deity
was passing through Phrygia, on his way from Thrace,
Silenus, who accompanied him, having become intoxicated,
was found in the gardens of Midas, and brought before the
king, who received him hospitably, and sent him back to
Dionysus. In return for this, the god desired Midas to ask
whatever favour he wished. He accordingly requested that
he might have the power of turning whatever he touched into
gold. This favour was granted ; but Midas finding that he
ran the risk of being starved, from his food and drink being
changed into gold, he begged the god to recall his gift.
He was accordingly directed to wash in the river Pactolus,
which ever after had gold in great abundance among its
sands. Another legend of Midas is, that having been ap¬
pointed judge in a musical contest between Apollo and Pan,
he decided in favour of the latter; whereupon Apollo in
revenge gave him the ears of an ass. These Midas endea¬
voured to conceal under his cap, but was obliged to disclose
the disagreeable fact to his barber, who being bound to
secresy, and yet unable to keep his discovery to himself,
dug a hole in the earth, and having whispered into it the
singular intelligence, closed it up again. But there seemed
to be a fate in it, for the very seeds which grew from the
spot murmured in a low tone as they rustled in the wind,
‘‘ King Midas has the ears of an assand thus disclosed to
the world the deformity and disgrace of the monarch.
Midas seems to have been a common title of the reigning
dynasty in Phrygia; and a king of that name is mentioned
by Herodotus as having sent offerings to the temple of
Apollo at Delphi.
MIDDLEBURG, a town of Holland, capital of the pro¬
vince of Zealand, is situated near the centre of the island
of Walcheren, 4 miles N.E. of Flushing. It is surrounded
by a bastioned mound of earth and by a broad and deep
ditch. It is partly intersected by canals, and has a small
harbour, being connected with the West Scheldt by a canal.
The town is generally well built, and has wide and regular
streets. Among the public buildings are—the town-house,
an elegant Gothic building; StPeter’s church and the Abbey
church, both containing fine paintings and monuments; a
Jewish synagogue; and an exchange. Its institutions
comprise an athenaeum, Latin school, school of design,
museum, public library, and agricultural society. The
manufactures, including starch, glass, paper, salt, &c., are
considerable; and an active import trade in wine, and ex¬
port trade in corn, is carried on. Pop. (1855) 16,253.
MIDDLESBOROUGH, a towm and river-port of Eng¬
land, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, on the River Tees,
not far from its mouth, and about 3 miles E.N.E. of Stock-
ton, with which it is connected by railway. Little more
than twenty years ago the site of Middlesborough was occu¬
pied by a solitary farm-house. It is now the most consider¬
able port on the Tees, though still reckoned as subordinate
to Stockton. It owes its rise chiefly to its convenient
situation as a port for the shipment of coals. There are
commodious docks, ship-building yards, foundries, rope-
walks, sail-cloth manufactories, ironworks, &c. The church
of St Hilda, erected in 1840, is an elegant Gothic structure
surmounted by a spire. There is also a national school,
observatory, reading-room, mechanics’ institute, and savin°'s-
bank. Pop. (1851) 7431.
MIDDLESEX, the metropolitan countv of England, the
smallest in size, with the exception of Rutland, and the
greatest in density of population, wealth, and importance.
London, the capital of England is situated in its S.E. corner.
The county is bounded on the N. by Hertfordshire, on the
E. by Essex, on the S.E. by Kent, on the S. by Surrey, and
on the W. by Buckinghamshire. The eastern boundary is
MID 807
formed by the River Lea, the southern by the Thames, and Middlesex,
the western by the Colne. The shape of the county is very ^ v -t -
irregular: in the N.E. a spur of Herts penetrates deeply
within its boundaries, and on the S.W. a large portion of
the county projects into Surrey. The greatest length of
the county is from near Waltham Abbey in the N.E. to
Chertsey in the S.W., 28 miles; and its greatest breadth
from near Rickmansworth in the N.W. to the Isle of Dogs
in the S.E., 17 miles. The area of the county is 180,168
statute acres, or about 282 square miles.
The surface of the county is a sloping plain, bounded by
a range of hills about 400 feet high : these hills partly form
its northern boundary. There are some gentle undulations
of the ground, of which Hampstead is one ; but the general
aspect of the county is flat, and would be monotonous if it
wrere not diversified by buildings, gardens, and the rich
verdure which high cultivation imparts to vegetation.
Neither is the landscape picturesque, as seen from the hills;
but the most pleasing view is obtained at Harrow, an insu¬
lated hill overlooking the whole county, and the seat of the
famous seminary.
The county is entirely situated within the basin of the
Thames. The substratum consists of the blue clay known
as London clay, lying in the great chalk basin extending
Irom Berkshire to the east coast, and it varies in thickness
from 40 to 240 feet. The only exceptions to this forma¬
tion are at Uxbridge, on the western boundary, and at
Enfield, in the N.E. corner of the county, where the plastic
clay crops out. The hills consist of sand and gravel, and
have been formed by the sea. The soil in the northern
part of the county is a clayey loam, difficult to plough,
and indeed altogether unfit for cultivation until chalk, lime,
and ashes have been incorporated with it; and in the south¬
ern part it is formed by gravel, which is naturally very
sterile, but which, being enriched by the vast quantities of
manure afforded by London, is converted into a garden
mould of prodigious fertility. The soil is generally dry;
and the temperature being raised by the chimneys of Lon¬
don, the climate is remarkably healthy.
The rivers of the county are,—the Cray, the Colne, the
Brent, the Lea, and the Thames. The Cray rises within
the county, near Harrow, and, after a very eccentric course
of twenty miles, falls into the Thames at Isleworth. The
Colne enters the county from Herts, near Rickmansworth,
and flows by Watford, Harefield, Uxbridge, and Colnbrook,
throwing off several branches ; but the main stream falls into
the I hames at Staines. The length of its course within the
county is 18 miles. This river, though small and devoid of
beauty, is sacred to the admirers of genius, for on its banks
Milton lived and composed some of his great poems. The
Lea enters the county from Essex at Walthamstow, and
flows by Stamford Hill, Tottenham, Bow, and Bromley, into
the Thames at Limehouse, after a course of about 18
miles within the county. The first stone bridge built in
England stood on the river at Stratford-le-Bow, and its
curved form gave the village its familiar name of Bow.
I he Brent rises on the northern boundary of the county,
near Monken-Hadley, and flows through its centre, by
Finchley, Hendon, Kingsbury, iwyford, and Hanwell, to
Brentford in the W., and after a course of 20 miles falls
into the Thames. The Cray and the Colne are not navi¬
gable. The lower part of the Brent forms a portion of the
Grand Junction Canal; and the Lea is rendered navigable
by a series of artificial cuts. The Thames, “ great father
of the British floods,” enters Middlesex a sylvan river. It
icaches the county at Staines, and flows by Shepperton, Kew,
and .Kingston, in many a mazy fold to London, and here
it joins the sea. I he length of its course within the county
is about 15 miles. The Thames is rendered navigable for
barges within a short distance of its sources in Gloucester¬
shire by a series of locks and weirs, the lowest of which is
808
MIDDLESEX.
Middlesex, at Teddington, within the county, where the tide is felt at
high water. The Thames is crossed by 13 bridges below
this point, viz., Richmond, Kew, Hammersmith, Putney,
Battersea, Chelsea, Vauxhall, Westminster, Hungerford,
Waterloo, Blackfriars, Southwark, and London bridges;
and there is also a communication between the opposite
banks by a tunnel carried under the bed of the river, 2
miles below London Bridge, and in the centre of the ship¬
ping. The port of London, consisting of the upper,
middle, and lower port, lies between London Bridge and
Limehouse; but for legal purposes it is extended for 6J
miles below the bridge to a point beyond Blackwall called
Bugsby’s Hole. Other articles in this work render it un¬
necessary to describe here the vast population, the features,
and operations of the great and wonderful city which lies
stretched along the banks of the Thames for 7 miles, the
lines of wharfs, the capacious docks, the gigantic ware¬
houses, the cellars, measured in acres, the dockyards, the
defences, the public establishments, and all the other won¬
ders of what, to use the words of M. Say, “ is no longer
a city, but a province covered with houses.” (See Lon¬
don.)
The facilities of inland navigation which the Thames and
the Lea afford are increased by two canals, which conjointly
traverse the county from end to end. The chief is the
Grand Junction Canal, opening out of the Thames at Brent¬
ford, and passing by Crayford, Hanwell, West Drayton, and
Uxbridge, from whence it enters Herts, and ultimately
communicates with the Irish Sea. At Crayford this canal
throws off a branch which passes by Twyford to Padding¬
ton, and there it joins the Regent’s Park Canal, which tra¬
verses Camden Town, Islington, Hackney, Mile-end, and
communicates with the Thames at Limehouse. The most
remarkable artificial water-course in the county is the New
River, constructed by Sir Hugh Myddleton to convey pure
water into the city of London. He chose for the fountain¬
head some springs of water, very copious and beautifully
clear, at Ware in Herts; and from thence carried to Lon¬
don, through hills and deep cuttings, over valleys in wooden
troughs, and by a serpentine channel 37 miles long, a
stream of pure water on the average 24 feet wide, 4 deep,
and flowing with a fall of 3 feet per mile. The New River
was completed five and a half years after its commencement,
and was put in operation with much ceremony, on the 29th
of September 1613. The stream has since been enlarged
by adding to it some of the water of the River Lea, which
runs parallel to its course, and close to its banks at some
points, and two large purifying reservoirs have been con¬
structed at Stoke-Newington.
The county is completely intersected by railways issuing
out of the metropolis. The London and North-Western
Railway traverses it from the Isle of Dogs, passing by Cam¬
den Town, Kilburn, Willesden, Sudbury, Harrow, and
Pinner, into Hertfordshire near Watford; the Great
Northern Railway, from King’s Cross, by Holloway, Horn¬
sey, and Barnet, passing into Herts near Hatfield; the
Eastern Counties Railway, from Shoreditch, by Stratford-le-
Bow, Leabridge, Tottenham, and Enfield, and also passing
into Herts near Waltham Cross; the Great Western Rail¬
way, from Paddington, passing by Ealing, Hanwell, Southall,
West Drayton, and Uxbridge, into Buckinghamshire; and
the London and South-Western Railway, which crosses
the Thames from the Surrey side of the metropolis at
Baines, and passes by Kew, Brentford, Isleworth, Hounds-
low, and Staines, also into Bucks. These lines are linked
together by branches; and it may be added that several
other railways connect the Surrey side of the metropolis
with the eastern and southern coasts.
Middlesex possesses no agricultural importance, its culti¬
vated land being the mere fringe of a great metropolis.
That part of it which is not encumbered with buildings and
ornamental grounds is mainly converted into gardens and Middlesex,
grass lands. Spade husbandry and an abundant application v ^
of manure compensate for the natural sterility of the soil;
the ground is converted into a hotbed, and crop after crop
is obtained without intermission, yet without exhausting the
soil. Two, and sometimes even three crops are grown at once:
an upper crop, as it is called, consisting of apples, cherries,
pears, plums, and walnuts; an under crop, consisting of
currants, gooseberries, raspberries, strawberries, and other
fruit which will thrive in the shade uninjured by the
dripping of trees; and a third crop, consisting of esculent
vegetables, placed between the other two. The garden
walls are also clothed with fruit trees adapted to the aspect
they present, such as apricots, nectarines, peaches, and
plums. The ground is also sometimes raised in banks
sloping to the sun, in order to give it increased warmth
and shelter in autumn, and thereby augment its productive¬
ness. In short, by continual manuring, stirring, and mov¬
ing the soil, sterility is replaced by fertility, crops succeed
each other without a moment’s respite, and a garden of
10 acres is rendered as profitable as a farm ten times that
size.
The extent of the farms averages about 100 acres, the
majority of them being below that area; and rents average
40s. an acre. A skilfully managed farm at Willesden, con¬
sisting of 100 acres of grass land, is let at 60s. an acre ; the
tenant paying besides 15s. an acre for tithes and taxes.
White and green crops are grown alternately ; but the rota¬
tion is so irregular that no general description can be given.
The arable land, when thoroughly pulverized, produces
wheat of good quality. Potatoes are not so much grown as
might have been expected, considering the almost insatiable
demand of the metropolis; distant counties, in which rent
is lower and labour not so highly paid, being enabled by su¬
perior cheapness to monopolize the market. Haymaking in
this county is not the simple operation which it is in other
counties. The grass is constantly shaken, moved, and ex¬
posed to the action of sun and wind, by the aid of machines
and a large number of labourers ; thus, the quality is height¬
ened, and when cut out of the mow, the hay exhibits a
bright green colour. The spring crop averages 2 tons
per acre, and the aftermath about half that quantity. The
farm at Willesden, already noticed, produced no less than
6 tons per acre, there being nine cuttings in the year.
The grass lands of the county are generally wrell manured
after the first mowing, and provided with water-furrows
when the closeness of the soil renders it impervious. Under¬
draining is, however, much neglected, and in consequence the
clay land is so wet that stock cannot safely be put on it after
October. On the whole, Middlesex is backward as regards
farming; in common, however, with the adjacent counties.
“ The state of agriculture which prevails in the surrounding
counties,” says M. Lavargne, “ makes itself felt up to the
very gates of the greatest existing centre of consumption.”
But this may be said in explanation of the apparent anomaly,
—that though the distance between the metropolis and the
farms is small, the advantage is greatly diminished by the
cost of bringing manure along crowded thoroughfares.
The clay soil itself in many parts of the county is turned
into produce. Breeze, the technical term for cinders, is
mixed with the clay, and the compound is baked into bricks,
for which an enormous demand is created by the unceasing
growth of the metropolis ; and brickmaking is probably the
most profitable mode of employing the soil. After the soil
has been manufactured into buildings in this way, yielding
from L.4000 to L.20,000 per acre, the excavations are
levelled, ploughed, and manured, and the surface is con¬
verted into grass land.
Very few cattle are kept for farming purposes, as it is more
profitable to buy manure, and in consequence root crops are
not much grown. About 15,000 cows are, however, kept
MID
Middleton, in London and its environs, for the supply of milk and
cream. Though every kind of breed may be met with in
the county, the short-horn or Holderness is preferred, be¬
cause it yields the heaviest carcass to the butcher. The
cows being highly fed, increase in weight while they con¬
tinue to give milk, and when they become dry are fat and
fit for market. Grass lands near London of course acquire
a high value from the number of milch cows and horses
kept to supply the wants of that great city; they are used
for grazing as well as haymaking, thousands of over-worked
horses being annually turned out to grass during the sea¬
son.
The manufactures of the county are concentrated in the
metropolis, which, however, is rather a great exchange
than a seat of industry. The silk manufacture is ex¬
tensively carried on in Bethnal Green, Spitalfields, and at
Mile-end; sugar-refining in Whitechapel; and watch and
clock-making in Clerkenwell; and there are large manufac¬
tures of shoes, cutlery, plate, printing-type, soap, spirits,
vinegar, &c., which have no particular locality. A large
number of ships is also built within the port of London.
But the greatest manufacture of all, and the distinctive fea¬
ture of the metropolis, is the brewing of the favourite beve¬
rages of the metropolitan population—ale and porter. The
consumption of malt by the brewers within the London
revenue district annually amounts to upwards of 6,000,000
quarters. It is estimated that 1,200,000 barrels, or 43,200,000
gallons of ale and porter are brewed for London consump¬
tion alone ; besides a great quantity sent to other parts of
the United Kingdom and exported to the Continent, the
United States, and the East and West Indies. The prin¬
cipal brewers produce from 200,000 to 270,000 barrels
a-year.
I he county is divided into 6 hundreds, and 208 parishes,
of which 118 are within the cities of London and West¬
minster. For ecclesiastical purposes, it forms part of the
diocese of London, and is divided into the archdeaconries
of London and Middlesex. The total number of places of
worship in 1851 was 962, with 572,338 sittings. Of these
419, with 344,489 sittings, belonged to the Church of Eng¬
land ; 155, with 84,514 sittings, to Independents; 102 to
Baptists; 119 to Methodists; 32 to Iloman Catholics; 16 to
Mormons ; and 9 to Jews. There were 3427 day schools ;
having 200,257 scholars, of whom 110,861 were males, and
89,396 females ;—7/2 of these, with 138,108 scholars, wrere
public day schools ; and 2655, with 62,149 scholars, private
day schools. Sunday schools 589, with 111,595 scholars. The
county returns 2 members to parliament, tbe city of London
4, of Westminster 2, the three boroughs, 2 each ; in all 14.
The population of the county was in 1821, 1,345 067*
1831, 1,358,330; 1841, 1,576,636; 1851, 1,886,576. The
population of the cities, boroughs, market-towns, and other
places was,—city of London, 127,869; city of Westminster
241,611; borough of Marylebone, 370,957; borough of
Finsbury, 323,772; borough of Tower Hamlets, 539,111 ;
Brentford, 8870; Staines, 2430; Uxbridge, 3593. The
number of houses in the county in 1851 was 251,236, of
which 11,874 were building. The amount of real property
rated to the property tax, was L.13,867,829. (f.c.)
MIDDLETON, Conyers, D.D., a celebrated English
divine, was the son of the Rev. William Middleton, rector
of Hinderwell in Yorkshire, and was born at Richmond on
the 27th December 1683. At the age of seventeen he
was admitted a pensioner of Trinity College, Cambridge,
and after being chosen a scholar of his college, and gaining
a bachelor’s degree in 1702, he took deacon’s orders, and
exercised the clerical function for some time at Trumping-
ton, near Cambridge. Having been elected a fellow of
Tiinity in 1706, he took the degree of M.A. during the
following year; and in 1708 joined some of the fellows of
his college in a petition to the Bishop of Ely, their visitor
VOL. XIV.
MID
809
against Bentley, the celebrated master of Trinity. Middle- Middleton,
ton did not at first take a very active part in this painful
contest; yet the unpopular master soon saw in this strong,
fiery youth one of his most dangerous enemies, and Bent¬
ley’s partizans made an early attempt to blast his reputa¬
tion. Such an attack only increased Middleton’s popularity
in the university, while it served to deepen his hostility
towards the irascible and imperious scholar. After his
marriage he held a small rectory in the Isle of Ely, in the
gift of his wife, but was soon compelled, from the unhealthi¬
ness of the place, to return to Cambridge. Middleton, with
a number of others, was created Doctor of Divinity bv the
royal mandate of George I., who visited Cambridge in 1*717 ;
but Bentley, who was regius professor of divinity at the
time, vvould only grant the degree on terms by no means
of a highly honourable kind. This gave rise to a fresh
dispute between the two antagonists, in which Middleton
gained a complete victory, and Bentley was degraded and
deprived of his professorship. After “ dragging the charac¬
ter of the fallen hero through three triumphant pamphlets,”
as a writer of the time phrases it, comparing the revenge to
that of Achilles with Hector at his chariot wheels, Middleton
found that he had established for himself a very considerable
literary reputation. Whatever might be thought of the
temper displayed in those productions, every one was ready
to admit that in sprightly energy, scholarly elegance, and
powerful invective, their author had few equals in England.
Dr Monk remarks in his Life of Bentley that this pro¬
duction of Middleton’s “ was the first published specimen of
a style, which for elegance, purity, and ease, yields to none
in the whole compass of the English language. The acri¬
monious and resentful feeling which prompted every line is
in some measure disguised by the pleasing language, the
harmony of the periods, and the vein of scholarship which
enliven the whole tract.” Flushed with his pamphleteering
success, and still thirsting for further revenge against his
fallen enemy, he rushed into print for the fourth time with
his accustomed intrepidity, when his zeal overcoming his
discretion, his vigilant antagonist succeeded in proving him
guilty of libel in the Court of King’s Bench. The court,
however, was unwilling to pronounce sentence, and Middle-
ton escaped by begging Bentley’s pardon and paying the
expenses of the action. The arrogant master of Trinity
had little reputation now left him but that of a great scholar
and critic; and he resolved to present the public with a
fresh testimony to his merits in a new edition of the Greek
Testament. The proposals and specimens were drawn up,
however, with too great precipitation ; and Middleton, who
doubtless submitted the matter to a minute scrutiny, suc¬
ceeded in detecting not a few serious flaws in the produc¬
tion, and boldly assaulted this corypheus of critics in his
last and greatest stronghold. This exposure ran through
two successive pamphlets, characterized by all Middleton’s
accustomed power, and with an additional display of learn-
ing and critical sagacity for which no one, even amono- his
friends, would have given him credit. But the virulent
personal abuse was often of the lowest kind; and while dis¬
claiming at the outset any personal spleen against his
learned antagonist, it nevertheless soon became obvious
that Middleton’s former animosity had not yet been cooled
down, and that he was prepared not only to strip Bentley
of his leputation as a scholar, but also to rival him in that
species of personal abuse in which the doctor of Trinity
was so great a master. J
The labour and expense to which Middleton had been
subjected during those proceedings were regarded by his
friends in the university as of such a public nature, and so
much a vindication of the rights of their venerable institu¬
tion, that they, by way of acknowledging his services,
created the office of principal librarian, and conferred it
upon him. His election met with much opposition, and his
5 K
810
MID
Middleton, old enemy keeping close upon the watch, found Middleton
speaking too freely in the dedication to his Bibliothec.
Ordinand. Method., respecting the jurisdiction of the King s
Bench Court, for which he had him prosecuted and mulcted
in L.50.
In 1724 Middleton was compelled, from declining health,
to seek some milder climate, and accordingly visited Rome,
where he spent about twelve months, collecting, among
other objects of interest, materials for his future work on
the Paganism of the Popish Religion. On returning to
England in 1725, Middleton, from some personal pique against
the'celebrated physician Dr Mead, published an attack upon
the whole medical profession, entitled De Medicorum apud
veteres Romanos degentium Conditione Dissertatio, &c. It
gave rise to much keen pamphlet-writing, and Middleton
was not slow to reply. In 1729 he published one of his
greatest works, and one which met with a large share of
popularity among the learned. This was his celebrated
Letter from Rome, showing an exact conformity between
Popery and Paganism, &c., in which he attempted to show
that the rites, ceremonies, &c., of the Romish Church were
borrowed from the pagan religion. Notwithstanding the
great power put forth on this book, in the way of solid argu¬
ment and forcible writing, it was nevertheless the means,
from its free attack upon the Romish miracles, of giving
offence to not a few Protestant divines, who charged the
author with a want of respect for the apostolic miracles.
Nor was his anonymous letter to Dr Waterland in 1731,
respecting his method of defending the Christian cause,
calculated to remove the impression. On the contrary, the
views respecting the partial inspiration of the Scriptures
expressed in that work almost led to his being deprived of
his situation and of his college honours. At this juncture
he felt called upon to come publicly forward, and in Some
Remarks on a Reply to the Defence of the Letter to Dr
Waterland, &c., to disavow his alleged hostility to Christi¬
anity, and express emphatically his belief in that system.
But these assertions were not sufficient to drown suspicion,
and not a few of his reverend brethren were still inclined to
regard him as an unbeliever. They could not get over his
allegation that there were “ contradictions in the four evan¬
gelists which could not be reconciled,” or that the “ story
of the fall of man was a fable or allegory and his opinions
thus proved an effectual barrier to his clerical promotion.
His merits as a scholar, however, were never called in
question, and in 1731 he was appointed to the chair of
natural history, just founded by Dr Woodward,—-a position
which he held till his second marriage in 1734. He wrote
during the subsequent year A Dissertation concerning the
Origin of Printing in England ; and in 1741 appeared his
greatest work, The History of the Life of M. Tullius Cicero,
written at the request of Lord Harvey, and published by
subscription. He spent six years on this cherished task,
and it met with great encouragement. The subscribers
amounted to 3000, and the profits arising from the sale of
the work enabled him to purchase a small estate at Hilder-
sham, near Cambridge, where he spent the rest of his life.
This work, while written with singular elegance and per¬
spicuity, has been accused of partiality, in making too much
of the great Roman. Middleton has, besides, been accused
by Dr Parr, the editor of Bellendenus, of having borrowed
largely in his Life of Cicero from the De Tribus Luminibus
Romanorum of that eminent writer. Middleton’s next
publication was - a translation of Cicero’s Correspondence
with Brutus, defending at the same time the authenticity of
those epistles. Being resolved now to close his studies in
profane literature, he in 1745 gave an account in his
Germana qucedarn Antiquitatis Erudites Monumenta, &c.,
of the specimens of ancient art which had come into his
possession during his residence at Rome; and in 1747 he
wrought up into a Treatise on the Roman Senate the sub-
M I D
stance of his letters to Lord Harvey twelve years before, on Middleton,
the constitution of that celebrated institution. Now that ^ ^ y ^ ^
his classical studies were completed, he immediately brought
forward his Introductory Discourse, See., to the Free In¬
quiry into the Miraculous Powers which are supposed to
have subsisted in the Christian Church from the earliest
ages through several Successive Centuries,—a work which
appeared in 1749, and met with all but universal condem¬
nation from the clergy, on account of its supposed anta¬
gonism to the authority of miracles. All that Middleton
intended, however, in this vigorous work, was to place
Protestant divines in the dilemma of either denying the
authority of the fathers altogether, or, by accepting their
testimony, to embrace the doctrines of the Romish Church,
which he held to be clearly established by the evidence ot
the fathers. Gibbon, the historian, among others, chose
the patristic horn, and became a Roman Catholic. In 1750
Middleton published his last work, An Examination of the
Bishop of London’s [Sherlock] Discourses on the Use and
Intent of Prophecy, &c., which was not considered equal to
some of his previous productions. He died at Hildersham
on the 28th of July 1750, in the sixty-seventh year of his
age. Shortly before his death he subscribed the Thirty-
nine Articles, on occasion of receiving a small living from
Sir John Frederick,—an act which some of his brethren,
as might have been expected, were inclined to characterize
as insincere.
Middleton’s miscellaneous works, exclusive of the Life of
Cicero, were published in 1755 in 5 vols., containing some
short pieces not previously published. Among his papers
were found some materials for a life of Demosthenes, similar
to that of the Roman orator, but he did not survive to
complete his design.
Middleton, Sir Hugh, was the sixth son of Richard
Middleton, Esq., governor of Denbigh Castle in Denbigh¬
shire. The date of Sir Hugh’s birth and the events of his
early life are not known, until his great undertaking of sup¬
plying the city of London with water. He had been,
however, a goldsmith in the metropolis, and had enriched
himself by the successful working ot certain copper mines
in Wales. Nothing had been done by the citizens ot
London beyond securing the legal right during Elizabeth’s
reign of bringing water from any part ot Middlesex or
Hertfordshire to the metropolis, when, on 28th March 1606,
this “ citizen and goldsmith” came forward and proposed to
bring a supply of water to London at his own cost. Two
years afterwards he commenced his work at the Chadwell
and Amwell springs, near Ware in Herttordshire, and after
encountering much annoyance and hard labour, the inde
tatigable and princely goldsmith saw the water in the cis¬
tern at Islington on Michaelmas day 1613. But it Middle-
ton had the pleasure of seeing his stupendous undertaking
completed, he had also the mortiheation to find his fortune
well-nigh exhausted. He had been aided in the work by
King James L; and in acknowledgment of the generous
services of this worthy citizen, his majesty knighted him,
and afterwards created him a baronet. Sir Hugh was one
of the principal shareholders in connection with the New
River Company, but the profits amounted at first to the
merest trifle—being little more than L.10 during the '
first eighteen years; and it is supposed that Middleton
at his death left a numerous family not very well provided
Middleton, Thomas, a distinguished dramatist, who
flourished during the reigns of Elizabeth, James L, an
Charles I., and respecting whom very little is known. He
was chronologer to the city of London in 1620, and is
supposed by Malone to have died in 1626. While
Middleton does not belong to the first rank ot dramatic
writers, he was nevertheless highly esteemed by the men ot
his time, and had the honour of being joint vvoikei, ac-
MID
Middle-
town.
Middleton cording to the generous fashion of that age, with Jonson,
Massinger, Fletcher, and Rowley. His plays, which are
very numerous, are often characterized by extravagant in¬
cidents, rough rollicking scenes from low life, and bustling,
lively plot. His most popular plays, perhaps, are his A
Mad World my Masters, and the Roaring Girl; the
latter of which abounds in curious and richly-coloured pic¬
tures of London life, interspersed with plenty of slang and
coarseness, not unbecoming the heroine, the well-known
Moll Cutpurse, who was a real character, and who was
brought upon the stage by more than one dramatist of that
period. Shakspeare is said to be considerably indebted in
the incantations of his Macbeth to a play of Middleton’s
called the Witch.
Middleton, Thomas Fanshaw, D.D., the first English
Bishop of Calcutta, was born at the village of Redleston in
Derbyshire, on the 26th of January 1769, where his father,
Rev. Thomas Middleton, was rector. He received his
early education at Christ’s Hospital, London, and then
entered Pembroke Hall, in the university of Cambridge,
where he graduated with honours in 1792. Having re¬
ceived ordination, he became a curate at Gainsborough in
Lincolnshire, where he for some time edited a periodical
publication called the Country Spectator. In 1795 he was
presented by Dr Pretyman, Archdeacon of Lincoln (to
whose sons he had for some time been tutor), to the rectory
of Tansor in Northamptonshire ; and in 1799 he was made
curate of St Peter’s, Mancroft. His former patron in 1802
presented him to the rectory of Bytham in Lincolnshire,
when he commenced to write The Doctrine of the Greek
Article, applied to the Criticism and Illustration of the New
Testament,—a work which caused considerable controversy,
especially among the Unitarians, on its first appearance in
1808. In 1812, after taking his degree of Doctor of Divinity
at Cambridge, he received the archdeaconry of Huntingdon,
and took up his residence at St Pancras, Middlesex, of
which he had been recently appointed vicar.
Calcutta having about this time been made a bishop’s
see, Dr Middleton was appointed the first bishop on the
8th May 1814. In this position he displayed great dili¬
gence and zeal in promoting the cause of Christianity. He
founded the Bishop’s College at Calcutta for the education
of missionaries for Asia in 1820, and instituted a consistory
court at Calcutta. He died of fever at this eastern capital
on the 8th of July 1822. Some of his sermons, charges, &c.,
were collected into a volume, and published at London, with
a memoir of the author prefixed by Dr H. K. Bonnev in
1824. J
MIDDLETON,amanufacturing town of England, county
of Lancaster, on the Manchester and Leeds Railway, and on
the Rochdale Canal, 5 miles N.N.E. from Manchester. In
1775 it was only an inconsiderable village with 300 inha¬
bitants, but it has now become an important seat of the
cotton and silk manufactures. It contains several good
streets and well-built, houses, and has a parish church erected
in the sixteenth century. It has also a grammar and other
schools, a mechanics’ institute, reading-room, and savings-
bank. Coal mines are wrought in the vicinity. Pop. (1851)
5740.
Middleton, a market-town of Ireland, province of Mun¬
ster and county Cork, at the mouth of a small stream flow¬
ing into the N.E. branch of Cork harbour, 14 miles E. from
Cork. It has a neat parish church, a Roman Catholic
chapel, convent, free grammar school, two national schools,
a lever hospital, dispensary, market-house, court-house,
and bridewell. There are also two large distilleries, breweries,
and flour-mills. It is within a mile of Ballinacurra harbour,
where large shipments of agricultural produce and flour
take place. Pop. (1851) 3676, besides 2334 in workhouse.
MIDDLETOWN, a city and river-port in the United
States of North America, Middlesex county, Connecticut,
M I E 811
on the right bank of the Connecticut River at the head of Middle-
its ship navigation, and 24 miles N.E. from New Haven. wieh
It is pleasantly situated, partly on an acclivity commanding - P
a fine prospect. The elevated portion contains many ele° v
gant mansions surrounded with spacious and highly orna-
mented ground. The rest of the town consists of broad
parallel streets of usually well-built houses. The principal
public buildings are the custom-house and court-house,
both elegant edifices, and the latter adorned with a fine
Grecian portico. The Wesleyan university here is a flour¬
ishing institution, having about 120 students. The wharves
are commodious, and have 10 feet of water. The shipping
of the port amounted on 30th June 1852 to 14,431 tons
enrolled and licensed, of which 14,005 were employed in
the coasting trade, and the remainder in the cod and mack¬
erel fisheries. Pop. (1850) 4211.
MIDDLEWICH, a market-town of England, county of
Chester, at the confluence of the Rivers Dane and Croke,
20 miles E. of Chester. The town, though small, contains
many good houses, and has a commodious parish church,
three dissenting places of worship, a free grammar school,
a newsroom, and library. Salt is largely manufactured
here from brine springs in the vicinity. There are also
manufactures of silk and cotton stuff's; breweries and brick
works. Pop. (1851) 1235.
MIDHURST, a parliamentary borough and market-
town of England, county of Sussex, pleasantly situated on
a rising ground on the right bank of the Rother, 11 miles
N.N.E. of Chichester, and 50 miles S.W. by S. of London.
The town is well built and clean; and the principal build¬
ings are the town-hall, which is neat, and the parish church
of St Denis, a plain structure in the Gothic style, which,
though formerly small, has been recently considerably en¬
larged. There are also places of worship for Independents
and Baptists. Midhurst has a free grammar school, a na¬
tional school, several almshouses and other charitable estab¬
lishments, a literary and scientific institution, and a savings-
bank. The remains of the castle of the Bohuns, formerly
the lords of Midhurst, are to be seen on an eminence
near the river; and in the neighbourhood of the town are
the ruins of Cowdray House, the seat of the Montagu fa¬
mily, which was built in the time of Henry VIII., and burnt
down in 1793. A new house has been built not far from the
old, and is now in the possession of the Earl of Egmont.
From the time of Edward II. till the passing of the Reform
Bill, Midhurst returned two members to Parliament, but the
number has now been reduced to one. Midhurst is the seat
of a county court; and three annual fairs are held here. The
market-day is Thursday. Pop. (1851) of the parliamentary
borough, 7021.
MIDNAPOOR, a district of Bengal, in the province of
Orissa, containing an area of 4015 square miles, and about
half a million of inhabitants. The bulk of the people are
Hindus, but there is a greater proportion of Mohammedans
than in most other parts of India. Some portion of this
extensive district consists of a jungle swarming with noxious
animals, and exceedingly unhealthy, although the land is
rich and fertile. This district was formally ceded to the East
India Company in 1761. It is traversed by numerous rivers,
the principal of which are the Soobunreeka and the Kosai.
I he country produces abundance of grain, sugar, tobacco,
cotton, and indigo. On the sea-shore salt is an important
object of manufacture. Its principal towns are Midnapore,
Jellasore, Piply, and Narraingur. Midnapore, the capital’
formerly possessed a fort, which has been converted into a
criminal prison. It is 70 miles W. bv S. from Calcutta.
Long. 87. 23. E., Lat. 22. 25. N.
MILL, Jan, called by the Italians Giovanni della Vite,
a Flemish painter, was born in 1599 at Vlaenderen, a vil¬
lage in the neighbourhood of Antwerp. He studied under
Gerard Seghers; and after making considerable progress
812 M I E
Mieris in his art, he went to Rome, and entered the academy of
II Andrea Sacchi. But in consequence of a disagreement
v 1gDar ■ ^ his master he left the imperial city for a time, and
^ went to Bologna and Parma, where he further improved
himself by the study of the works of the Caracci and of
Correggio. Returning to Rome, he executed for the pope
several historical paintings of great excellence; but his
taste, which seems to have been capricious, now rather in¬
clined to the painting of familiar scenes, after the manner,
of Bamboccio. He was invited to the court of Charles
Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy, whose patronage he enjoyed,
and by whom he was honoured with the order of St Mau¬
rice. Miel died in 1664 at Turin. His pictures represent
chiefly carnivals, fairs, beggars, gypsies, and hunting scenes;
and are remarkable as spirited and correct representations
of nature; but his colours are in many instances too dark
and gloomy.
MIERIS, Francis, an artist, was born at Leyden in
1635. His father, who was a goldsmith, was not favourable
at first to the wishes of his son to study the art of painting;
but owing to the progress made by Francis in painting
on glass, he was induced to allow him to enter the school
of Gerard Douw. The young artist soon outrivalled all
his fellow-students. Mieris is remarkable for the beauty
of his colouring and the minuteness and truth of his de¬
lineations. The quality of the dresses of his figures can
be easily distinguished ; and his paintings of silk, satin, and
velvet, are highly admired. His subjects are for the most
part ordinary domestic scenes. One of these, the picture
of a fainting lady and a physician, was sold for 1500 florins.
Mieris died in 1681.
Mieris, Francis, grandson of the preceding, was born at
Leyden in 1689. Although he learned from his father
the art of painting, he did not achieve any great success in
that department. He is more celebrated as a historian and
antiquary, and is the author of several works, of which .the
most important axe ’.—Historic der Nederlandsche Vorsten,
the Hague, 1732-35; and Groot Charterboek der Graven
van Holland, Zeeland, en Vriesland, Leipsic, 1753-56.
He died suddenly in 1763, while engaged in writing a
history of his native town.
Mieris, William, an artist, the son of Francis Mieris
the Elder, was born at Leyden in 1662. He imitated the
style of his father, but having lost him by death just as
he was entering on the study of his art, he was deprived
of the advantage he might otherwise have derived from his
skill and experience. As a painter, he is not equal to his
father in the nice and elaborate accuracy of his works ; but
for bright and gorgeous colouring, and for the minuteness
of his imitation of natural objects, his pictures are much
esteemed, and sometimes even placed above those of his
father. He has painted many ordinary scenes from nature,
and also many historical and poetical pieces. His land¬
scapes are often unnatural, and his costumes are not al¬
ways appropriate. He died in 1747.
MIGNARD, Nicolas, a French artist, was born at
Troyes in Champagne about the year 1605. He was
brought to Paris by Mazarin, who was his constant patron;
and Louis XIV. employed him to execute several paintings
m the I uileries. He was most successful in historical and
M I H
poetical subjects; but he also painted many portraits of the Mignard
lords and ladies of the French court, which are much ad- II
mired. He died in 1668. Mihiel.
Mignard, Pierre, an eminent French artist, brother of
the preceding, was born at Troyes in 1610. Autlie age
of eleven he was placed in the school of Jean Boucher at
Bourges; and he afterwards studied under Vouet. Such
was his genius, and so rapid was his progress in his art,
that his works could hardly be distinguished from those of
his master; and at the age of fifteen he was commissioned
by the Marshal of Vitry to execute some paintings in his
castle. Jn 1636 he went to Rome, where he remained for
twenty-two years, engaged in the study of the works of the
best Italian painters, and forming his style so much upon
the model of the Roman school that he acquired the sur¬
name of II Romano. He painted many historical pieces
and portraits; among the latter, in which he displayed his
genius and skill in a remarkable manner, were those of the
Popes Urban VIII. and Alexander VII. In 1658 he was
invited to the court of Louis XIV. He immediately set
out on his journey thither; and on his way through the
duchies of I uscany, Modena, and Parma, he executed por¬
traits of the reigning princes of these states. At Paris
Mignard was made head of the academy of St Luke; and
after the death of Le Brun, became chief painter to the
the king. He painted Louis XIV. no less than ten times.
Ihe following anecdote is related of him as he was taking
the tenth portrait of that monarch :—The king, seeing the
painter looking at him with attention, said, “Mignard, you
think I look older ?” “ Sire,” answered the painter, “ it is
true that I see some more victories on the forehead of your
majesty.” Among the principal works of Mignard was the
fresco-painting in the dome of the Val-de-Grace, one of the
greatest works of that sort of which his country can boast.
It was celebrated in verse by Moliere; with whom, as well
as with Boileau and Racine, Mignard w7as very intimate.
I he paintings of this artist are certainly inferior to those of
the great masters whom he took as his models; but they
are distinguished for grace and beauty, and he was so ex¬
tremely successful in his imitations of other painters, as to
deceive even the best judges. He died in 1695.
MIGNON, Minion, or Minjon, Abraham, a painter,
was born at Frankfort-on-the-Maine in 1640, and studied
at Utrecht under Jan David de Heem. Having a natural
taste for art, and also great skill and aptitude in painting,
he added to these advantages the most unwearied diligence
in the imitation and study of nature, and thus soon rose to
great eminence as a painter. Mignon is remarkable for the
accuracy of his representations and the beauty of his
colouring, and his works are in general very highly prized.
His paintings, which are rare, represent chiefly flowers, fruit,
insects, birds, fish, &c. He died in 1679.
MIHIEL, St, a town of France, department of Meuse,
and arrondissement of Commercy, on the right bank of the
River Meuse, 9 miles N.N.W. of Commercy. It is a neat
and well laid-out town, and has several remarkable churches,
in one of which is a fine bas-relief of the “ Entombment of
Christ.” St Mihiel has also a court of assize, communal
college, public library; and manufactures of cloth, yarn,
and leather. Pop. 5274.
END OF VOLUME FOURTEENTH.
Cynocephalus leucophmis.
Kblishei C.Bladk,Edinburgh..
CyrwcaplwJzLs porcarius.
Inmais sylvcums
Cebiis ape!la.
■ ■■
vol. jvr.
MAMMALIA.
PLATE II.
rufu’entris
JacchxLs vulgaris.
Lncl//.s' /'/mrrmr/aUi:
Tarsias spectrum
Loris taj'digradus.
Galago Seuegaleasis
Lemur ruber.
Geo. Aikman.Sculp1
k
M5lmLeai)jrA& C.Black.iaialmigh..
VOL. XIV
MAMMALIA
PLATE III.
/.
P/iuwtopkus ferruTri-epuinum,.
2.
Centenes sem.ispift.osus.
■PiiblisTied- "by-A A C.BladcEdmbur^h.
VOL.XIV.
MAMMALIA.
PLATE IV.
2, CL.
Chrysoc/iloris capensis.
Crctfiiitm of 1.
J.
ConAyhcra cristatct.
Cranium of 2.
-v^N^
Published Ty A.& C. Black, Eajhbargh,
rLA'FK 7
Cranzitfn of Canzs vxdpes.
Mez/aJjjlz's Jjrucei,.
Crajziiurt of f.
Couiis lupus, occidentalis, var. y nseMS.
Canzs familia/'is. var. laz/opus.
7.
Viverra civetta.
Casus aziereo-arpezttafzis
PiibUshecL by A. & C. Black. IdikbuxE^L.
Ceo. Airman. Sculp
PLATE VI
VOL.XIV.
MAMMALIA
2, a.
ParadoJcuTUs typus.
Lalandii.
CraniujTi of 2
voL.xn
MAMMALIA
PLATE
VII.
Phoc/L vituIzncL
Cranium of 4.
Didelphis virginiarui
Perameles ms ulus.
D/ldelphis cancrivora
sfm-, ||§kv\
Petaurus pygrrucus.
Geo. ALkmau. Sc
Phascolomvs wombat
‘hihlialied- "by C.^Black; Edidbim
——
1  ——
*
VOL. SIT.
Mammalia.
PLATE VIII.
CLfi.ro mys SLadOy/ asccrriazsis
'iero/nys i 'o LucelLa,
Lower /aw
Arctornys empe/in
Alyoocis ghs.
Cron uj.m o f 5.
ffydromys chryspgaster.
■’.■•e.W ~
voz.xn
MAMMALIA
PLATE IX
JlystrLr cristatcL
Lagomys alpums.
Cd,vut cob a)'a.
cc, domestica. b, Aperect.
Published "by-A.&.C.Blach;Idml)utgl..
M AM MALI A
PLATE A
VOL. XIV.
J.
Craftiums of 6.
TuIIlsIecL Toy A. 8c C. Blact. Edbiburgh..
VOL.XIT
M AM MALTA
PLATE XI
Ornitkorhynchus paradoxus
Geo.Aibru
Black, B dmburgL.
ro/.A/i
PLATE XII
MAMMALIA.
PLA TE XIII
I
pe. cervixaprd.
IiiHHiliea- try A. !c C. Black, M-i-nT-m-rgh
Geo. Aifaiuin,Sculp}
voz .jrrpr MAMMA LIA.
PLATE XIV.
,, (ttfrrT'r^
Antilope scriptcL. Fern
Anlliope chixAarob.
Antilope picta
Antilop e pnzc.
Tiiblisliei'by A.& C.
voL.xn
MAMMALIA
plsi rm xv.
Bos bison, Americamis.
musunon
Bos bnbaJus.
s montana
-VOL.JOV
MAM MALI A.
PLATE X VII.
Wind-pipe of Delphimis.
^ V ^
Wind-pipe o f Narwhaws.
Bradi of
Delpkdzus.
IdyperoodoTi ffonfleieriensis.
n.
Cranium ofAfysticetizs.
Cranium of Rorquaius.
Balcena Mysiicetus or Greenland Wiinle.
1
fc,.
d.rnss‘d.1 f[ jijj&wojng jo s‘jyj\rj
• LUAX H.LV !<7 A 9 0 1 0 >1 O -I .1 d IV A/A' /OJ
inches ot Bavomet.vic Pre.
VOL. XIV. METEOROLOGY. - PLATE XVUL
NOTICE.
Plate XVIII., containing Figs. 1 to 15, should have been numbered Plate XIX.
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F ij/Xmb&grisI-
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Eupraved ]j\- S.flaD,Burv Str’ Blooiusl>v
PILATE. XZXo
-—,? -. -
VOL. XIV
microscope.
TEST AND MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS.
PLATE XX.
Eng* by G.Mkmaru EdinT
•*S
V